Back in Peyton Place...

The weekend is calling, and thanks to good friends and loving family, I'm simmering down after last week's saga with the trees and nasty neighbours. Mr Suzy Q, a more congenial and forgiving sort than myself, disarms them entirely by waving madly and smiling at them as they skulk around, fiddling with their cellphones every time we pass each other. (Actually, as he always introduces me as his "current wife" perhaps I should now refer to him, as this is my very own space, as Mr SQ No 1, just to keep him on his toes. Waddya think gals?) Anyway, as I am not blessed with quite the same cheeriness and generosity of spirit as he is, a grudge is a grudge for a woman to bear after all, let's do what we're good at here girls, I am still contemplating my revenge. Do you know that even after we had removed all the branches from our garden, and a few higher up in the trees which had been missed had fallen onto their driveway (I swear it wasn't me, pinky promise) they continued to throw them back in the night!? I think that when Rex's poo bag is full to overflowing, I shall discreetly empty it's contents onto their verge next time we walk past, thereby sending them a message. Not quite a dead horse's head in the bed, but a sign to say, "Hey you, don't mess with Suzy Q!!"

But enough of that, subject closed, as we have nicer neighbours to tell you about. Over our other garden wall lives a family of pleasant people, and we have watched each other's children growing up these past ten years from a neighbourly distance. Whilst they were battling financially and poor things, their builder died before their house was completed, they still honoured their commitment to pay for their half of the boundary wall. When their trees became problematic on our side of the wall, we discussed the problem amicably with them, and assisted each other to sort them out with gifts and good manners. When they received my note forewarning them of our anniversary party and possible congestion and noise, they offered us extra parking space and delivered a beautiful bottle of wine to us with their congratulations and good wishes. We hope that we offer reciprocal friendliness and support. That's how it's done, thank you good neighbours! 

Across the road from us, in the house that was home to our German friends and neighbours on contract here for five years, live a new English family. I have introduced myself to them, and offered them tea and cake on arrival, but since then, haven't had so much as a wave from them. Funny fat family, piling into their big, shiny (washed by the gardener) black 4x4 to drive the rug rats off to school seven houses away in the mornings. A far cry from the previous tenants,  for whom we did the holiday chores when they went home for Christmas, and who so kindly looked after Rex if we went away. In fact, he was so well cared for there, that if ever the little blaggard did a runner, we knew he'd be sitting up on the kitchen stool there guzzling bratwurst!

A little further down the street lives, I am told by my informed sources (Suzy Q's spies are everywhere, I warn you!) a BEE executive. His children play cricket in the street despite having an oversized garden, and speaking of which, the man in mention can barely squeeze into his little Boxter, and doesn't do the shocks any good when he roars off over the speed humps. Over the way lives a Coloured family (since UCT finds it imperative to class and prioritize people according to colour, I see no reason why I shouldn't.) They are pleasant and peaceful except for the moment when their guests leave, and horns are tooted, and retooted. Totsiens.

A visitor once asked me on leaving whether I knew my  other neighbours but one. I do, and gave his name, as we have chatted pleasantly in passing, and they were offered our swimming pool for the use of his two little ones, before theirs was built. What I didn't say is that, all be he a bit of a wimp of a man, he is affectionately known as "the sex maniac" by us. Reason being, that all was going well until his wife showed signs of a new pregnancy, and their house was obviously too small for five of them. So while they moved out for nigh on a year, we were left to cope with the builders and noise and rubble and renovators, all of whom chose to use our driveway in which to reverse their ten ton trucks. Condomise them!


"Nice guy," I told my visitor.
"What about his wife?" he shouldn't have asked.
"Bit on the sniffy side," said I.
"Used to be a model," said he.
"Ho, that explains that!" replied Suzy Q, for she never initiates nor acknowledges a greeting.  Neither have I ever seen her kiss or hug her children when she sends them off to school. (Not quite The Valley of the Squinting Windows here, but dog walkers see and hear it all - police should use us more in their investigations.)
I used to think she ran a Bible Study Group on Fridays as her yummy mummy friends roared up looking so serious in their huge 4x4's, but it seems that she and all her  ex-model mates are probably giving lessons in colonic lavage, 'cos they're definitely not giving them in smiling. Must've been a hard fall for the Mighty Model from the catwalks of Milnerton.

