‘Spring iz sprung, da grass iz riz,
I wonder where dem boidies iz?
Da little boids is on da wing.
Ain’t dat absoid?
Da little wings iz on da boid.’

The American poet, Ogden Nash, gets the blame for this wonderful poem about spring.
Spring!
September 1st marked the beginning of spring. I sleep with my curtains open and wake each morning at 5.30. With a cup of coffee in my hand, my iPad on my lap, I watch the brilliant scene of the rising sun play out before me. It’s gentle rays almost tentatively seem to peer over the Outeniqua Mountains and then more boldly the rest of the sun follows. It embraces the world in it’s sublime pinks, purples, and oranges as the early morning casts away it’s mantle of the night. During winter, I have normally finished two cups of coffee before greeting the day. On the opening of spring, I finished one and smiled at daybreak.

Jasmine to me, is the scent of spring. The rich, heady perfume seems to fill my heart as I acknowledge that spring has finally arrived. Unfortunately I don’t have a jasmine bush in my small garden, but every time I enter or leave Mums’s house, I am assailed by the smell of spring. Her jasmine bush grows at the front door. I stand in my own garden and I look at the beautiful pink shoots of my rose. It has realised that winter is over and new little sprouts taste the air in anticipation of the life to come.

I can see very definite seasonal changes taking place in life. Everyone’s life has a spring, summer, autumn and winter before finally encountering death. Yet within life, there are different sorts of changes that can definitely be looked upon as seasonal. 

After the deep, dark winter of my fall, spring began slowly as I began to beat and crack the ice that had formed around me. It had frozen in such a way that this was not ice that simply melted in the sun. It had dehumanised me and required a slow thaw by means of love and therapy. I took heart when I beat off it’s icy grip and was able to stand once more. Gradually I was able to shake free of the last icy tentacles as I learnt to walk, move my body and talk again. Spring had definitely taken hold as I slowly but surely moved towards summer.

Four years after my fall, Maralin Vanrenen directed me in my one woman show, My Plunge to Fame. I was performing as Gaynor telling the story of my life. I entered into this summer of my existence with awe and an unbelievable joy. In rehearsal, realising that I was no longer able to learn words, M threw away my script and said: “Now tell me about your life.”
How utterly terrifying! Having no script, each time I performed it was a different show, all contained within a set framework.

On opening night, I remember waiting in the wings for my signal from the stage manager to move on stage and praying: “Please Lord, give me the words tonight.”
Afterwards I stood taking my curtain call to a standing ovation. I revelled in the summer breeze of people standing, applauding my show for the next eight months. 

All summers come to an end. I had forgotten this and the autumn hit me like a slap in the face. I was unprepared for the winter that followed.

After performing all over the country and twice in London, I returned to my flat in Durban. When you are alone, you look at yourself – critically. Suddenly, since my fall, I didn’t care how far I had progressed. I looked at myself in the mirror and how I hated the image that greeted me. All my deformities, everything that was wrong with me caused tears to seep from my eyes. I couldn’t hear people so conversation was difficult. I walked with a dreadful limp. I was so evidently spastic down my right hand side that I cringed inside. Where had all my dreams gone: I was going to be an admired actor with a husband and possibly two children. The actor had disappeared in Camelot that day. As for a husband? Who would ever marry me now? And children? I gave a mirthless laugh.
Slowly the winter ice began to stealthily freeze around my heart once more.

Suicide.
I planned it carefully.
I bought 2 bottles of red wine and a pile of sleeping tablets. I ran a lovely hot bath with a little jasmine essence poured in. Spring in a bath, I liked that. I planned to take my life by drinking the wine together with the sleeping tablets. I would fall asleep in the bath. What better way than going with expensive bottles of red wine in a beautifully scented spring bath? I climbed into the hot bath and poured myself some wine. This was the most expensive wine I had ever bought. I placed the sleeping tablets neatly along the edge of the bath.
‘Mums would approve of my neatness,’ I thought. And that finished me. I remembered everything that Dad and Mums had done for me since my fall. How they had stood by me, coaxing me back to living once more. And now, here was yours truly literally throwing it in their faces and saying: ‘I don’t care. Living is too difficult. I want out!’
It would destroy them. How could I do that? But what about me? Life was a bitter pill to swallow. Life or the blessing of no more struggles – oblivion! I sat in the bath, my mind in turmoil. It was then I realised I needed help. I needed hope back in my life once more.

