PLAYING WITH BIG TOYS

PLAYING WITH BIG TOYS
But proven none the less to be just the biggest wimp

One of the grand things about having a bit of loot and a dream to spend it on, particularly after a long time loot less, is that one does not have to think too hard about what to do with it, so I did not hesitate when I got mine, to get hold of the earth shifter boys ASAP.
I wanted Big Yellow Machines, the bigger the better, grrrrrrr!
In consequence I have been in negotiation with a number of yellow machine merchants, who have been extremely polite and attentive to my slightest need, these yellow toys are very, very expensive, and the owners of this kit need it to be kept busy, all the time, so a man with loot to spend on ‘Big Yellow machines’ is a man to be tenderly courted, which was nice.
They all sent me paper proving conclusively that they are the most skillful, cheap and best yellow machine operators, ever, and that I should succumb to their charms, before all others and choose them.
I felt like a good-looking woman.
That had to end and the choice was made, and Grobler’s Construction got the job and the others were boarder line rude at the news. I felt terrible for them but I could hardly have all of them cluttering up the place, it just wouldn’t be practicable. They would bicker.
‘Young Sean’ eventually arrived with some very impressive machines indeed, a golly big digger thing, an enormous truck and a large tractor with a dam thingy on the back, I was well satisfied as was YS with the HC (huge cheque) that he felt was a necessary prerequisite to enjoying his charms, he was a man that sold holes after all.
So he stuck some sticks in the ground indicating wall and water heights and flung his steel dinosaurs at the unyielding earth and very quickly these seemingly indestructible toys were broken!
It would seem that the bigger the machine the more likely it is to go the way of all flesh and succumb to the forces of nature.
Anyway this was all but meat and three veg to YS who was equinanimous about these great piles of steel and grease sitting useless and dead in the ground due to the perfidy of a failed widget or grommet, which was far away and hard to replace, he is a brave man and I was determined not to look at him with resentment the next time he approached for a cash injection.
So the earth was forever changed to my lordly design, the top of the Skurweberg which has loomed over the Komati valley silent and unoccupied except when people were hiding from their enemies is being transformed into a watery paradise.
While all this feverish activity was going down at the one end of the farm my ladies were equally feverishly preparing soap for the ‘Innibos Kultur Fes’ which I had signed up for in my misplaced enthusiasm for flogging soap at markets.
They had produced a great many sweet smelling blocks of samponified oils that were labeled and artfully wrapped; we were all geared up to do this thing.
When volunteering for this market I had not really taken on board what it entailed, and when it was to late, the dawning of realization that we were to stand in the middle of winter on a sports field for no less than 5 days from morning right into the dark of night became bewilderingly clear.
I had also roped in my chum One tooth to join me in this enterprise, older and wiser heads had volunteered, seen the light and bunked, but us poor idjits were packed and parceled with our kit and caboodle into the bakkie with trailer, it took a lot of rubbish to sell soap, from tables to lights, but we were well and truly ready for this selling feast.
We arrived late at the venue, where things started to go badly right from the off, we found the place easy enough, it was hard to miss and wound our weary way towards the inevitably multi colored Ferris wheel looking for the entrance for exhibitors, when we came across a young blond moustache in a traffic outfit who sent us off and around the congested side streets of Nelspruit to end up I kid you not but 50 meters from where he was still standing sending the world on this fools errand for no good reason, already I could feel the dread weight of pre freedom day authortar and the old familiar lager mentality which naturally enough sent me into a rage, however we were sucked into the vortex of this agricultural/ cultural/ barbarian rave up where bedlam and confusion danced side by side to the back ground music of the local rugby teams theme song, something about the Blue Bulls doing revolting things to the rest.
Now I am secure enough in my manhood to admit that I do not know how to reverse with a trailer, the coordination required is one of the first things that the product of a broken home lacks, and in consequence I hate driving with them, and negotiating a congested festival with only wrong turnings available was nothing less than a nightmare, the challenge of finding our stall in the bedlam was remote.
Sitting there in the dust watching the great unwashed of the Lowveltd wander past our window, sucking sweet things and yellow beer even at this early stage of this Bachiavelian ceremony was I could see proving to be a strain on One Tooth, who was gazing in horror at this spectacle before his eyes, and the many hours entertaining these mudflat trailer-trashers, that we would soon be committed to flashed before our eyes. We were not happy, we were worried, and we were concerned.
Being a man that never stands on ceremony, I floated the idea to the assembled hippies that perhaps we might not want to do this after all and the lack of any dissent, in fact the active encouragement from the entire team soon prompted me to turn the machine around and putting our tails between our legs we fled the scene with palpitating hearts at the thought of what a close call we had just been in. If we had come but a couple of hours before we would have been trapped and I would still be sitting, standing, down there in the freezing cold and misery instead of looking forward to a nice dinner with my NBF in front of my cozy fire, whew, in deedy. I did feel like a major wimp.