Ta dah and have a fabulous weekend!


Suzy Q, with love and thanks for taking time to read me. xx

More flash fiction for your midweek coffee break...

Hello all. There have been a few requests for more flash fiction, so ever happy to oblige and give you a giggle during your working day break, here's another from the pen of Suzy Q especially for you...

                                      THE CONFERENCE

“Oh no, not again” she groaned as she struggled to get her head off the pillow. She tentatively opened one eye to ascertain exactly whose pillow it was. No clues there as she took in the rumpled bed and looked about her in the gloom of the hotel room. She draped the sheet about her and staggered into the bathroom to splash her face and gulp down a tumbler of water. Her eyes avoided the mirror, and took in the array of metro sexual lotions and potions at the basin. Nothing she detested more than men who spent more on their grooming products than she did.

She followed the trail her clothes had made through the empty room and got herself dressed, racking her brain for any recall of the night before. Then she found the note.

“Hey babe, off to join Man Com for a round of golf. We’ll be heading back to town on the jet, so no chance of seeing you again today. Fantastic conference hey!

Jack.

PS. You were great Suzy Q! “

“No, please no, not the nerd from Human Resources! HOW could that have happened?” she groaned again. As she slunk down the corridor to make her way back to her room, it all came back to her. “Curse Mike for suggesting those shooters,” she thought. It was, as always, One Tequila, Two Tequila, Three Tequila, Floor. Though the floor would have been preferable to sharing a bed with Jack. The bumpy bus ride back to town did nothing to help her aching head. Well, HR should at least be pleased that the team building exercise seemed to have been successful.

Rather as she had expected, there was an email from the Head of HR summonsing her to his office on Monday morning. With a leaden heart she made her way to the top floor, knowing full well the corporate policy on this sort of thing. There was mercifully no sign of Jack as she slunk into the Chamber of Death.

 “Well Miss Jones,” Mr. Heath began. “It seems you’ve been hiding your light under a bushel. Some of the isometric tests we did on conference showed that you have people skills which are utterly wasted in the IT department. I’d like to offer you a promotion as my PA, with immediate effect. Perhaps you’d care to join me for a cocktail here this evening to toast our new working relationship.”

        

Honeymoon in the Hinterland and Stellenbosch Adventures Part 2

Ok, all you voyeurs out there, you want me to get down to the nitty gritty, don't you? You surely want to know what happens when the lights go out on two tired, (but young at heart) old lovers...? Well I'll put you out off your misery and tell you that they simply go to sleep! 

We were warmly welcomed back to the Lanzerac, that much loved, gracious old lady of Stellenbosch, who on my last encounter, had been showing more than signs of age, she'd gone beyond senile dementia. Our previous stay gave us cause to rechristen the place Fawlty Towers of the Winelands, and on the strength of a polite letter, we were offered a complimentary overnight stay, thanks to Hans Steyn, the manager, which couldn't have come at a better time financially or physically. 

To our utter delight, we were taken up to one of the beautiful poolside suites, and had a private little patio with a beautiful view up over the vineyards to the Helderberg. After a welcome cup of tea, we had 40 winks, and went to revive ourselves in the magnificent swimming pool, feeling like right royalty in our fluffy white robes. (What is it about these appendages that elevate one's mood and status?) Now, I must confess, that if you hadn't cottoned on to this fact already, your Suzy Q loves little more (ask no questions, hear no lies) than to swim, and the Lanzerac boasts a swimming pool of note. It was obviously built in the days when pools were deep and of a decent length, to say the least. Oh to do laps up and down with the mountains and sky and vineyards in view was sheer bliss. Having had such a large lunch, we cried off dinner and sipped sundowners on our patio and chatted into the night about the highlights of our lives together, and of course our anniversary, and worried about the little Miss SQ's until we heard that they were safely back home. Hooray and time to crack the bubbly...

