A number of random things tickled my fancy whilst businessing in Johannesburg...
Walking out of the airport, I passed a woman breast feeding her child. Not an unusual sight in Africa except that the child was strapped vertically to her front, and feeding while his mother power walked to catch her flight. I did not know that it was possible...
Sunset was spectacular. A giant red disc slid down the sky and over the horizon, highlighting the city skyline, magnificent! Who says Johannesburg does not have anything of beauty? The fact that the awesomeness of the sunset was caused by air pollution is another matter entirely!
I took just 30 minutes to drive halfway across town. An unbelievable feat at the latter end of rush hour! Of course school holidays were to blame but happy to cash in on the traffic free road action!
Steering through the empty roads brought me face to face with a sign for a business called ‘Shady Deals’. On second glance and fits of laughter, realisation struck that it sold mature trees. A super cool name for a business!
Surprisingly there is much housing development in Johannesburg North. One massive complex, which will ultimately be comprised of thousands of houses, has an awesome advertising campaign. Massive signs on the side of the road boldly proclaimed, ‘if you lived here, you would already be home!’ Powerful considering I was sitting in traffic...
Then I arrived in Cape Town, and it was great to be home!
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
Standing tall
It’s Saturday and Granny, Matt, and I are at the Cape Peninsula University of Technology for a club Judo competition.
Matt was hyped up and ready to go. Weighing in at 20.3kg, putt him squarely into the lightest weight category for the youngest Judoka’s. The fact that he was the smallest chap there did not dent his enthusiasm in the slightest.
He is called up in the first batch of contestants. I watch as my six year old son charges off into the competition area. Alone! He introduces himself to the officials and then stands in the queue as instructed, patiently waiting his turn. My stomach is doing cartwheels on his behalf; he seems calmer than still water. The first two fights are over quickly and he is up.
He bows in a specific order to the competition area, the mat, and his opponent. Then the match begins. His opponent, a girl, is about a head taller than him. They grab each other and begin to shuffle around the mat. Matthew tries to turn in a couple of times for a throw and gets nowhere. The girl strikes first and throws him for a minor point. He gets up, they grab hold, and begin again. He continues to avoid all of her attacks and then turns in and throws her spectacularly over his head. He earns a full point and wins the fight.
I can only look on with amazement. It is hard to let your little child go, knowing that it is up to him to fend for himself. No coaches, no parents, no one but himself. I am fascinated by the way this little child thinks through the situation he finds himself in, takes evasive action, and then finds a solution to the complex problem of fighting an opponent. I do Judo with him twice a week and did not realise that he could do what he has just done.
Perhaps he surprised himself as well...
A few fights later and he is back on the mat. He squares up with another kid about the same size as him. This kid goes on the attack. Matt again finds himself avoiding but trips the kid up for a minor point. They square up again and seemingly out of nowhere Matt has the kid over his legs and flat on his back for a full point. Another fantastic win, and my jaw drops for the second time that morning.
Two good fights and Matt takes his first gold medal. He seems completely unaffected by it all; just another day at the office for him!
This tiny little boy, so full of passion, potential, and love, has grown up in big strides in my estimation. More importantly he managed to get his granny on her tiptoes shouting at the top of her lungs. Not very granny like, but certainly befitting of the occasion!
Matt was hyped up and ready to go. Weighing in at 20.3kg, putt him squarely into the lightest weight category for the youngest Judoka’s. The fact that he was the smallest chap there did not dent his enthusiasm in the slightest.
He is called up in the first batch of contestants. I watch as my six year old son charges off into the competition area. Alone! He introduces himself to the officials and then stands in the queue as instructed, patiently waiting his turn. My stomach is doing cartwheels on his behalf; he seems calmer than still water. The first two fights are over quickly and he is up.
He bows in a specific order to the competition area, the mat, and his opponent. Then the match begins. His opponent, a girl, is about a head taller than him. They grab each other and begin to shuffle around the mat. Matthew tries to turn in a couple of times for a throw and gets nowhere. The girl strikes first and throws him for a minor point. He gets up, they grab hold, and begin again. He continues to avoid all of her attacks and then turns in and throws her spectacularly over his head. He earns a full point and wins the fight.
