Author Archives: Carol

Born just before midnight

Posted on by August 5, 2018

Neither VW Golf nor Lenny Kravitz were around when I was born, but what must be one of the best VW television commercials (For the love of the Drive) has taken me back to a day in 1952.

I was born in Vredendal, a town in the northern Olifants River Valley in the Western Cape province of South Africa. From then on the15th of December was circled on every year’s calender as an important date by familie and maybe a handful of friends. [note: we were three siblings – I was not born nr one but filled the insignificant middle position!]
What I know about my birth is that I was born just before midnight and one of my early childhood friends just after midnight in the same nursing home (as those establishments were called back then) Up to this day I have never forgotten this bit of (useless)information, although I bet astrologists would love to dig up all kinds of weird and wonderful personality traits. My friend and I had totally different personalities but I’m quite certain it had to do with genes rather than two, either side of midnight, events.
A memento that I have cherished and one that miraculously did not land on a dumpsite, is a little gift card signed “The Oettles, Lausanne. Vredendal”
From the looks of things, the chubby baby in old photos seemed to be happy and adjusting well to life in her world.

Maybe a Memoir

Posted on by October 4, 2025

A few weeks have gone by and while staring  at a blank page, my mind just keeps wandering off to days and events long gone by. It will take tremendous effort to harness  a specific day’s thoughts and pin them to a specific date and time. I find it difficult to bind my thoughts between the leather covers of a journal.

I want to write – it is an exhilarating experience. Should people my age not perhaps rather be writing memoirs instead of  keeping diaries (as we used to call journals when I was a teenager)?

Maybe I should write a mémoire. Carol’s Memoir – now that sounds ridiculous.  I associate a memoir with famous people or people with extraordinary achievements or people who have lived through extraordinary circumstances.  I’ve also read that writing a memoir is narcissistic, like taking a selfie and posting it on every social media page.

My mind is slipping into the past again: “Reflections of my Life” – now that’s a  title that sounds more like me.

The changing of sunlight to moonlight
Reflections of my life
Oh, how they fill my eyes
–The Marmalade-

 

 

The Box

Posted on by August 5, 2018

Each person has a story to tell. We should write our stories as most stories are never handed down and are lost forever. Who knows, one day someone might be interested in what I had to say. When I become forgetful, at least I’ll have these reminders…

the box(1914-1919) My grandfather, Peter Joseph Kamp was interned at Fort Napier, Petermaritzburg, an internment camp for German nationals.

So this wooden box, made by him for my British grandmother, Lilian Ann Kamp (Bird) is a hundred years old.

All kinds of everything Journal

Posted on by August 5, 2018

Starting a journal is no easy task. Four whole days have gone by and still I’m unsure of what to write on the first page. Why am I so hesitant? Why not just start of all wobbly and let the plot unfold all by itself? I will definitely have to forget about trying to make everything look absolutely perfect. For starters, using a computer most of the time has played havoc with my handwriting skills. I’m hoping to see an improvement in this as I go along. Even sketching has become more difficult. Copy/paste has become the norm. Cameras have become our eyes. Photoshop does the rest. Continue reading →