Don't They Know It's the End of the World?

So we've had a lot of discussions and a lot of laughs in our office this week, after World Radio put a billboard up not more than 400-500 m from our building. One of our number wanted to know if the world would end before or after the rugby on the 21st. Another wanted to know if she should cancel her girls' night out with her friend. I just wanted it to happen early so that I didn't have to go grocery shopping - it's the bane of my life!

So what this thought-provoking and amusing billboard said was "Judgment Day: 21st May 2011" and in a little bubble to the side it said "The Bible guarantees it!", then in small letters the World Radio website, AM frequency, and the time of the broadcast - 18h00 - 21h00. Apparently, according to one Harold Camping, a pastor in America, it's all going to kick off with a worldwide earthquake, and the Rapture will take place. The world will cease to exist on 21st October 2011.





Before you go off and start buying a lifetime supply of baked beans and corned beef, here's some good news. I'm typing this at 5.24 pm. Still 35 minutes to go till 6 pm. BUT if you're reading this in Auckland, Sydney, Fiji, Tokyo, Beijing - guess what??? It's already the 22nd!!!! Good morning, and welcome to a world that has not ended yet!

BUT this did get me thinking. If you knew for sure that the world WAS going to end today, what would you do? Is there something you know you have been doing wrong that you want to make amends for? Is there a family member you need to apologise to for something that happened long ago? Someone you've been meaning to call, but haven't got around to doing it? Then I'm going to say to you - you are not guaranteed tomorrow. The Rapture may or may not happen tonight. You may have a car accident when you go out later, or you may live for another 70 years. We are never guaranteed any time but now. If you have unfinished business, and amends to make, make them now.

In terms of Harold Camping's predictions, I can safely say he's wrong to pin a date on it, and most likely we'll see the sun rise on another day tomorrow. What Jesus himself said was, "But concerning that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father only" (Matthew 24:36). Jesus doesn't know, the angels don't know, and some number-crunching preacher in California certainly doesn't know for sure.

Harold Camping - false prophet?

That's the thing.  Don't be deceived.  Judgment Day is coming.  It really is.  Not even scientists or conservationists would disagree with me on this one.  The way we exploit natural resources, the dictatorships we see in parts of the world, the rampant holy wars and hatred among nations, the great poverty in some countries, global warming and the melting of the ice caps - all of us, deep in our hearts, know it can't go on like this forever.  Will it happen in my lifetime?  That's not my call - that's God's call.  All I know is that He's said we need to be ready, because we don't know the hour.  Again I ask, if Judgment Day were to happen tonight, where would you find yourself?  Would you be looking upward looking for the break in the clouds and listening for that trumpet? Or would you be filled with horror and dread at the thought of what is to come?  God is very clear that it WILL take place, but He's also made it clear that if we repent and turn to Him, any talk of the Rapture will not be a cause for consternation, but a source of celebration. We'll have a new address, and it won't be on this earth.  We'll be taken where there's no pain, no death, no sadness, endless peace and joy.

I leave you with this final thought.  You might be reading this and thinking I'm a religious nut, a total Jesus freak.  It's cool if you do - I've been called worse.  You may argue there is no God, and it's your right to do so.  So what if you're right?  It means that you carry on as you normally do, and hopefully my life is lived out in such a way that it makes the world a better place for the people whose path I cross. Hopefully, I manage to pour out some love and kindness on people, and bring smiles maybe where there were tears, living a good, law-abiding, hopeful, peaceful life.  When you die, that's it. When I die, hopefully some people will say some nice things about me, and remember me fondly.

Now, just think about it - what if I'm right?  On your judgment day, whenever that will be, what will you say? For some of you it's already 22nd May - "Judgment Day 2011" has passed.  But you haven't escaped.  God's just given you another chance. Don't leave it too late.

Mothers' Day x 365

My hero, my role model, my mum

Agnes Knox, Nancy Knox, Nan Lindsay.  Most of you reading this won't have a clue to whom I'm referring.  But there is the select few who read this who won't read "Agnes", "Nancy" or "Nan" - they'll read "Mum", "Granny", or some of you even "Aunty Nan". Born 12th June 1936, Mum had a childhood through wartime.  She was a remarkable lady in unremarkable circumstances.  Married at age 19, she held fast to her vow "till death do us part", bore four children (though suffering a miscarriage between the third and the fourth), raised three very, very different daughters, and one quiet and loving son, who knew how to bring out the best - and the worst - in all his sisters. 

