According to the Guinness Book of Records, one of the biggest cheeses ever made was a Pecorino Cheese, made in Sardinia. It weighed 598.5kg, and it measured 165cm wide, and 60cm high. There are many others listed, but this one took my fancy. If you are going to be big, I’d rather be a Pecorino from Sardinia, than the Dutch cheddar, coming in at 600kg. I guess when you are a cheese, size (and location!) matters.

We all know the saying: My cheese got moved, or who moved my cheese. The meaning behind the saying is “you go past your fear and away from comfort.” The dictionary goes on to say that “you develop more confidence to face more change in the future.” It is easy to define things in a dictionary, but to experience it in everyday life, now that is something else.

Both Colin and I had rather disrupted childhoods. We became experts at adapting. Where I was only moved between towns and provinces, Colin was moved between continents, and even had a short spell on an Island. There was nothing wrong with it, we both gained good life experience. When we then met up, we decided that our children would have stability, and so we settled down and made ourselves a very big cheese. By the time we decided to move this cheese, it was over sized, and even after selling and donating large chunks of it, we still have a lot of it in storage, waiting to be moved into our mountain house.

My Granny, who passed away when I was far too young, said: If you are going to suffer, you may as well suffer in luxury (we were talking about pretty, young things marrying much older wealthy men). She also said: rather an old man’s darling, than a young man’s fool. I believe this was a proverb first published by a chap called John Heywood as a verse in 1546. From this I can deduce that either my Granny was well read, or unhappily married. She died when I was young, so I could never ask her, but somehow her words stayed with me. No. I did not marry an older wealthy man. But I did marry my darling. Of late, however, her words have resonated with me, the bit about suffering in luxury. Because, you see, my cheese got moved, from Pretoria, to various temporary places in the Western Cape.

To get back to the definition of cheese moving and looking at the first bit: you go past your fear and away from your comfort….

We spent the weekend in Somerset West. Driving back over St Lowry Pass and around the big mountain, you reach a point where you look down on the little town of Botrivier. Never in my life did I ever imagine that this little hamlet would become part of my story. And yet here I am. Suffering in luxury. Where else in the world could I be sitting on a couch, with the door open, looking onto the foothills of the Houwhoek mountains, covered in either Fynbos, wheat, or canola? Colin’s comment as we spotted the town: it is good to be home. Even if it is just our home for a very short time. Colin too is suffering in luxury. Most days he sets up his working space, so as to overlook the Beautiful Beaumont vineyards. Or he moves his space the other way round, to look at the valley that goes off to Hermanus, or the one that goes off to Swellendam. He has 360 degrees of luxury in which to suffer in.

Then there is the second bit of the definition: you develop more confidence to face more change in the future.

This bit of the definition, I guess is there to remind us, that suffering in the luxury of the most beautiful little valley of Botrivier is just temporary. As much as it is already part of our journey, we need to not loose sight of where we will end. This week, I had to acquire yet more new skills. In my old life, taking on a function for a few hundred people, was just another day at work. In my new life, setting out to open a builders’ account took heaps of courage to get out of bed, even more to get dressed, and my last bit of courage to drive into town and park outside of the builder’s place. It did not take me long to find my “mojo”. In no time at all, discounts were negotiated, delivery addresses confirmed and me nodding my head, all the while pretending that I know exactly what stock bricks and timber battens are. Had my Granny been alive, she probably would have said: Fake it, till you make it! Fortunately, the last step was the office lady, who did the actual work, and soon I was in a comfort zone, chatting about moving, grand children and cookie recipes. She also married a British husband, and we had a good laugh at some of the interesting experiences we shared, such as moving an English husband to a predominantly Afrikaans community. In South Africa, where we are such a potluck of race, colour and culture, the other office lady, who is of a different demographic, found it so funny to listen to our “white people problems.” Gosh, she said, I did not know that you also had to deal with these sorts of thing! I left the store with a bounce in my step, and with confidence to face more change in the future.

I mentioned our builder in the last Crawl. In the end, it came down to establishing rapport. It is so important to us, that we work with a builder that “gets it.” We are not just building a house. Colin designed the art, the builder will be the one to interpret it and true to the name, it needs to be infused with love, soul, and creativity. I tried to explain to builder that he is going to have his cheese moved. But, at the end of this project, he will never again settle for processed cheese slices. A few cups of coffee later, and many discussions that took us into all directions, there came a point in our conversation, where I could sense that he’s got it! It was just that gentle shift in his expression, and I knew we had found that sweet spot. I just know, our house is in safe hands.

And so, this brings me to the next bit of my story. In this tiny community where so much value is placed on one’s ethics, it is so important to ensure that your own moral code is in place. It is amazing how quickly a person here can fall into “that guy will cheat you wherever he can”, or “now that is a good guy”. Coming from the big city, we operate within what the contract says. We keep a paper trail, and records for future reference. But down here, despite our well worded and numbered contract, the deal was not sealed, until we all shook hands. That handshake is worth more than the signature on the contract. Colin reminded me, that in Scotland (where he is from), a handshake is legally binding. And so, with a shake of a hand, agreement was reached.

With our time in Botrivier getting less, we have had so many new friends popping in, asking if we may in any way change our minds about Betty’s Bay. Can we not maybe just build here? They will miss us. We are only moving a 20-minute drive away, I remind them, we can still visit any time. No, you see, the one lady said, Botrivier will be empty with out you. My Granny also said, you only cry twice in a town. The day you arrive, and the day you leave. I think my Granny was a very wise person. Indeed, I did suffer in luxury.