Names and Notes

Celebrities have cornered the market bestowing ridiculous names on their offspring, variations of Pretty Pooh and Funny Hunny.

Steven once employed a man to build a braai next to the swimming pool.

His name was Hitler!

For the uninformed, in South Africa, to cook meat over an open fire is called a braai. A barbeque is a flavour of crisps.

As hung-over Hitler proceeded with the braai-building, under the watchful eye of Steven, his endeavours began to look a little wonky and Steven shouted:

"Hitler, Hitler! Hitler!!, what the f**k are you doing?"

A German couple nearly choked on their coffee.

They were not offended by the swearing, but that parents could name their child Hitler. In Germany, I was told there is a roster detailing offensive, unacceptable names.

"Doesn't apply here," I replied, "You won't believe the names of some of these people!"

My name is Joy McLaren. I am often asked to spell Joy, and then called Jay or Joyce. And, asked if Joy is an African name. No, these are Beauty, Precious and Lovely.

McLaren becomes McLarren, McLeren, MacLarren and MeClerahan.

"Think Formulae One," I say.

"Oh, the racing car. That's easy. Why didn't you just say so? Are you involved in any way? My son is a demon in his go-cart, and I would like to give him an early start."

On the notice board at reception, many guests have pinned paper money, but the pride-of-place, was a use-on-or-before 30th of June 2008, Five Hundred Million Zimbabwean Dollar note.

This was a hot topic of conversation in various languages amongst the guests.

When I told them that Trillion Dollar notes were issued their eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

Some are journeying towards the Vic Falls and ask if any of these notes are still in circulation? I heard that they are being used as wallpapering for homes and shops.

I am almost sure that Zimbabweans are willing to exchange these for dollars.

One guest, an Economics student, was very grateful as she now had a thesis for her Master's degree.

Mama's House

Charlie booked in earlier than usual and asked if he could have breakfast.

What harm could this do, I decided. A lot it appeared.

I had an appointment in the afternoon and Charlie assured me that he would be alright as he needed to sleep.

On my return, I noticed that he had again devoured cereal, bread, orange juice, tea and coffee leaving the mug, glass, bowl, and plate on the table.

Off he went for a walk and returned two hours later, lay on the couch, propping his dirty feet on the cushions.

Dinner time, and while my back was turned ordering a pizza, Charlie proceeded to have breakfast again leaving the mess. Again.

Now I was pissed off and tired but decided to lock the bread and cereal in the cupboard.

But, forgot about the milk.

When I awoke the following morning Charlie was lying on the couch again.

I check the fridge for the milk - four litres gone and the urn is empty.

"Why did you hide the bread and cereal away as I woke up for a midnight snack?" Charlie asked grinning. You did the right thing though, as there may not have been cereal or bread left over for the other guests."

"I love this place though," he continued, "It's just like my mama's house."

Later that morning, kaboom!

Steven: "You won't believe what just happened. I was washing my hands and I watched a screw falling out of the door. It held for a while and then crashed onto the toilet seat. Stop laughing. I could have been dead and then what?"

After Steven replaced the door, he left seat under his arm for Builder's Warehouse, I placed an Out of Order notice on the door.

On Steven's return, he opened the said door and there sat Charlie regal as you please.

"Can't you read?" asked Steven. There are six other toilets you could have used?"

Sasha called later: "I noticed on your website that you have a lot of baths and showers. But, do you have any toilets?"