I can only look on with amazement. It is hard to let your little child go, knowing that it is up to him to fend for himself. No coaches, no parents, no one but himself. I am fascinated by the way this little child thinks through the situation he finds himself in, takes evasive action, and then finds a solution to the complex problem of fighting an opponent. I do Judo with him twice a week and did not realise that he could do what he has just done.
Perhaps he surprised himself as well...
A few fights later and he is back on the mat. He squares up with another kid about the same size as him. This kid goes on the attack. Matt again finds himself avoiding but trips the kid up for a minor point. They square up again and seemingly out of nowhere Matt has the kid over his legs and flat on his back for a full point. Another fantastic win, and my jaw drops for the second time that morning.
Two good fights and Matt takes his first gold medal. He seems completely unaffected by it all; just another day at the office for him!
This tiny little boy, so full of passion, potential, and love, has grown up in big strides in my estimation. More importantly he managed to get his granny on her tiptoes shouting at the top of her lungs. Not very granny like, but certainly befitting of the occasion!
Friday, March 25, 2011
Achieving the Impossible
I have started to read Lewis Pugh’s book, ‘Achieving the Impossible‘. I am only a couple of chapters in and find myself more than thoroughly inspired. If you don’t know Lewis, he is also known as the human polar bear and has spent much of his life attempting the impossible, in terms of long distance swimming. The human polar bear moniker comes from his kilometre swim at one of the poles.
Having my own wild long distance never done before event at the back of my mind, makes this book a very interesting read!
I found myself so inspired that a run at 05h30 this morning seemed to be a brilliant idea. Lewis wrote about long distance running in snow storms. I figured if that was possible, then there was no way I could shirk almost winter morning running.
And so I was on the road at the crack of dawn fumbling my way through the dark and loving every moment!
I so love books that rock my world!
Having my own wild long distance never done before event at the back of my mind, makes this book a very interesting read!
I found myself so inspired that a run at 05h30 this morning seemed to be a brilliant idea. Lewis wrote about long distance running in snow storms. I figured if that was possible, then there was no way I could shirk almost winter morning running.
And so I was on the road at the crack of dawn fumbling my way through the dark and loving every moment!
I so love books that rock my world!
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
All my teeth
Yesterday the final piece of work on my teeth was completed. I am now the proud owner of a front tooth! It cost plenty but worth it, especially considering the difficulties of taking management advice from a chap without a front tooth! And that is my business after all...
Whilst sitting in the chair, with the dentist fiddling in my mouth, we heard a very distinctive bird call. Lounging on a tree branch right outside the window was a Peregrine Falcon. Magnificent! It looked on intently as Laura significantly improved my smile. Then, bored to tears, it flew off for some breakfast.
Whilst sitting in the chair, with the dentist fiddling in my mouth, we heard a very distinctive bird call. Lounging on a tree branch right outside the window was a Peregrine Falcon. Magnificent! It looked on intently as Laura significantly improved my smile. Then, bored to tears, it flew off for some breakfast.
The funny thing about my tooth experience is that everyone noticed it was missing, but very few people have spotted that I now sport a beautiful new one.
I suppose it just goes to show that when you fit in with everyone else, you become the crowd, and lose your own identity!
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Brand new & barking mad
Yesterday started off with the birth of a baby daughter to friends of ours. There is something so special about a new born baby, the innocence and unknown potential, all wrapped up in this tiny helpless package. Two very proud and happy parents smiled at us when we went to visit.
It ended with a visit to a new friend of mine whose life is in absolute turmoil. Yesterday he committed his wife to a mental asylum. One cannot begin to imagine the path that he has travelled over the last two years. A path that began with his wife falling off a horse and injuring her head, and ending for now with a process to lock her up for the rest of her life.
