I haven’t gone for an earth-nap under the “lang bome” I am still very much alive and well. Can’t say the same for my trusty old computer that was an extension of my brain – perhaps much more my brain that I gave it credit for. It took just one lightning flash – like a shot of Doom it hit my trusted tin brain and exterminated all my data, plus my mailing list. For a few days I moped thinking that’s that – it’s an omen, just stop. Then I looked around at all the books with little papers popping out of their pages marking special items on the Karoo, the filing cabinet with its masses of raw, unsorted Karoo bits and pieces for Round-up and, like Frank Sinatra I decided to “pick myself up, dust myself off and get back in the race.” More easily said than done. I felt as if I was standing at the foot of Everest and I wasn’t sure whether I had the courage to take the first step, but my young niece had a friend who was “a computer boffin” – he conducted a post mortem and salvaged what he could. “Facebook,” said my niece, “is the way to find friends.” I couldn’t believe I’d master such a step from the deep history where I live into the modern world, but I tried it and now I am taking the second step. I am trying my hand at “blogging”. No end to the wonders of the world, it seems.
The driver was my undying love for the Karoo, my passion to share what I find as I scratch about in history. I had never heard of the place before we went to live there, but once we bought that house in Beaufort West I caught such a severe dose of the Karoo that I will never be cured.