Showing posts with label Morningside Sandton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Morningside Sandton. Show all posts

Friday, 16 December 2022

Number 26 16.12.2022


We are preparing to move from Morningside Sandton to Rivonia 

It is not everyday that I get reaction on my blogposts. My friend Leendert Joubert reacted to it and his reaction is helpful to think over and to decide for yourself. We all have “stuff” that are “valueless” – especially to other people. Does price enter the equation? No – it does not.

When I sold my property in Morningside, it was not my home for almost 41 years that I sold. I sold the property because the house is priceless! No one could afford to buy that house.

The bricks and mortar [every single brick we saw it when it was laid] [we built the garage big enough for my woodworking tools to fit in], glass, carpets, light fittings, door handles, built-in cupboards, ceilings [even the dust on the ceilings], my chicken coop, the stones in the garden and the vegetables that were still growing there, were not for sale. The nostalgia is within ourselves.

There were a couple of non-negotiables when I started negotiations for the selling; one was: no entry into the home itself. The purchaser was interested in developing the property and therefor, so my reasoning went, he had absolutely no interest to see the interior. And it was accepted.

Now for Leendert’s contribution:

Neels, your blog [NUMBER 24 published on 14 December 2022] [CJC] about all the stuff we gather during our lifetime, is rather thought provoking. One of the thoughts that came to my mind while reading your blog, is whether or not one should put a price tag on those items that have sentimental value.  I have stuff that have no or very little commercial value, but beware if anybody should try to steal or damage or even insult it.  You just may see the complete opposite of the so-called gentle giant or Sagmoedige Neelsie.

You might recall my effort in the genealogic newsletter about the air rifle. Nobody might be interested to buy it, and it's okay, because nobody in this world will understand the bond it provides me with my dad and grandfather. Another example is the cane walking stick, that originally was my father's fishing rod. Anybody can make a walking stick from a piece of cane for less than twenty rand, but mine is not for sale for any amount of money. And still, I doubt if any of my children would want it. It just won't fit in with their lifestyles or living conditions. Neither can I see it on display in a museum. Chances are that it ends up on a dump site covered by thousands of tons of sand and soil and rocks and other people's stuff, just to be discovered a million years hence by some curious aliens. Apparently the same would apply to the grotesque hand I sculpted from the roots of a camphor tree, or the image of a three-legged pot I carved out on a plank to serve as stand for my potjiekos pot.

Do we really have a responsibility to conserve all the stuff, or is there a guideline to distinguish between stuff and real valuable items, or is it acceptable to take a photo of it and store it in the cloud, where nobody can access it if they don't have my password?  

His ideas are worthwhile to keep in mind; if you are in position to do something about it, to do that thing, more so if it is your last thing that you do. “Sagmoedige Neelsie” is a reference to one of my countries most prolific and loved authors of many years back: C.J. Langenhoven who lived most of his life in Oudtshoorn Western Cape. I can recommend Dominique Malherbe’s book SEARCHING FOR SARAH THE WOMAN WHO LOVED LANGENHOVEN. She casts another light on this Afrikaner icon and I must say it is revealing and not altogether flattering on Neelsie. I know her book was not about the drunkard, Advocate Langenhoven, but about her aunt Sarah Goldblatt; she tried to tell us about her aunt. She succeeded and left a great many questions in the wake of the waves her book stirred up.

Considering Dominique’s book, it is also another way of preserving a legacy. Do your research and write your story.

My friend’s grotesque hand that he carved is another thing altogether. They uprooted a camphor tree in their backyard, he kept it and recently he started carving this hand. And the hand lost its thumb in the process; he tells me that there was a weakness in the wood but he kept that “thumb.” He craftily put it back; my “woodworking-surgeon friend.”

Leendert's hand carved from a tree stump


Leendert's hand carved from a tree stump



Leendert's potjie carved from pine

The three-legged pot he carved years ago is still serving its purpose.

