More shopping

Well, I've finally bought The Rucksack. Given that I am five foot nothing in old money and have an inbuilt distrust of all things physical, I am proud of myself. The Rucksack has more straps than a parachute and I keep wrapping the longest one round my neck when I hoist it on my back, but there we are. It has lots of sweet little pockets and zippy places which I'm sure will be perfect for the Antisptic Hand Gel and the First Aid Kit and the Rape Alarm. Nothing like positive thinking. Mind you, by the time I've found the appropraite pocket, undone the luminous green padlock and found whatever, doubtless I'll have bled to death. I also got a money belt, designed to be worn beneath clothing. Trouble here is, that as well as being vertically challenged, I am somewhat scrawny and the so called adjustable belt doesn't adjust enough.The strap dangles down to my knees somewhat giving the lie to Discreet and Secret Every three paces or so it falls down round my ankles. I have also collected sleeping pills from nice doctor who issued grave warnings against DVT (hadn't even THOUGHT about that one) and enlivened my appointment with jolly tales of tribal warfare when she was in SA as a medical student.
Happy days.....

New knickers, new look.

On the way home from work this evening, I decided to start Serious Preparations for The Trip. Item number one on agenda: New Knickers. Am fed up with droopy shapeless garments worn since year dot. Any parent will understand the guilt involved in buying clothes..or anything...for oneself, when there is a child who has the insatiable needs and wants of some fledgling bird. But I resisted. I held tight to my principles. And I ended up buying the Cheapest Knickers in Town. Six pairs for ten pounds. Brought them home and have just spent a happy half hour trying these things on. Well. Boy shorts. Huh. Look like the sort of things women marathon runners wear( on top). Thongs. These appear to have one mission in life; to disappear to places no Marks and Spencer knickers ever went. And finally, some lacy affairs that will do precisely nothing to keep out the chill of a South African winter. (Although may come in handy for acting as a water filter when up some remote hillside with gap year youf on safari.)
Tomorrow: wash new knickers and pass to teenage daughter. Saturday: M and S for proper knickers.

Gym bunny

Reading the OMG safari details and the horrid bit in the paper work that mentions the R word( that's Rucksack. Rabies is under D for diseases) I felt I ought to attempt to get fit. Having always been relatively skinny, I've never been much for fitness, with the result that flesh has headed souhwards over the years and carrying a rucksack fills me with dread. So, off to the gym. Vague ideas of a two month membership. Nope. Twelve month minimum. From there to the purchase of singularly unattractive gym gear. Trainer socks that disappear deep inside trainers and baggy trackky bottoms. Teenage daughter bribed to put Dead Groovy music on i pod to make treadmill machine bearable...
Well, it was a nightmare. Why do these gyms have Sky TV on, with music videos featuring mega fit and attractive youf who not only appear to be able to sing, but dance at the same time. I don't even have breath for 10 sit ups..... All around fit( in both senses) blokes lifting kilos and kilos of metal whilst I struggle with one.
So have booked second session for tomorrow. And doubtless a purchase of suitcase on wheels on Monday

Well...where did it all start? Last summer, bored with the standard beach holiday I decided to make inroads into my "bucket list". Strange things happen to Women of a Certain Age and suddenly I realised that fifty was approaching, insurance costs were rocketing and my knees were getting dodgier by the day.
In the words of the song, it was clearly "Now or never", so I spent a few happy hours on the computer and ended up signing away the summer of 2010 working in an orphanage in a suburb of Cape Town. Having phoned the charity to pay ( good old flexible friend!), I was persuaded that the add on safari would be a good idea....bliss. Sundowners by a campfire sounded perfect after a few weeks of small children. Except this safari, when details arrived, turned out to be designed for gap year students with non dodgy knees whose idea of a good time clearly involved bungee jumping and sea kayaking. Not a sundowner in sight.
Too late to back out now.
I put all such thoughts out of my mind and concentrated on teaching my class, getting teenage daughter through A level revision and applying for Student Finance.
But suddenly the month is June and it's not "next year" or "next summer" any more...it's "next month".
Watch this space( and if anyone knows of a good knee doctor in Cape Town I'd be grateful!)