Three hours and forty minutes

Since Dave and I made the decision to move out to the country, there is only one thing about every day that I've wished I could change.  My 4-hour commute to a job that I love.  4 hours.  2 hours each way - and that is without the inevitable occasional delays caused by the weather, strikes, people who feel the only option is to jump and all sorts of other laughable reasons that the train companies give you.  Not to mention the over £5,000 a year hole in my bank account made by the extortionate fares.

I've never felt particularly stressed about my commute every day - it's a decision that we made and one that I was comfortable with to have the quality of life that we have in the country, away from the noise, grime and fast pace of a big city.  But the reality is that more and more recently, my body has been telling me that it is tired of doing it every day and is not willing to do it for much longer.  I'd always had it in the back of my mind that I'd only move if the exact right role presented itself at the right time... and it's time.  And so comes the end of an era.

I resigned on Thursday from a company that I have loved working at for 5 years.  I was both nervous and really hesitant about it, second-guessing myself right up until halfway through the first conversation (the first of five that I had to have!).  I explained all the usual things like it wasn't a decision that I had arrived at lightly, why I'd made the decision and where I was going. But it wasn't until I explained that I effectively only get 90 minutes a day during the week to spend any time awake in the same room as my husband that it really hit home.  I immediately calmed down because I realised with that one statement that I have made absolutely the right decision.

I am going on to a role which will stretch my braincells and give me a challenge that makes it worth the move.  But one of the best things about it is that it is a 10 minute drive from home.  I will have a total commuting time of 20 minutes a day - 30 maybe if I get stuck behind a tractor.  That will give me back 3 hours and 40 minutes of my life every day, which to me, is absolutely priceless.  I could make a whole lot of promises to myself that I will use that time to exercise, to bake, to clean the house more and a multitude of other things, but the only thing that I'm going to pledge now is that I will appreciate it and absolutely covet those additional hours I'll get to be in my husband's company every day.  Further than that, I'll just see what each day brings.

There are loads of cliches that I could come up with now, but I'll just go with the one that I know to be absolutely true - the past 5 years has presented me with fantastic opportunities that I am incredibly grateful for and I have made life-long friendships from my time there.  And looking forward, although I've taken a risk, it's a risk that I feel has had to be plunged into, so let's see what comes next!  I'm ready!

Goodbye 2013, hello 2014!

As always, I'm behind with my blogging so I still have 2 travel blogs to do from 2013, but they will have to wait until next year!

It's been an exhausting end to 2013, some of it because of fun stuff and some of it because of not-so-fun stuff. Dave's dad has been very ill during December and will unfortunately be seeing in the new year in ICU, but we will go and see him (and maybe even smuggle in a whisky miniature for his drip!). I spent a lovely 10 days of quality time with one of my oldest and dearest friends, which was the fun stuff I was talking about. So all-in-all, an eventful December in more ways than one, but we are all still here and that's what counts.

As this year draws to a close, I wish my family and friends a very happy and healthy 2014. May it be your best year yet!

A country united... exactly the way he wanted it

Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela (18 July 1918 - 5 December 2013) 

 "The father of our nation closed his eyes so that the rest of the world may open theirs" (written by Seth_fearGOD on Twitter)

I have both hope and fear in equal parts that this statement will become reality.  Hope that the real intention behind these words might become the reality.  Fear because of the ambiguity of this statement and the possibility that it may become reality.  With the giant gone, the ANC is now free from his shadow and therefore free to do whatever it is that they want to do with our beautiful country.

I have not read the papers, listened to news reports and have tried to stay out of conversations about the topic.  This is a massive generalisation, but I have found that it is not always possible to have a balanced conversation with anyone who is not from SA because most non-South Africans idolised Nelson Mandela and by proxy, think that the ANC is doing right by its people and helping liberate them from the shadows of apartheid, when in fact, the exact opposite is true.  I can't express this to anybody here because there is no telling anybody what the current situation is because most people cannot separate Nelson Mandela from his political party.  This was illustrated by something that someone said on Facebook this week - 'anybody prepared to decry the ANC of the time and give no mention of the disgusting apartheid regime in place for many decades doesn't really have their head screwed on properly'.  

