Transporter.

Have to admit, when I saw the prompt today, the first thing that came to mind was delicious Mr Jason Statham πŸ˜‰

Alas. This is not a post to perv over him…

Daily prompt.

More entries.

Missive :Β Tell us about a sensation β€” a taste, a smell, a piece of music β€” that transports you back to childhood.

Many things that reminds me of my childhood. Mostly sounds and smells connected to the people that was important to me then.

My gran cutting fabric on the same table I currently cut fabric on. My grand father crushing biltong for our porridge in the morning on the side of the built in wood burning cast iron stove with an old fashioned iron. The smell of my gran making bron from sheep’s legs. Or her bread baking in that same stove. The smell of the smoke on a cold winter’s morning. Cattle, and their accompanying smells and sounds. All good memories from holidays spent on the farm with no electricity, candles and lanterns only. no ipads or cell phones. Battery operated radio, Esme Euveraard and So maak mens. Springbok radio every day. We did have running water, and the gas geyser would start with a whoosh every time we went to have a bath. I still dream of that house. We always slept in the purple room, just off the lounge. That always smelled dusty because the only times it was used was over Christmas and when the preacher came to visit. Β In winter it was a dark and scary place. Not to mention cold after the lovely heat from the kitchen. The smell of Voco when my grand father would fill up the paraffin fridge they had in those days. The chug-chug of the generator he used to pump water to the dam.

My father had this garden fork, with one missing tine. The handle is sort of loose – I still have it. Still use it. And every time I do, and I hear that very distinctive sound, I can see my father in the garden. One of the places he loved best. Pottering around out there, watering, and weeding. He planted something along the side of the house, but it never flowered, so he was not certain what it was. On the day of his funeral, they flowered for the first time. Orange day lilies. And not singles either. Lusciously double, vibrantly orange flowers. I still have them in my garden, and every year they bloom, I am reminded of one of the gentlest, kindest people G-d ever created. Through adversity and judgement, hard times, he stayed a rock for all of us to hold on to in the stormy times.

One day, while I was in Iraq, and after my dude and I exchanged some tunes, I was listening to Glen Miller. It was a grey day outside. No sun, clouds covering the sky, lowering with rain. My heart was sad because of the arse I worked with, and this song started playing. Suddenly I saw my dad. In front of the music centre, the LP cover in his hands, just listening to his tunes. Wearing his old garden clothes – threadbare shirt and a pair of seriously ugly brown, crimplene pants. A hideous reminder of the seventies, about the only thing they were good for was for working in the garden with.

This is the song that brought him to life for me on that day, so long since gone…

Today was not such a bad day as could have been expected. The recalcitrant secretary was back today. Spent a long time in the FM’s office.

The result of that meeting?

I’m now to play secretary until she can handle the stress better. Not that I mind – at least I now get to go to the loo without having to ask for permission! Β She will now sit at reception again, and I was told to give her some typing to do – just so she does not feel like she could not cope. Nice if you have a fall back chick, not so. Oh well – all in a day’s work, and at least I’m working. Right under the boss’ eyes, but I have a job, that I get paid for, and where now, I can put my earphones in my ear, shut out the world, and just do what needs to be done.

Now I must shine. Or at least buff the dull spots a bit. Maybe, just maybe there may be better things in store for me – one just never knows.

Anyhow.

Hope you have a lovely evening – think it will be an early night for me tonight. Emotional distress has a way of knocking you for a six!

Long days and pleasant nights…

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24 comments on “Transporter.

  1. You gave these American eyes a glimpse into the past of your bones, J. I don’t understand many of the words, but you brought your grand parents to life for me. Thank you. P Glen Miller and many of that time always make my heart sing.

    • I’ll try and explain the words I used P – don’t always know the words in English although there should be similar things. Our porridge is the same as your grits – just not that loose. Biltong is similar to jerky, but not as sweet, and when you have game biltong, very dry, finely chopped over your porridge in the morning – just lovely!
      Bron is a kind of gelatin based meaty thing you get after you’ve cooked the actual legbones of a sheep for a few hours. This of course, after you’ve taken the best meat off. They did not waste a single thing when an animal was slaughtered.
      Esme Euvraard was a well known radio personality and her show So maak mens, loosely translates into – this is how you do it. Recipes and advice and things like that.
      Voco is a kind of gasoline, but not actual gasoline. Probably a mix of something or other.

      I’m glad you could experience them through me P – those were magical times for me, even if I did not realise it at the time!!
      As for Glen Miller – his kind of tunes I can’t get enough of!!

      • Thank you for explaining the words – such a difference, now I know the scents. One more: “The chug-chug of the generator he used to pump water to the dam.” I know I can’t be right on this – he sent excess water to the town’s dam?

      • Not the town dam, the farm dam. Sort of an open reservoir for the animals to drink from. We had loads of fun in that dam with a tractor tyre tube!!

  2. Lovely nostalgic post, 68. Your dad sounds like he was a really good one. Moonlight Serenade is such a great song. Love the Big Band sound and I wish those days could come back again. It seems like you’re really making a good impression at work. πŸ™‚

    • My dad was a good man AD. Not an angel by any means, but a kind and gentle soul πŸ˜‰
      Big band music – the stuff flights of fancy are made of!!
      Work – we’ll see about the impression, but I’ll enjoy being busy for a change πŸ˜‰

    • There’s something about those days – so different from what I have now, or my kids remember, but I now know they were the happiest days, most carefree days of my entire existence πŸ˜‰
      Glad you enjoyed my trip down memory lane with me Tess!!

  3. Pingback: We’ll Never Smell That Way Again | The Jittery Goat

  4. Pingback: We’ll Never Smell That Way Again | The Jittery Goat

  5. This post war baby sure loves the sounds of Glen Miller (and so many other big bands of that time). But hey; at least I get to dance to many of those incredible tunes; great music lives forever…!

    Your reminiscences reminded me of my grandparents. They were dairy farmers and lived high on a hill overlooking a dam (we too used to play with tractor tyre tubes). They cooked on a fuel stove (I loved toasting her home made bread on a ‘fork’ made out of an old wire coat hanger). The days were fresh and bright when we holidayed at Christmas, and the joys were bountiful…. Ahhhh; pleasant memories indeed….!

    • All things we will never have again Carol!
      Which makes the memory of them so much better I suppose πŸ˜‰
      Sometimes, at the studio, we dance to Frank Sinatra and the like – good times!!

  6. Wonderfully poignant, those memories. In my mind, a garden fork without a missing tine, is one without history. We have own a de-tined fork, too, which belonged to my now-deceased father-in-law.
    Children now are missing out on all those basic sights, smells, etc. Everything is so on tap, so they probably don’t give a second thought to how things are made, or, in some cases, the sweatshop labour that has gone into the shiny latest gadget they’re holding.
    You might like to check out a blog I follow, and love, which is all about the daily running of a small mixed farm. Mum (Cecelia) home-schools her children, and what a life they have! http://thekitchensgarden.com/

    • You’re right – many kids have no idea that vegetables are grown from scratch, and cotton gotten from plants.
      My sister’s kids came here today, each with eyes glued to their tablets.
      They don’t see anything anymore…
      I’ll go and have a look πŸ˜‰

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