Besides being traumatic for all involved, the mental process is rather final. It starts with a trip to the police station, followed by two officers being dispatched to pick up the ‘problem’ person. A 72 hour observation period in the local government psychiatric ward ensues. If the doctors feel the complaint is warranted, they will then commit the person to the local government psychiatric institution, forever. The only person who can get her out again is the person who put her there and only through an appeal to the Supreme Court.
Imagine having to weigh up your promise to love someone through sickness and health, with the need to commit them to an institution for the rest of their lives for their own good. A kind of Morton’s Fork if you will; a choice leading to the same undesirable outcome; in that everyone is unhappy.
My heart goes out to this man and his family and to our friends and their newborn. There can be no doubt that this life we lead is incredibly fragile and tenuous, and we need all the help that we can get!
It ended with a visit to a new friend of mine whose life is in absolute turmoil. Yesterday he committed his wife to a mental asylum. One cannot begin to imagine the path that he has travelled over the last two years. A path that began with his wife falling off a horse and injuring her head, and ending for now with a process to lock her up for the rest of her life.
Besides being traumatic for all involved, the mental process is rather final. It starts with a trip to the police station, followed by two officers being dispatched to pick up the ‘problem’ person. A 72 hour observation period in the local government psychiatric ward ensues. If the doctors feel the complaint is warranted, they will then commit the person to the local government psychiatric institution, forever. The only person who can get her out again is the person who put her there and only through an appeal to the Supreme Court.
Imagine having to weigh up your promise to love someone through sickness and health, with the need to commit them to an institution for the rest of their lives for their own good. A kind of Morton’s Fork if you will; a choice leading to the same undesirable outcome; in that everyone is unhappy.
My heart goes out to this man and his family and to our friends and their newborn. There can be no doubt that this life we lead is incredibly fragile and tenuous, and we need all the help that we can get!
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
I wonder
Many people ask me to tell them what keeps me so busy. Others just tend to wonder.
I find myself lost for answers. I know that I am hectically busy yet unable to understand how so little output can keep me as busy as it does. Society defines outputs in terms of income; the busier one is, the more income one should be bring in...
I seem to have the mix all wrong, or do I?
So much of my time seems to go into ventures that have zero financial yield. Charity work sucks up a substantial portion of my day. Make no mistake, it is highly rewarding and fulfilling, in that I get to use my talents for the good of others. There is also plenty of time spent with my family; the polar opposite to the situation when I was a corporate lackey. This is valuable time, real influence in the lives of my children. Then there are some entrepreneurial ventures that give me great pleasure and one day may show incredible returns, such as my foray into classic cars.
And yes, some of my time is spent working incredibly hard on projects that yield hard cash.
Sometimes, like now, I struggle to justify my choices to myself. Can I really ‘waste’ my time on stuff that does not support my family in the here and now? Is it possible to have some fun and dabble in incredibly interesting undertakings rather than directing all of my efforts towards making piles of loot? How will I afford a skiing trip for my family if I spend most of my time on charity work? How do I create a financial nest egg for our later years if I am giving away my best time for free? And so it goes...
I tend to come back to the stand point that I am trading much of my time to meet goals that are important to me and have been for all of my life. Goals that I could not have hoped to meet in my past corporate existence. As a result, my entrepreneurial life provides time but also brings much risk, excitement, and loads of self doubt.
I feel more fulfilled than ever, yet the more fulfilled I feel, the more I feel I need to do. I question if I am using my time well enough, can I not do more with what I have? I can only hope and pray that the long term cost of the fulfilled life is not too great. Then again, when I die, I would have done exactly what I had set out to do. Surely this is exactly what I want, and worth a potential difficult old age? Or as my wife may argue; a frugal now!
And the questions continue...and time moves on.
I find myself lost for answers. I know that I am hectically busy yet unable to understand how so little output can keep me as busy as it does. Society defines outputs in terms of income; the busier one is, the more income one should be bring in...
I seem to have the mix all wrong, or do I?
