Bounced

So it was just after Christmas when we left Jo'burg at sparrow's for Hermanus for the big Family Holiday. Hungover from excessive amounts of Boxing Day plonk, and so fat from Christmas I would need to be shoehorned into my airplane seat, I popped down to the O R Tambo Mug&Bean to grab a freezocino, intending to meet my family in the BA Lounge. (Step Daddy is some form of Gold or Platinum Executive Club member... red carpets, upgrades etc.) I head up to the lounge, while ice cold freezo works its caffeine magic on my head, and arrive at the doors only to be turned away. 'Sorry, but your father already has two other people with him. We cannot allow anyone else in on his behalf.' Er, what? Unfortunately it was a woman, so no amount of leg or cleaveage was going to get me through. Irritable, I ring Mother.

Me: I'm stuck outside.
Mother: Yes, they won't let anyone else in. Sorry Darling.
Me: Well what should we do?
Mother: Well, we're just helping ourselves to the free buffet... Oooo, chocolate croissants, delish!... Um, so we'll meet you at the gate?.... Ooo fresh orange juice... Bye Darling!

I couldn't believe it! Family was in the lounge, making a large dent in the free buffet, reading the free paper, helping themselves to the free bar, and enjoying the cricket on a free flatscreen, while I paid for my own freezo, my own muffin, my own magazine and sat at the gate humming Christmas songs to myself for 45 minutes.

Needless to say I boarded alone and they arrived late, still laughing about something hilarious that had happened in the lounge, and covered in croissant crumbs.

Me: Where's mine?
Mother: Your what?
Me: My takeaway breakfast!?
Mother: Oh, did you want something, Darling? The food was so incredible. We ate so much.

Me: I hope you all get fat and implode.

They didn't even hear me.

I didn't say another word the whole flight, feeling angry and excluded. And on arrival I said I wanted to drive to Hermanus on my own in my car and they could all go in the hired car. My family felt so bad they took me out for lunch at Bientang when we arrived and ordered a bottle of bubbly. I have to admit – the gorgeous view, mindblowing food and serenity of the setting was enough to calm me down and help me relax in to holiday mode.

Just as I was feeling so great and had forgiven my family... I got back to my car after lunch only to find I'd left the lights on and the battery was flat.

Awesome.

T'is the season to be jolly [olive]...

5 more days till Christmas!

So I realised this weekend where I get the persistently stubborn side of my personality...

Mother was due to fly to Cape Town with Step Daddy and Brother on Friday morning for my Big Sister's Wedding on Saturday. The three of them arrive at the airport with minimal time to spare. Yet, much to Step Daddy's annoyance, Mother disappears to find the 'Bag Wrap' man.

Regardless of whether my Dear Mother is flying to New York or Nelspruit, she will ALWAYS wrap her bags if she is flying into or out of South Africa... She is inexplicably British and believes any Saffa system is naturally corrupt and that we (and our belongings) will never be safe.

Step Daddy: Beanie, we really don't have time to wrap our bags.
Mother: This is South Africa. Everything will be stolen!
Step Daddy: We're only going to Cape Town.
Mother: And I have Christmas presents and my wedding outfit in there.
Step Daddy: You won't be going to the wedding if we don't check in in the next 20 minutes!

Step Daddy and Brother know not to bother arguing and tell Mother they'll meet her on the plane. Mother joins the end of what is an unfathomably long queue spiralling the width of the airport to get cling wrapped, all the while texting me about how she has to wear her wedding hat on the plane so it doesn't get squashed. A kilometre forward, at the front of the queue, stands one man very leisurely wrapping each bag, cutting holes in the cling wrap then sorting out the customers money. Estimating about 10 minutes per person.

Half an hour later Step Daddy and Brother board plane and arrive at their seats expecting to find Mother happily nestled in seat 7A (or 7 alpha as the air hostess referred to it), bags wrapped, crossword out... But her seat remains vacant. Step Daddy whips out his phone:

Step Daddy: Where are you?
Mother: In the queue...
Step Daddy: For the plane?
Mother: For the bag wrap...
Step Daddy: But we're taking off!?!?!??!?!?!?! 
Mother: Oops.

Step Daddy, furious, hangs up phone, rings ME and says: 'Get your mother on a plane. I can't deal with her.' 

Needless to say, Mother missed the flight. And was still in the cling-wrap queue 20 minutes later. After that she said she didn't want to come because Step Daddy had shouted at her. After much begging and pleading, I managed to get her on a plane by lunch time, but she was referred to, by all of us, as 7 Alpha for the remainder of the weekend. When we were tidying up after lunch on Sunday we asked if she had any cling wrap left to cover the food.

I mean, honestly...

Am off to Joburg for Christmas on Wednesday. Not sure if I'll get around to posting while I'm on my Jolly Olly Holiday, which is a whopping 3 weeks and consists of Joees, Hermanus, then Brede River. I'll be gone until Monday 9th January. So if you don't here from me, I leave you with piccies of my simply whacky family at Carols by Candlelight last night. From not wanting to go and accusing me of 'dragging' them there, they ended up being the most spirited in the entire garden, belting out carols at octaves only dogs can here, and managing to set fire to the bobble on my Santa hat. I was not impressed. Needless to say we ended up with our own 100m radius as people quickly moved their blankets to a safer spot to sing their carols in peace.

Merry Christmas to all. And to all a good night...

Family Jolly Holiday

Mother decides it's time we did a big family holiday over Christmas (we haven't done one since 2009 when we rented a palatial villa in Turkey) with myself, my two brothers, my two sisters and Step Daddy. Since we are based all over the world, we receive a communal email and the replies slowly flood in over the course of 3 days:

Mother: 'Bonjour La Famille. I am going to organise a family holiday, from Christmas till just after New Year. Any ideas?'

Brother 1 (SA born and bred): 'PLETT!'

Brother 2 (from the UK, so any coastal town will do): 'Isn't there somewhere called Hermanus?!'

Sister 1 (loves the mountain): 'As long as it's not far from Cape Town.'

Sister 2 (getting married so doesn't care): No response.

Me (over enthusiastic): 'Mozambique!!! Or how about Mauritius? NEW YORK?'

Step Daddy: 'Who's paying?'


Mother gets back to us a week later.


Mother: 'General consensus seems to be staying in the country. Let's do Hermanus?'

Brother 1 (SA born and bred): 'Are you even allowed in without a Zimmer Frame and a colostomy bag?'

Brother 2 (from the UK, so any coastal town will do): 'Sounds good to me.'

Sister 1 (loves the mountain): 'I don't think I can get leave.'

Sister 2 (getting married so doesn't care): No response.

Me: 'It's social suicide! Can I bring a friend?'

Step Daddy: 'Who's paying?'


Another week later.


Mother: 'I've booked a house in Hermanus'

Brother 1 (SA born and bred): 'An old-age home?'

Brother 2 (from the UK, so any coastal town will do): 'Sounds good to me.'

Sister 1 (loves the mountain): 'I'll try drive through for a day.'

Sister 2 (getting married so doesn't care): No response.

Me: 'It's ok, everyone breathe, I know someone who's going...'


Step Daddy: 'Who's paying?'


All of us (to Step Daddy): 'YOU ARE!'

...

Step Daddy: 'Bring your own meals.'


My family is very difficult to please. But I guess, like all families, we're all absolutely mental and could holiday in a wendy house in Uzbekistan and we'd still have a good laugh as a family. So after Xmas am off to Hermanus. If by any God-given miracle you're going too, pop round for a braai! We're surefire entertainment. Just remember to bring your own meat...