Enter my clinical psychologist, Shirley Tollman.
The bliss of being able to talk about the dark things inside to someone who didn’t know me. She helped me understand myself and deal with my various problems.
Think of a beautiful tree in a storm. It is struck by lightning and different parts are burnt and singed. Indeed the whole tree is affected. But in spring new shoots begin to grow amongst this blackened mass. Only these grow in a totally different way making the tree look strange yet wonderfully weird.
This was me. Yes, I might look different with my spasticity, my squonk eye, my limp but in a rather wonderful way, I have grown new branches that I have discovered are invaluable to me. These are the branches of empathy, of knowing what a bad situation is like and being able to relate to people in ways that were unknown to me before my fall.
I had forgotten that after every winter there is a spring. Shirley helped me discover spring once more.

Throughout our lives there are many hard crushing winters, but there is always the spring that arrives. At this time of year, the days bristle with renewed signs of life everywhere. The spirit of starting anew takes hold. I laugh at myself! Today fresh with the fever of spring, I set off with my friends for a walk in the forest. My eyes were not on the beautiful scenery we were passing through but on the ground to see where to step. Every now and again, I would shout: “Please may we stop?”
Then I would gaze around me with awe at the soaring trees, the waterfall…and the beginning of spring.
Afterwards my friend said to me that it was the most difficult walk she had taken me on. I discovered that with my gorgeously helpful leg brace, on that beautiful spring morning, I had walked the furthest I had ever walked – nine kilometres!

I love spring!

The post Spring has Sprung! appeared first on 'ear 'ear! by Gaynor Young.

“I went for a walk in Africa at the foot of the Outeniqua Mountains.”
                         – Karen Blixen, sorry, I mean, Gaynor Young!!!

I am usually unable to join my friends on their wonderful mountain and forest walks.

With my spastic right hand side, I find climbing the rocky twists and turns impossible to navigate. The photographs that they take are often displayed on our George Friends WhatsApp group. I peruse them avidly. Indubitably I would say to my friend: “B, those pathways don’t look too difficult. I’m sure I would have been able to cope with them.”
Patiently B would explain that I definitely would not have managed. They would have proved to be fairly treacherous for me!
Until last week. 

The route for the normal Sunday morning walk was posted on WhatsApp by  Jan. B said slightly hesitantly: “I think that you might be able to do this walk. The paths are fairly wide and not too steep. You would manage it.”
She messaged the other walkers and they were all enthusiastically welcoming.
‘I will not make them hold back and wait for me. I will definitely keep up,’ I vowed to myself while attaching my leg brace. The brace, whilst being invaluable as far as preventing me from over extending, would definitely be a drawback if I were mountain climbing. ‘Luckily Mount Everest was not quite on the cards today, I thought!

We arrived at Arendsrus to see an odd kerfuffle happening in Jan’s car. The door flew open and Jan fell out, clutching her eyes and coughing. Finn, her Jack Russell, had inadvertently put his foot on Jan’s pepper spray as she was parking. It had gone straight into Jan’s face.
“I was so stupid to put it there. That is Finn’s place. What was I thinking?” Jan laughed with tears pouring down her cheeks.

There was a certain joyousness amongst us as we set off. Six girlfriends who hadn’t seen one another for quite a while because of the lockdown caused the air to vibrate with laughter and fun. Six dogs scampered around our feet. I was ultra-conscious that I must not hold anyone up. So I set off at speed, walking quite a way in front. The mountains stretched gloriously upwards and all around were the differing calls of birds. The green iridescent crimson chested Sunbird made a lasting impression. It was quite a climb and I totally loved it. There was a myriad of flowers, fynbos and wonderfully shaped rocks that burst onto my consciousness like a breath of fresh jasmine.
“Gaynor, watch it, get to the left!”
I moved to the left in the nick of time.
Phewt! Phewt! Phewt!
Three mountain bikes sped past me in a whirl of dust.
“Shootenhauzen, why didn’t they ring their bells?” I gasped.
“They don’t have them,” Jan laughed, “they might get in the way if they have a crash.”
“But they just about crashed into me because they didn’t have them!”
“Ahhhh, but on these walks, all your senses need to be alert,” replied my mad keen cyclist friend.

We turned a corner and I came to an abrupt halt. In front of me was the most glorious little pond. I stopped and drank in the sight. What made it so special were the reflections of the mountains and trees all moving softly in the flowing depths. When we moved on, I didn’t immediately set off in hot pursuit of who knows what! I walked with my friends. I realised that I wasn’t holding anyone up. And so we continued  on our magnificent stroll – together!

After about 50 minutes, B suggested that maybe we two should turn around and head back. She knew that I often struggled with descents. I was amazed to discover that going back was fine. My brace and stick made all the difference. I’m actually developing quite an affection for this gorgeous blue brace that makes me walk so smoothly!