So much of my time seems to go into ventures that have zero financial yield. Charity work sucks up a substantial portion of my day. Make no mistake, it is highly rewarding and fulfilling, in that I get to use my talents for the good of others. There is also plenty of time spent with my family; the polar opposite to the situation when I was a corporate lackey. This is valuable time, real influence in the lives of my children. Then there are some entrepreneurial ventures that give me great pleasure and one day may show incredible returns, such as my foray into classic cars.
And yes, some of my time is spent working incredibly hard on projects that yield hard cash.
Sometimes, like now, I struggle to justify my choices to myself. Can I really ‘waste’ my time on stuff that does not support my family in the here and now? Is it possible to have some fun and dabble in incredibly interesting undertakings rather than directing all of my efforts towards making piles of loot? How will I afford a skiing trip for my family if I spend most of my time on charity work? How do I create a financial nest egg for our later years if I am giving away my best time for free? And so it goes...
I tend to come back to the stand point that I am trading much of my time to meet goals that are important to me and have been for all of my life. Goals that I could not have hoped to meet in my past corporate existence. As a result, my entrepreneurial life provides time but also brings much risk, excitement, and loads of self doubt.
I feel more fulfilled than ever, yet the more fulfilled I feel, the more I feel I need to do. I question if I am using my time well enough, can I not do more with what I have? I can only hope and pray that the long term cost of the fulfilled life is not too great. Then again, when I die, I would have done exactly what I had set out to do. Surely this is exactly what I want, and worth a potential difficult old age? Or as my wife may argue; a frugal now!
And the questions continue...and time moves on.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Random news
Been an interesting week. What with Guinevere getting stuck in a train carriage, delivering a good project, meeting some old friends for dinner, and having my new tooth rejected by the dentist!
I also discovered a potential solution to my total lack of energy of late. A vitamin supplement; and a world of difference it has made. Far better than a Coke to fuel the late afternoon snooze issues.
Then there was the surf on Saturday morning. We saw our first swell in months tumble onto our shores, and line up some lovely waves just ripe for surfing. It has been a long summer for a Cape Town surfer, flat seas and lots of wind. Winter is on its way, and this makes the surfer in me very excited!
Ash Wednesday, the start of Lent, also found its way into our week. I took my boys to mass in the morning amidst much excitement. All the excitement of course, generated by the number of hours that they would be late for school, rather than for the event that we were celebrating. Regardless it gave us a great opportunity to talk about Lent and the preparation that we can do within ourselves for Easter.
The Pope provided some much needed inspiration for me to continue writing my book. At the tender age of 83, whilst in charge of a massive organisation, he still found time to publish another book. With another one on the way, God willing!
Tomorrow is Monday and I am immensely excited. We have a board meeting scheduled for 08h23 at backline and the waves are expected to roll in. Really looking forward to this week, I have a feeling that it is going to be filled with excitement!
I also discovered a potential solution to my total lack of energy of late. A vitamin supplement; and a world of difference it has made. Far better than a Coke to fuel the late afternoon snooze issues.
Then there was the surf on Saturday morning. We saw our first swell in months tumble onto our shores, and line up some lovely waves just ripe for surfing. It has been a long summer for a Cape Town surfer, flat seas and lots of wind. Winter is on its way, and this makes the surfer in me very excited!
Ash Wednesday, the start of Lent, also found its way into our week. I took my boys to mass in the morning amidst much excitement. All the excitement of course, generated by the number of hours that they would be late for school, rather than for the event that we were celebrating. Regardless it gave us a great opportunity to talk about Lent and the preparation that we can do within ourselves for Easter.
The Pope provided some much needed inspiration for me to continue writing my book. At the tender age of 83, whilst in charge of a massive organisation, he still found time to publish another book. With another one on the way, God willing!
Tomorrow is Monday and I am immensely excited. We have a board meeting scheduled for 08h23 at backline and the waves are expected to roll in. Really looking forward to this week, I have a feeling that it is going to be filled with excitement!
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Oh Guinevere
Life is full of sneaky twists and turns. My 1950’s sex kitten found herself ensnared in a dark, hot, rail car carrier, with no intention of leaving. Much to my bitter disappointment! Although brute force and a little ingenuity dissolved that disappointment into some barely disguised joy.
