Transports of Delight

Yesterday was an epic soccer and hockey match against Oakhill. I was one of the designated lifts to transport players to the venue in Knysna. I arrived at the appointed hour and my daughter emerged out of a teeming mass of children and hockey sticks, with three others in tow. They piled into my car. Immediately there were cries of outrage - where was the nice car we drove in the last time? I pointed out that the current state of the road did not do much for the health of the 'nice' car so this was as good as it gets. They graciously agreed that we could continue. We roared off happily. They all shouted back at the GPS and found it very lacking in its responses. Two kilometres down the road I activated the window lock button. More howls of dismay. My daughter Kaela glared at me as I was clearly being uncool. I handed round Zoo biscuits as compensation, figuring that if sugar made them bounce off the walls, this could only be good for the game. They then conducted conversations with each other, clearly believing that the person who shouts the loudest is the one who is right. I was interested to learn that 30km is the distance from South Africa to the Equator and that a Private Hospital is one where you have curtains round your bed. A normal hospital has no curtains and no privacy. When the conversation turned to farting, I threatened to stop the car and not go to the match (I have prevously discovered that they know you are not capable of carrying out your threat of leaving them on the highway).

We arrived at Oakhill after a couple of circular tours. The GPS did not agree with some of the road names and there was a lot of muttering of 'recalculating' and commands to do a u turn, much to the delight of my passengers. We finally staggered into the school - on the wrong side of course. I limped into the parking lot and my car choked and died. The children dashed out of the car towards the far distant fields. 'Don't worry', I shouted, 'I'll shut the doors'. They waved their hockey sticks at me happily - totally impervious to sarcasm.

My car was now dead and was blocking at least 6 Oakhill teachers' cars. I did the only thing I could - phoned my husband and went off to watch the match.

Thankfully, our trip was not a wasted one. Greenwood really surpassed themselves and won most of the games and I was there to watch my daughter score her first goal. My husband had in the meantime performed some magic with jumper leads and gave me back the keys to the car. I declined and seized my own car keys back from him, informing my passengers that we were going in the 'nice' car after all. We sailed off towards Plett, after a bit of shouting and beating people away from the sun roof. Victory in hand, an operational car, all children belted in - we were on a home run. As we left the town of Knysna behind, a voice came from the back - "I have to go to the toilet NOW................."