As we were walking to the mall two days ago a trolley attendant approached us and offered us cigarettes. I was surprised, but then Roger told me that our neighbour buys from him. She is a rather heavy smoker; what other option is there, it’s been four weeks. Score: Trolley attendant 1, Government 0.
Roger made his first face mask. Getting to grips with the pattern, the sewing machine and determining the size. Another great project for him.
The sewing project reminded me of an incident many years ago. Francois was in late primary school, about 11 years old, and at the stage where young boys are very adventurous. He and a few friends had started a ‘gang’. This was a highly secretive, clandestine group. Members could only join by a vetting process and the new member had to formally apply, in writing. So, I typed up the rules of the gang on my computer while he was dictating, complete with a membership request at the bottom of the sheet. Next he asked if he could use my sewing machine. He wanted to run the needle across each sheet to create a perforation for the tear-off portion.
I showed him what to do and he set about perforating all the printed sheets using the (electric) sewing machine, unthreaded. It soon became so much fun that when all the forms were done he took a blank sheet and just whisked it around making patterns while at ‘full throttle’. My blood curdled when I heard a very panicky call from him. I found him sitting with his right hand pegged under the machine; the needle was jammed into the nail bed of his middle finger. The onus now rested on me to decide which way the needle was traveling, up or down. My decision would determine whether the needle would jam further or be lifted. Murphy, of course, always hovers. I chose the wrong way and the needle embedded itself even further into the finger, snapping off in the process. It immediately got sucked in from the top and created a bulge at the bottom of the finger.
We were living on a plot in the Bronkhorstspruit district at the time and our GP was in Pretoria. But, it was weekend and the GP was not on call. So, after a few phone calls, we took him to a doctor in Constantia Park. The doctor battled to sort the problem out though. He was unable to push the needle through from the top, so the finger had to be cut at the bottom in order to expose its point. He was still challenged because the needle was slippery with blood, but thankfully managed to remove it using a pair of pliers. It was dark outside when we eventually drove back home; there was complete silence in the car. Francois was feeling rather traumatised but also somehow proud of his heavily bandaged middle finger, and father was grumpy as hell because of the ‘unnecessary waste of time and money’.
I don’t recall whether the ‘gang’ ever got off the ground; or perhaps it was so secret that I never did know to start with…
Boris Johnson is still convalescing and is expected to be back in office on the 1st May.
Our death toll has increased by 7 to 65.