Another Bussy Spel

J is nothing if not imaginative when it comes to spelling!
















Today young J joined me to watch her sister do Squad Swimming, and we were both treated to the sight of R finally achieving the potential of her amazing kicking combined with strong arm action. I have been on at her about it literally for years, but something at last started her on the right track. The coach at school noticed and challenged her, as the fastest kicker there,  to put them together. As soon as she did, she was, as a Grade 5, even beating the Grade 7 boys (much to their disgust).

I was requested to refrain from taking pictures of the swimming, so there will be no more of those.

As a downside, J has been complaining about a back pain that won’t go away so I whipped her to the doctor after collecting Much Better Half from her sister’s place on the way home. The diagnosis was a mild scoliosis in the spine, for which relaxing tablets have been prescribed.

Then R and her mother had to shoot off to where she was performing with the choir, only getting home at about 20h00. While she was away I had to work out how to assist her with her maths homework — some real puzzles that taxed my brain!  Such as a Sudoku-like magic number exercise.

A late supper ensued.

© September 2019 Colonialist.


Posted in Africa, Grandchildren, Swimming, Swimming Squad Training | 11 Comments

Supporting and Sporting


Queensmead Sports Stadium where the Inter-House Junior Hockey Tournaments were held.


Launching out on a 6-length freestyle exercise.


J completes it after lapping some of her fellow students.

I slept in today,
Then breakfast created,
Before on my way
(Now feeling quite sated),

A pump for the fountain
I bought while en route,
(In evening the mountin’
To bear needed fruit)

But Queensmead first went to —
J ‘sticks’,-inter-house —
Saw her scoring goal do,
So I couldn’t grouse,

At having to leave
To fetch R from her squad
And, would you believe,
Back to hockey then plod,

Home; then J to Swim School
Where she duly shone,
Then hunted the right tool
Pump for statue put on,

And then did repair,
Of a hole in tiled floor,
Before I could dare
Grub and blogging to score.

© September 2019 Colonialist
Posted in Africa, DIY, Grandchildren, Personal Journal, Really Awful Rhyme, Swimming, Swimming Squad Training | Tagged , , , , | 9 Comments

Creation of the Monster – Wordle 419 & 420








Devour as sensual steam can envelop:
From scrawny body let tiredness die  in room;
for pill to let changes exotic develop,

Scratch, to be safe, an act to burrow to doom;
Justice may roll, but know your acid can hack
To hail fast means to tamper with fetching you back.

                                    © September 2019 Colonialist
Posted in Africa, Challenge, Really Awful Rhyme, Wordle | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Cat and Immobilised Mouse

Partial Paws

Total Paws

There’ll be no more blogging today;
Petal M has just chased it away;
With mouse movement restricted,
I have been evicted
Until it’s released for more play.

© September 2019 Colonialist
Posted in Africa, Cats, Colonialist, Personal Journal, Really Awful Rhyme | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

Dead Backward

 Moustache like Hitler,
Only littler.

So Ebagum at long last popped his clogs,
After sending a great country to the dogs;
Although it is so often clearly said
One should abstain from speaking ill of dead,
He was dead stupid, or an evil man,
To bring to nothing such a careful plan
For education, and the rights of all,
Enabling the Zimbabweans to stand tall,
To let the wealth of yesteryear be bought,
And all the brave endeavours come to naught,
Making such a truly wonderful place
Descend into an awful state of Grace;
No wonder it is thought appropriate
For his name backward thus to rate,
And now South Africa wants to set the scene
To head for disaster, just where he has been.

© September 2019 Colonialist
Posted in Africa, Current Affairs, political satire, Really Awful Rhyme | Tagged , , , | 10 Comments

Water Day 5/9/2019

I may not get it right to post today,
My internet (again) has gone away,
But wetness featured solidly throughout,
First rains of spring, there could be little doubt;
At times it was a deluge and I wept
That we no longer portapool had kept
To fill from rain all gathered on the roof,
As done before, for which I have the proof;
But other water things took place, indeed,
Young R did her Squad swimming at great speed,
Where she was really wet as she could get,
While, sitting watching, I got wetter yet!

© September 2019 Colonialist.
Posted in Africa | 14 Comments

Local Tiraders Versus Foreign Traders

The SA population is disgusting,
At the least excuse they go on the rampage,
For the present, ‘foreign’ stores they’re going busting,
Is that envy, greed, or justifiable rage?

So, here and there these ‘foreign’ shops are dealers
In drugs and things against the public good,
Like ‘fencing’ stuff they have obtained from stealers;
Or lower a respected neighbourhood.

But mainly they are traders and providers
Of services they are successful at,
Not justifying actions of deriders,
Who feel at their expense they all grow fat.

Ridiculous to see the silly prancing,
The mobs indulge in while they rob and loot,
Do they believe that, if they do it dancing,
Authorities will hesitate to shoot?

Perhaps they’re right; amount of forceful action
Falls very short of what it needs to be,
But it would give great satisfaction
For them in droves mowed down that one could see.

© September 2019 Colonialist
Posted in Africa, Current Affairs, Really Awful Rhyme | Tagged , , | 10 Comments