Nelson Mandela was a terrorist.  There, I said it.  As a friend said to me this week, 'one man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter', which may be true, but I can't support anybody who resorts to violence and murder as a way to impose 'peace'.  That is a complete contradiction in terms. However, I absolutely respect the man for his vision, his bravery and integrity and his humanitarian efforts since he stepped down from a political life have been second to none.  And that's where it becomes difficult to get my point across when having a conversation with someone who isn't South African.  The rest of the world only knows him as a liberator, peace maker and all-round awesome dude.  They forget that he was once the leader of a political party which has caused, in my opinion, the worst damage to our country's economy, welfare of its citizens and public image.  When you separate the man from the political party, you start to see that the men who have followed behind him, supposedly to continue his legacy and vision, have in fact, done exactly the opposite.  They have divided a country and made the rich richer and the poor poorer.  The poorer classes are worse off now than they ever were under an apartheid government - that's an absolute fact.  It doesn't make apartheid right and please don't think for a second that I am advocating it, because I find it abhorrent, but facts are facts and unfortunately, this is the way of life in South Africa today.

Nelson Mandela is due to be buried on Sunday and I estimate that at roughly 7am on Monday morning, building work and the haemorrhage of taxpayer funds will resume on Zuma's ridiculous mansion.  I fear that the world will open their eyes next week on a South Africa without Nelson Mandela in it and I fear that his vision and legacy will soon be forgotten unless the current political party is ousted at next year's election.

I am not a politically-minded nor a religious person - the two things guaranteed to cause a conflict of opinion at any dinner table!  But I do love my country and wish every single day that Dave and I could have the opportunity to live there.  But the reality is that even if Dave could get work in his field in SA, the likelihood of him being able to secure a job is next to zero because of nearly 20 years of Black Economic Empowerment - an initiative that was probably fulfilled within about 5 years and then should have been closed.  I absolutely agree that it needed to happen, because I have always believed that everyone is equal and the same is true to this day, which is why I get so frustrated that the irony is lost on the ANC.  They are supposedly standing for equality, but yet have initiatives in place which actively block any chance of it.  You can't buy logic!

To see Zuma standing up this week telling the people of SA to stand together in mourning for Mandela makes me sick.  The poor man would be rolling in his grave had he had time to be put in one yet.  The SA of today is not what he wanted, yet in the eyes of the international Press and opinion of the rest of the world, his vision is being fulfilled.  And that's where the disconnect comes in.  And it is why I don't engage in conversations with anyone who doesn't know what it is like to see the poor getting poorer because of a government that was put in place to protect them.  It's devastating and incredibly disappointing.

The SA of this week has been one that Madiba would have wanted - everyone standing together united.  But for how long?  Not even an hour after the memorial service, the Press were hot on the heels of the fake interpreter (absolutely farcical!), the transport problems, Archbishop Tutu's house being burgled during the event and the fact that Tuesday was not made a holiday - yes, that made international news! The fact that Zuma was booed was an interesting - and frankly, refreshing - turn of events.  The seats in the stadium hadn't even had time to cool yet before the international backlash started.

I grew up in apartheid South Africa and many people have said to me that it's because I am white that I don't remember things being particularly tough, which is kind of insulting, but I get it.  The reality is that my parents brought us up to be respectful of everyone - just as good parents should.  I had a maid, I remember being incredibly fond of her and she was a member of the family.  I had a great childhood and even when apartheid ended in the early 90s, it didn't have an impact on me at all to my recollection.  I have never in my life seen skin colour as a determining factor for the way that I will treat someone.  However, and I genuinely wish this wasn't true, the same can't be said for the current government.  And I find that incredibly sad.

No government is perfect, I realise that.  After all, I live in a country which provides for an Afghan family of 10 which arrives at its border by providing them with a mansion at an eye-watering level of waste of MY tax money, but will allow a British Serviceman, who has fought on the front line for this country, to live in his car on the street.  That is tragic and a very sad state of affairs.  

Let the rest of the world open their eyes, indeed.  

My beautiful South Africa...

I mentioned a while ago that I’ve been having a bit of writer’s block and that hasn’t really changed, but with 2 trips now passed and another 2 right around the corner, I need to update on the travel side of things.

This year’s South Africa trip was engineered to coincide with my dad’s 70th birthday and my sister’s 40th birthday.  In the past 3 years, our trips have coincided with special family birthdays and these were the last of them for a little while.  My dad's present was actually a few years in the making and I'm so chuffed that we finally got what we wanted... he was so surprised and incredibly chuffed and for the rest of my trip (and possibly still to this day), whenever a car drove towards him, he said 'Oi!  Watch out!  The Shark is coming!'