Being the youngest of the four, by a fairly large number of years, I was the last child left in the home, after everyone else had married and moved away.  Mum just took everything in her stride - all the weddings, still having a child in school, the arrival of grandchildren.  She held down a job, she worked herself to the bone, then came home and did it all again there.  Of course I had chores, and of course Dad helped with cooking, and could drive a vacuum cleaner like you wouldn't believe, but nobody could do the laundry or ironing, or just generally keep the house going like Mum.

The news in 1992 that she had had a cancerous lump removed from her breast and was undergoing radiation therapy came as a huge shock.  But at every check-up thereafter she was given good reports, and Mum went back to doing what she loved to do - looking after other people.  There was always someone she "took care of" and she had a special heart for elderly and infirm people.  First it was Nanna, then Kate Hastie, then Annie.  So it was a massive, massive blow to us all when in December 1997 she was rushed to hospital, and died soon after admittance.  Though the death certificate stated she died of "pulmonary thrombosis", the autopsy revealed cancer had completely overtaken her body, and the doctors reckoned that, had the blood clot not killed her, the cancer certainly would have within the month.  She was 61, wife for 41 years, mother of four, grandmother of 6 (at that stage).

While thinking of her today, I just realised that, though I loved my mum desperately and there was nothing, literally nothing I couldn't tell her, I realised how little I really did to show her my appreciation, far less verbalise it.  If I could live my life over, that is probably one of the biggest things I would change - this lady who sacrificed so much for all of us - I would take so much off her shoulders in terms of household responsibility.  I would tell her that she is an amazing woman.   I would let her know that she truly is my hero.  She wouldn't be coming home from work and making her own tea, especially not if I've been home for an hour before her.  I would do more together with her.  Learn more about her childhood.  Learn more about - and from - her.  And I would really encourage her to pamper herself, take time out, take a break.  Sometimes moms are their own worst enemies.

And here's the thing; my mum's not the exception - she's more like the rule.  Moms just get on and do it and the more into motherhood I'm going, the more I see it.  There's a lady in our church right now - three children under five, studying AND keeping a household going.  I saw another lady arrange a massive women's event for over 400 women, while looking after two small children and being heavily pregnant with a third.  Yet another raising two adopted teenage daughters, working a full day in the city and sometimes not knowing where the next meal is coming from, yet never ever closing her heart to anyone in need - always the first there with a pot of soup, offer of a lift, or whatever's needed.

Yes, there are mothers who are genuinely bad, who will go all out to harm their family, but they really are not common.  Most mothers would lay down their lives for their children - and frequently do, figuratively if not literally.

So, if you are reading this, and you are blessed to have your mom still with you, do yourself a favour and take action.  I don't care how old you are or how old your mom is.  Make her a cup of tea, give her a night off cooking AND dishes, run her a bubble bath, take her out for a meal, go visit her, help her out with chores around the house, take her shopping, bring her a big bunch of flowers, give her a hug and a kiss, give her a call right now... but most of all, don't forget to tell her what an amazing superwoman she is, and how much you appreciate all she does and ever has done for you.  You will never say "I love you" louder than you do when you affirm her in the most important role God ever gave her - being your mother. 

Mother's day shouldn't be one arbitrary Sunday somewhere in the middle of the year.  She is worth way, way more than that.  Don't ever miss the chance to appreciate her as often as you can right through the year.

And they all lived happily ever after....

All right, I admit it!  I'm a royalist! I love all things royal, I bunked college on the Friday when Prince Charles visited Lockerbie, I waved at the Queen when she came to visit the memorial site in Lockerbie, when our Catherine was still a baby, and I said "Good morning!" to Princess Anne as she stepped off the royal train in Glasgow Central (we just happened to have got off the 8.15 Scotrail from Lockerbie) That really made my mum's day, as she loved the royals more than I do! So it's no surprise that today I made sure all remote controls were firmly in my grasp as Catherine Elizabeth Middleton walked down the aisle of Westminster Abbey with her father, Michael, and  walked back down on the arm of her new husband, Prince William of Wales.

