I can haz international driver's license! The truimph of sheer bloody-minded determination over circumstances!
It was actually embarrassingly not the life-or-death hardship mission.I had psyched myself into a 20km walk in sun... The Servo lent me a car, (a beemwobbleyou yet - me. How will my image survive this?;-)) The traffic police were efficient and pleasant - I returned the vehicle, walked to the fly fishing place in search of yellow polaroids (a fail - but rose tinted glasses are so dull - heh, they're great for driving in mist.) and then Chantelle (the rabbit warder from Stalag-bunny) took me out to our writer's group's final Christmas dinner (and the the next episode of Big Bobby the Fonzie) and the saga of Stalag-bunny and the Police Howick police (which was what I expected out of Mooi's traffic dept. SA is weird like this. Just when you expect incompetance... you find yourself dealing with efficient people. And then you have the others. Anyway, I got back in the dark and Durban's drivers made the place as welcoming as the mozzies and the stinking hot night did. I put on mosquito repellent with a trowel - and the mozzies rubbed their stripy legs together in slavering drooling delight and in a high-pitched squeal of glee yelled "barbecue sauce, our favourite!"
I didn't have to swim today - I kind of bounced off the chlorine on the itchy spots, but we still managed some of the steps forward -- I got my international drivers (which we'll need for oh... 4 maybe 5 days) and then failed dismally to find cooking chocolate for choc-based pecan-nit pie. (Some people may view this as a step back.)
We did some more tent-washing. It's a complicated African ritual involving a small bucket, 2 people and a lot of dancing around a washing line. The falling cursing and getting wet are optional, but it brought in the clouds. It's nearly as good as cricket at rainmaking. B was doing this on her own yesterday - which proves that she has had more than one lapse of sanity in which she married me. Normally she's clever one with common sense.
Hopefully the kids medical Aid (I detest my present crowd -Discovery - about whom I have made a discovery - something about squirming) is sorted, and we have a hire car for Hobart too I hope...
Oh and James managed to eat some supper - Spag bol, which he says is a lot more satisfying to the twenty year old tum than jelly and cursed-tart
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