Vot ees keeping you beezee I vonder…

There are some things worth writing about, and then there are some things that aren’t.  I’ve grown bored of the latter and decided to focus on the former since my blog is so badly neglected and lonely looking these days.  First up, relationships.

A couple of weeks ago I jokingly suggested to a male patient of ours that he and I should party it up while his missus went overseas.  A big laugh was had by his wife and I in the waiting room and he quietly smiled as they left.  Little did I know, I’d planted some evil little seed of doom, as exactly one week later, I answered a call at the office and it was this man, Wolfgang – asking me out to dinner.  On a Friday night! Flabbergasted and utterly falling over my words, I managed to stumble out an excuse that I had plans with my (non-existant) boyfriend, Stew. 

Trust me to dig myself into a hole because the very next words out of his mouth were “Oh, ov coss you are beezee – a bootifool young lass like you ov coss hef a boyfriend on Fridays, vot vos I theenkeeng? Vot about on Mondays? I pick you up in my nice fancy car, yes?

Errr, no.  Buddy.  I politely turned him down as I found I was very, very busy for the next week at least.  I was delighted to hear from my boss’ boyfriend that there was a message left on my office cell phone saying something along the lines of the following:

My dearest Sheena,

I am greately saddened to heff yet to heard from you.  Vot ees keeping you beezee I vonder – lets hope it ees not cold Winter nights alone, I em heppy to come keep you varm by the firelight, yes?

Returns my call at your peril.

Thees ees Volfgang by zee way.

He’s yet to cease calling or smsing and I’ve now handed it over to The Doc* to handle or I’m going to go batshit crazy all over his ass and do it in front of his poor, old wife too.  What the hell man? I’m FORTY YEARS YOUNGER THAN HIM!


Last week, The Doc convinced me to help her tow a horse trailer.  It was someone else’s and worth R100 000.  I was nervous, what with not having much experience of driving big trucks and also, never having towed anything other than my own two feet.

Doc: But Sheena! You grew up camping for fuck sakes! You know more than me!

Me: Dude.  I read books and played with boys while the other kids did all the hard labour – I know nothing except by association.

Doc: If your step dad heard you now he would turn in his grave.

Me: Well considering he’s still alive and outside of a grave I’m pretty sure its all good.

Doc: I’ll pay you a hundred bucks to tow this thing.

Me: Gimme the keys!

Well, I tried okay? I pushed, I pulled, I jumped on the horse trailor, I even got the ninety million year old neighbour to help me out but an hour and a half later and the thing bounced off the tow bar one metre up the driveway I officially gave up.  Cue Doc’s BF’s home coming and I hear a knock on my door midway through a game of Guitar Hero with The Giant.  Doc couldn’t hold in her giggles, gave me a warning look of magnificent proportions to keep cool and speak to the dude. 

Silently, he takes my hand and directs me to the back of the truck, shines a torch onto the tow bar and raises an eyebrow whilst looking at me. 

Me: What? Whaaaaat? I’m cold man – lemme go back inside, I can’t help it the stupid horse trailor thingie won’t work.

BF: Sheen.  Look at the tow bar.  It’s cover?  Yeah, its still on.  And now because you HAMMERED THE TRAILOR ONTO THE BAR, I have to cut it out. 

Me: Oh em gee.


Things are going well.  I’m still making myself known in a Bridget Jones like fashion, I’m still clumsy, I’m still home sick, I’m still loving my animal babies and I’m getting used to the farm even though sometimes all I really crave is city lights, alarms and sirens.  And more than anything, my family and friends back home. 

My birthday is coming up in 4 weeks too.  Yayness.  How you are?


  1. angel says:

    Mwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa… Only you Shebeeliciousness! Though I think I’m now going to start calling you, “Your Bridgetness”!

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