It is getting to that time of the year. Silly season. That time when retailers convince us that it’s the most wonderful time of the year. It is that time of year when you need to spend more money in a month, than you would normally spend in a year. Most often, you end up spending money in December, that you have yet to earn. Expectations to buy plenty of gifts for plenty people. Yet another box of Woolies chocolates, or a body wash and lotion combo, with some exotic fragrance. Shea Butter or Nettle. For those of you with Grannies or old Aunties: Take extra care what you buy, as it will come back to you via the re-gifting supply line. Check with your cousin before you buy: does she prefer Lavender or Rose?

It is also that very stressful time when clients and bosses are reminded of all the deadlines they need met before you can go on holiday. So, you soldier on, hoping to make a last good impression before you die of exhaustion. By that time, bosses and clients are busy with their own wind down and will not pay attention to your desperate attempt at meeting their deadline. We never learn, next year, we will do it all over again.

Colin and I are no exception. With the year winding down, we are also rushing to get our final brick order in. If you want window frames by next year, better get that order and deposit in by the end of November. One could actually hear the concrete supplier’s eye roll, when we asked if they could still supply a last batch this year, because we really need it. Colin even said please at the start and end of the sentence.

Of course, all this frenzy takes place against the backdrop of snowy Christmas scenes, artificial trees, and plenty shimmering baubles. All done in the name of tradition. Yet, those things that are traditional and should not be messed with, suffers open season. Please explain to me: why Blueberry mince pies? Is it not enough that we must suffer Choc Chip Hot Cross Buns throughout the year? I am convinced that all the Mallow Easter Eggs that don’t sell, get rehashed into Christmas Snow Pies. We live in Africa. You can call it a Snow Pie all you like, but like snow, it will be a melted mush by the time you get home. A local nursery was marketing Yellow Wood trees as a Christmas tree alternative. Our oldest son is planning on a small Olive tree, that can be planted in the garden at the end of Christmas. Maybe we will copy him and start a new Southern Scott tradition. That is how we refer to ourselves. We are the Southern Scotts. Why, you ask? Because all the others live up North. We are the Kilt and Veldskoen branch of the Clan. Our sons were made in South Africa, from imported materials.

That brings me to the annual Christmas Top 20. It starts playing in malls in October already. I believe that last year Bing Crosby’s White Christmas was the most loved song. Oh, Holy Night came in at second place, followed by Silent Night in position 3. Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer dropped to position 19, and Santa Baby is on it’s way out, in position number 20. Very many years later, I still bear the childhood trauma of Stevie Nicks singing Silent Night. Stevie has a raspy voice. She can grate a block of cheese by just singing to it. Some voices are not meant to sing Christmas carols.

It is now a year since I first started writing my Blog. Looking back on the year, I can’t help but feel like an Israelite in the desert following Moses around for 40 years. At some point, the newly liberated Israelites became very grumpy, and despite their second-grade citizen status as Pyramid construction workers, they were longing for Egypt. Looking back, life was not that hard after all, they said. Compared to life in a desert, the occasional whipping was easy peasy, pudding & pie. Many times, this past year, I did think: should we not have stayed where we were. We had a lovely house, great neighbours and friends. I recall sitting in church last Christmas, and the priest’s theme was: your current situation does not define you. It has been a year of being “tussen die boom en die bas”, which loosely translates into “between the bottle and the label”, for those other cousins. It took a lot of faith and courage to keep in mind that what was our current situation was only temporary. It does not define us. At times it felt like 40 years in the desert or dropping down to position 20 on the Christmas hit parade. With hindsight, we have come so far. Not only in the construction, but in personal development, which is a polite way of saying: we had to get over ourselves.

My SPF (Short Portuguese Friend) sent me a message this morning. Her best little dog friend has gone to animal heaven, after 17 human years on earth. Isn’t it strange how attached one can become to an animal? You all know of Liefie by now. Die Liewe Liefie (as I call her) is that over friendly, exceptionally loyal, multi pedigree dog that helps her human (our builder) build a house. Liefie is on site, come wind or rain. Twice already, she did her duty and alerted the crew to a Puffadder in the grass. She gets into trouble daily for scavenging bones from the surrounding properties or chasing baboons. But when her human calls, she comes running. Sometimes dogs, for no reason, just get a “nuk”, and they refuse to do what their humans expect. I arrived at site a few days back. I found the builder next to the road, a little flustered. What is wrong, I asked. Turns out, Liefie had found a shady spot right next to that very busy Clarence Drive, and she was adamant to have a snooze right there. Maybe if you called her, she would listen, builder requested. “Ek is nou moeg gepraat”, he said, which roughly translates into if I get hold of you, young Missy, you will regret your actions. Liefie, having spotted me, jumped up and came running over, wagging her tail. Colin and I have suggested visitation rights to our mountain next year for Liefie. She has become part of our story.

The Anglican penitence contains the phrase:

We confess that we have sinned against You in thought word and deed, and in what we have left undone.

In those moments of introspection, when we mull over our sins of the past day, week, or year, we often forget that leaving things undone, rates right up there with gluttony and slovenliness. Would this be a good time to remind Eskom that there is something very important that they are leaving undone? Something like that cable that you all know so much about. Yup. It is still there. Unmoved. Untouched. Not forgotten.

And so, we go into the Christmas season this year, looking forward to a dark Christmas. You can hang all the lights in the world on your tree, but unless Eskom comes to the party, dark it will be.