Picnic's revisited

Picnic's were always a big favourite for all of us, and many a time we would get together with our cousins from the farm next door, and take ourselves off for the day to enjoy a nice, relaxing picnic in some beautiful, tranquil spot.

On one such day, we decided to go to a place known as "Golden Gate," which was situated a distance of about one hundred and thirty kilometers from our farm, in a stunning range of mountains quite unique to anything else this beautiful country of ours has to offer.

We all piled excitedly into the back of the little maroon coloured car, and set off for what was meant to be a day of pure bliss.  A day where we could put all the worries and cares of the world behind us, and concentrate on having a nature-filled top up.  Sadly, things very quickly started to go wrong.

It was when my mother leaned over and asked us to pass her an egg sandwich, that we discovered that we had left the tin full of sandwiches sitting on the kitchen table at home.  My mother who was quite philosophical about life said, "Never mind, I'll just have one of the cookies instead."  We all looked at each other in dismay.  Where was the biscuit tin?  Without missing a beat my mother then went on,  "Well, at least we still have the roast chicken and the chocolate cake."  You guessed it!  The only thing we had remembered to bring was the cream coloured, enamel kettle for boiling the water on an open fire, in order to make the tea.

My aunt and uncle very kindly shared their food with us that day, and the only way we could reciprocate was by lending them the one thing they had left behind, the cream enamel kettle for boiling the water in order to make the tea!

After my aunt from the farm next door died, my uncle took all of us to the river in his newly acquired old green truck, affectionately known as the "chorrie."  He had a habit of going really fast, especially over all the worst parts of the dirt road.  With each bump, we would be flung up in the air for a few seconds, falling all over each other in a big heap on our descent.  We found this hilarious and would urge him to go even faster.  I have subsequently heard from a friend of mine living in Germany, that to ride in this manner in her country is completely illegal. On reflection, it could have had dire consequences had one of us been tossed out and had landed on our head!

A day out in the baking sun always meant that we came home looking like boiled lobsters, and feeling as if we had received second degree burns.  In spite of the blisters and stiffness and discomfort, all in all we were left with feelings of great happiness and satisfaction.  A day well spent!