tough tough toys for tough tough boys

About twenty years ago Dad took Paul Wilson to watch the bridge at Wits being swung into place. His girl children disappointed him by showing little to no interest in the event. Perhaps he rented Paul like he rented Kate and David Savage - to have a sprocket at an event where one feels compelled to have one. Beks and I didnt even fake an interest when Dad came home bursting with stories about cranes and hoists and engineering mastery. Sorry Dad, I hope our disinterest wasnt utterly shattering.

I was reminded today of my genetic (gender-ic?) crane watching deficeincy when the construction going on at school, that has until now been carrying on without grandeur or obstruction to justice, reached a whole new level. Overnight it seems, two enourmous cranes have been brought right into the belly of the school. All cars and bikes have been relocated to make way for them and all but the most important building corridors have been cordoned off because the cranes have to operate over them and might crash into them any second. Until now the construction was both silent and invisible; it was like magic elves were fixing the school with magic and we could teach without noise or distraction. Today the cranes changed all that. Every single classroom has a view of the cranes and in every class every boy has their head turned towards the window, dumbstruck. They cannot tear their eyes away from the cranes. The hoisting and pivoting. They all gasp with terror and exhiliration as bundles
of scaffolding swing to within inches of the glass. I reckon I could spontaneously combust or spontaneouly stand on a desk and take my shirt off or and it wouldnt register; they just love to watch the cranes. Its not just the students either - the male teachers are equally mesmerised; physically in the classrooms dummying through teaching until the bell when they can rush out with the boys and get as close as dammit to the action. The crashing and grinding of cogs and billowing clouds of construction dust do not dissuade indoors. Far from it, they seem to be considered added bonuses.

I am trying to work out what causes the joy in boys who watch machines. Is it the machinery? What about the machinery exactly? Is it the kinetics? It is the horrible metal noises? Maybe it is that construction vehicles with their size and power are today's dinosaurs, simultaneously horrifying and exciting.

I watched for a little bit this morning. It was fun yes, but my admiration lacked focus. Sometimes I was thinking about dinosaurs, sometimes noticing the light and sometimes how impossibly clean the machines were. I also noticed the style of the construction workers' uniforms: they wear loose green pants that taper into four button cuffs mid-calf and ninja boots with the big toe separated from the others. so beautiful. I covet them.

After ten minutes I had seen as much as I wanted and I went inside to read. I had tried, but I couldnt fool myself into the frenzy, the endless fascination being experienced by the boy people.

the colours of autumn

the weekend was cold and grey. On Sunday I had a delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs and Hokkaido camembert on thick white toast. The instant coffee could have done with a makeover but no matter; I certainly wasnt venturing out of my cocoon to find the real deal. Celia had left her halogen heater in my apartment; it kills two birds with one stone giving off gentle heat and lighting whatever room its in with Amelie tones. I had watched a movie earlier in the week with Audrey Tatou in it - A Very Long Engagement - and fallen in love with the soldier they called sunflower. So much so that after my toast and eggs I watched another film with the actor in it; this one also in French but with Japanese subtitles - luckily there wasn't much talking at all so I could kind of figure out what was going on... I was actually doing pretty well right up until the end the person who I assumed was the mother sits with the person I assumed was her son in a car. She tells him something that devastates him, he goes pale and cries and then wanders around alone on the beach. and then he kills himself. Clearly whatever she had to say was quite appalling.

After the movie I drew for the first time in ages, tentatively and badly. The disappointment of this was enough to drive me out of the heater's glow and into the city where I found a park that had looked kind of nice but turns out is very very nice. There were gangs of seven year olds playing soccer and mums and dads and an old couple watching the central fountain. I must take pictures of the autumn leaves before they are gone; the park was resplendent with them. I felt very cinematic walking through the trees alone; watching the families and being contemplative. On my way home I saw the old couple from the fountain walking towards the car. The old lady tripped and fell face first into the tarmac. The old man helped her up quickly while I waved my arms around guppying "Are you ok?". Once on her feet again they turned in unison and gave me the dolby hairy eyeball, both of them glaring and shuffling away. Was this because I saw the lady fall and added insult to injury by drawing attention to it? Perhaps they are members of the small but vocal conservative nationalist group that drive around in black SUVs on a saturday morning hollering "Long live the emperor!" "Foreigners, go home!" through a loud hailer duct-taped to the roof. Who knows. They got into his zippy little silver sports car, an unusual car in this part of the world and zoomed off. On my way home I saw the car parked outside the hospital. The incident frightened me for some reason, that I had not helped them and that they had looked so hateful and I didnt know why.

The cold air has been so clear the past few days. Looking at the mountains in the distance, one feels like every detail is more detailed than one has seen before, like the whole world right now is being viewed through a macro-lens. The evening sky is also breathtaking - seven different kinds of clouds in a myriad of colours - pink, white, butter, blue, green and black. Yesterday and again today as I walked out of my office at the end of the day along the fourth floor corridor I could see the sun on my right and the moon on my left, both of them white and the size of grapefruits, one rising and one sinking but for that moment on the same plain in the already busy sky. I will always love a Jo'burg storm sky more than any other sky, but these ones are pretty damn good.