The two of us made our way back at a leisurely Gaynor-Pace! I was able to take in and absorb so much more now that I wasn’t thinking: Go faster! Don’t hold anyone up!
I looked down at the city of George stretching out below me with the sea in the distance  and said in an almost choked voice: “It is so beautiful, isn’t it?”
Not waiting for an answer, I continued: “I remember Mums suggesting I move to George. I was absolutely horrified. ‘Mums, George is for old people!’ I replied. And now, here I am. George is ‘my’ beautiful, little town.”
I walked a few more steps and then mused: “Maybe this means that I am getting old!”

We came across a dilapidated red Volkswagen. It was just like the VW that I had driven over thirty years ago. I laughed to myself thinking: Maybe this where she finally ended up! There was something strangely beautiful about this abandoned vehicle. I imagined the excitement she had caused when presented to her owner. And the driving of her owner with great joy, nipping nimbly between cars in a cheeky yet safe manner. Gradually, as the years passed, so this Volkswagen found her nimbleness difficult to keep up. Her chassis had been bumped a few times and her wheels were getting old. Her heart drooped when she saw a sleek BMW standing in the driveway with her mistress inside.
‘She’s got a new car. What will become of me? Will I be crushed at the scrap metal yard?’
She had seen friends of hers disappear in that manner.
Her mistress came across to her and patted her lovingly on her bonnet.
“You have been so good to me, my precious Belle.”
This was the name I imagined her being called.
“I’ve got a new car now. I’m not sending you to the scrap heap. I am moving you to a beautiful place in the country. You will sit outside this restaurant where I think you will be incredibly happy. Birds will alight and speak to you and there will be a constant stream of people who will pass you by, taking great delight in you. I will pop in and see you on my walks, so it isn’t goodbye.”
And today, I thought, here sits Belle, contentedly smiling at all the passing walkers.

B and I sat in the garden at Arendsrus soaking in the clear crisp air, eating muffins, drinking coffee and admiring Belle. A rewarding way to finish our climb of ‘not quite Everest!’

What this depressing period of confined lockdown has made me appreciate is that each day is a new experience. We can make of it what we will. What made this walk so special, wasn’t just the glorious perfect weather, the beautiful views and the nature surrounding me, it was that I was a member of the gang. I was with my friends and their dogs and would see myself in the ‘Sunday walk’ photos!

My heart leapt ahead of my body!

The post My Everest Climb! appeared first on 'ear 'ear! by Gaynor Young.

On Christmas Eve, Mum very kindly said: “Should I take Pandora through to your room for you?”

“Thanks, Mums,” I was in the middle of a discussion with Dad. “And then could you cover her for the night.” It was Pandora’s normal time for bed – 10.30pm. So Mum and Pandora duly left and I continued talking.

Now in order for this story to have any impact I must first describe our house’s layout from the lounge to my room. It is a large lounge which you leave by turning left into the dining room. Then left once again and you find yourself in our kitchen. Which is large! Mum is “in haar noppies” because at long last she owns a BIG kitchen. Then you go down a passage which in turn passes the shower and loo until finally you reach the bedroom of Kirsten, Sarah, Pandora and Gaynor.

Fine the plot is laid out and now the story can begin! Da Da Da Duuuuuuummmmmmmm……….Just some slightly suspenseful music to get you in the mood. (I can see your smile beginning,  admit it!)

About half an hour later I got up from the chair I was sitting in and went to kiss Dad goodnight. I took a step then turned back to him to make a final remark. That was when I heard it.

“Bbbrroooppphhh!”

There at my ankles was Pandora! I looked at her in stupefaction. How had she managed to get out of her cage? Even more important to my way of thinking: How had she managed to find me? Well, okay, I did speak fairly loudly at that time, this is pre-cochlear implants, so she must have simply followed the sound of my voice. But she was only able to walk. Just before the holidays I had cut her one wing. I often had her out her cage and I wanted to make sure that she was completely landlocked, if you know what I mean. Have you ever seen a cockatiel walk? It’s actually amazingly cute. They waddle from side to side. But it takes a total age for them to move any distance! Now here was Pandora, who had promptly travelled half the house to find me. And…..wait for it…we had two large cats who often regarded Pandora sitting in her cage, literally pulling a tongue at them, with great feline avidity.

Mum was nearly in tears when I tackled her about it.

“But I shut the cage. I would never leave it open. And then I covered her….”

I actually believed Mum. So I have no idea how Pandora escaped and set off on her mission. And no, Kirsten and Sarah were dead to the world. I said to my parents: “I just thank God that one of the cats didn’t devour her. If that had happened I would probably have spent Christmas in a mental home!”

My Mum didn’t find that remark very funny (after my accident she was told by one doctor to ‘put me in an Institution and forget she ever had a daughter!’), but at that moment humour was the furtherest thing from my thoughts!

But can you believe it? My Angel-Face escaped and found me!

I loved that little golden bundle of joy!

The post The Great Escape! appeared first on 'ear 'ear! by Gaynor Young.