The tangy airs of spring…

CHRIS BENNETT decides it is time to emerge from the duvet of winter.

SPRING has arrived with the punctuality of a

Swiss train, and with a similar, admirable lack of fuss.

I think it was on the morning of the first of this month that I sat in my reading chair looking through the french windows and marvelling at the delinquent cavorting of a pair of humpbacks, when I noticed that the huge fig that hangs languidly above my balcony was bursting with green shoots.

I suppose it is only natural to welcome the spring. I don’t know which of the many aspects of this lovely time of the year is my favourite; maybe it is the lengthening days, maybe the advent of the warm weather.

To me it carries a certain element of inspiration. I always find it easier to work on my column for this exalted newspaper when the weather is warm.

I have been following with some interest events surrounding the tarring of the road down to Gate Store from Palm Beach. This seemingly insurmountable task has now been in progress for the best part of ten years. It would have taken the Romans about a fortnight. But, to be fair, their labour practices were a tad questionable.

I remember asking a friend at some point in 2002 if the road would ever be surfaced. He said it had already been approved. The condescending nod of approval is one thing; the back breaking task of implementing the decision another. Rather familiar.

In the last week there has been a flurry of bustling activity.

I look forward to the finishing of the exercise, not least because I shall be able to follow the vagaries of the Gate United football team without having to subject the suspension of my little car to the corrugations and pit holes* of the present track.

One thing I do fear. Where the road enters a blind corner there is an all important store, Gate Store, which is a hub of village activity. It was here that the previous, delightful, councillor held court in her bakkie. She would listen to the pleas and woes of the people; a wonderful example of what is meant by democracy, literally taking the power to the people.

It is at this bend that I fear we shall see tragic events. I hope I am wrong, but given the driving style of most of the taxi drivers I encounter the corner presents little more than an adrenalin driven challenge. We shall see.

Talking of roads, I was happy to see the road marking teams hard at work over the past few weeks. Not so long ago this sort of undertaking was left until the start of the holidays.

Another glitch that caused a frisson last week was the alleged theft of copper cable from Telkom, which, on Radio 702 this week, Mr Malema told us is the electricity supplier, unless I heard wrongly.

Now urban legend is a wondrous thing. Within a few days of scores of us losing our landlines the drums were telling us that Telkom had no money for a new cable. What do they have money for, I wonder?

Some of my friends with business were understandably upset. There were prospects of a lot of men and women losing their jobs, thus depriving goodness knows how many dependants within the extended families of their food supply.

Fingers crossed, chaps.

* A pit hole is a pot hole about the size of a baby’s bath. It does offer one advantage; in a small car you can drive down one side, across the floor and up the other. Well, almost.

CB

16/9/11