Glorious winter light at the entrance to our villageAt this time of the year, the light in our village is often spectacular and as to be seen to be believed. My friend, SY, took this yesterday morning. I passed that spot as I drove into town and can vouch that it was a cold, beautiful misty morning. I was, however, a little preoccupied with my mission: to renew my driving and car vehicle licenses and to do so in what I thought was a window during which there would be electricity. *
Well, I either misread the schedule or the schedule was wrong. I arrived at the traffic department (aka DMV for my US friends) to find it deserted and in darkness. A friendly official (yes, we do have them) pointed me in the direction of the right form and also that I should go for the mandatory photographs (which I hadn't needed last time...).
Photographs done, and back, I discovered what she omitted to tell me: that they didn't have a generator and couldn't do a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g. N-o-t-h-i-n-g. Until the lights came back on. In an hour and a half's time.
I was not, with petrol at ZAR27/litre (that's just under USD1,60), heading back to McGregor and returning (and effectively adding 40km to my errand). Happily, I'd also agreed to connect with J, my market pal, whose car was going to hospital. She needed a lift home. We went for coffee. Mercifully the little coffee shop cooks with gas. The server said:
... it's just coffee.
Just coffee and a proper natter is something J and I rarely do.
Then we returned to the traffic department. The lights were on and, of course, a queue was already forming. Ms Friendly Official spied me and pushed me to the front of the eye test queue. I waited. Eventually After not too long, Mr Eye Test man called me in and after the process, there was one step: his finger print to seal the deal. Three attempts.
I think the system's down.
My heart sank. He tried once more. Voila!
He ticked, clicked and signed and sent me to the cashier. And the back of that queue. And my poor patient friend waiting for her lift home. Just as I got to the front of that queue, they opened a second booth. I was almost home free.
Not.
After telling me I needed another document for the renewal of my car, she relented and processed everything and then set to print the new license and accept the payments for both the driving and car license.
She fiddled and faddled. Disappeared and called He Who Must be the IT and Sort Everything Out Guy. He fiddled and faddled.
Problem with the printer?
Yes.
More fiddling and faddling.
Ma'am, let's go next door.
She meant to the next booth. More fiddling and faddling and the first printed page was not on the bespoke paper. Well, it was, but it was on the plain white, unwatermarked, unserial-numbered side.
Sigh....
We both did.
Then, to process the payment and the point of sale machine didn't work.
Sigh....
We both did.
She had to go back to the original booth to collect the other one.
Finally, we were done and I was home free to deliver J to her home and eventually make my way back home and to my desk. To start Monday.
And this:
This photo, I took yesterday, towards the end of day 1 of week 2 of soil compaction on the building site across the road. For the last month, we've had to live with incessant noise and deliveries. The sound and vibration of the two compaction machines is doing my head in and is, to say the least, counterproductive for this home based worker. It only dawned on me over the weekend, why I felt quite so frazzled at the end of last week. And it's continuing...
May they soon be done. We need our sanity, not to mention, peace, back. Only to be shattered, no doubt, by the concrete mixer. I cannot wait.
Needless to say, I spent the afternoon playing catch-up. I was glad to have an almost ready-made supper on hand.
Barley and lentil masala stew on a bed of wilted Swiss chard dressed with garlic, lemon juice and olive oil for last night's meatless Monday supper.
I know it's also what we had last Monday, but this time, having not had a big lunch, it was a main meal portion. Like last time, I dotted/drizzled a little harissa over the top. Dressing the spinach (chard), The Husband and I both agreed, took this dish to the next level. It's a good thing there's a jar left.
Speaking of which: the stew was effectively canned: it was put, hot into sterilised jars and sealed so it keeps really well and for longer than in plastic (besides being frozen). The jar pic is a reminder of the stored product.
I hear you asking the question as to what was the silver lining? Being able to catch up with and have J as company. Usually we connect at the market and over market matters.
Oh, and because we do the necessary "official" stuff in a small town means that, by and large, the people we who deal with us, are generally personable and pleasant. There's a lot to be said for a smile and sharing commiserations about things over which one has no control. Like loadshedding* and misbehaving printers.
*In South Africa, for the last few weeks we've had scheduled electricity brown outs. It's wreaking havoc with life, business and appliances. It needs to be fixed. It can't happen soon enough. It's also why I've been cooking on gas for the last 13-odd years...
Until next time, be well
Fiona
The Sandbag House
McGregor, South Africa
Photo: Selma
Post script
If this post might seem familiar, it's because I'm doing two things:
