I come from a family of story tellers.

A long-lost Aunty of mine was quite a well know writer (I was told this; I can’t personally vouch for her skills). At the time when her books were published, I was not allowed to read any of them. They were apparently rather saucy and not suitable to my young eyes. You are allowed to take this anecdote with a pinch of salt. You see, this was also a time when I was completely addicted to reading Barbara Cartland books and had convinced myself that I descended from a Duke, or Baron, or an Earl, or a something like that. But no. No blue blood in my veins but telling stories – now that runs in my veins.

I fear few things. I am not scared of a snake, nor a spider. In fact, I do have some skill in catching both successfully, and I catch and release. Now, before I perhaps inspire anyone here to go catch a snake or spider, there has to be a disclaimer: I may not FEAR them, but I do RESPECT both creatures and therefor I am very careful, and as for snakes, I had some professional instruction at some point. So, what does set me off, if not a snake or spider? I will get to that in a moment. First, I want to tell you a story about my grandfather. Is this story true? I have no idea. I come from a family of storytellers, remember. I will, however, try and tell it to you, as it was told to me.

It goes like this.

My grandfather, when still a young man and nobody’s grandfather yet, set off on his horse. He was on his way to one of the neighboring farms, where it was his intention to court a young lady. Some way into his trip, nature called, and he stopped, got off his horse and I presume he found a suitable spot, pulled down his trousers and squatted to answer natures’ call. This action was cut short abruptly when mid-you-know-what, a snake bit him, just below his right buttock. Snake bites are serious business. Despite the shock and horror, he managed to pull his trousers back up, and suffering severe weakness, he did manage to get back on his horse and make his way home. His recovery from this snake bite was slow and arduous. It required many days in bed, but recover he did, and as soon as he had regained his strength, he set out on horseback, to go courting. On route, you guessed it, nature called, and he got off his horse …if you need detail here, I suggest you reread the first few lines of this paragraph. They say lightning does not strike the same target twice, but this day it did, and again a snake bit him, on the exact same spot.

Of course, all this happened at a time when there were not many doctors around, and it was a farming community where a doctor only visited maybe twice a year. Fortunately for young Casanova, the second snake bite coincided with the doctor doing his country rounds, and this time he could get expert treatment for his snake bite. The doctor, when he examined his buttock, was perplexed by the five piercings. Snakes only have two fangs to bite with and will only leave two puncture wounds. And it was about at this time that the doctor spotted a pair of riding boots under the bed, and on the back of the boots? A set of spurs, with five little teeth lined up in a row.

I am not scared of snakes and spiders, but I do get set off by crickets and cockroaches. And let me tell you, this little town of Hermanus has some seriously big crickets and cockroaches. And yes, lightning can strike twice – I have personal experience after this week.

It started on Sunday. We were attending a service at a local church. Sitting in the second pew from the front, I hear a crick-crick in church. I did not pay much attention to it, like I said, there are too many in Hermanus. As the minister launched into page 5 of 12 pages of sermon notes, something made me look at my right shoulder, and there he was, wiggling his antennae at me. I could feel my eyes pop, and it took every ounce of self-control not to create a commotion. It took a few nudges before Colin finally looked my way to see what was so urgent, but once he realized what was about to transpire, he was quick to grab the cricket, before I disrupted the entire sermon and cause a “skandaal.” Monday brought the second lightning strike. A cockroach on the wall in our bedroom. Now you see, the thing about a cockroach is this: the more you spray them with insecticide, the faster they run. The poor thing will eventually be so drenched in Doom that his little feet will squelch as he runs, but still he will run. Fortunately, with both these insect attacks, my Knight in Shining Armour was here to rescue me. Trouble is, Knight is away on his monthly trip. Which is why I am starring at the walls, hoping for a spider, rather than a roach.

Getting back to my Grandfather, the one who survived the two venomous snake bites. You may wonder: did he get the girl? No. Once word got around of what actually happened (Country Doctor was quite a gossiper), he left to accept a teaching post in another province. The story goes, that the girl who would eventually become his wife, was in fact one of his pupils. Apparently (I have been told by my family of story tellers) he failed her two years in a row, until she gave up and left school. Which is about the time a young teacher on horseback came courting.

He could not have been a very good horseman as he did not have spurs on his riding boots.