Why was it so special?  For me, it's just that Kate is so ORDINARY! I don't mean that in a nasty sense - I mean that she is as down-to-earth as they come. Her father was an airline pilot, her mother a stewardess.  They run a party planning business. They're the average family next door. Okay, they probably aren't struggling to make ends meet, but they're by no means aristocracy. They work for their money. But in being working parents, they've raised three poised, well-mannered, well-educated and - let's face it - stunningly beautiful children.  Kate was just another undergraduate among hundreds at St Andrews when she caught Will's eye, and that's the whole charm of this story. It's every little girl's dream to be a princess one day. For Kate, or Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge as she's now titled, it's a dream come true.

The day
In our house, it was a good old English day. Rain outside, but inside, tea, scones, cream and jam.  I was joined by my dear friend Lady Petronella Dinky-Boom (come on, you've ALL seen the current Facebook game and even if you won't admit it, you've all worked out your name!), and we settled down to oooh, aaaah, and laugh hysterically at the weird fashions! In London, the mood looked festive and literally a sea of red, white and blue. The weather looked overcast but not raining.

The dresses
The little flower girls looked stunning in their ivory dresses with puffy sleeves and flower halos, but the star of the wedding party (next to the bride, of course) was the bridesmaid. Pippa Middleton looked drop-dead gorgeous in the simple, straight-cut, cowl-neck white dress she wore. I'm sure she's going to be on plenty more society party invites after today, and NOT just because of her famous in-laws! Kate's mother was dressed simply and elegantly in a soft grey which really suited her.  Camilla's outfit suited her well.  The Queen's was brighter than the sunshine, but another winner for me was the absolute understated elegance of the Prime Minister's wife, Samantha Cameron, in her stunning emerald green dress.

Simple and stylish

Elegant in Emerald

Fashion Funnies
Of course, there are always those that make you ask "What were you thinking?" I know this is where fashionistas will come after me with machetes, but what the heck. Victoria Beckham's dress was actually very pretty but that hat - slap bang in the middle of her forehead - made her look like a try-out for a new style Dr Who alien. Add to that the long ponytail and you have a cross between Star Wars and Stewardess Barbie. I spotted a sky blue crescent moon hat, also perched on front of the head. Another black hat had a saucer-like creation that sat on the one side of the head, and a huge black rose on the other, like the wearer had said "Hat...flower...hat...flower..oh what the heck, let's have both!" But the winner, hands down, has to go to young Beatrice York for a creation that looked like she'd come to Africa, caught some kind of buck and got someone to mount the horns on the hat for the big day!

The Force was strong with this one....

Were Kalahari animals harmed in the making of this hat?

The Bride
Every bride I know wants to look their very best on their wedding day, and they always use styles that flatter them. Kate was no exception. Everything was simple and understated. The make up was natural, the dress in a simple elegant style, the train long enough to be a train, but not so ostentatious that you needed a whole team of bridesmaids to handle it. She looked completely relaxed and poised walking up the aisle, and even her dashing groom, resplendent in the scarlet dress uniform of the Irish Guards, was blown away by her beauty.

The Wedding
This was not the usual long-winded royal occasion. They got straight to the vows after the first hymn; then a short sermon, second hymn, reading, third hymn, prayers (and LOTS of prayers for children - "heir and a spare" is traditional, Kate, just so you know...) and signing the register. And then the long walk down the aisle to the door. There is just something so incredibly emotional about any newlyweds emerging from a church. Probably the only part of the day where I almost lost it.Then the open-top carriage ride back to Buckingham Palace (imagine, girls, that the first thing you had to do after getting married was to go back to your mother-in-law's house....)

The Balcony Scene
It was the moment all of us in the house had been waiting for. Even Colin. Though in honesty, Colin wasn't worried at all about the obligatory kiss (of which us lucky commoners were treated to not one, but TWO!) - he was much more excited about the Lancaster, Hurricane and Spitfire flypast!

Did Colin cry at this point, maybe?

Final thoughts
As I watched today, I just got such a sense of the purity of it all, and everything seemed to accentuate it - the decor in the abbey, the flowers, the bridesmaid's dress, the bride's dress, even the kiss on the balcony. Then it dawned on me. The name "Catherine" means "pure" (you'd think I'd have got that right from the start, with my daughter having the same name...).  It certainly was prominent today.