We are creating legacies as long as we are alive and as long as we live. Some years ago, I attended a funeral service of a friend who was a member of a woman’s co-operative. She focused on baking milk tarts. That went on for years. And she apparently kept notes about this lot.  Another friend who presented the eulogy, told us how many kilograms flour she used baking all of those milk tarts. And how many tins of condensed milk went in there. How many hours she spent in the kitchen; how many kilometers driving around in her car buying the ingredients and sourcing new ingredients and then delivering the baked items to the co-operative and how many hours she spent servicing the clients.




The same reasoning applies to Frank McCourt’s books. I am busy reading his modern-day classic: ANGELA’S ASHES. That is part and parcel of his legacy. You will think that you cannot attain that because, so your reasoning goes, you cannot write. That is besides the point. You have a legacy while you are reading this post. You should do anything possible to preserve some of it. If you don’t do it, who will? If you don’t do it now, when will you do it?

On my desk in my office, I have a lot of literature that I am busy reading. Every single book that was written by a single author or more than one is a legacy. And that is their legacy – for the moment. The law treatises will get dated and then their time is up. And new treatises will have to be written. And so, the cycle goes on and on an on … Judges come. And judges go. And they pass judgement because that is what a judge is called to do. Blog-authors come. And blog-authors go. That is the way life is. Prime Ministers come and go. Some faster than others, ask Me Liz Truss in the UK about it.

Prof. Dr Feynman allegedly said:

Educate yourself about things. Study hard what interest you the most. Don’t worry about what others think of you, that’s none of your business. Train your mind to think, doubt, and question. That’s how you grow.”

This ties in with the saying: Try to learn something of everything and everything about something. 

I suggest to you that it is imperative in life. Get on with the job and tell me your story please: neelscoertse@wirelessza.co.za

Friday, 25 November 2022

Number 5 25 November 2022

My sharpened knife, stone and sliced chillies with olive oil

Today I am cooking ox tongue. It is so exciting to cook again; I started cooking round about 2015 and then about 18 months ago I more or less stopped. I really don’t have a specific reason except to say that we were in the process of selling our home where we lived for almost 41 years and I got somewhat ill as well. I had to concentrate on the logistics of re-potting plants to take with, selling, transferring the house linked to the purchasing of the other property. And the logistics involved in that venture were involved: change of address, new internet providers, new neighbours new everything! Living in one property for as long as that, makes you forget what it is to get involved with this lot: what an adventure it was. It was more stressful than what we wanted to admit at the time. And one of the things that bit the dust was my cooking.  

But I have to come back to the cooking bit. Just the other day my new neighbour, who is a retired mining engineer, gave me about five or six different chillies [13 in all]. That night at round 23:00 I put on my apron and cut it in very fine pieces; all different shades of green with the whiteish pips and off-green of the insides. First of all, I had to sharpen my knife; I took a sharpening stone from my workshop and kept in the kitchen. Then the sharpening process began. First you wet the blade, then you wet the stone before can sharpen it. It was a kind of meditation to swipe the blade very rhythmically back and forth, back and forth. 50x. Now it is very sharp; the cuts are crisp and clean. When it slices through the flesh of the chillies, you feel it in the handle. There is no resistance from the chillies. Clean cuts. Wash the stone, put it away and use the knife.

Sterilize the bottles and take a teaspoon and put the sliced chillies inside the glass bottles. Pour pure olive oil on top to cover the flesh. Let it stand for an hour or two before screwing on the lid. I store it in the fridge and use straight from the fridge onto my plate.

And I took a small bottle as a present to my neighbour. He told me that he always cooks his chillies first before he bottles it. He was excited to try mine. I never cook the chillies; always the cold fresh chillies, sliced and stored in pure virgin olive oil. After a couple of days, even the olive oil gets infused with the chillies.

How to eat it? Very carefully. With a glass of cold milk close by. Don’t touch your lips or eyes after slicing it – you will regret it.

You will ask me what has this got to do with the ox tongue? Probably nothing – but wait, I will write something very special about the ox tongue. I got side tracked by the chillies and my knife and how to sharpen it. And how to preserve finely cut chillies in pure virgin oil. What the heck!! It is all about cooking – relax and enjoy it.

Now I am off to the kitchen to attend to the ox tongue.

Please write me a letter: neelscoertse@wirelessza.co.za