There is something wrong with the electricity; it is has been on in the early morning and evening, when it is usually off. I often wonder what the ZESA control room is like. I imagine a whole lot of switches with the names of all the suburbs next to them. I wonder how it feels to flick a switch down, knowing you have plunged hundreds of people into darkness and frustration. When the power cuts began, there was some sort of timetable that was followed, but now it is completely random. It’s a bit like holding out two closed fists and asking someone to guess which hand has the sweet in it, except that there are more than two choices.
Thankfully, we have rain in the afternoon. It’s amazing how much better I always feel. However, the rain brings the frogs. Every evening, a great chorus starts up; some people love it, but not us. We are lucky, though, that we have not had the invasion that we had last year and the year before. I suspect that we got such a bad review on Frog Airbnb, that all prospective customers have been put off.
Both John and I have been known to be out in the garden at 1am, scooping frogs out of the pool with the net and putting them in a bucket. One night last year yielded more than forty frogs. I have even had a guest help me; he thought it was very funny, but even he gave up in the end. When we didn’t like our neighbour, we used to empty the bucket over the wall into his garden. This went some way to making up for the rubbish he threw over into our garden. Now, we release the frogs at the bottom of our garden, far away from the swimming pool.
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