I loved it. Brits just get pomp and ceremony. And yes, we moan about the taxpayers' money. And yes, we moan about all the hype. But face it - all us girls love a good love story, and we love weddings. I do wish them well. I wish them joy, long life and happiness together. True love won out today; this wasn't just Cinderella marrying her handsome prince - this was a 29 year old man and woman declaring before witnesses that they had found the one with whom they wanted to spend the rest of their lives. It's not a "for show" marriage. You only need to take one look at them to see they're best friends, first and foremost. They are a young couple who have solemnized their deep love for each other before God. Whatever the future of the British monarchy, I am an ardent supporter of matrimony and I want to echo one line of the ceremony - what God has joined together let no man (albeit another party, family interference, public scrutiny, or media frenzy) put asunder.

Say it with me, folks .... and they all lived happily ever after 

Dealing With a Speed Wobble

When Anthony, my youngest child and duracell bunny of note, was born, he looked, to all intents and purposes, 100% perfect.  His hearing test was superb, his reflexes were sharp, he certainly had no problems with his lungs, and all systems seemed to be functioning perfectly normally. Oh sure, he decided from day one that this breastfeeding thing is for the birds, and flat out refused, no matter what I tried (and trust me, I tried everything!) and then there was the issue of sleep, which he decided almost from the get-go was for sissies (I wonder who he gets that from .....).  But he was growing beautifully, passing all his milestones - in general doing just fine.

I returned to work, and I found a nursery school, where he would happily go for the next 6 1/2 years of his life.  But we started to notice something about his eyes.  They tracked from side to side, very quickly, and the more tired he was, the worse it got.  His daymother also noticed it and noticed that he didn't follow objects as well as other babies his age.  He was fine with the big colourful rattles, but smaller things, he didn't seem to follow.  She worried that Anthony was blind.  We made an appointment to see an eye specialist in the town, and she told us that he has a condition known as "nystagmus".  It is a condition in which nerve endings in the muscles of the eyes have died or not developed, resulting in an instability or involuntary movement of the eyes.  She gave us the prognosis that most people with a nystagmus learn their own coping mechanisms and will each "deal with it" in their own way.  She told us there and then that he may not read a book "square on" like his peers, but he'd find a comfortable way to read it.  I put this very comforting information in the back of my head.

What nystagmus looks like

Shortly after, I met a lady with a pronounced nystagmus.  She said that it had not held her back in any way at all.  That was what I needed to hear at that time.

And I really haven't given it too much thought since then.  Anthony completed preschool, and at the beginning of this year, started primary school.  And that's when the fun began ....

His teacher called me in within a week, and said that she had him right at the front, but that he still seemed to be battling to see, and that he would almost lie with his head on his work, and that in some tasks the class did, he needed almost double the time to complete it.  She requested that we revisit the ophthalmic surgeon.  Just before I did, something in my head said "What if it's not the vision? What if this is the nystagmus?"  The opthalmic surgeon said that his eyes are still the same strength they were.  Yes, he's far-sighted - exactly the same condition (and almost the same strength) that I have, but his eyes have not deteriorated at all.  He confirmed exactly what I'd been thinking.  He suggested I see a specialist who works in eye exercises.

So I did that this morning.  She did a couple of quick tests and said four words that would begin to change the way we view everything - "Yup, it's the nystagmus..."  She did a whole load of other tests, glasses on, glasses off, one lens covered, different positions in the room, different card charts, reading close up, reading far away.

And then she dropped the bombshell. "There is no exercise I can give you, there is nothing that can be done, there's no surgery that can correct this.  Your son is visually impaired. My advice would be to keep him in mainstream school for as long as you can, but my worry is that, certainly at high school level, he will battle to read textbooks.  You may need to research into alternative schools, or homeschooling as options".

I watch this little bundle of energy running around.  I watch him try to defeat the White Witch in Narnia on the PC.  I watch him cycling.  I see him on the stage every Sunday morning, giving all the musos a hard time.  I listen to him discussing Star Wars with my teenage son's youth leader.  I giggle inwardly, as I am introduced to yet another parent that he doesn't actually know either, but with whom he's struck up a conversation just before my arrival.  I sense his heart of generosity as he so desperately wants classmates to come around so "I can show them my stuff, and we can play".  And I can't reconcile this.  My child is not handicapped. And yet he is.

