Carol’s Column

All at sea (for a day) as we get shipshape

Thank heavens the public holidays are over. That said, they were public holidays to remember.

To tell the truth, the thought of slobbing around in loose tracksuit pants and a baggy T-shirt, reading as many books as I could, watching trashy television, eating plates piled with chips dipped into tomato sauce and slices of cucumber introduced to a tangy mayonnaise was greatly appealing.

And then, at the beginning of the first long weekend, I heard this terrible sound from all around. It sounded like the Grand Prix. I looked out of the window and noticed the neighbours mowing their lawns.

Good heavens. It was as if they had a joint agreement. If it's Friday morning, it's lawn-mowing time.

"We probably should mow our lawn, too," I said to my husband who was sitting in his customary half-prone position on the stoep reading The History of the Twentieth Century.

"Why, I thought you said you liked the grass long because it attracts birds," he replied.

"Yes, but when I have to use a machete to hack a path to get to the letterbox, don't you think it's too long?" I snapped.

"Leave the postbox," he answered. "It's probably only bills anyway."

But, you know how it is. I pulled out our ancient lawnmower bought secondhand sometime during the last century, plugged it in and took off through the grass.

Fortunately our garden is small and it only took me five hours to complete the job. When I finished, I bound the grass and placed the bales outside our gate for somebody to use as fodder for their goats.

Once started,

I couldn't stop. I cleaned and polished until the floors of the house sparkled and you could almost break a leg just walking from the fridge to the basin.

The windows, opaque for the past three years, became as clear as glass and the light shone in - which caused a problem because I could then see the furniture needed polishing and the keyholes needed dusting.

It took me a full day to restore Norman, my trusty and extremely old cabriolet, to its former glory but by the time I'd washed, polished and waxed my little car I could see my moustache in the glossed surface.

Filled with energy, I spent the rest of the first long weekend cleaning drains, unblocking pipes, washing light fittings and shining doorhandles (we have the old-fashioned real brass kind).

Then it was back to work for two days before the next long weekend.

Geared for action, I invested in mushroom paint to redecorate the diningroom-cum-lounge-cum-kitchen. People think we decided on this open-plan room when we renovated.

Actually, once we had knocked down all the walls, we discovered we couldn't afford to rebuild them where we'd originally planned, so we did nothing.

They think our upstairs open-plan arrangement is very avante guard with the toilet, bedroom, shower and bath all in one large room (for the same reasons).

Then while clearing out the garage to accommodate the newly cleaned cars, I discovered a treasure chest of unwanted things such as old speakers, worn shoes, heaters that have not worked for 25 years, suitcases filled with junk, 17 worn tyres stacked against the wall, books, clothes and curtains.

So last night, I held an impromptu garage sale.

I should mention that the garage is right beside our stoep where naturally, my spouse sat reading.

Within an hour I had sold everything, including my husband.

I couldn't believe my luck.

As I said, these were public holidays to remember.

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