December holiday – Part 3

The retreiver(s)

I sometimes go swim lengths in the tidal pool.


One good morning this very happy Labrador becomes upset with me in the water. He probably thought I’m drowing, so he promptly decides to save me. Maybe it was a Retreiver. I don’t hink he thought it through properly, though. I had no intention of being retreived. Ouboet is also there and notices the problem. He decides to retreive the Labrador. The Labrador does not wish to be retreived either. Eventually the owner of the Labrador interevenes and takes away the dog.

He turns out to be the only effective retreiver of the bunch of us.

Just in time, though, because shortly thereafter the Big Retreiver arrives. Someone alerted the local law enforcement officer of the dog running amok at the pool.


Your mother…..

Our youngest parcitipates in the talent concert in the community hall one evening. Whilst busy with a bit of blues on his guitar, a slightly unruly guy with no front teeth in the audience chats away loudly with his friends. Ouboet asks him te tone down a bit. The guy does not like it at all and gives Ouboet the Cape oral version of the middle finger with reference to his mother.

The next morning my wife and I attend church to pray for us and the guy without front teeth. We are the only people there, though. There is no morning service that Sunday morning.

Pity you, larnie with no front teeth, nuh?


Gone fishing

Fishing is not my thing. Unfortunately Kleinboet really likes this pastime. He will have to work a bit on his temper, though. He really does not take kindly to any fish getting away.

I’m not much of an assistance, though. On occasion I sought the guidance of my very avid angling neighbour at the campsite. He suggested I buy some harders at the shop for bait, just to get the thing going. The exercise turned out no-good. My neighbour still finds it funny that the canned pilchards that I bought did not work well. What is it with him. And the fish. They were not interested at all. I mean, the seagulls were very happy when we ended up throwing them with the pilchards.

But then neighbour takes pity on Kleinboet and takes him along for a fishting trip on his boat. I join in. We travel up in the Gourits river before throwing out the anchor for a few hours of organised loafing.


Some fish seems to actually have personality. Nasty personalities, that is. While sitting there and waiting for fish to nible on the hooks, a shoal of flying fish comes, well, flying past. As if they are mocking us. I’m sure I saw one of them give us a rude sign, but I could have been mistaken.

Then Kleinboet gets a bite. Huge excitement! For the next many minutes Kleinboet battles it out with whatever is on the hook. The fish is not giving up the fight lightly. Now he is this side of the boat, then on the other side, back and thro. Eventually, totally out of breath, Kleinjan gets his first real fish on board. He looks like he won the lottery (but had to run to get it).


I’d say he had a happy look on his face.

Part 4 follows.


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