Read Online I Heart Beat by Edyth; Bulbring - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Edyth; Bulbring
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Grummer donât have tickets for the pubbingrill skop.
I say thatâs cool bananas âcos who needs a party when Iâve got the three names thatâll take Grummer dancing down the aisle.
And Toffie says thatâs fine again and he gives me back my spare cellphone and says itâs a crime that two of the old fossils on the list will be dancing with some other nice old ladies at the pubbingrill tomorrow night while me and Grummer sit like wet farts at home.
Because, get this, Beatrice Wellbeloved, he says, Mr David Davis-Davis and Dr Simon Fridjohn each bought a single ticket from him the day before yesterday.
Toffieâs got me. And so I give him back the cellphone and buy two tickets at one rand discount each for the pubbingrill skop.
I leave Toffie cutting bits of dry skin off his cracked heels with his penknife and go home.
Grummerâs having lunch on the veranda with Mr du Plooy. I sit down and join them.
âBeatrice has been very busy cycling and swimming with her new friend Christoffel,â Grummer says. âIâve hardly seen her at all these past five days. Look how tanned and lovely sheâs looking.â
I rush inside and look at myself in the mirror. A quick scan tells me Iâve got eleven freckles on my nose and seven on my cheeks. I want to cut my head off.
I go back to the veranda just as Grummerâs dishing up the food: boerewors and mashed potatoes. Grummer and Mr du Plooy are arguing about the vegetable garden.
âBut, Mrs Wellbeloved, even the queen of England grows cabbages among her roses. They keep the aphids away,â says Mr du Plooy. I watch as he pours gravy all over his sausage and mash and mixes it up like a cement mixer. Sis!
âMy husbandâs family came out of a world war where they grew vegetables just to survive. Derek (my late husband) always swore that he would never grow another vegetable,â Grummer argues, looking all pink-cheeked.
Mr du Plooy eats his mash with the side of his knife and cuts his boerewors with a fork and shovels it down.
Heâs starting on the garden tomorrow. But they still havenât settled on the questions of the quince and guava trees and the demolition of the âhomesâ.
After lunch, Pastor Hettie and Mr September are coming around to see the garden for the last time. Grummer says it was her idea. Itâll help her decide what to do. I decide Iâve got plenty to do.
I get my laptop and open file Project: Pulling For Grummer. It hasnât been updated since the book club meet. I delete Alan Rodderick from The Target and put in the three new names. I imagine how Grummer takes to her three fiancés. I say the names out loud: Mrs Mavis Fridjohn. Yes! Mrs Mavis Waterford. Lovely! Mrs Mavis Davis-Davis. Nah! I sound like Mom after a bottle of vodka.
I call Toffie. He says heâs at the video shop downloading
Shall We Dance?
for Adore and heâll call me back. I kick myself for giving him the URL of that Russian website.
When he finally calls, I ask him whatâs behind the David Davis-Davis thing. He tells me Mr Davis-Davis was originally plain Mr David Davis from the wrong side of the dorp. Then thirty years ago he met Ms Bridget Davis (no relation) from the right side of the village and they fell in love.
Iâm finding this Romeo and Juliet saga very interesting (not) and I tell Toffie to get to the point. The point is that Ms Bridget Davisâs snobby father would only allow his daughter to marry the low-life Mr David Davis if he would take the brideâs family name and preserve the honourable line. So he became Mr David Davis-Davis. The union ended (sans children) three years ago when Mrs Bridget Davis-Davis was hit by a tractor overtaking a truck on the way to Hermanus.
I tell Toffie itâs one of the worst stories Iâve ever heard in my life and itâs just too bad but Mr David Davis-Davis will have to join the uglies in the slush pile.
I say thatâs cool bananas âcos who needs a party when Iâve got the three names thatâll take Grummer dancing down the aisle.
And Toffie says thatâs fine again and he gives me back my spare cellphone and says itâs a crime that two of the old fossils on the list will be dancing with some other nice old ladies at the pubbingrill tomorrow night while me and Grummer sit like wet farts at home.
Because, get this, Beatrice Wellbeloved, he says, Mr David Davis-Davis and Dr Simon Fridjohn each bought a single ticket from him the day before yesterday.
Toffieâs got me. And so I give him back the cellphone and buy two tickets at one rand discount each for the pubbingrill skop.
I leave Toffie cutting bits of dry skin off his cracked heels with his penknife and go home.
Grummerâs having lunch on the veranda with Mr du Plooy. I sit down and join them.
âBeatrice has been very busy cycling and swimming with her new friend Christoffel,â Grummer says. âIâve hardly seen her at all these past five days. Look how tanned and lovely sheâs looking.â
I rush inside and look at myself in the mirror. A quick scan tells me Iâve got eleven freckles on my nose and seven on my cheeks. I want to cut my head off.
I go back to the veranda just as Grummerâs dishing up the food: boerewors and mashed potatoes. Grummer and Mr du Plooy are arguing about the vegetable garden.
âBut, Mrs Wellbeloved, even the queen of England grows cabbages among her roses. They keep the aphids away,â says Mr du Plooy. I watch as he pours gravy all over his sausage and mash and mixes it up like a cement mixer. Sis!
âMy husbandâs family came out of a world war where they grew vegetables just to survive. Derek (my late husband) always swore that he would never grow another vegetable,â Grummer argues, looking all pink-cheeked.
Mr du Plooy eats his mash with the side of his knife and cuts his boerewors with a fork and shovels it down.
Heâs starting on the garden tomorrow. But they still havenât settled on the questions of the quince and guava trees and the demolition of the âhomesâ.
After lunch, Pastor Hettie and Mr September are coming around to see the garden for the last time. Grummer says it was her idea. Itâll help her decide what to do. I decide Iâve got plenty to do.
I get my laptop and open file Project: Pulling For Grummer. It hasnât been updated since the book club meet. I delete Alan Rodderick from The Target and put in the three new names. I imagine how Grummer takes to her three fiancés. I say the names out loud: Mrs Mavis Fridjohn. Yes! Mrs Mavis Waterford. Lovely! Mrs Mavis Davis-Davis. Nah! I sound like Mom after a bottle of vodka.
I call Toffie. He says heâs at the video shop downloading
Shall We Dance?
for Adore and heâll call me back. I kick myself for giving him the URL of that Russian website.
When he finally calls, I ask him whatâs behind the David Davis-Davis thing. He tells me Mr Davis-Davis was originally plain Mr David Davis from the wrong side of the dorp. Then thirty years ago he met Ms Bridget Davis (no relation) from the right side of the village and they fell in love.
Iâm finding this Romeo and Juliet saga very interesting (not) and I tell Toffie to get to the point. The point is that Ms Bridget Davisâs snobby father would only allow his daughter to marry the low-life Mr David Davis if he would take the brideâs family name and preserve the honourable line. So he became Mr David Davis-Davis. The union ended (sans children) three years ago when Mrs Bridget Davis-Davis was hit by a tractor overtaking a truck on the way to Hermanus.
I tell Toffie itâs one of the worst stories Iâve ever heard in my life and itâs just too bad but Mr David Davis-Davis will have to join the uglies in the slush pile.
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