The Lady Hooligan’s Page

I hate meetings. I’m on record for hating meetings, especially if they happen to be a waste of Yours Charmingly’s time and energy. And I especially hate meetings that drag on indefinitely, as African meetings tend to do.

On my way to work this morning, I got a text message from the boss asking me whether I have received notice for a meeting at 9. As it happened, I hadn’t, so I sent a text message back: what meeting? Something about a holiday programme and job descriptions. And then I phoned her and excused myself. Fortunately, I had made arrangements with people who would come to assemble some furniture today (they did) and had stacks and stacks of busywork to complete (which I finally did, as well!)

The other boss came around at about 11, to check up on the truant employee, and then found that not only was I busy with useful things, but that the arrangements I had made had been met!

This is what I actually DO in my little library: (Keep in mind that I’m the only employee there!)

• Stamp out books
• Shelve books and control shelves while I’m at it!
• Sort membership cards and issuing cards.
• Cover books
• Dust shelves
• Sweep floor
• Mop floor (once a week)
• Make coffee
• Wash cups
• Clean the toilet
• Clean the basin
• AND be nice to ornery old ladies!!!

I don’t think they’ll have all this on their list, so I can relax and simply sign what they have finally decided on.

No meeting necessary.

Actually very simple.  Price!

For a third of the price of a flat in town (which may or not be safe!), I can not only buy me a decent-sized house on a small bit of land (which I can actually garden if I wish!) but also keep my cats and my privacy. That alone is worth it!

The Group Areas Act was abolished quite some time ago, and many black people moved into previously “white” town areas.  It might be interesting to find out what would happen if the opposite happened…

When I first told people about my plans to purchase a little house in a township around Rustenburg, I was amazed by the responses.  The white people are all concerned about my safety, while the black people are chuffed to bits at the thought of a “pinky” moving into their neighbourhood.  In fact, a colleague went so far as to tell me that if I do that, I would be treated like royalty!  Their concerns (if they had any) where regarding muddy yards (not much gardening in townships) and paying municipal debts of previous inhabitants.

Anyway, at the time of this entry, it’s still merely an idea.  However, I’m sure as time goes by, the idea would get shape and probably even realise!  And if THAT happens, this blog might even become the basis of a book!

You never know…