Jack Frost and the pink earmuffs

Jack Frost paid me a visit last night, scratching his clawlike nails down my corrugated iron roof and awakening me with heart stopping terror as I imagined Edward Scissorhands peeling my house open like a sardine can. Those icy fingers trailed lovingly down my cheeks reminding me that while I had put electric blankets on the beds of my offspring, I still need to buy one for me. Thanks to the heat of their own beds all three small people slept in happy warm slumber while I froze my toes under two duvets, a dressing gown and two pairs of socks.

I happily purchased 20 kilograms of coal and an equally huge bag of wood (yes, I know I have in my garden, but it was cold and dark and I wasn’t in the mood to play axeman). The petrol attendant kindly put them in the car and off we went home. This is either where you laugh hysterically at the stupid woman who bought stuff she can’t carry or applaud the South African “boer ‘n plan” spirit. Small boy aged 9 and mother stared at the bags. We heaved, we lugged, we pulled and we tugged. About an hour later and much grubbier we got them into the house. The resulting flames were spectacular. I only wish we had peat or some equivalent, so I could keep it going in the morning. Oh or an AGA. I would love an AGA.

My people have rosy red cheeks that are dry and arid from the cold. Forget fancy face creams, I ended up with a huge jar of Vaseline (I felt myself having to explain to the pharmacist why I wanted it before realising that his mind probably wasn’t racing to the same conclusions as mine). Now I smother these little faces in shiny goop and it seems to do the trick. I feel horrible about leaving them at school in this weather while I sit in my warm office with the heater blowing on my feet. I know when I collect them I’ll have to turn the heater up just to be able to defrost them enough to give them hug without breaking them in two.

One last note on the weather, a quote from my beloved father:
“As cold as charity and that’s pretty glum.
As cold as the hairs on a polar bear’s bum.”
I think that pretty much says it all.

My spouse after a few set backs is now in Ghana enjoying semi tropical heat. Pah! Compromising on a complicated car exchange scheme I set off to drop said husband at the Gautrain station on Monday afternoon. I waved him off and did the inevitable school run. I despise listening to people blurb on the radio so it was a rare occurrence for me to actually listen to a traffic report that predicted ominous delays. I usually don’t because let’s face it I have to go home anyway.

I collected said sprogs and feeling unusually magnanimous I offered to treat them to dinner from KFC. Just as we were about to tuck into our clandestine feast who should call but the father of my children. Turns out SAA likes to make an extra buck wherever they can.

Let me break it down:
Say there are 200 seats on a plane, SAA will sell 250 tickets at full price.
On the day all 250 people may rock up or not.
Assume 50 don’t.
They don’t get a refund and SAA gets 50 extra tickets cash in the hand.
Now what happens when all 250 people rock up?
Chaos, murder and insanity.

Stewardess: “We are terribly sorry that the flight was so overbooked, sir. We’d like to make it up to with a ticket to somewhere you’ve never wanted to go. And because we are so sorry you can go by yourself and stay there forever, because the flight is only one way.”

So, not only do they screw up his flight, his meetings and my chick flick marathon, but they then offer a consolation prize that can only result in more money being spent on their airline going to waardiehekisekfontein! The bizarre thing is that they think its perfectly reasonable and even added on a 20% discount if I wanted to join him on his flight to nowhere. Perhaps I’m the crazy one, but I don’t think it’s much of an apology. Some extra Voyager Miles now that would have been fine, or an upgrade to Business Class on the flight the following day – something real.

Just did the trek downstairs and into the Arctic for a quick smoke. Come tomorrow I am fishing out Small girl aged 5’s pink earmuffs and damn fashion, I’m going to wear them.

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