Later…

And that is the end of my bread-based consumption for ten days. Book me into a snazzy Italian restaurant in Cape Town for my reward, but in the meanwhile, I look forward to matzah, matzah and more matzah. There are many things to do in Cape Town over Pesach, sadly none of them involve pizza. Chag Sameach!

Toast time!

People tend to differ greatly in their opinions as to what constitutes the optimal utilization of vacation time. My parents, for instance, take charge of their leisure time much in the same way as the SS took charge of German citizens during the Second World War. Every stray second is accounted for and employed for maximum enjoyment. This basically means that the beach house we rent in Onrus (a small holiday town situated along South Africa’s southern coastline close to Hermanus) is constantly abuzz with people popping in for drinks, an evening of poker, swanky dinners or snacks on the stoep. This would all be good and well if I could close my door, stick my nose in one of the myriad novels I received for my birthday and generally revel in the fact that I do not have any form of responsibility. If only.

Since my parents both operate in the wine industry they are by necessity very social beings, which means that my sister and I (and to a lesser degree, my little brother) have all been groomed from birth to help them facilitate the variety of social gatherings our home has became renowned for. Therefore my sister can whip up a salad in three minutes flat, while I can clear a table of plates and dinner debris in a manner that would shame even the most discreet French waiter. We are versed in a variety of dinner-time conversation topics that are meant to draw out those people that seem uncomfortable and can swiftly and succinctly steer careless participants away from topics that are not deemed appropriate. My brother on the other hand is merely expected to venture down from his room every now and again so that the league of adoring ladies may exclaim and comment on how much he has grown.

I’m making it sound terrible, aren’t I? The fact of the matter is that these gatherings would be absolutely awesome, if only they didn’t all happen in a matter of three weeks. As it stands, holiday time at the Bester house is incredibly festive and never EVER boring, but in the long run it would make anyone re-evaluate the merits of becoming a hermit. Last night, for instance, we all unanimously decided that it was time for a time-out. We drew the curtains, closed the gate and expected peace to descend for at least for the space of an evening. No such luck. A mere 30 minutes after lock-down had been instituted, a horde of uncles, aunts and cousins descended, stolidly ignoring the drawn blinds, ‘yoohooing’ at the door.

So, what did we do? We got up, laying our much-neglected holiday novels to the side and went down to put out an impromptu al fresco spread worthy of publication. And wouldn’t you know it; we probably wouldn’t have it any other way… We could have been spending our evenings playing online bingo or re-potting petunias, but instead, our home is filled with love, joy and laughter. One really shouldn’t moan about that.