I have decided I have a latent foot fetish. Ever since I don’t know when, I’ve enjoyed running around bare foot. I have had to deny myself this pleasure for the most part living in Ireland because the ground is inevitably wet or cold or both. Like most people at home, I only dispense with my socks and shoes when walking on the beach or going to bed. (Although, I’ve been known to wake still wearing my shoes…) I also like driving barefoot. (Try it some time, it’s very liberating…)
Africa is the perfect place to come out of the closet on this one. No-one bats an eyelid if you wonder around sans chaussures. Even in the cities. The other day, I did my shopping in upmarket Woolworth’s (which is South Africa’s M&S) au pied naturel. No-one even looked at my feet. (Imagine if I tried that in M&S in Belfast or Dublin? I would be thrown out or at least escorted to the shoe department).
I've just been notified today that I may have to appear in court as a witness to an assault. It happened on Halloween night while attending a birthday party in Long Street, Cape Town. Suffice to say, I was chatting to one woman when another woman appeared from nowhere, shouted something and punched her in the face. (Nothing to do with me, I might add!) My contribution to this event was to pull the attacker off. Unfortunately, I know both the women and the issues involved which puts me in the awkward position of testifying against one of them in favour of the other. It's a no win situation for me but I will tell the truth if asked.
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My Uncle Mervyn, a widower for many years, used always throw a party on New Year's Eve. We would call it his Mountainy Men party as down from the hills and highways and byways would come his many friends and acquaintances of the year to gather for a good hooley. (Mervyn was also wont to sing "I married the Bootlegger's Daughter" standing on the bar in the Members' Enclosure at Leopardstown Races, but that's another story)One year a good friend of his whom I had met on several occasions was one of the guests. Paddy was a lovely gentle, quiet little man, who owned a garage in Co. Wicklow. None of us had met his wife, bur we assumed her to be equally quiet and gentle as Paddy.
ReplyDeleteNot a bit of it! In swept this siren, twice as tall as Paddy, with raven black hair, makeup
as thick as butter, and wearing a short silk cheongsam. We all popped our jaws closed again and got on with the party, which went fine until Jimmy Shand's band struck up with Scottish songs at midnight. Paddy turned to his wife and mildy suggested she might sing along as she would surely know the words.
She took her arm back and hurled her champagne, glass and all in poor Paddy's bewildered face, while Mervyn tried to settle the peace .
Later - all was revealed. Apparently the wife was having an affair with one of the gardeners at Powerscourt - who just happened to be a Scot.
I don't think it went to litigation, but that is one of my two experiences of violence at close quarters. I'll tell you the other, where I was the victim, some other time!
Delighted to hear that Elle's Stepfather is making good progress, and naturally also delighted to hear of his links with Co. Sligo, which is, as you know, a stone's throw from us.
Much Love from Val and Sean