A few months before we were due to fly out, a few of my old primary school friends were bantering around on Facebook and it made me think of the good old days when we had so much fun with a load of people who we are still in touch with to this day. That is a really rare thing I’ve found and I love knowing that some of the girls at my wedding were also at my 10th birthday party. So I suggested having a primary school reunion – selfishly suggesting a date on which I’d be in Durban (well, why not?!). It was such a great night – the teachers even got involved and one of my old friends worked really hard to sort through old photos and create collages (thanks Sam!).

It was so lovely seeing everyone again after so long and it was a relief to find that although we’re all older, that doesn’t mean we’re necessarily more mature and we laughed the evening away with lots of story-telling and reminiscing.  One of my funniest primary school stories revolves around our Std 5 tour in 1992, when the 'cool' thing was to be constantly accompanied by a tube of condensed milk (NO idea why!).  I had forgotten to ask my parents to buy this for me for the tour and so I quickly asked my dad to rush out to the shop the night before we were due to leave to buy me some.  The next morning, we all congregated at the school, ready to go - condensed milk tubes in hand - when my dad presented me with my very own TIN of condensed milk.  Oh dear lord.  I spent the whole rest of the tour slurping my condensed milk through a tiny hole punched in the top of the tin!  Oh, how cool I was!

The rest of my weekend in Durban was spent with my fabulous family and my lovely friends who were really helpful in playing taxi to me, which was made necessary by the fact that I’d left my drivers’ licence in the UK and therefore was not able to pick up my hire car! What a dork.

This trip revolved entirely around family, which is the way we’d engineered it. For the past few years, we’ve taken friends and family out to South Africa with us, which has been absolutely fantastic. This time I just wanted quality time with my family and so that’s exactly what I did. And it was 3 and a half weeks of bliss! I’m always really sad to leave and I don’t think there will ever come a day when I don’t cry at the airport... I’m such a softie. But I felt ready to come back to England this time, which is a rarity for me.

The family gathering in Cape Town for my dad & sister's birthdays was a hit with lots of great catching up and hats off to Charly's Bakery for creating this beauty!

In terms of things we did, the list begins with overpriced (but delicious) dinner taster menus at fancy restaurants in Sea Point to wine tastings in my favourite areas of the Cape, Franschhoek, Stellenbosch and Noordhoek...

... to sunset photography...

Watching my brother-in-law diving with Sharks at Two Oceans Aquarium and 2 smiling sting rays...

.... to the gorgeous Cape beaches and a sneaky golden retriever...

From the District Six Museum, which made me angry just standing in there, but is such an important part of South Africa's turbulent past, to the beautifully colourful and vibrant Bo Kaap and Green Market Square...

And it ended with (but was not limited to) great catch-ups with friends, a trip to Butterfly World with psychotic birds and the most delicious seafood in Hout Bay and Fish Hoek, accompanied by waving seals.  Not to mention an albino squirrel named Frank (who was very camera shy!) and my discovery of Wakaberry.

I could write an entire internet full of stuff about my trips to South Africa – I love my home and that never fades, so I just enjoy every second of my time there every time we go. And Dave genuinely looks forward to our trips too, which makes me feel better about dragging him out there every year!


We said this time that we’d include a trip to Mozambique, Namibia or Botswana, but didn’t get the time nor have the money to do it, so we are planning now for our Christmas trip next year and will definitely be broadening our horizons a bit on our next trip. One of my fondest memories from when I was growing up is a family trip to Kariba in Zimbabwe where we all stayed on a houseboat – 9 of us all crammed onto one houseboat with a cook and a dog! Yip, we had a cook! There have been murmurings about us all doing that again, which would be absolutely amazing! I’d love it if we were able to get all 16 of us together on a trip like that again. We’d need a much bigger boat though.

So an all-round brilliant trip, as always... it never disappoints.  Until next time my gorgeous mountain!

For the full photo album, click here.

George Bernard Shaw was a wise dude!

A silent anniversary passed a few months ago – it’s one that I don’t necessarily want to take note of, but it’s one of those irritating ones that will forever be lodged in my brain – *click* another year has passed. Not just one year older (and hopefully wiser!), but one more year that we don’t have a little addition to the Ring household.

Being well into our 3rd year now since we started this, it is hard to imagine that it will ever happen for us and I flit between believing it will, being indifferent and being absolutely certain that we will remain just the 2 of us. And most days that’s fine, but as most women can probably understand, some days it’s not. And those days are genuinely very few and far between – I don’t allow myself to get down about it too often, but I do allow myself the occasional ‘woe is me’ allotted timeslot of 5 minutes. And it strikes me at the weirdest times. I’ve had a few of those in the past 2 weeks, so I’m just about out of my allowance for the next few months!