Morning dawned less clear, but the pool was irresistible to the likes of me, so I had the thrill of swimming in it all alone in the early morning mists. Damage of the day before hopefully undone!? Interesting thought though, can damage ever really be undone? That done to lives, homes, friends, egos, properties, health, relationships...? No I think the saying, "the damage has been done" holds true, no matter what further things you attempt to do. Moral of the story is "be careful what you do, for what is done can never be undone, and  will always come back to haunt you!"  Not sure where that spot of poolside philosophy came from. (See: Suzy Q thinking deeply from the depths of the pool.) Speaking of which, I think I can safely confess to you, I did a totally rebellious thing there. I disobeyed the "No Diving" sign and spent a deliciously decadent 15 minutes diving in and out of the deepest pool I've ever had the pleasure of swimming in, breaking out from my responsible, law abiding persona of always being five minutes early for everything I have to go to, and driving one kilometre under the speed limit. Watch out world!! Could this be the beginning of a New Suzy Q!?

But back to breakfast. We'd worked up a good appetite again, so tackled the delicious and very well stocked breakfast buffet with gusto. The old retainers looked after us well, and we feasted on fruits, yoghurts and cereals before being offered a hot cooked breakfast, which she of little appetite declined, but he who loves nothing more than a fry up, relished. 

We packed up wishing that we could spend another day relaxing by the pool, but responsibility and reality beckoned back home, however, not before one or two more pitstops. We had been offered a free wine tasting as guests, so popped into the winery on our way out. All modern now, the home of Pinotage and Lanzerac rose offers a tasting of four wines for R20. Guests, however, are only allowed to try two as part of their complimentary tasting. They only offer a thimbleful, so why stint on the tasting? Any marketing fool knows that the more people taste, the more they buy, so a bit of a shortfall of thought there.
www.lanzerac.co.za

 However we enjoyed it, and stopped in at the Botanical Gardens en route home, as I wanted to show Stellenbosch's answer to Kirstenbosch to Mr SQ. Being a man of wide spaces and big ideas, it didn't really do it for him, but paradoxically, he loved the bonsai garden - whew! Our stay in Stellenbosch was pleasant, but at the end of the day, east west, home's best!    

Honeymoon in the Hinterland and Stellenbosch Adventures Part 1

I have been meaning to fill you in on our mini "honeymoon" kids. Having been somewhat drained, physically and financially after our now famous anniversary party, we took up a longstanding offer to spend a night at the Lanzerac Hotel to rest, recharge our batteries and catch up with each other after all the hard work and excitement was finally over - sigh - do I really have to wait another twenty years for a fabulous party? In actual fact, that day changed my life, for public recommitment to Mr Suzy Q aside, I was left wondering why we don't always leave ourselves and our homes looking spic and span and gleaming shiny clean? I want to forever be swathed in white lace and ladylike kitten heels with flowers in my hair, rather than doing myself down in old sale rail clothes, and I want my bathrooms to house snowy white towels neatly folded up not piled up in a damp heap on the floor, and the whole house filled with fresh, fragrant flowers. Let's to it now!

But as usual I digress...We left on the Saturday morning for our sortie into the hinterland, which is in actual fact a mere 40 minutes from Cape Town, but seems worlds away. As we so seldom go out Stellenbosch way, we decided to visit a few places of interest along the way. Waterford Winery has been a place I've heard so much about, so it seemed like a good  first port of call. It was, as promised, impressive from the outset, with it's avenue up to the cellar, and Provencal inspired lavender lined entrance. We were greeted and welcomed on the steps by Ben, a very pleasant and knowledgable Maties student, and given time to look around the beautiful courtyard.  I would have loved to have done our wine tasting under the trees, but for a few floozies smoking and drinking next to the only available table. Peeps who are serious in any way about their food and wine, should NEVER allow smoking anywhere within a 100 mile radius. 

