As we are settling down, we have more time to take in the world around us. I spend less time staring at Google Maps and spend more time looking around me. Driving along to wherever I am going to, I now know when to look left (to see those cute little lambs) or right (to see if the cows had been to be milked yet.) I also know the best farm stalls by now, so no need to look out and stop at everyone. Which means I can now look at different things, and I lately have noticed quite a few flat things. Flat little Beemers, flat little Mercs, flat little Ferraris. What is it about people down here liking flat little cars? And yes, if you look at the person behind the wheel, it is a midlife crisis driving it. (My very good friend from Pretoria once said, as we were discussing men in midlife: Well, I suppose the alternative could have been an affair or dreadlocks.) Strangely though, these little flat things mostly appear over week ends. There must be an explanation for it. I will investigate and let you know. Fortunately, our not so flat house, on a not so flat mountain is guzzling all our funds, so no flat number for Colin.

Lately, I have also mentioned to you some of the challenges and benefits of being married to a Scot. Scots have few words. The English language is estimated to have 171 476 active words, and 47 156 obsolete words. Of those, I believe a Scott only uses 476 of the active words, and none of the obsolete words. On returning from a business trip last week, I suggested to Colin we have a date night. As with most young couples, there was a time when we were so wanting a night out, but either we had no money, or no babysitter. We still do not have enough money, but at least we no longer require a babysitter. And so, off we went. Nothing too fancy, just a local eatery overlooking the Kleinmond beach. The sea was calm, the waves were foamy white and gently rolling onto shore, the beach was quiet, and the setting sun turned everything that lovely colour – somewhere between yellow bleeding pink. Couples were strolling along the beach, holding hands…

Lovely, isn’t it Colin? In reply: Hmm.

It looks so romantic. Another Hmm.

Did you miss me when you were away? Hmm.

Do you still love me? Hmm.

Is that all you can say? You know me, Colin replies, I am not good with words.

For everyone out there reading this: Aren’t you just so happy it is me writing, and not Colin? I suppose I should be grateful that Colin’s version of flat and little is his conversation on a romantic date. (I asked him once: do you love me? He looked at me as if I had eaten all the Haggis before Burns’ Night festivities officially started and replied: I told you I loved you the day I married you. If I were to change my mind, I will let you know.)

Eager to show off to all my friends that we are on DATE night, I sent a photo of us off. One friend took no time at all to reply: You look so rugged. Now, I know perfectly well what “rugged” means. I grew up in the days of the Marlboro Man looking rugged, smoking his Marlboro, with a rope slung over his shoulder and a few days’ worth of five-o-clock-shadow. But this particular friend speaks the most eloquent English (all 171 476 words of it), and coming from him, I imagined rugged would have a different meaning. Nope. It has not. Rugged is still rugged. So, I looked at our photo a little closer. And rugged we looked. Like 2 people dressed in safety boots and waterproof parka jackets. The type of clothing you need when you are going to go up a mountain side building site.

I mentioned last week that I am not the person I was 6 months ago. But we are not always ruggedly going about our business. Today I am dressed in my finery:  jeans and proper shoes. I had things to do:

We need 10 000 “stock bricks.” No worries, I am on it! Me, behind the scenes: Google, what are stock bricks?

We will also need “butterfly ties”. No worries, I am on it! Google, what are butterfly ties?

Try find us some “brick force.” No worries, I am on it. Google, brick force supplier near me?

Gosh. Do you blame me for looking rugged! How I miss my days of going to the Revlon sale, carrying my Guess handbag! The only thing that could slow me down, was a cappuccino at my favourite coffee shop.

And whilst on the subject of flat things, this week the graders are moving on site to start flattening the building area. That all sounds good, except when the nice man said: The first bit of the driveway we may have to dig by hand. You see, the municipality can’t remember where the water pipes and electrical cable got buried, and if we dig too enthusiastically, we may dig right through them. Can you imagine if Bettys Bay was without services for a week because we dug it up? Colin will need more than a Hmm to get himself out of that one, and I am afraid Google won’t get me out of that pickle. We may have to make a rugged exit.

And so with all my new skills -some learnt, and some faked, the season is also changing here. We are going into winter. The days are cooler and most often cloudy. Yet, 20 degrees Celsius here seems a lot warmer than 20 degrees in Gauteng. I am also surprised at how green the land scape is in general. Gauteng looks very dry and dead in winter. I may change my mind as we get into Cape winter properly. But for now, all my coats and jackets are still in the wardrobe and have not been necessary. We are looking forward to the FynArts festival coming up, and we have tickets, remember! It will be so nice to dress up and put on a pair of heels. We will drive ourselves there in our sensible Road Vehicle, from where we can look down on all those little flat things driving around. Seeing we still have Gauteng plates on the car, we can do stupid things like drive up the wrong direction or make a U-turn around a road island. Invariable, it will be said: Gauteng Drivers! So, for now, let us take advantage of that reputation and do what is expected of Gauteng drivers in their big cars.