Everybody gets it right? At whatever point you are in your life, there is always something that seems unachievable. As a teenager when all your friends have finally been noticed by their secret crushes, you wonder when it’ll ever be your turn. When you’re out of work or in a job that doesn’t really fulfil you, you wonder if it’ll ever turn around for you. If you haven’t met someone you want to spend your life with by the time you’re 30, you wonder if it’ll ever happen for you. If you have a terrible break-up, you wonder if you’ll ever be able to find love again. And it goes on and on and on. All these things my friends and countless others are struggling with, I don’t happen to be struggling with right now, but it just goes to show that we all have our own battles and it’s up to us to determine whether we’re going to wallow or whether we’re going to come out the other side of it with all guns blazing, knowing that we’ve got the mindset to make it happen – or at least know that we’ve tried our absolute best!  After all, the 'want to' creates the 'how to'.

This is the point we’re heading to. We have done the doctor’s appointments, the fertility drugs and all the unromantic stuff. And that’s all we can do. We’ve just been living our lives for the most part of this year so far, totally uncommitted to ovulation tests and calendars. Since the, frankly apathetic, fertility specialist uttered the words ‘the only option for you now is assisted conception’ in February, I really haven’t bothered about it all. And it’s been liberating! It took a couple of months to let go of all the structure that comes with battling infertility, but one day I just suddenly couldn’t remember when last I worried about all of it. And I’m in a genuinely happy place now, knowing that the stress of all of it is behind me. The future stress is figuring out where to next. The most asked question I get whenever I chat to anybody about this is ‘have you considered IVF or adoption?’. Absolutely no offence to anybody who has ever asked me this, because I absolutely understand that it is an obvious one to ask, but just know that it is an equally obvious one to consider when you’re going through this, so the answer is always ‘yes’. Yes, we have considered it. We have talked in length about it and the reality is that for reasons that I will not put down here, adoption is not an option for us. And yes, we’ve considered IVF, but the answer to that one is much more simple. We can’t afford it. I have only 4 months of the year next year when I will be eligible for free IVF on the NHS, however there is a BIG ‘but’. Because I have PCOS, it is incredibly difficult for me to lose weight. And before you ask, yes, I’ve tried everything. Low Carb diet, exercise, Metformin, completely changed diet and attitude to food, the works. Still nothing. And without losing more than ¼ of my body weight, the NHS won’t even give me the time of day. And why 4 months, you ask? Because... get this... I’ll be too old as of the 16th November next year – my 35th birthday. Yes, you read that right.  But I don't define myself by my weight, I take absolute responsibility for it.

We are so incredibly lucky in other ways and it is not lost on me that we have the lifestyle that we have because we don’t have children and I am very grateful for the fact that we are able to see the world. It is something I’ve wanted to do since I first came to the UK all on my own in 2000, however I didn’t truly start exploring and seeing the world until I met Dave. So yeah, I’ve just had to learn to take some and lose some. And believe me, we take FAR more than we lose, which is a pretty good place to be in.

George Bernard Shaw said "There are 2 tragedies in life – one is to lose your heart’s desire and the other is to gain it".

Money, success, possessions. These are the things that we leave something behind in order to find, whether it be home or dreams or even our health. But in doing that, we leave behind family, friendship and love – the things we already had. I always actively try to concentrate on the things I have, not on the things I thought that I possibly might have one day. One day might come and it might not, but if or when it does, I’ll know that I’ve worked hard to appreciate everything up until that point. Although life is the longest thing you ever do, it’s still too short to live with regrets. 

So this post doesn’t really have any point other than to get these thoughts out of my head and my heart and onto paper (or screen?). And that makes me feel better! Onwards and upwards towards all those silver linings out there just waiting to be discovered! Oh, and the unicorn too.

S'not cool!

Incessant sniffing.  On the train.  I think it's up there with pretty much everybody's pet peeves.  I mean, come on... invest 35p in a pack of tissues, for goodness sake!  And although it's gross, if you have to, buy a hanky.  Whatever you choose to wipe your nose on, I don't really care, as long as it's not me and as long as the drip is not left dangling, waiting for a violent sniff to pull it back up to where it came from.  Over and over and over again. 

It drives me insane.  Winter is obviously the worst for snot-filled sniffers, especially when you're on a packed train every day.  I have been known to offer a tissue to a snotty stranger - isn't it better to offer someone a tissue than have to sit for an hour, listening to the content of somebody's left lung forcefully ebbing and flowing?  Gross.

