Category: My Lovely Man

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It’s just routine

My lovely man and I have a bit of an exercise routine.  Nothing to get excited about, just a daily walk and a bit of stretching and Pilates. Not very far (the walk) and it’s chair Pilates.

Still, we are better off for doing it and quite smug about the effort.

I say routine, but we are easily jolted out of this routine for a variety of reasons (insert irrelevant excuse here), and then it takes some effort to get back into it.

Anyway, with enormous discipline we once again staggered off on our walk today after some weeks of abstinence.

But!  This time I strapped some extra weight onto my ankles.

A friend I used to walk with has some of these ankle/wrist weights and I was greatly admiring of them, and her.

These are the reason she looks fabulous, and I look like shit I pondered.

So, I ordered some. 

I am a great Take a Lot fan.  I only recently discovered Take a Lot, but since then, am single handedly, I believe, keeping them afloat. 

I use their services when I am in Zimbabwe. Via a runner. Also a recent discovery. I am clearly a late bloomer.

Very sadly, most goods in Zimbabwe are so horrifically overpriced that it is cheaper to shop this way. Illegally I mean. Don’t tell Al Jazeera.

This really, is all the excuse I need to shop. Cheaper.  There should be a 12-step plan for Take a Lot.

Why have you ordered that my lovely man inquires after every delivery of goodies.  Because it’s cheaper, I reply.  But he continues, do we need it?

How irrelevant. Men.

When I ordered my wrist/ankle weights, I contemplated the 2kg pair.  Luckily, I settled on 1kg an ankle really.

Are you ready to go my lovely man asked.  Well, yes, I said, as soon as I find the strength to lift my weighted foot off this chair and put it on the ground again.

I’m not carrying those for you when you get tired, he warned.  He’s not an idiot. He gives me a similar warning every time we go out and it’s a bit nippy.  Take a jacket, I’m not giving you mine. 

And then, of course, he does.  Bless him. Not without some mutters.

Are you OK he asked as I gasped along on the walk.  Sure, I replied, but I’m likely to need a double knee replacement.

I better end up as fabulous as my friend.

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Who’s the loveliest then?

When we travel, the trusty Mandova looks after our animals.

Mandova has titled himself ‘Estate Manager’. We appreciate him greatly.

Because he is kind, and my dogs in particular, are needy, they sleep with him when we are away. He sends me videos of them in their little baskets in his bedroom.

My lovely man broods on this and intermittently suggests we try and get the pups to sleep in their baskets vs the bed. This results in me fretting all night that they are sad and getting up no less than six times in the night to take them off the bed and put them back in their baskets. When we wake up in the morning, after eventually falling into an exhausted sleep, everyone is on the bed anyway. It’s all pretty pointless and exhausting.

How do you keep the dogs off your bed my lovely man asked Mandova, exasperated. Oh, he says, they start off in their baskets, but when I wake up, they are both on the bed. Also, Bella snores.

Bless him.

Our Bella ensures we prove our love every day. Part of this requires us to carry her to bed. Years ago, I explained this to my lovely man when he asked where she was at bed time. He has a soft spot for her, so this has become his nightly duty. She doesn’t make it easy. Sometimes she hides herself in the garden for extra proof that she is loved. He sighs, switches off the alarm, tracks her down and carries her through. She accepts this adoringly, administors kisses, gets kisses back and he tucks her in next to him.

It’s these things that make me count my blessings people.

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Yes.. I identify as…

We are enjoying a few days at the magnificent Victoria Falls. 

I know, so lucky. 

Our resort offers a shuttle service into town. They don’t encourage you to walk too far around here because of the wild animals. Having said that, the locals walk everywhere. Out of necessity one presumes. 

Anyway, after our boozy lunch (always), we caught the shuttle back.

There was a very attractive lady on the shuttle with us and then we stopped again and picked up Casanova. Himself.

Immediately he started harassing her for her details. Including phone number and room number. 

Amazing. 

So, when we arrived, we hung around a bit to escort her, as necessary, because of this unwanted and somewhat aggressive attention. 

Later, when we were having a sundowner, we saw this young lady again and she thanked us for the help. 

She was with her friends by now. (She made a point of telling us, perhaps she thought we would chase them off too). 

Where are you from they asked us. 

This question is almost as loaded as ‘what is your surname’. I am always confused by both and tend to ramble a bit. 

Luckily my lovely man stepped in and explained that we were local. Zimbabwean. 

Immediately we were regarded with deep suspicion. Which is normal. My lovely man never gets asked by a Zimbabwean if he is Zimbabwean. I braced myself for the inevitable.

She doesn’t sound like a Zimbabwean they stated, as expected, moving away slightly. She sounds like an South African. Also, they continued, it’s her hair. Very Pretoria. The one guy actually waving his hands around his head.

No good deed…

Nice though, he said as an afterthought. 

Yes, I said, I lived in SA for a long time, I guess I picked up an accent. 