My mechanic, Kevin, and I set off good and early for the Cape Town Station. I call Kevin the mechanic, but he owns a garage in my town that specialises in Jaguars, so he is way more than that. We arrived early and as luck would have it, the train arrived two hours late! A chance encounter with my mom broke the tedium of waiting on platform 24 for transport that seemed determined not to arrive. She offered to stay with us but luckily we packed her off on a different train home.
It did arrive in its own sweet time, disgorging its multitudes of passengers, and heaps of dirty bed linen, before beginning the process of shunting its two car carriers. That took a little longer! The car carriers spewed forth car after car, none of which resembled my precious Guinevere. I was a little apprehensive, unsure if she was there, or even if I had made a good decision to acquire her.
And then we saw her. Parked at the back of the top level of the car carrier; grey and forlorn. She had spent the whole trip sulking and so refused to start. That posed a little problem considering it was pitch dark and more than a tight squeeze. Her handbrake had been wrenched up so high that her brakes were locked in place and so pushing her out was out of the question.
The railway staff lost interest and abandoned us to our tinkering. I am not sure how much we fixed, but we sweated buckets. We were still trying to figure her out when the last of the Shoshaloza Meyl staff saluted us on his way home. There we were, abandoned in hot box on a siding in the busy Cape Town Station, trying to entice an old two ton beauty queen to leave the darkness. It was a little surreal.
So, the engine would not start, the brakes were locked, and we were dripping with sweat. And then we discovered something even worse! We had known that the air had been let out of the tyres to get her into the carrier, but we did not realise she was standing on her rims. With only two centimetres between her roof and the carrier roof, there was no way we could jack her up and inflate them.
Without a word, we downed tools and went in search of chocolate. We discovered chicken burgers instead, and fantasized about Guinevere, the grey phantom, that prowls the railway lines between Johannesburg and Cape Town, stuck deep in a car carrier.
Revived, we got busy thinking! Kevin called in a family favour, and a flat bed was soon on its way. A massive rope was found on a track and hooked up to the back of Kevin’s bakkie. With barely 10 metres of space between the end of the ramp and a beautiful glass wall, and a high voltage cable above our heads, much was at stake.
Slowly and with agonising noise, we hauled her out of her hole, a couple of meters at a time. She inched down the ramp and stopped at the bottom, wedged on her rims and exhaust. Some clever jacking, reseating of the tyres, and inflation, saw her sitting proud once again. Then she had to be towed in reverse along the platform and out into the star lit world.
Her tyres and rims are probably history, but I was delighted to have her close to home. I am looking forward to courting her, and the world of adventure that we will tackle together!
Monday, March 7, 2011
Calling Guinevere
Yesterday Guinevere started her trip to her new home.
Unfortunately, she did not want to leave Johannesburg. She refused to pick up her skirts and make her way to the train station under her own steam. My uncle, who has been looking after her, had her forcibly hitched onto a flat bed and delivered with her ticket to ride to platform 14.
The fun did not stop there. She had an upper berth and was hardly interested in getting comfortable up there. A tractor and chain changed all of that. And then she played her trump card, standing too tall to squeeze into the available space. The problem was solved by the quick thinking flat bed driver, who deflated her ego somewhat, by letting the air out of her tyres. Cosseted safely in her cocoon, her new journey in life was began.
Right now she is chugging her way to Cape Town. I meet her this afternoon at platform 24. I am not sure what to expect, but it sure is going to be a mission getting her home Luckily, my mechanic has agreed to accompany me to our reunion. He will be bringing his bag of tricks and a heap of hot air. With any luck, she will fall in love with me, purr like a kitten, and whisk me home in 1950’s style!
We shall see...
Unfortunately, she did not want to leave Johannesburg. She refused to pick up her skirts and make her way to the train station under her own steam. My uncle, who has been looking after her, had her forcibly hitched onto a flat bed and delivered with her ticket to ride to platform 14.
