The Master's Mare

I am currently living in Cape Town. But this is what went down at my home in Jo'burg in the early hours of this morning…

Lovely Brother decides: today he is going to get up extra early. Today he is going to wake up early so he can have a leisurely shower, enjoy a relaxing non-rushed breakfast of bacon and eggs, get changed into his ironed pinstripe suit and waddle off to work when he feels refreshed and awake and ready to take on the corporate day. Today he is going to not hit the snooze button on his alarm seven to eight times before moving, consequently waking up the rest of the house (something ALL men are guilty of!). Today he is going to get up straight away and take his time to enjoy the morning round The Jolly Olive household.

He walks sleepily, boxer-clad, to bathroom. Shuts bathroom door and hops into shower. Twenty minutes later, towel round waist, cleanly shaven, teeth brushed, aftershave applied, he tries to exit bathroom. But as he reaches for the door handle... the WHOLE STUPID THING COMES OFF IN HIS HAND!

Shit.

Now my mother is one to wake up early. Shuffling round the house, fixing flowers, opening the curtains, feeding the dog, opening windows, putting on the laundry. However, this morning, not feeling well she lay comatosed in a deep sleep, far away from the depths of the bathroom in which Lovely Brother now stood stuck in his towel. After trying everything in his manly power to open the door – kicking, scratching, pushing, pulling – for a good 40 minutes he began shouting… and shouting… and shouting. But Step Daddy was miles away in the land of Cape Town, and mother had drifted into Dreamland. When he realised his incessant screaming inside the house was going to do no good, he turned around to face the only other portal in the room – an eye level miniscule 10cm by 10cm window... He stuck his face through the bars and began yelling.

Fifteen minutes later, our faithful Thandi (who was getting ready for her day's work in the maid's quarters) became aware of a shreaking coming from outside. She raced out the door head-to-toe in the floral kit we gave her for Christmas, and realised it could only be the Master's voice. But where was it coming from?!?!?!

"Master? Master?"

She raced around the garden frantically, for fear of the Master's life, and came to the conclusion that it was coming form outside the front gate and he MUST be being hijacked on the street.

"Master, I'm COMING!!!!" she screams reassuringly as she presses the panic button, grabs a bread knife and hurries up the driveway.

She races on to the street to save her beloved Master, yet… he is nowhere to be seen. But the screaming continues. Thandi stands confused.

"MASTER? WHERE ARE YOU!?!?!"

It took all of an hour for Thandi to figure out that 'Master' was actually locked inside the house in the spare bathroom. By the time she arrived, Lovely Brother was shivering with cold, dishevelled, exhausted and had lost any sign of his voice after all the screaming.

Mother, who had finally risen from the dead, thought the whole situation was so hilarious, she could not stop laughing and promptly rang me to tell me about it, giggling so much she couldn't get the story out for a good five minutes. Lovely Brother was not amused, was late for work and is still not answering Mother's phonecalls.

It really was a fabulous start to my day.

The things I miss I at home...