Shock! Broken glass on grass this morn;
Lock time passed, and chain will runner screen,
Shoe pierced by shard on slippery lawn —
Dogs give tongue; the bleeding man is seen.
(A scene such as is repeated daily in South Africa, where criminals will soon outnumber those who endeavour to earn an honest living. After all, the example is set at top levels.)
Apart from varnishing my new rail and starting to re-varnish the deck at the front, I had the task of preventing a section of concrete fence broken off in the wildest of our recent wild storms from breaking through the creeper which was all that was holding it, and shattering a statue and pond and anyone/thing else that happened to be in the way at the time at our cottage level some three metres below.
I have tried to get help with the project, but today I gave that up and tackled it alone. Amazing what a purchase point, some levers, and a good block and tackle apparatus can accomplish. I have a slight build, and there is no way that I could have lifted those chunks of concrete without ‘making a plan’.
Wow. This looks like a job for Superman. Good work!
‘n Boer maak ‘n plan! Or in your case, a Colonialist does! Great achievement!
Quite a project; a lot of ingenuity. Love your poem.
I was amazed it worked, actually! Thank you.
I get the feeling you ‘re not particularly happy living there now, which must be a depressing feeling
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Let me put it this way: I no longer feel at home in the country of my birth and also that of a few generations of ancestors. If I could afford a bicycle I would swiftly be on it.
Would you believe that is how I felt when I went back to London in 2005?