Mandela Day mission!

A 67-minute outreach can cover various charitable acts but one is not supposed to publicise good deeds.
    However I must record one of the things I did seeing that it involved a completely naked subject. Girlie, who lives next to the swimming pool at Willow Cottage in Campbell Street really suffered under her owner. And a polka-dot gift was the least I could do for her.

    At last Girlie feels like a woman

                                                   

 ... less bashful next to the pool

                                                  ...

     ... outshining the other decorative elements

                                       

Keepsakes on our Hill

                                                               

        Emmie Oelofse with guests in front of her shop on the
Saturday of the Music Fest 

       
      A new antique and bric a brac shop has popped up in
                                           Irvine Street, Richmond Hill.

         Emmie, the owner of Keepsakes,  says she was  irritated    
         by the way her tenants treated  the  cottage.                                     
          So when their lease ended she decided to open a  shop.
          Emmie's husband told me that his wife earned her  
          Springbok colours in aviation some three years ago.
   
          The cottage oozes with atmosphere and the rooms are 
           filled with an eclectic mix of merchandise. It almost 
           looks lived in by real people. Only when you enter the 
          bathroom and see the bathtub covered with a display, 
           you know that they must be sleeping elsewhere!


          Below:   The tree invites you to slow down ...

                

Candles on a stormy Saturday

It was my turn for book club on Saturday and my fellow readers could not have chosen a better time to visit the Verandah. It was a cold, windy and wet day...
    But I could serve them lunch by candlelight and nobody could detect a speck of dust or a nasty cobweb. The table was laid with lace, crystal, silver plate and my usual bone handle tools. The fare was not spectacular as the farmstall pie turned out to be something other than the venison I thought I bought on my way back from Grahamstown the previous day... and the meringue on the lemon pie did not travel well. Little morsels of whatever I could find in the larder complemented the offering and everyone was content to drink their coffee from my Sicilian cups.

  The candles on the mantlepiece added to the atmosphere