Not being able to resist rambling, I further explained that, at one point, I even married into the Afrikaans tribe, but I wasn’t accepted. Voted out. The weakest link stuff.

They all nodded… Knowingly.

My lovely man just sighed and ordered another beer. Don’t start with the surnames please he muttered.  

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Travelling light

Is it just me, or has travel become a pain? 

Because this is Africa, the rules are a moving target that are never quite fully disclosed. Sometimes your vaccination 💉 certificate is required, often not. Sometimes there is an interrogation around how many booster jabs have been had and how long ago. Mostly, nobody cares. 

Also, because this is Africa, there is someone having a beer 🍻 at the airport. 6:30am. We don’t judge. 

One thing that irks me with air travel, is the request to remove your shoes. I always forget this and wear difficult to remove shoes. 

I have also had to surrender my tweezers at the scanner.

I will be boasting a uni brow in a few days.

Another irksome thing is the different baggage allowance based on destination. These, presumably, are based on union negotiations as to how much weight the baggage handler is prepared to lift. But as a result, one must plan around the lowest weight allowed on a staggered trip. 

I can tell you for nothing that Cape Town need to gym it up. 

Why would they not rather give you a total allowance and then a max per bag? To standardise worldwide? 

Who knows? 

I am, of recent, bucking the system and hoping no one weighs my hand luggage.

Because I have to carry my office with me when I travel, and I REALLY like working with multiple screens, I invested in some portable screens. 

They are great, but not light. 

My laptop bag weighs more than my suitcase. 

If a plane I’m on goes down and they can’t figure out why, you can enlighten them. I am, far from light.

I know you have to carry your office with you when you travel darling, but I observe that I am the one actually hauling this bag around, my lovely man mentioned.

Yes darling, make sure you don’t indicate how heavy it actually is, or they may arrest you.

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What do you mean it’s discontinued?

Do you have a favourite product that is now discontinued? Do you also sort of feel insulted that you weren’t consulted considering your years of loyalty?

This past year I settled on a lipstick colour. I’m not sure if it’s an age thing and I am always admiring of people who match their lipstick with their outfits, nails and the like. But me, I finally decided that a particular colour was all that I needed.

Maybelline Stayfast 725 since you insist on knowing.

When I was a teenager and experimenting with make up I once put on some bright red lipstick. ‘You shouldn’t wear red lipstick a friend immediately told me, your mouth is too big, you look like a whore’

So, there you go, what are friends for if not their honesty?

It has, however, taken me this long to settle on a colour.

So, getting some more 725s was on my list of purchases to make in SA. (I am a list girl, there is ALWAYS a list). Ask my lovely man, there is always a list for him too.

Finding some 725s proved more difficult than anticipated. Eventually some sweet girl at Clicks told me that it had been discontinued (devastating), but she would look in the old stock and find what she could for me.

I explained my plight and that THIS was my colour and why I couldn’t wear dark colours. She was amazingly empathetic to my story and reinforced it by saying ‘and an OLD whore now, that wouldn’t be good’

Bless her.

She found me 4 725s. I was so grateful. And then she said…

Do you think these will last you your lifetime?

Honestly, employee of the month.

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Can’t be too careful

In Mozambique, well certainly in Beira, they like to steal parts of your car and sell them back to you.

It’s a very efficient system, you can go to the market, enquire about a recently missing part and buy it back for top dollar.

The solution is to engrave (with some sort of identity number), as much as you can, and pop rivet things here and there.

As with most security, you really just want it to be easier that they steal from someone else.

In a panic, we realised my lovely man’s car was not adequately identified and secured. And, before it could be done, I had to use it to go to the parlour for a wee pedicure.

Unfortunately, at the very pleasant parlour, I have, for some years, been nominated the sadist to attend to my pedicure. Not only is there no sign of rough heels after a session, I am usually limping out on bloody stumps.

As it turns out, she is a very thoughtful sadist. She noticed me peering out the window continually to try and ensure nobody lifted a wing mirror off the car.

She indicated that she was in a better position to watch the car. Then she got everyone else in the salon who wasn’t busy, to watch the car in shifts.

Bless them! I managed to return home with the car intact. Not so much my heels.

My lovely man then had the car attended to. I had to get extra money from the company to pay the guy, he announced, I didn’t have enough. Come and look.

Everything is engraved people. And everything else is pop riveted. I think they only stopped pop riveting because they ran out he advised me.

I suspect the car is 50% heavier and the fuel efficiency halved. But hey, its safe.

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Give it to me now

My lovely man is a nervous passenger. At least he is with me. Which is strange, because I’m an excellent driver.

My lovely man would do all the driving if he could. Unfortunately for him, we do regular long trips. He has two issues (excluding me). He doesn’t sleep before any travel. Like for a week. But especially the night before. Probably because he is worrying about the section that he has to let me drive. The second issue is he has this whole pain in the bum thing going on. Once again, over and above me. So, his right cheek goes into a spasm after driving for a few hours and then he, very reluctantly, has to let me take over.

This is not a restful time for him. Much foot pumping, grimacing, imploring the heavens to save us and quite a bit of criticism.

All of this I blissfully ignore. Because I’m an excellent driver. I’ve never had an accident that was my fault. (I’ve always managed to drive away before anyone realised I was the cause).

Relax darling I instruct, let Jesus take the wheel. Unfortunately, he replied, you are at the wheel.

On a recent trip as we were nearing Harare, I asked if he thought Surrey pies would be open.

Are you allowed… he started.. and then thought better of it.

I haven’t eaten carbs for two months. Must be something to this theory, because I have dropped 7kg’s so far. What is alarming is that I have more than 7kg to lose.

But now, I was having a pie fantasy. Wait until you are over 50, your fantasies dramatically change.

So, we got some pies. I was still in the driving seat. Please can I have my pie I asked.

They are really, really hot darling, he tried. And you are driving. Perhaps we should wait until we get home.

GIVE ME THE PIE.

My already nervous back seat driver now had to endure me driving with one hand and nibbling on a molten pie. It was too much.

Before you kill us and this literally be our last meal, he instructed, pull over and let me drive and you eat the pie.

Who’s the hangry one really?

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Somebody save me

We went for a walk on the beach in Beira. You have to plan this around low tide in Beira. The beach is, sadly, not the cleanest, and requires the pulling in of all that rubbish by the backwash. (Yes, Gretha would actually just fall down in a weeping mess if she ever visited here). Secondly, the beach slopes, and unless you have two severely different leg lengths, it’s terribly uncomfortable to walk for any distance.

And then, of course, if low tide occurs during the heat of the day, any idea of going for a stroll should be immediately discarded.

We managed to venture out at the relatively reasonable hour of 8am. (We actually should only have gone at 08h30… but my lovely man likes to be early for everything). Being early for anything in Mozambique is actually not a good idea, because you usually find yourself alone in your punctuality.

I digress…

On a Sunday, there are usually Church services (and soccer games), happening on the beach. In amongst the debris from the Saturday night party of course. Alcohol is not allowed on Mozambique beaches, but this law is not ever evident from the broken bottles to be found at any given time.

I digress…

Oh look, my lovely man announced, they are baptizing someone. And indeed, there was much shouting and singing and what appeared to be the public drowning of some poor woman.

Baptism in the Beira sea shallows is not for sissies. However, it appears that the banishing of any demons is guaranteed. Standing on the beach observing, we too felt cleansed of our sins. The woman being blessed was not, it appeared, given much time to catch a breath of air between her repeated dunks. There was a LOT to be said about the matter it was obvious, and all of it to the rhythm of repeatedly pushing her under, pulling her out, pushing her under.

The crowd sang on encouragingly. She must have been thinking ‘Just as well I’m being baptized, because the end is nigh.’ Like now.

It this what water boarding is like I asked my lovely man.

It looked to be over… but actually.. a close friend was just removing her…. to deeper water…

I think we should leave I suggested, before we are asked to be witnesses to a crime scene.

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Possibly still an attitude – a year on

I recently applied for new medical cover. The problem with any medical cover, is that you need to apply for it when you don’t need it. So, I thought I would get that sorted now.

They advised me that a mandatory examination is necessary for anyone over 50. Honestly, I said, I’m really healthy and I’m busy, can we skip this?

Apparently not.

Your medical examination is today my lovely man reminded me as I was dressing.

Oh yes, I said, do you think they’ll put me on a treadmill, best I wear a sports bra. Also, do we have an oxygen cannister. Hopefully he won’t notice my gasps and mark me down.

Also, I pondered, do you think I’ll have to strip to my undies? Best I wear a matching set.

Nothing too skimpy my lovely man warned. You don’t want to risk a flap malfunction or nipple-gate.

Solid advice.

Take a wet wipe, he continued, in case you have to wee in a cup.

I’ll take my She Wee I said, that’ll impress them, I won’t even need the facilities.

We had to climb stairs to the doctors rooms, which I thought was deserving of a free pass.

Oh, the receptionist said, I forgot to phone you, he can only see you later.

That cheered me up.

How’s your blood pressure the doctor asked. Normally it’s low, I advised, but I suspect it will be spot on now that I’ve been waiting for you for 45 minutes.

Congratulations said the doctor, you’ve passed with flying colours. I’m signing off that there is nothing wrong with you. I am, however, making a note that you have a bit of an attitude.

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Gotta be love

I am languishing in Beiradise currently while my lovely man holds the fort in Harare.

Darling, he enquired… Alfie is licking his knob a lot and it looks dry and sore. Any ideas on what could help?

Oh no! I cried. My poor little boy pup.

I had many suggestions… None of which would have been appreciated.

I settled on..

Try coconut oil. You may have to apply it a few times a day.

Good grief he moaned. How much longer before you are back?