by Sue Trollip
Johnny Clegg sings:
It’s a cruel crazy beautiful world
Which got me thinking … it was Superbowl Sunday (which is a lot like Currie Cup Saturday) and it was cruel because I had to work instead of scoff cold beer and hot wings on the couch. Crazy because all anyone could talk about was football and I know despite my best attempts to look vaguely intelligent I was not pulling it off. (I now know more about the Patriots and the Seahawks than I ever wanted to.) And beautiful because, well the moon sure was pretty on the drive home.
What’s funny and FUN is how every occasion over here is embraced with wide open arms. There are the thanksgiving turkeys, Halloween ghosts and leaves of autumn, when everything from coffee to bread is pumpkin flavoured (there’s even pumpkin flavoured ice cream). This is followed by the greens and reds and mint flavours of Christmas.
As one set of decorations comes down the next batch goes up. We’ve barely removed Father Christmas from the window display when the hearts of Valentine’s Day arrive, red and pink and caramel flavoured, I think.
I’ve been warned to brace myself because next up are the pastels of Easter. Think fluffy yellow chickies and sweet blue bunnies. (Although if I remember correctly the colour of Cadbury’s crème eggs is bold: blue, red, green, yellow. That’s going to wreck someone’s display.)
But I think for me summer is the diamond.
There is nothing to celebrate between Easter and autumn but sunshine and blue skies.
The only decorations are beach umbrellas and the flavours are sunscreen and watermelon.
As Bon Jovi puts it:
Ah, but ain’t it a beautiful world.