Jaunting Along

The little elves were actually made by her father, who also made the house The first memory I have of visiting Aunty Ingrid is of a Christmas event at her house, with the little red elves from Norway displayed on white cotton wool and all the sparkling drinks in red and green. We, who were not allowed such glamorous drinks at home were further instructed by no less an authority than my mother, “the lady with the clean house” as Kelly-Anne spoke of her when a young child, to take ourselves out onto the balcony and drink there lest we spill on Ingrid’s carpet or knock over any of her knick-knacks or in general, disturb the peace at all. However, Ingrid was not fussed as my mother was, and was in fact frustrated by our exile from polite company and sailed out to bring us back into the long big room to be part of the company where her mum sat quietly like a queen to whom we all were to pay homage, and her aunt Tante Bear chortled away on the edge of her chair, telling stories to both those...

Arne Kure, "daddy" The imagery of bridges always featured strongly in dad's unique series of visions, that in their own way, comprehended his life's lessons. No matter how annoying he found anyone, it was always, in the end, a case of "water under the bridge", with him waving his arm to one side, as if warding off negativity, which I guess he was.  His capacity for genuine forgiveness and tolerance was peerlessly, humanly matched by his great, idiosyncratic inability to "cross that bridge when he came to it", delaying always on the other side from sheer procrastination. he would say, "Oh!" and then think some more about it, utterly absorbed in total concentration, doing nothing.  I am so heart-glad that when he did finally come to .that bridge too far, it was only on his fourth encounter with cancer that he actually made it to the ...

  Jess Robertson and Temple Camp on their wedding day Grandpa and Grandma - as they were together in life, so too even in death . Grandpa was born on Holiday street in Pietermaritzburg,   and it was in Prince Alfred Street, directly opposite Holiday street, in the NCVV old-age home, this morning, that he took his departure from this good earth.  When he was first placed in the home, though his mind would wander, so too w ould he, striding up and down the long corridors.   Finally he would come u pon Grandma.   "Oh Jess!" he'd say, "There you are.   I've been looking for you everywhere".  Bed-bound at the last, I believe his soul continued to wander after her. Grandma, although content to cater to Grandpa's needs and whims, was always the leader when it came to things to be done.   "Come on", she'd say to Grandpa, whil...