The fun did not stop there. She had an upper berth and was hardly interested in getting comfortable up there. A tractor and chain changed all of that. And then she played her trump card, standing too tall to squeeze into the available space. The problem was solved by the quick thinking flat bed driver, who deflated her ego somewhat, by letting the air out of her tyres. Cosseted safely in her cocoon, her new journey in life was began.
Right now she is chugging her way to Cape Town. I meet her this afternoon at platform 24. I am not sure what to expect, but it sure is going to be a mission getting her home Luckily, my mechanic has agreed to accompany me to our reunion. He will be bringing his bag of tricks and a heap of hot air. With any luck, she will fall in love with me, purr like a kitten, and whisk me home in 1950’s style!
We shall see...
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Kindness and cricket balls
Luke is struggling with his ‘good turns’ punishment. The dangled carrot that his write up will be published on my blog has failed to elicit sustained enthusiasm. He has however been a far friendlier and helpful child over the last 2 weeks, which we hope had something to do with the way we handled this situation. Although it may have had something to do with a wayward cricket ball.
Luke got hit in the head with a hard cricket ball twice last week. The first time was during practise when he apparently saved the ball from bouncing on the floor by trying to catch it in his mouth. That left him with a split lip and a lopsided smile.
The second time was a little more dramatic. It was late on a Friday afternoon, the air pregnant with anticipation. The opposing team batsman hit a cracker of a shot which rocketed to a kid on the boundary. The kid had his knee down and waited textbook style to stop the ball. About a meter from him, the ball hit a tuft of grass and took off into the air. The kid stopped it with his forehead, getting knocked onto his back for his trouble.
One of the parents leapt onto the field with an almighty cry, covering the next 80 meters in no time at all. He was obviously a little concerned for his son, as it had been a nasty crack. He picked up the kid, whose hat fell off revealing, none other than our dear son Luke. He was dazed and confused but determined to head on out after a short break. His fielding was atrocious, his bowling sublime, and his batting adding nothing to the tally. Not a good day out on the field, but then again, I am not sure that he was playing with only the one ball! Although, it should be added that Luke’s quick thinking team mates ran out the offending batsman whilst he was trying to understand all of the fuss.
Luke has however been the most attentive and caring child for the last couple of days. Fights with his brother have reduced to almost none, and he has even been spotted lovingly hugging the dear chap! Our household has been basking in the glow of all round pleasantness.
We are not sure if the two things are related but are certainly going to encourage plenty more cricket! Although helmet wearing at all times will be encouraged!
Luke got hit in the head with a hard cricket ball twice last week. The first time was during practise when he apparently saved the ball from bouncing on the floor by trying to catch it in his mouth. That left him with a split lip and a lopsided smile.
The second time was a little more dramatic. It was late on a Friday afternoon, the air pregnant with anticipation. The opposing team batsman hit a cracker of a shot which rocketed to a kid on the boundary. The kid had his knee down and waited textbook style to stop the ball. About a meter from him, the ball hit a tuft of grass and took off into the air. The kid stopped it with his forehead, getting knocked onto his back for his trouble.
One of the parents leapt onto the field with an almighty cry, covering the next 80 meters in no time at all. He was obviously a little concerned for his son, as it had been a nasty crack. He picked up the kid, whose hat fell off revealing, none other than our dear son Luke. He was dazed and confused but determined to head on out after a short break. His fielding was atrocious, his bowling sublime, and his batting adding nothing to the tally. Not a good day out on the field, but then again, I am not sure that he was playing with only the one ball! Although, it should be added that Luke’s quick thinking team mates ran out the offending batsman whilst he was trying to understand all of the fuss.
Luke has however been the most attentive and caring child for the last couple of days. Fights with his brother have reduced to almost none, and he has even been spotted lovingly hugging the dear chap! Our household has been basking in the glow of all round pleasantness.
We are not sure if the two things are related but are certainly going to encourage plenty more cricket! Although helmet wearing at all times will be encouraged!
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