December holiday – part 4
New best friends
Oukersaand. The evening before Christmas. It’s a happy evening with people braaing and handing out presents.
I’m very pleased with a minatiure “fail” flute that I got for Christmas. You know that descending sound that often accompanies a “fail” moment in animation movies? Well, this flute does that. Like a minature sliding trumpet.
During the course of the evening we can hear our neighbours singing Christmas carols. We go over to render some assistance. It’s not that any of us can really sing, but at least we have numbers behind us. It does enhance the effort mos.
It’s quite nice, actually. It brings back good childhood memories of Christmas. And it’s quite devotional too.
Worsie is a visiting dachshund. He quietly sits next to his boss’ feet, minding his own business. But Worsie seems to like kids. So when Kleinboet wedges himself into the circle to join in with the singing, Worsie jumps up and start humping Kleinboet’s leg. The devoted atmosphere lasts for only a few seconds more, and then it shatters in thousand pieces of laughter.
Everyone enjoys the moment, except Worsie’s boss. Worsie is very happy. And Kleinboet likes the idea that Worsie likes him.
It’s quite a cute present this, I thought, giving a little hoot on my fail flute.
High days at the beach
On the big days the tidal pool is always packed with people. At least one lorry would rock up full of beach goers.
It was only from observing these visitors that I realised that the larnie new undies that my wife recently bought me are actually swimming trunks. I never knew. Now I do, although my wife still does not want me to swim with it in public.
My sister-in-law goes down for a swim at the pool. At the deep end she notices a kiddy busy drowning. She saves her. And sommer give the kiddy a lesson on water safety and how to stay afloat. When done with the lesson, she turns around. Only to find that a whole queue formed behind her.
“Antie, Antie, I also want to learn how to swim!”
Sis-in-law only came back much later.
The beach, which is about a kilometer away from the tidal pool, is just as busy. There I observe Davelin. Davelin is a rather busy little chap. He is probably about five years old. You don’t need to watch him to know where he is. You can sommer hear.
“Davelin! Don’t!” Presumably his mother.
“Daveliiiiiinn!” His sister. And his aunty.
“Daveliiiin! Ek moer vir jou.” Probably his uncle. Or his neighbour.
So Davelin runs past me and purposefully splashes in a puddle so that I get a good walop of water in my face. As he runs away he looks over his shoulder to check how succesful he was. Devilon actually looks like a rather likeable little stoutgat.
Well, and so the holiday comes to an end. What remains is packing up and getting back hom. Which turned out to be a lot more complicated that expected. But that story I already shared here on a previous occasion.
The end