Well, the boys flew out this evening, starting the long trek back to South Africa. They're young at Uni and have more to find in life than a remote island can offer at this stage. But I miss them. Savagely, already. That's the one down side about being here. We have moved far from all the aspects of SA I don't miss - from the taxis to the vuvus. But we're also far from many people I hold very dear. Anyway, we still have Clare for a bit. I'm really not used to having a semi-daughter (possibly) around the place, although I know fate if had given me a daughter she'd have been like those silly tittiping women in high-heels and impractical skirts with the flutes of champagne and the half-eaten salad, complete with inane giggling and the vapid discussion of fashion, shoes and their boyfriends' jobs in banking, from the next table up in Hobart. Shudder. I am sure the world needs them for something (and yes I eavesdrop, and watch people. Writers need to) but I am very very glad Pad's tastes run to someone who can climb, dive and weild a spear :-) and who doesn't run to impractical skirts - and to whom shoe shopping is not a thing of joy.
The boys took along a good solid loaf of my oat and ginger dwarf-bread, for fighting off muggers and clubbing rats with in big bad Lonnie. There was no room in their bags so it flew across on James's lap - which at the Island News dinner brought up the subject of various cakes - including a wedding cake that have flown across the same way -- It can be a bumpy flight... I had this mental image of several tiers of cake swaying their way through the turbulent cumulous, and was very sad to find it flew in sections. Where is their sense of adventure!?