I recently didn't quite name, but definitely shamed this guy on my Facebook page.  I watched as he dug for diamonds - and by that, I mean a full on, index finger right up in there, dig around - inspected the offensive gem and then proceeded to wipe it on the pole.  Yes.  That's right.  Who does that?!  I was so grossed out that after swallowing down the gag reflex, I retrieved a tissue from my bag and leaned over the aisle to give it to him.  He looked at me strangely and I was then forced to say 'Wipe what you just did off the pole, that's disgusting!'.  He feigned ignorance for a split second, then used the tissue to wipe the offending article off the pole where someone else's hand would imminently be placed.

So if you see this guy on the tube at any point, make sure you have your sterilising gel with you.  Mr Tie Man... you suck!  You're gross and I hope you fall face first into a cow pat sometime soon.

Reflections.... troubled souls and lost connections

I haven't been on here for ages.  I said a little while ago that I had writer's block and to a certain extent, I still do, but a few things have happened this week, which have given me cause to pause and reflect, which I don't often do.  I'm not a very introspective person and although, in the past, I have been guilty of over-analysing, I've done relatively little of that since I met Dave.  Contentment has meant that my mind doesn't need to go there very often. 

The past couple of weeks have been hard ones for a few people in my life.  A very special friend lost her beloved dad last week.  I don't think I've ever known anyone to be closer to their dad and I can only imagine how this has affected and is continuing to affect her.  All I can do is be there for her, on the other end of the keypad, offering her my support and love across the miles.  Then, on Wednesday, I received news that an old friend had passed away.  He was my very first 'real' boyfriend and became a very troubled soul, so I didn't have much contact with him in recent years, but it's still sad to hear that someone you grew up with and were once so close to has passed away, especially since he was still so young.  Facebook is an amazing phenomenon for bringing people together in times like this.  This person moved overseas quite some time ago, but as far as I know, was already going through a rough time when he arrived.  He certainly was the last time I saw him back in 2002, so apart from his family, everybody else who knew him here in England, only knew him as the person he became.  Or rather, probably more accurately, never knew the person he was.  Seeing the tributes, messages, outpourings of affection and shock from all of the friends back home is really humbling and I honestly hope that it provides some comfort to his family that so many people have such fond memories of him.  Kurt, you were absolutely a force to be reckoned with when you were younger and I was never going to succeed in taming you, but I will, of course, always remember you. 

I heard this on a podcast last night and it really resonated.  It is a quote by Henry van Dyke and goes like this...

I am standing upon the seashore.  A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean.  She is an object of beauty and strength.  I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.  Then someone at my side says, "There, she is gone!"  Gone where?  Gone from my sight.  That is all.  She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear the load of living freight to her destined port.  Her diminished size is in me, not in her.  And just at the moment when someone at my side says, "There, she is gone!", there are other eyes watching her coming and other voices ready to take up the glad shout, "Here she comes!".  And that is dying.
 
Kurt's death brought another very old friend back into my life (thank you again, Facebook) and I have had such fun reminiscing about the old days with him.  Dave doesn't often understand it when I explain how, where we grew up, everybody knew everybody else and they certainly knew everybody else's business!  I'm not sure I'd want it that way now as an adult, but back then, it wasn't an issue - although that may be because I was fairly inconspicuous in the grand scheme of things and never really did anything 'news-worthy'.  There was no need for phones, just a strong pair of legs and a good pair of flip flops to get you where you wanted to go.  You inherently knew that once you got to where you were going, all the familiar friendly faces would be there waiting for you to join the party - whether that was a real party or an afternoon swim at the local pool.  At the time, we all seemed so vastly separated by the schools we went to, cliques we hung out in, clothes we wore or who we were dating.  But now, 16 years later, the picture I get in my mind when I think of those days is one of a tiny, really close-knit community - almost as if we were being looked at by a kid with a magnifying glass.  We were the ants.  All of our stories, all of our relationships, all of our social events (Raywood and New Forest discos, anyone?) were connected.  I was thinking about the impact that some of these people had on my life back then and they had absolutely no idea.  Isn't it a fantastic thing to be able to tell somebody that, at one point, you couldn't imagine a week going by without seeing them or laughing with them or even just speaking to them?  Because that's what it comes down to... memories are sacred, nobody can take them away from you.  So my advice to you is that while you still can, make a go at rekindling those connections that make the good memories stand out more than any bad ones you're carrying around.

This week, more than ever, I'm absolutely grateful for all the great ones I have.

South African English... let it not be said that we're not unique!

