And on the very same Concert Day:
Mommy is in hospital with Liam, (Grandpa insists on calling him William) and Bibi is with grandma and grandpa. A wonderful interaction of jokes and laughter between the grandparents and Bibi , inspires grandpa to ask him if he attends the Montissouri school of clowns. “No gwanpa, we learn about Jesus at tool.” comes the reply.
“We must leave now if we want to get to the concert before ten!” Suggests granny, “You know what the N1 looks like on Saturday mornings, AND it is the end of the month.” Bibi immediately retorts that the wadio said that a twuck lost its load of bananas by the Wigel avenue offwamp . “That was yesterday. No need to stress, we have 30minutes to get to the Montissouri school of clowns” says grandpa, patting his pockets in search of the car keys.
Off they go with 35 minutes to spare, enough time to go to the airport, or even to Jo’burg for that matter. Up the onramp to the N1 and oops! A traffic jam six cars wide and a zillion long. It must be the bananas! Of course grandma has her say that sounds something like: “Oh my! I wonder what could have caused this?” But rings more accurately of “See, I told you what it would be like! Now we’ll be late.”
Quick thinking grandpa takes the off ramp back to the N4 West and the on ramp onto the N1 North followed by the off ramp to the N4 East. The whole clover. “Now we will use our GPS to find another way to the clown school” says grandpa fiddling with the apparatus to point it in the school’s general direction. “Drive Safely” ……..”U-Turn” says the lady in the GPS; in a voice akin to that used by young mothers to soothe their distraught babies. “Not likely sweetheart, you don’t know about the jam back there!” ………..”Route recalculation”. ………”Five hundred meters turn right.” “Aah. Now we’re cookin!
See grandma, I talk nicely to her, and she understands.” ……..”Two hundred meters, turn right.” ….Grandpa obediently follows the instruction and accelerates a tad over the limit to gain a bit of time. “One hundred meters, turn right.” “Aaah no! She wants to go to the N1 again!” Grandpa ignores the instruction and proceeds South down Linburn avenue. “Now we are going further away from the school. We should have gone to Hans Strydom!” Cries granny in utter despair. “Route recalculation.”
“Turn right, turn right” “That ….. Is not going to happen!” responds grandpa, trying to assert his authority on the GPS lady and makes a firm left into Lynwood road. “She does not know about the bananas gwanpa.” “Where are you going?” enquires grandma with a voice that only grannies get when their grandchildren are going to be late for concerts. “Trust me; I am going to get us there. If I have to follow you or sweetie over here we will end up in either Bronkhorstspruit or in a banana fruit salad.”
“Route recalculation, two kilometers, turn right.” Followed by silence from grandma and a giggle from Bibi. “She doesn’t listen to the wadio, hey gwanpa?”
The clock struck ten when Bibi was ushered into the wings of the stage by his teacher. Daddy and Spikey were relieved to see grannie and grandpa sneaking into the back row as the opening address by the principal came to an end.
“We must leave now if we want to get to the concert before ten!” Suggests granny, “You know what the N1 looks like on Saturday mornings, AND it is the end of the month.” Bibi immediately retorts that the wadio said that a twuck lost its load of bananas by the Wigel avenue offwamp . “That was yesterday. No need to stress, we have 30minutes to get to the Montissouri school of clowns” says grandpa, patting his pockets in search of the car keys.
Off they go with 35 minutes to spare, enough time to go to the airport, or even to Jo’burg for that matter. Up the onramp to the N1 and oops! A traffic jam six cars wide and a zillion long. It must be the bananas! Of course grandma has her say that sounds something like: “Oh my! I wonder what could have caused this?” But rings more accurately of “See, I told you what it would be like! Now we’ll be late.”
Quick thinking grandpa takes the off ramp back to the N4 West and the on ramp onto the N1 North followed by the off ramp to the N4 East. The whole clover. “Now we will use our GPS to find another way to the clown school” says grandpa fiddling with the apparatus to point it in the school’s general direction. “Drive Safely” ……..”U-Turn” says the lady in the GPS; in a voice akin to that used by young mothers to soothe their distraught babies. “Not likely sweetheart, you don’t know about the jam back there!” ………..”Route recalculation”. ………”Five hundred meters turn right.” “Aah. Now we’re cookin!
See grandma, I talk nicely to her, and she understands.” ……..”Two hundred meters, turn right.” ….Grandpa obediently follows the instruction and accelerates a tad over the limit to gain a bit of time. “One hundred meters, turn right.” “Aaah no! She wants to go to the N1 again!” Grandpa ignores the instruction and proceeds South down Linburn avenue. “Now we are going further away from the school. We should have gone to Hans Strydom!” Cries granny in utter despair. “Route recalculation.”
“Turn right, turn right” “That ….. Is not going to happen!” responds grandpa, trying to assert his authority on the GPS lady and makes a firm left into Lynwood road. “She does not know about the bananas gwanpa.” “Where are you going?” enquires grandma with a voice that only grannies get when their grandchildren are going to be late for concerts. “Trust me; I am going to get us there. If I have to follow you or sweetie over here we will end up in either Bronkhorstspruit or in a banana fruit salad.”
“Route recalculation, two kilometers, turn right.” Followed by silence from grandma and a giggle from Bibi. “She doesn’t listen to the wadio, hey gwanpa?”
The clock struck ten when Bibi was ushered into the wings of the stage by his teacher. Daddy and Spikey were relieved to see grannie and grandpa sneaking into the back row as the opening address by the principal came to an end.
Comments