Carol’s Column

How I nearly had my body unblocked

"What do you want more than anything else?" asked my good friend Betty the other day.

Ah! A six-week holiday in the Seychelles, dinner, bed and breakfast with Daniel Day Lewis? These thoughts whizzed through my mind at lightning speed. No.

"More than anything else, I'd like to spend an uninterrupted day in bed, reading a good book, eating freshly made popcorn, drinking banana daiquiris ... and I'd also like a body massage, I've never had one before."

"So, life's short, why don't you do it?" said Betty. Why not indeed?

Last weekend, I found myself alone. The kids were away and my spouse was in Cape Town. This would be my opportunity to enjoy a day of blissful sloth, something that every overworked, underpaid, unappreciated mother requires in order to regenerate her strength.

Saturday would be my day. I stocked up with popcorn and bananas and selected a paperback called "Love at the End of a Parachute". And then, the ultimate self-indulgence, I arranged for Heather of The Aromatherapy Palace to call at 2pm.

On Saturday morning, I slept until 11am, then trotted downstairs to make fresh popcorn and a large jug of banana daiquiri. By noon, I'd finished a bowl of popcorn, was well into page 23 of "Love at the End of a Parachute", and on my third daiquiri. Heaven.

At 1.50 pm, the front door bell rang.

I opened the door. "Hello, Heather," I smiled. Actually, Heather looked distinctly masculine.

"I’m Thompson Maswangane," said Heather.

Ah, there had obviously been a change of plan. Instead of Heather from The Aromatherapy Palace, I was to be massaged by Thompson Maswangane of The Aromatherapy Palace. I was a little taken aback: I hadn't expected a man. Naturally, I couldn't say anything; Thompson Maswangane might take it the wrong way if I refused to let him massage me. Anyway, this was the New South Africa.

"Come upstairs," I said to Thompson Maswangane. Then: "Where did you do your training?" Whenever I'm embarrassed, I become chatty.

"In Braamfontein," he said with a smile. "It took me four years to qualify."

I was most impressed.

"So, where is your blockage?" he asked.

"I don't think I have any blockages," I replied, even more impressed that a masseur would be concerned with the inner workings of my body.

We entered the bedroom. "Right," I said briskly, "do you want me on the bed or on the floor?"

Mr Maswangane's eyes widened. "I'm here for your leak," he said.

"My leak?"

"Your toilet leak. I'm a plumber. I was told to come to Mrs Hall at 16 Glamorgan Road."

Just then, the phone rang. It was my neighbour and she was giggling. "You’re never going to believe this," she said, "but somebody called Heather from The Aromatherapy Palace arrived and I took her into the toilet to fix my leak."

"I believe it," I said.

Such is life.

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