Murphy's law is a wonderful and sometimes quite a disconcerting one! We were picking enough berries to fill a lot of bottles with jams and syrups, and it was just wonderful to be out on such a nice day, and be in such a wonderful place. In South Africa it is not possible for two women to go out alone like this, as it is plainly to dangerous'
 We haven't seen any cyclist for ages, when we decided to have the snacks that we had brought along, and we duly found a table with bunks on two sides, and unpacked our goodies with relish! We both needed a toilet, but of such a commodity there was not a sight, so Irma decided to use a clump of shrubs that allowed for some privacy! All went well, and Irma came back smiling her relieve with her bladder now empty, and while she kept watch. I took the plunge, a wee bitty apprehensive, as the trees did not completely covered one, but as there was nobody on the path for ages, I did not feel too scared. But, as I said, old Murphy is one spiteful culprit, and I just had my jeans lowered, when a loud swish sound came to my ears, and by now I knew what a bicycle, or rather a lot of the things, sounded like, and I desperately tried to crouch deeper under the branches, but to no avail! Time to pull up my jeans there was not, and I saw how about a dozen guys came swishing around the bend, and this led them straight to the trees where I was now in great anguish, before the path turned again.
Of course they saw me, well luckily only my torso, but they knew well enough what I was doing, and one of them shouted at the top of his voice: Bon appe-pee, and the others joined in, and with great smiles they all copied the first guy! I was bally embarrassed, and of course my darling daughter was in hysterics!
All too soon it was time to go back, and the thought of taking the bicycle on the roads again made me shiver and shake, but I knew I had to do it!
Brambles make the most beautiful jam, and the next day we were busy boiling for quite some time. The Belgians love their bread, and with this home made jam, and Irma's self baked bread, it was small wonder that I did not bulge like a bullfrog after the two months with the children. Then Irma spotted some 'flier besse', I don't know what it is called in English, and we set out again with plenty of bags to fill, and I must say, the cycling was becoming a lot more comfortable! Then it was again operation jam cooking!
On weekends we drove to distant places, and we went to a place called Staden, where my dad came from, as my maiden name was van Staden. We also went to Dinant, in the French part of Belgium, to have a look at a small town called le Roux, my mother's maiden name. It was nice to see where my family came from, but sad, as the French Protestants were of course murdered by the Catholics in France, and the ones that escaped the killings, fled all over the world. Belgium did not know what to do with them, and a lot were sent to the then Dutch owned Cape of Good Hope in South Africa. I must say, I felt very much at home over there!