But as I said to someone today, I think sometimes God puts extra character, energy and stubbornness in certain people.  God knows the challenges that lie ahead of them.  I think I understand now why Anthony can go on so much less sleep than anyone else, and be fine.  How he can outstubborn even the most stubborn of people.  He will have to work twice as hard for twice as long to be just as good as everyone else.  I don't think there are many other kids that could handle this the way that Anthony will.  There's a level of gritty determination in him that is awe-inspiring. 

And when I see this, I know he's going to be all right.  One day, he's going to meet another lady whose baby has just been diagnosed with the same condition, and he's going to put her mind at ease, by saying, "Don't worry - my mom felt just like you, and look at me - I turned out just fine."

Some tips I found helpful in research:

Information for Parents of School Children with NystagmusThese guidelines should be used discreetly and with acknowledgment that each pupil is an individual whose sight will vary.
1. Encourage the student to explain his/her visual needs; however, continual and undue attention to these should be avoided.
2. Allow books/objects to be held close to the eyes, the head tilted and any other body posture adopted if this enhances vision.
3. Provide the pupil with his own book/worksheet. Sharing is impossible.
4. Enlarging material will often help, although good contrast may suffice.
5. Wall displays for reference should be placed at eye level and where the pupil can stand close to it (not above a filing cabinet or table for example).
6. Ask the pupil where he/she would prefer to sit. It is often facing and near to the board, they should not sit to one side. He/she should be offered positions close to demonstrations during activities.
7. Store visual aids so that the student has easy access and can use them when he/she judges that they will be helpful.
8. Allow the use of prescribed tinted glasses, cap, hat, or eyeshade to reduce the effects of glare.
9. Read aloud when writing on the board; describe diagrams.
10. Allow sufficient time to complete tasks and to examine materials/objects.
11. Good (though not necessarily bright) lighting is essential. The light should be behind the student and directed onto the object being viewed. Matte surfaces for walls, boards, and paper prevent light reflection and glare.
12. Use strong color contrast between letters/figures/lines and background. These should be well spaced.
13. To keep track of where the pupil is up to when reading, a piece of dark card may be used or he/she can track with a finger. Exercise books with matte paper, different colors, and line spacing should be made available.
14. In ball games, it may be difficult for the student to follow a fast moving ball if they have poor vision or strabismus (misaligned eyes). Congenital nystagmus alone might limit effectiveness in the outfield. 

(From the American Nystagmus Network, www.nystagmus.org)

It's the time of the month when I pay all my accounts, all my creditors.  Typical Scot that I am, this leaves me grumpy at the best of times, but although I'm Scottish and reluctant to part with my money, I'm also British, and bound by the sense of fair play - I used the account, I must settle.  My kids use the service, I must pay the fees.  That's just how it goes.  So much as it goads me to press the "pay account" button, it's not exactly what I call a "pet peeve", just a necessary evil.

No, what IS a pet peeve is the "friendly reminder" calls I get from certain stores close to or just after the 25th, reminding me that my account is due.  That in itself isn't too big an issue, as sometimes us middle-aged people have reasonably slippery memories.

So if it's not the paying, if it's not being reminded, what is it???  It's the sheer unprofessionalism of the call centre agents.  They go against every single ounce of etiquette, telephone training and even marketing training that I ever had in my life, and I promise you, nothing raises my hackles quicker.  So in the hope that somehow somewhere someone who works in a call centre, or who manages one, reads this simple rant, here's a call centre 101 for your wonderful staff, who I know are just doing a job, but are doing it badly, thanks to poor knowledge.

Lesson 1: When I answer the phone, never, ever, ever respond with "How are you?" unless you happen to be a friend of mine, and you know for a fact I will recognise your voice.

This sets the tone for the rest of the call for me.  Start with that, and my response is generally, "I'm fine, WHO  are you?????"  We learned this in marketing training, and it rings true with any PR type job that involves lots of phone calls - if you haven't introduced yourself, you have not earned the right for anyone to tell you anything about themselves, including how they are feeling on a particular day!  It might sound polite in your ears, but in ours we all know for a fact is that you do not know us from a bar of soap and are thus not particularly interested in our wellbeing.  I saw this in action the one day, when someone phoned me to sell me insurance and started off with "how are you?"  As I was in fact really not well that day, and on the point of going home from work, I said "Feeling grotty, full of the flu".  She replied with "I'm fine too, thanks for asking".  I'm not even joking.

