Take time to look.

The beauty and the bounty of nature has always fascinated me. Since childhood, walking along beaches or in woodland looking for little gifts from her has never failed to make me happy. Odd stones, bleached bird skulls, shells, strange gnarled pieces of wood. I drove my physiotherapist mother nuts because I walked around with my head down, eyes on the ground. I was always told to walk up straight! How can one possibly find treasure doing that? I have many bits and pieces around the house from adventures all over the world. Stones, for me, hold the energy of a place so I always pocket one or two from wherever I visit. It is incredible how much detail there is to be seen if one just takes time to look. From the minute and intricate to massive, sweeping vistas, something stirs within me. I enjoy photography and with the advent of digital cameras, my world has expanded. I recently invested in a 'good' camera and it gives me the ability to capture fleeting moments of special light, a basking lizard, an interesting rock or flighty bumble bee. A slow meander down the boardwalk in my little town of Kommetjie produced some interesting photographs within millimetres of each other. Looking for photo opportunities is a way I enjoy spending my time and doing this leaves me in awe of our natural surroundings again and again.

Growing up in Kalk Bay.

In 1976 my family moved from Fish Hoek to the quaint fishing village of Kalk Bay.  Kalk Bay is situated between the mountains and the sea on the East side of the Cape Peninsula. Kalk Bay has a rich history and is named after the lime kilns, "Kalk" means lime.  There is evidence that the San people lived in the area and of course fishing has always been the mainstay of this little village. Our house, on a double plot, was built in 1937 of mountain stone. Thick walls, high ceilings and a view across the ocean. As children growing up here, it was an adventure wonderland. The beach was a hop, skip and a jump down the road, even quicker with an illegal short cut we found. Dalebrook beach, as it is known, has a large flat rock in the middle of the tidal pool. Many hours were spent sunning ourselves on that rock. It is safe to say we grew up on the beach. We learned to swim there, we fished there from our orange, white and black canoe. I, particularly, scouted the shore for interesting flotsam and jetsam for hours on end. I remember the local parents sun-worshipping, lounging on towels. Their children became our friends. A game we played involved standing on the back wall of the pool as the tide came in and whoever wasn't knocked off by the waves, was the winner. In those days dogs and fires were allowed on the beach so we lit fires and braaied caught fish in a perfect natural fire place in the rocks. Our dog was always with us. Sadly he was killed by a car trying to follow us to the beach one day. I remember lying on the rock weeping for him, my heart was broken. We surfed at Kalk Bay reef and Danger Beach. I am proud to say I was the first girl to do so and the boys were not amused. (Until they discovered that surfing in a bikini causes loss of said bikini!) Surfboards were safely stowed under the colourful, now extinct beach boxes. We skateboarded down the steep hill adjacent to our house. The mountains were explored, and in those days it was safe, sadly no more. We hiked in groups and spelunked in Boomslang cave. The tunnels in the cave are so low, the only way through is on one's belly. The cave traverses the mountain from the Kalk Bay side to the Fish Hoek side. We jogged on Boyes Drive and stopped at the waterfall which, when in full flow in winter, caused a mountain of foam. The play park, just down the road, was a meeting place and children congregated there. Games were organised, secrets told and tadpoles caught in the small stream that ran through the park. The local shop, SL Bazaars, was a source of half-cent sweets, illegal for my sister and I, but shared covertly with us by our friends. At Christmas time we sang carols to indulgent neighbours accompanied by squealy recorders! The railway line runs between the sea and the main road and we crossed it often to get to the beach. We put coins on the tracks so that the train would flatten them and then spent ages finding them. I still have some. Danger was the last thing on our minds. My sister and I had a "war" with the boys next door because they allegedly shot a hole in my bedroom window with an airgun. We captured one and tied him to a tree, lighting a fire beneath his feet! Another boy, fell out of a tree after my mother told him to retrieve my shoe that he had thrown there. Us kids dragged him inside bleeding from a puncture wound to his rear. To this day he is mortified at 1. How we cruelly laughed at him for not wearing underwear and 2. That my mother saw his bottom! We roller-skated on the smooth concrete floor of our garage and later held parties in there. We played horses in the sprawling garden and later held parties there too. We bothered the boys across the road by putting silly notes on their motor bikes and my sister, who had a crush on one of them, serenaded him hanging out of her window with her blue Mason-Pearson hairbrush-pretend-microphone singing "Hopelessly devoted to you." The now famous, Brass Bell restaurant became a hangout. Music was allowed there then and we listened to many, now renowned musicians. Thanks to a resident, music was later banned there for years. I remember a dad whistling to bring us in from surfing at supper time. I remember the clickety-clack of the trains and hearing the siren signifying closing booms at the harbour entrance. I remember the tragic day of the fatal explosion at the harbour. I remember the droning of the fishing boat engines leaving or entering the harbour in the early morning quiet and the soothing sound of the sea. The sunrises were gently spectacular and the morning my Dad died, Mum and I watched from the deck as the sea erupted with dolphins playing under a huge rainbow. By the way, I married one of the boys across the road in the old Holy Trinity Church, a stone's throw away from our beloved Kalk Bay reef!

