If you've spent anytime reading (and hopefully chuckling) your way through Lightly Green, you are sure to have spotted one truth - life with Him Outdoors is anything but mundane.
Please don't let on to him that actually, despite some intense whinging and broomstick waggling at times, I really miss him when he is not around. The initial sigh of relief as the stormy seas calm to a millpond and things run smoothly to plan quickly turns into a longing for a swell or seven. If personalities were continents, he'd be Africa with all it's bumpy, potholed roads, surprises, curiosity and sheer joy of being alive.
One (of many) areas where we differ is calculating distance. There was the time we decided to take our afternoon walk to Randjiesfontein Spar "it's about 2kms away" HO declared. My veteran walking legs declared the 2km mark at one point but a query was answered by "it's just through this boom, out the other side and across the road."
True, it was, after another 2kms. Over an hour later we limped home and Grumpy had to google the distance to prove her point - 8.6kms in total. So much for his calculation.
It got worse before it got better, too. Briskly setting out to explore our new home in Nairobi, two days in a row I faithfully followed him and both times, legs aching and lightheaded in the heat, we ended up hailing a taxi to get us back to base. Exploring country lanes is one thing and the vistas of grazing cattle and horses, fields of wildflowers and lush overhanging trees was delightful but eventually, feet complain and my tummy demands sustenance NOW. The askari manning the gate must have thought we were totally mad, striding out at 7am only to be Uber'd home 2 hours later.
There is always, however, always a shining light in the darkest hour of life with HO and yesterday delivered a beacon of supreme indulgence. Well, actually, it was just a cup of coffee but served in an oasis of unbeatable luxe.
Our stomping route passes an enormous, pale pistachio wall trimmed with white, the discreet sign simply stating 'Hemingways'. Yesterday, HO suggested we call in for a cuppa as we returned past the imposing entrance. In we went, guilelessly charming gate askaris and the manager who greeted us at the door. "A coffee? Of course, you are welcome. I'll take you to a table, would you like to join us for breakfast as well?"
Yes, we would, but unfortunately we don't have a spare kidney to sell at this point in time.
No, I promise, we didn't say that, but assured the nice man that another day, we'd love to.
Plantation splendour, serene, immaculate, jaw-dropping and graciously magnificent, Hemingways is where I want to live when I grow up. There we were in our finest walking gear, muddy sneakers, glowing faces and the wonderful staff treated us like royalty.
Oh, my, what a treat. The coffee was superb but, quite honestly, even Ricoffy would have tasted heavenly in that setting.
Someone asked me a while ago whether when my goals have been achieved, I set new ones. Yes, I do and here is my latest one - a weekend in this palace of tranquility.
But this, ladies and gents, is why life with HO is addictive. Who else would dream of popping into a luxury boutique hotel for a coffee as we walked past? This little indulgence satiated the senses as much as a $1 million treat.
Or am I a cheap date?
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