Just before the holidays Mrs Williams, the teacher in Grade Four at Malhurst Primary, sensing that the class was becoming restless, set her pupils the task of writing a composition on what they were going to do during the holidays. Belinda Tamsen snatched up her pen and Mrs Williams knew another episode in the Tamsen family’s interesting life was about to unfold.

The Holiday

We are going to the north cost near Durbin to stay with my ornt who has a dorter named Samantha who is 12 and I hate her. She is Miss Hoity Toity and thinks she is the bees nees and orlways wins the spelling b at her shcool. I orsk you with teers in my eyes how can a persin stand on a stage and spell words so peeple can clap you?!!! She lorfs and lorfs at my spelling and wen I orsk her wots rong with it she dosint anser.

The worse part of go-ing to Durbin is driving there because of all the dif-erent speed sines evry kill-omeeter. Daddy says it is de-lib-ret and the peepel who put the sines up are del-lib-retly trying to con-fuse drivers.

And there is orlways road blocks becors the road is being repperd and we have to drive very slowly behind a truk becos we cornt overtake. An there is nobody working on the road – just men in orringe overorls having a picnick or lying in the grass.

You never see them werking and it makes daddy grumbel like ennything and he showt Lazy buggers! Sumtimes he even sware.

Wen we driving mummy keeps calling owt its a hundred kill-omeeters a howr dident you see? An now its 80. An now its 60.

Daddy say its so slow we mite as well pork the bluddy car.

Mummy say its now 120 and daddy say he issent bluddy blind. Mummy says he mussint sware in front of the child-ren and mummy say its 80 again and daddy say I no very lowd.

Then wy you doing 120 say mummy. An nest thing its 60 again.

Mummy say you member lorst time this is were the polece stop us. I member my little brutha wet hisself. He wet hisself even if you menshun polece. An if they com up to the windoe mummy has to chainge his nappy and daddy has to get outa the cor and the cops move away from the windoes.

We orlways stop at a filling stashun to fillup and we have a tosted sanwitch and my little brutha play on the jungeljim crawling inside the pipes and trying to clime the ladder to the slide but mummy has to lift him up so he can slide. He get so eck-sited he sumtimes wet hisself on the slide but the other child-ren dry it up wen they cum sliding down.

I like it wen we go down the mountin and the road issent strait any more. Its 100 kill-omeeters an our for millyuns of kilo-meeters and daddy say they must hav forgot to put the 120 sine up. He say they are owt to cach you speeding so they can collect your money and buy theyselvs BMW cars and drive at 200 kill-omeeters an our flashin they blue lites. THE END

LETTER TO THE STOEP

Esteemed Sir,

My doctor has an overdeveloped sense of humour. He told me I was a lot sicker than I thought. I asked him how long |I had left. He said: “Ten.”

I said: “Ten what?”

He said: “Nine, eight, seven, six…

Simon Molwetsi, Eikenhof

Contact Stoep Talk: Fax: 011-465-4564

Write to: Box 876 Lonehill, 2062

e-mail: jcl@onwe.co.za