I came across this in the form of an e-mail, so I can't take credit for writing it, but I thought it was so funny... and it really resonated, because I often used to get strange sideways glances from Dave and his family before they just got used to the way 'The African' speaks and they now just 'go with the flow'! 

When it comes to "hosing myself" or "going right at the robot and then left at the circle" or even just "waiting here so long while you go into Tesco", I'm pretty much on my own with a bunch of blank stares unless there is a South African in on the conversation!  So all my SA friends, particularly those who have ever lived outside of South Africa... ENJOY!

How do you explain the word "sommer" to someone who is not South African?  It's not only a foreign word, it's a foreign concept.  Perhaps the English never do anything "just sommer".  There really is no equivalent.... "Why are you laughing? Just sommer."

"Bakkie" is another one, very useful around this house for all sizes and shapes of containers and dishes.  Also used for what they call "utes" in OZ or "pickup" in England.  I find it an indispensable word.

We all know "voetstoots" of course.  It's been officially adopted into South African English.  There's no concise, one-word equivalent in English.  "As is" just doesn't hack it.  And it's such a humorous word, conjuring up images of pushing that brand new car home...

There's no good English word for "dwaal".  It doesn't mean dream, or daze.  It's close to absent-mindedness, but that's not quite it.  Being in one so often myself, I'm not likely to stop using it.

I think "gogga" is the most delightful word for insect I've ever heard.  Children all over the world should use it.  "Insect" just doesn't stand a chance.

And I think "moffie" is a far better word than all those embarrassed English attempts at defining a homosexual: gay, queer, poofter... none of them are half as expressive.   Somehow "moffie" doesn't sound as derogatory either.

And then there's "gatvol".  OK, I know it's very rude. But it's so very expressive, nê?
"Fed up" doesn't have half the impact.  "Gatvol" is a word used more frequently than ever in the workplace these days, with increasing intensity.

While we're on the subject, another phrase which outstrips any English attempt is "Hy sal sy gat sien".  "He'll get his come-uppance" definitely lacks the relish in comparison.

"Donder" is another very useful word, used as an all-purpose swearword, which again has no good English translation.  Used as a verb, it can express any degree of roughing up.  As a noun, it is a pejorative, as they politely say in dictionaries, to mean whatever you want it to mean.  And there's no good translation for "skiet-en-donder" either.

It says something about the English that they have no word for "jol".  Probably the dictionary compilers regard it as slang, but it's widely used for "Going out on the town, kicking up your heels, enjoying yourself”.  Although curiously, the word "Yule" in Yuletide is related to "jol" and derived from Old English.  So somewhere along the line, the English forgot how to "jol".  How do you explain the passion of "lekker!"?  "Wow last night was a "lekker jol".

I've yet to meet a South African over the age of two who doesn't use the word "muti".  Translation is impossible - "witches potion" is about the nearest I can get.  It needs a long cultural historical explanation.  Between "muti" and the pedantic "medication", there's simply no contest.

And of course, my personal favourite "Kak en betaal" , which just says it all, doesn't it?  A bland English translation would be "Cough and pay", or "Breathe and pay".  But it just doesn't cut it, does it?  Not by a long drop.

Other words that come to mind: "jou bliksem", "wag 'n bietjie", "nie so haastig nie", "just now", "sakkie-sakkie music", "ou swaer", "Ya, nee", and one of my personal favourites, "Poephol".

"Dudu".  Telling your infant to "go to bed" is just not the same as, "Go dudu now, my baby!"

How about “bliksem"?  "I'm going to bliksem you!".  Both wonderful Afrikaans expressions with nothing to compare in the  English language, at least nothing that gives the same satisfaction.

"Mielie pap" - there is no word like "pap", here.  They have porridge, and when  they say porridge, they mean oats.  There's no Maltabela, no Tasty Wheat, No Creemy Meal... in other words, there's no "pap"!

"Mislik" - such a 'lekker' word.  "Why are you so mislik, you little skelm?"

Which brings us to "skelm" - here you just get "baddies", but that doesn't have the same sneaky connotation of a proper skelm, does it?! 

And "snot-klap"... fabulous word!  "Do you want a snot-klap?"  How would you say that in English?  "I'll slap you so hard the snot will fly!"?  It's just not the same.

"Loskop" is another favourite.  The English just don't understand when I say, "Sorry, I forgot - I'm such a loskop!"

And finally..... "moer".  There simply isn't a word here that denotes the feeling of dread behind the phrase "If you don't clean your room, I'll moer you!"