Lesson 2: Speak slowly and clearly, especially if you have a strong accent.

No, this is not to do with my hearing getting a bit duller with the early onset of old age, but with 11 official languages in our country, and English speakers in the minority, it's understandable that non-English speakers will be employed at call centres.  No problem with that, but seriously, managers, invest in some communication and elocution lessons.  If you hear that your call centre staff are having to repeat every single sentence they say, every single call, you have a problem.  This is not a slant on people with accents other than English South African - for goodness' sake, I'm broad Scots!  I know all about having a strong accent, and when I first arrived here, nobody could understand me at all - I had to repeat myself several times over!  I learned the only way to communicate was to slow down, and speak clearly.  Annunciate, annunciate, annunciate.

Lesson 3: "No" is "no"

This one's specifically for marketers.  I know the hectic heavy sales training will tell you to handle objections, and "change that no to a yes!" but if someone has said "I'm sorry - I'm really not interested", to carry on and push the issue is only going to make the "no" even more definite. Classic example I can give you of this is a marketing call my erstwhile "trailer mate" (my office colleague) received recently.  When she said she wasn't interested, the lady on the other end said "But why not?  What is your problem?"  I guarantee, my colleague did not change her mind, once her motives were questioned!!

Some of the best calls I've ever been involved with would start "Good day, you're speaking to Janey from XYZ marketing.  Can I please just take two minutes of your time?"  (You've introduced yourself, you've put the customer in control, and you've appreciated that their time is important)

Or another example "Good day, am I speaking to .....?  I'm calling from XYZ shop about your account that's due.  Is now convenient for you to talk?  Yes?  Then I'd just like to mention that this call is being recorded for training purposes .... etc, etc". (You've confirmed the client, you've said who you are, you've stated your business, and you've again appreciated that their time is valuable. As soon as you've got them, you're back into your "spiel")

But I've kept the crowning glory for last, because it's not even a person.  Often a marketing company, or the debt collections department dial you on a "smart" system that, once you answer, gives you an automated voice message which says "Please stay on the line for this very important call"  and repeats ad nauseum.  I only ever did that the first time, only to be told that my account was due in two days - how would I be paying?  Three minutes for that????  What that system says is "Our call is important, but your time isn't".  

So, please, call centre managers - I know your guys are just doing a job, but you could make their working conditions so much better by giving them training on how to handle the public, telephone ettiquette, and vocal training, and, while there will always be the prickly customers, you will eradicate a lot of the small, niggly things that make us all roll our eyes when we see "Private number calling" on our phone screens.

Just a thought ....

Starter For Ten

Remember "University Challenge"?  Where two universities took each other on in a general knowledge clash of the boffins?  The best part was their names:

"Nigel Ponsonby-Holroyd, reading Chemistry"

"Jemima Puddleton-Smith, reading Law"

"Rupert Hoddleton-Jones, reading Modern Languages".

Mine would simply be "Pearl Gaitskill, reading."  That's all! 

As long as I remember, I've loved reading.  My mother was the one who invoked my love of reading from a very early age.  She read to me over and over and over again, pointing out the words, until by the age of four, I could read small, simple books for myself.  Dad also would read to me, always bible stories.  They were wonderful moments.  From Dad, I gained my love of scripture, but Mum was the one that told me stories which fired my imagination, made me dream, took me to faraway places.

Learning to read was by far the best skill I ever learned.  In those difficult teenage years, when everyone feels awkward, but a slightly podgy, short, geeky girl with glasses even more so, books were my solace, and my escape hatch.  The longer the book, the better.  It was during that time that I developed a love for historical novels, and especially those of Nigel Tranter.  I also grew to love the works of Charles Dickens. 

When my children were born, some of the greatest memories I have are of reading them bedtime stories.  I read the first Harry Potter book to them, and as I think of that, I see Andrew with wide eyes, hanging on my every word.  It's no surprise that both Catherine and Andrew still love a good story, just in different media - Catherine is as avid a reader as I am, while Andrew is a movie boffin.  Anthony, at six years old, refuses to sleep till he's heard a story.

So it makes me truly proud that Cath now takes the next step in her life, going to Rhodes University to study English.  Why?  So that one day she can inspire not one, but hundreds of children to love literature as much as she does, as much as her mother does, and as much as her grandmother did.

It's all in the genes!