Two Bits – 14 August 2015

We spent the weekend in the ‘Berg and among the hours of recuperative eating, sleeping and playing endless games of Scrabble, many were spent in contemplation, tramping through the veld.

I was particularly pleased to photograph a Gurney’s Sugarbird. They live in a few small areas of the country, pretty much restricted to the higher mountain areas where they live on proteas and aloe flowers.

Revelling in the clarity of the air, the warmth of the sun and the sight of eland on distant hills, I reckoned myself to be pretty lucky to be living in South Africa right now. If you do not bog yourself down in the endless bickering that, truth be told, you can find in almost any country across the globe and far worse in many others, life is sweet.

The air and water are clean, food plentiful, living conditions could be worse. Think North Africa. Of course there are challenges, many severe, but there is opportunity and if you employ your imagination and the strength of your back, there is hope. The doomsayers spend too much time moaning and groaning.

Up there, I revelled in being a long way from a shop. That might sound ungrateful, considering my business wouldn’t exist without shopping, but there are times that shopping becomes the be-all and end-all of our lives.

Growing up in the 50s and 60s, shops were only open five and-a-half days a week, 8 to 5 through the week and 8 to 1pm on Saturdays. The only businesses open on Saturday afternoons and Sundays, if memory serves me right, were “tearooms” in the morning for basic milk, bread, pies and sweets. Some petrol stations might have been open, but not all by any means, and a few emergency chemists.

It meant that there was a big rush to doing the shopping on a Saturday morning. In fact Saturday in town was a social occasion. But after shops closed and you didn’t have something you wanted, you just waited until Monday. Weekends were reserved for spending time with family and friends. There was no TV, but there were board and card games and of course, sports ranging from pick-up soccer, cricket and touch rugby to the formal editions of those, played by the grown-ups.

The only exception I ever came across was a 24-hour supermarket/deli in the centre of Hillbrow, back when that was the happening place. It was so outlandish I’d make a special expedition to shop there late at night, just for the novelty of it.

It wasn’t only South Africa where the five and-a-half day week prevailed. I visited Europe and Britain in the 70s and found them not much different. There was big excitement at Christmas time when Oxford Street shops had extended shopping hours.

In fact, I blame the commercialisation of Christmas for causing the whole move to longer shopping hours. That and the conformity demanded by shopping malls. Once shops realised the increased turnover, they all rushed to open longer for more and more weeks, until the whole year is extended hours. And once one started, there could be no going back, even if they wanted to.

Yup, there’s no going back, but I think life would be a lot more rewarding if we didn’t have shops open as long as they are.

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In his reportback column this week, Councillor Colin Marsh comments on the lack of interest shown by various municipal departments on problem areas he would like resolved.

Recently Cllrs Marsh and Hubner, the two representatives for the Ballito and Salt Rock areas, said relationships among local councillors across political parties were good. In short they said they were in council to obtain results, not fight with the ruling party.

That’s all well and good, but then you can’t complain when the municipality doesn’t put you at the top of its agenda.

The old saying “The squeaky wheel gets the grease” – the loudest problems are most likely to get attention – is as true today as it has ever been. If solving problems means you have to shout and argue, then shout you must.

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Umhlali accountant Neal Roberts got himself into an interesting situation in New York last week, as you can see.

Wife Sareen sent me this tale: “We spent our last afternoon of our holiday in Times Square. The place was pumping; these two lovely lasses walked straight towards us and Neal didn’t realize they were topless (and virtually bottomless!). As I am a thoughtful wife, I pointed them out and he hot-footed it down the sidewalk to look and of course insisted on having a photo with them.

“You can’t keep a good man down!” says Sareen.