We took a table on the stoep, and were offered a deluxe wine and chocolate pairing for R65 a head. (Three wee mouthfuls of wine and three pieces of chocolate. Yegods, I've been known to have lunch and a decent glass of wine for that amount of money!)  I'm no doubt spoilt coming from the Constantia wine valley, where tastings are generous and complimentary, so it rankles a little to pay for a tasting when we go with the good intention of purchasing wine, but if that's the way it works out here, then go with the flow. However, the wine taster in me worries a little when red wine is set off against chocolate, as neither does the other any good, but for the fun and the spirit of the day, we enjoyed the experience, but not really the flavours on offer. I have since written to Kevin Arnold, the winemaker, to compliment him on the calibre of the staff (say nice things when you can and leave the bad stuff out, like the quality of the wines, is Suzy Q's motto) but I haven't had any response to thank me for the visit/interest/patronage/commentary. It doesn't take much to get one's secretary to send an email, but maybe he's busy working (hopefully) on the current vintage.www.waterfordwines.com

Starving with the hunger, we were advised to go next door to Dornier Bodega Restaurant for lunch. It has a beautiful view over the valley, and we surveyed both that and the menu with great intent. I am always a bit suspicious of well placed restaurants with magnificent views, as they tend to trade on position neglecting the epicurean side of things, and in this case I wasn't wrong sad to say. We were offered a compulsory two course lunch for R130. Being a gal who loves to lunch, but is a light eater, that seemed like being  bullied, but as were hungry and far from home, we made our choices and each ordered a glass of the house wine, while we waited, and waited, and waited...

We asked for bread and nibbled and reread the menu. Dornier offers "Farm Cuisine" (whatever that might mean?) that is "honest and transparent" (!?) Not sure what kind of wind farm they are referring to but here are two examples on their menu. Trust me, I had enough time to peruse it!


Norwegian Salmon miso zuke @ R70 for a starter.
Micro leaf, shiitake, "vegetable cuts" cucumber ribbon, candied tomoato, soy, chilli, garlic and ginger, white miso.


Not exactly mealie bread and bobotie from the farm as I know it, but then, perhaps this is their way of saying that boerekos has come of age...? 


Fresh Line fish with Liquorice Ghoo @ R130 for a main course.
Cauliflower puree, "liquorice" oven dried tomatoes, blanched broccoli, Pea shoots, Butternut skordalia.


Not quite clear what that lots all about and I can't imagine that melange of mismatched, pretentious sounding flavours? Frankly I prefer my waffle on my plate, not on the menu.

Our choices were pass remarkable, there was way too much food for our needs and I really hate to waste. The starter of roasted butternut ravioli with a tomato sauce (not that the two flavours complement each other in my book) would have been ample for me. Mr Suzy Q would also have been happy with a pleasant flammkuchen, without being obliged to overindulge in a second course. Perhaps we were misinformed, as a blackboard we spied afterwards offered a few other options. The service, whilst friendly, was always just a beat behind, and please remind me to ask next time I go to lunch whether there is a jungle gym. All the rug rats were on the whiny loose when they should have been having their afternoon nap, whilst their yummy mummies and ubercool daddies wined and dined the day away. A far cry from my day, when it was all I could do to get to the supermarket with two little ones in tow, let alone roar off to a wine farm for the afternoon in a 4x4 for a languorous, vinous lunch. And even further back in my youth (yes, aged as she is now and starting to sound like an old timer, Suzy Q had a youth too) it was a high day indeed if one got the Wimpy Bar on a birthday. What's changed in a generation or two? Well generations do change, Suzy Q is old and wise enough to acknowledge and recognize that, but is it for the better?  How are the little ones raised in sushi bars going to turn out? www.dornier.co.za

But hey, whilst we had fun being footloose and fancy free for the day, give me the Constantia winelands and restaurants any day for quality of food, wines and service, not to mention our own spectacular settings. And if you're really good and keep getting in touch with me, I'll let you in on my best kept secrets...


Lotsa love,
Suzy Q

On to brighter things...

So gals and guys, thanks for all your mail and encouragement, please keep it coming, it keeps your dispirited Suzy Q going!


I arranged for the removal of the offending branches mentioned in my last blog entry, thinking that not having them staring me in the face every day would help me feel better, but the comments from the gardening team who were twice as outraged and amazed as I was just left the unhappiness at this injustice simmering under the surface. Well, that's just my way of trying to say it mildly. Their unequal indignation at this violation of my home and rights simply added more fuel to my outraged fire. Anyway, as they say, this too shall pass...

On a brighter note, the next Big Event is almost upon us. Miss Suzy Q No 2's matric dance is on the final countdown now, and we are approaching fever pitch. This was heightened by our second trip to our newfound friend, the dress designer in Simonstown. Nothing like a lovely sea view to calm the soul, and then, omigosh, to see that the rough sketch is already a fully made creation, awaiting only final adjustments for the hem and anything else minor. I had feared umpteen fittings and untold dramas, but this has been the best luck we've had in a while. It's a gorgeous emerald green, the fabric was fortunately included in the very reasonable quotation, and looks exquisite. There were a few nervous moments as we fiddled behind the curtain trying to get all the straps on correctly, and our designer hovered outside like an expectant father. WELL, our little baby emerged like Cinderella going to the ball, utterly and absolutely transformed from the sweaty schoolgirl she was when she arrived. Whilst she was never an ugly duckling, she is undoubtedly an elegant, grown up swan in that stunning gown. Oh, if I'd ever looked that good, all slender limbs and unlined skin, why didn't I realize it!?

I can't say who was more relieved when we emerged all smiles from behind the curtain, and we were all beaming by the time we left. She is so thrilled and excited, and of course pictures were on the networks before we left, getting rounds of applause from her friends everywhere. (Needless to say, they look at me as if I have two heads when I tell them that when I was their age, if one was lucky enough to have access to a camera, photos were a luxury, and we had to wait for at least a week to seem them developed after we'd dropped the spool off at the pharmacy.) Everything is so instant these days

We decided upon which shoes she should wear, well should I say Miss SQ2 and her new best friend did ("wear these darling, they are so much in the moment") and she did a few twirls and was utterly enchanting with her youth and excitement bubbling over. What a joy to behold, and what a thrill to be able to provide her with this special dress for her Big Night.

But nobody knows the answer to the Big Question...who is her Prince Charming??

You can choose your friends but you sure as hell can't choose your neighbours!

As in life, dear friends, after all the joy and celebrations in our home, a slight sadness has set in, which I feel I ought to tell you about, if only to get it off my chest. Stop now if you don't want to hear my sorry saga, please feel free to do so, but maybe something like has also happened to you somewhere along the way...

I was pottering around the garden on Sunday morning, when I noticed a few broken branches on one of our wild olive trees, which we planted against our boundary wall a) in keeping with our Provencal style house and perhaps more importantly b) to eventually provide privacy between us and our rather unpleasant neighbours. How did I know they were unpleasant from the start you may well ask? Well, it wasn't just from the rough as bear's guts tone of their voices or the unpleasant manners of their children (obviously inherited) or the fact that they stood up at the first Homeowners meeting, having greeted us a neighbours, then publicly complaining about the colour of our window frames. (Granted it was a mistake, but public humiliation from Judas!) It was more specifically that they reneged on their promise to pay for their side of the boundary wall, which we even had plastered by our builder at their request. They were very tough times for us financially, so it hurt all the more watching tons of marble and travetine being carted into their palatial but garish Neo Gothic/mock Georgian/Tuscan monstrosity. You know the one when you pass it, painted that boring brown colour, which a kind friend placated me by telling me it was called "Sharkey" after it's owner (a cross between s**t and khaki) with it's oversized window sporting a sandblasted version of the Venus de Milo in the triple volume vestibule. Though it still burns, it truly does, even after ten years, and the wall continues to stand, despite "not being up to their building standards" I console myself that it is they who duck into the next aisle in the supermarket if they see me, or scrabble intently for their cellphones if we pass each other outside. 

But then, I discovered to my horror, that all our wild olives had been inexpertly hacked. So even though there had been no discussion between us at all, nor any mention or even a cowardly note in our letterbox regarding our trees hanging over our wall (they actually grow pretty straight and tall which is why we considerately planted them) they took it upon themselves, late one Saturday, to get a ladder and hack off the branches and chuck them over our wall. And I mean OUR wall. I am shocked. I am outraged. I am aggrieved. I am angry. But I am not really all that surprized. What else could you expect from scumbags like that?

