1. Four, or is it five, months ago when Hamilton informed me she would be on South African shores for a holiday, there was the usual conversation of catching up and informing said friend of one's life before they arrive. To prepare them. And also to discuss what our plans were.
I had not seen Hamilton since July last year. The first thing we tell eachother is how fat we have got. It's important to let your bestie know this. So they are not totally blown away by your expansion when you meet them at the airport.
"Oh Al, I am so porker right now." Al: "Shame doll, so am I. It's all your fault, I am addicted to mint thins ever since you ate them with tea in Aus." This is not unusual for us. Then we discuss how thin we used to be. Me: "Remember when I arrived how skinners I was? I hardly ate anything except cereal, cos we were broke." Al: "I had no thighs or bum, I was like a plank."
Right now Hamilton is skinners and I am porkers. It's a disaster.
2. Hamilton is obsessed with markets. Namely Milnerton market. She wakes up at the ungodly hour of seven am to visit it ON A SATURDAY.
I used to be obsessed with markets. I would go every weekend with my mom. Eventually it all got a bit crazy, too many cinnamon doughnuts and useless trinkets later we got bored shitless of markets.
When Hamilton posts photos on FB of Milnerton market I start to feel itchy, I want to buy all the useless/ugly/beautiful things I can get my hands on. It puts me into a trance, there are too many things to look at and too many things to buy. And then when I get home I have piles of broken, dirty, cool stuff that I don't need.
Frankly I think Hamilton is in danger here in SA. There are too many markets. One can get lost and end up following carnies around and wearing solely vintage threads. She will soon have a mothball odor too her. Sis man.
3. Hamilton is a crazy taxi driver, I am not sure literally or figuratively, a bit of both. Her car is amazing. Mostly because it is ancient and is still in one peice.
I have suggested we paint it a wild colour with a stripe on the bonnet and give it a cool name. For instance, Hamilton and I are all dressed up and ready to party, Hamilton shouts "To the bat mobile!" Or something equally cool. That would be hilarious. Hamilton can drive in Australia, an automatic, which in South Africa does not even count as a car. On her arrival here, her greatest wish was to learn to drive a manual. I gave her a few lessons but mostly she taught herself.
Which has resulted in rather dangerous albeit unbelieveably funny moments. An example would be the night she got the car stuck on a hill (in our road) with a driver behind her. Her pull offs are more like aeroplane launches. Once stuck on a trecherous hill and unable to pull off she ran down to our house and enlisted the help of my mother to disloge her from her position.
Once the driver behind her had sped off, Al, launched her car off into the night. Her hair flowing out the window, waving furiously. Oblivious to her insane driving. Her clutch control leaves much to be dersired, amazing jerks and thrusting ensued. I fell on the driveway laughing, Must admit, I peed a little in my pants. It is the funniest thing I have seen to this day.
To be continued ...