Take today, for instance. Snug in the nook we grandly refer to as my 'office', a beady little eye peeped through the window pane. Bushbaby here smiled and greeted the teeny chap, thinking it was the lizard I saw two days ago wiggling out of the hollow stem left after hectically pruning back the tree fern's determined effort to climb through the window.
Oh no. With a disappointing lack of processing speed, BB's mind registered that Lizzy was not walking along the window frame, he was, well, slithering along slightly faster than my brain was working. Journalistic instincts to the fore, I grabbed the S4 and snapped away, capturing him as he reared up, bent over, fell backwards and threw himself off the window with a poise, grace and balance that would shame our national gymnastics team. Firing off a Whatsapp to Junior Son with a giant question mark attached, I soon wished I hadn't asked. "A Boomslang. Call a catcher. Close the window. Don't go near it. Second only to a Black Mamba for toxicity."
Before I could follow orders, the phone rang. A desperate sounding friend from across the way in serious SOS mode - fearing the possibility a grumbling Iceland volcano would ground all flights in the northern hemisphere, she was changing her travel plans from two days hence to...two hours time. Could I dash over and help her pack? Sure, no problem. Shelving the serpent for another time, I raced over.
Picture this particular person, your classic Swan. Eternally calm and measured, her serene exterior hides the inner machinations of all sorts of chaos . Today ripped a few feathers off and revealed the working parts. I was directed to pack this, secure that, hold onto the cell awaiting a call from the driver while she worked the landline organising flight changes with the travel agent, I had to Google map an address in the inner bowels of Johannesburg (without my glasses, left idling on my desk) while we second guessed Google with a map book (remember those?) and reassure her that yes, she was doing the right thing - an impossible thing, but it was the right decision anyway. I galloped away to fetch her sprog, who, oblivious to it all, wasn't where we wanted him to be and a precious 30 minutes was spent unearthing him.
Tipping Junior out of the car, we threw her bags into the little sedan and leapt in. Have I told you that this is the calmest woman you'll ever meet? When I zoom into her kitchen, bristling with outrage about something or other and expecting her to leap onto my broomstick in support, she, in her measured, quiet tone, serenely points out the failings of my emotional non-logical thinking and damn it, she's always right. Whereupon I fold up my crestfallen broom and slink out, deflated. And Swan's the calmest, smoothest driver on the planet. My dad, a very critical passenger, sings her praises - the finest driver he's ever come across and believe me, from an old-school Englishman who was a driving instructor in the '60's, that's the pinnacle of ability.
Here's where the feathers were ripped out. As she hurdled the speed bumps in that poor little car, I asked what time her flight was, exactly. "You don't want to know" was the crisp answer, pointing at the clock and indicating 18 minutes time. And we weren't even out of the estate yet. Let that sink in, the flight LEFT in 18 minutes. Not check-in closed, or boarding commenced. Wings would flap and engines rev in 18 minutes. I had no idea it was possible to enter a circle, drive around it the wrong way and exit without damage or injury to the other cars both in and entering the circle. It was a brilliant piece of stunt driving. Charmingly, she courteously indicated as she overtook traffic from every direction and lane imaginable, at great swoops of speed.
We called the agent, explaining we were minutes (ha!) away from the airport and the agent immediately got onto the airline. Expecting her call back, we were surprised by the call from an Airlink ground staff member - exactly how far away were we? Boarding on the 15h40 flight had been completed but she could offer a seat on the later flight. Too late to make the connection. "Two minutes, no more than three" I lied. The trusty little sedan screeched to a haphazard halt at the airport door about 6 minutes later. 15h36. Grabbing her handbag and computer, Swan galloped through the door leaving lame duck to grapple with the enormous squashy bag on wheels which don't work at speed - it was easier to hoick it up and run.
The impressive and unflappable Airlink staff are truly amazing. They What'sapp'd the Pilot, who agreed to wait a little more and allow her on. Swan clutched her boarding pass and the ground crew scooped up luggage and ran out to the plane with her. Swan messaged to say she'd graciously (and gratefully) waved and smiled at the Captain as she hurtled up the stairs.
That wasn't the end of the tale. The driver who'd braved downtown Jozi to collect large boxes of luggage couldn't fit them in the car - entailing a double trip before he could get everything to her at OR Tambo airport. And with all that behind her, Swan's ruffled feathers needed some cooling down. Only when she got to the boarding gate did she realise that the premier reason for her having to get to the UK come hell or high water, a precious gift, had been left behind in the chemist when she bought some deo!
All's well that ends well, however, and as I type she's safely on her way, everything in order. She achieved the impossible with help from many kind people in the travel industry and everything will run smoothly from here.
As for Lizzy Boomslang - an MMS to a local snake expert revealed that we could stand down from Defcon 1 - a harmless spotted bush snake had performed the window acrobatics.
And just to round off manic Monday, our Nia dance class this evening was watched (in some amusement - I saw him sniggering) and photographed by a reporter from the local press. We love Nia because we get to wiggle our assets any which way and how, with no mirrors and absolutely no idea how silly we look. Now, I fear, come Friday, the entire Lowveld will see us shaking our booty (and oh, how it shakes) in all it's glory.
Mundane? Not likely. Living in a small town is a roller coaster of adrenaline.
Phew you had me sitting on the edge of my seat for this one! Love it!
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