 I feel as if an act of aggression has taken place and I want to shake a stick at them and lash out, if not shout out about their lack of courage, decency and lineage. I want to get a can of spray paint and vandalize the wall (my wall.) I want to pour weed poison on the plants on their verge when I walk past.   I want to bludgeon their beastly little piece of canine excrement into a pulp should he ever rush at our Rex and go for this throat again. Fortunately our Rex slipped free from me the last time this happened and showed him, as a dog who'd grown up on the streets, who was boss, Big Time. I want to scatter broken shards of glass across their driveway and place piano wire strategically across their gateway. This is alarming to me, who wouldn't harm a fly nor scream at a flea. But where would it end? Me throwing things over their wall? Them throwing them back? Insults shouted in the street? Them throwing poisoned meat for Rex? Bad enough that I have to know that they exist in such close proximity to me, worse to get deeper into a petty war over the wall. No, that's their style, for want of a better word.

So no girls and guys, I am just going to have to bite the bullet, pay for the removal of the branches (there really aren't that many, it's the principle of the matter that irks me) and hope that a decent tree surgeon can doctor the trees I purchased as babies when I could ill afford them, to screen such ghastly vermin from my life. 

And hope that they've made greater, meaner enemies than me who will lay the Rattex in my stead...

Suzy Q meets her Waterloo!

Hello again, dear friends, my faithful fans and occasional followers, and welcome back! It's been longer than I ever intended to stay away, as I do enjoy writing for you, so please do forgive me, but the organization of our fabulous wedding anniversary party, (I did warn you that that might happen) took so much time and effort. What I wasn't prepared for was the aftermath, cleaning up, returning of goods, bottles (empties aplenty) and glasses and the fun of spending time with good friends kind enough to visit us for the occasion, not to mention the rest of the freeloaders (you know who you are) who kept coming back, determined to do the final damage to the party supplies. For once in my life, I think I can safely say I'm all partied out, and am finally getting our lives back to normality (whatever that might be!?)

But let me tell you how wonderful our day was. It was everything we could have hoped for and more, to have our home filled to overflowing with friends, one dear family member, fabulous food, flowers, wonderful wines, love, laughter and the dreamy music of a great saxophonist, who just got better and better the more red wine he imbibed. It really was a dream come true, as we haven't even wet the roof of this house in ten years, having been too broke after getting it tiled. So a very happy day it was for us as it all worked well, and I think and hope for our guests too. All the months of planning, organizing, and getting our house spruced up paid off. The curtains were clean (I hope you all noticed after such a mammoth effort) the garden fluffed and replanted here and there, trees shaped, window frames painted, we now boast a number on our garden wall (not bad after ten years) and we had fresh flowers everywhere in place of the usual clutter. Now how do I get it to stay that way?? 


The renewal of our vows was a deeply meaningful ceremony for me, as I looked into the eyes of the man I love, with our two beautiful daughters and my brother at our sides and our friends as witnesses, and thought back on all the events, joyful and otherwise which had marked our marriage of 20 years, and set myself up for another round with gratitude and optimism. The party got off to a great start with flutes of local bubbly which never seemed to stop coming. The food (which I barely got to taste having spent so much time planning, but that's the nature of the day) exceeded our expectations and friends are still raving about it, the black clouds and the rain which had poured the previous night abated, and we all, I hope, enjoyed a right royal day. I was so sorry when people went away, and was grateful for the hard core of bittereinders who lasted until nearly midnight. Suzy Q last seen serving soup and crackers at 11pm before falling happily into the arms of her longstanding and long suffering husband. But I can see why the honeymoon was invented.

One guilty confession however. The morning after, for the very first time in 16 years, the young Misses Suzy Q, of whom I was so very, very proud on the day, went to school and campus with tuck money instead of a packed lunch. But I still made the early morning Pilates class - too much at stake!