The Idler, Friday, August 30, 2019

The drunk

horse in a

willow tree

 

Spring is sprung, da grass is riz,

I wonder where da boidies is.

Da boids is on da wing – or so I hoid.

But dat's absoid – da wings is on da boid!

 

 

YEP, on Sunday it will be officially spring. But why this unseasonal chill in the air? Except it's not unseasonal in this part of the world, it's our time of cold snaps.

The first time I was in falling snow it was September in East Griqualand. And boy, was it falling? For three days the town of Matatiele was cut off from the outside world, road and rail. The only people mobile were the farmers on their tractors..

The pubs didn't close – an emergency, you understand – and a well-known local farmer slid his vehicle into the railings of the river bridge on his way home. He made a statement to the cops "for insurance purposes".

The statement: "A drunk horse fell out of a willow tree onto me."

Yes, them wuz the days. EG, the last outpost of the Wild West.

Meanwhile, Dave Holland, the Bard of Bazely Beach sends in his annual Ode to Spring.

 

Spring is sprung once again and our country's a mess.
Just quite where we're headed is anyone's guess.
O that we could just forget the issues of the past
And all get on with the job of fixing things fast.
We used to drive on the left when the roads were well kept,
Now we dodge potholes and drive on the bits that are left.
Maybe it's time for KZN to have its own University of Roads
And  to pass a law that the railways carry all heavy loads.
Every day we seem to be getting another new warning
About the dire consequences of global warming.
With the imminent arrival of climate change
What kind of a spring are we going to get in exchange?
Perhaps it's time for us to all join in an impassioned prayer
That mankind can find a way to replace the ozone layer,
And if we had  politicians who would  practise what they preach
Just Imagine what heights our  country would be able to reach.

 

 

Women's Month

 

AS WOMEN'S Month draws to a close, some succinct lines from Dr Deena Padayachee.

 

Men may rant and rave,
Torture and slaughter,
Burn and pillage,
But in the end it is the wise ladies who give birth to the future.

HEY, I'm invited as an Old Collegian to a game of touch rugby tomorrow against the Horseflies (DHS Old Boys) at DHS.

You have to be over 35. I guess I qualify, but why touch rugby? I'm in crashtackling mode, getting in the mood for watching the Sharks' semi-final.

DHS is just across the road from the Street Shelter for the Over-Forties. Can I bring a few of the damsels as cheerleaders?

 

Tailpiece

 

What do you call a girl with a frog on her head?
Lily.

 

Last word

 

Skiing consists of wearing $3 000 worth of clothes and equipment and driving 200 miles in the snow in order to stand around at a bar and drink. – P J O'Rourke