My memories of Stuart Hunt.

A friend has left us. Stuart Hunt has been part of our lives for many years and while I was looking through the photographs for a suitable picture of him, I realised just how much he was a part. If I had to list the things that remind me of Stuart, the first thing I would mention would be fire!  Stuart loved fire and anything that was not nailed down would be burned on the braai fire.  He felt the cold and could be found huddled as close to the flames as possible.  Stuart was fiercely protective of his friends and although he didn't show it, we all knew that if anyone would help, it would be Stuart.  He loved music and he was a proficient ball-room dancer.  I loved dancing with him, because he was that good.  His phrase, "Don't bounce" comes to mind.  He insisted that dancing is flowing and he was right.  Stuart was an architect and his mind was as sharp as a tack when it came to building design.  He drew up plans for many houses.  Stuart was passionate about motor bikes and his bike was always maintained as a spotless machine.  We used to rag him about making sure that his bike idled for fifteen minutes before it was ridden, but he did things by the book. We all rode for Ulysses bike club (now Odysseus) and I don't think there was a more loyal member than Stuart accompanied by his love, Megan who he dubbed "The Poison Dwarf."  Organisation was Stuart's forte.  If we were embarking upon an adventure, be it a breakfast ride, rally or a weekend away, emails from Stuart would fly around cyberspace to make sure we all knew exactly where, what and how. He was always so enthusiastic and it was infectious. He loved the camaraderie of friends and would document all our doings with photographs and music. I bet he has categorised everything in his amazingly precise handwriting. I remember how excited he was to be surrounded by so many friends and family on his sixtieth birthday. Stuart earned the nickname of Grumpy due to his acerbic retorts, but Stuart was not really that. I saw him tear up more than once because he was so damn sentimental. He was a kind man. Stuart had a brilliant, dry sense of humour and one had to listen carefully to muttered commentary to hear how funny he actually was. His rare smile was a joy to behold. His latter time was difficult. We sadly watched his health decline and he alienated himself to a large extent. He had his reasons because Stuart always had his reasons. We all tried to understand and let him be. The last time I saw Stuart he smiled at something I said so I kissed his cheek and said my silent goodbye to him.

Three days in a mall.

I spent the last three days in an upmarket mall in Cape Town taking blood pressures as part of Pharmacy Week.  This was a drive to make people more aware of the need to check, not only their blood pressures, but cholesterol, blood glucose, hearing and sight.  Many people participated and I enjoyed interacting with them, listening to what they had to say, educating and picking up vibes from them.  I discovered quite a few interesting things during my time there.  Firstly people are generally pretty clueless when it comes to basic measurements and normal levels. They are so used to simply letting a doctor tell them what is what, that they look no further and take little responsibility for their health. On one hand people believe that treatment that does not include drugs is balloney and on the other, people are finally questioning over-medicating without a holistic approach to them as human beings. People were quick to tell me that they had a genetic pre-disposition for disease because "it runs in the family" and many mentioned suffering 'white coat syndrome' as a reason for high blood pressure. I observed a glaring gap in the understanding that illness is, more often than not, caused by lifestyle rather than genetics and that mind and body are connected. Having said that, the trend is leaning toward people trying to live healthier lifestyles which is understood as going to gym and cutting out sugar, salt and carbohydrates. While this trend is positive, it is quite often taken to extremes. Some people asked for basic advice while others were resistant, almost aggressive. I noticed that the banting diet is hugely popular. The healthiest people I interacted with seemed to be relaxed and balanced in mind and body while the ones on the high risk side were either fanatical, anorexic male and female gym bunnies or paranoid hypochondriacs who listed ailments, medications and doctors with a sigh. I noticed that a certain sector of people are more inclined to listen to advice given by misinformed friends than healthcare professionals. My approach has always been to listen between the lines and observe all aspects of the person sitting in front of me. To include the patient in their health issues, I encourage them to answer their own questions. I have no right to assume or judge. One cannot treat one being the same as another. Sadly I met a lot of lonely and stressed people, some of whom had issues that nightmares are made of. Thankfully I was not too busy to make time for a little chat and a hug here and there.