NaNoWriMo: Halfway 25 395 words, yeah!

National Novel Writing Month

Day eleven:

November 11; 2017 words

Still on people I met and befriended in Potgietersrus.

Day twelve:

November 12: 1706 words

Changes in South Africa after democratic elections.

Newspaper clippings

Day thirteen:

November 13: 1876 words

Concerts during my teaching career.

Working in libraries as librarians.

Total word count for thirteen days:

I DID IT: 25 395 words HALF WAY of 50 000.

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NaNoWriMo: Day 3. Animal behaviour.

National Novel Writing Month

November 3: Day three 2733 words

Gives a total of 6354 words of the 50 000 words

This time I completed my animal adventures by explaining becoming an animal behaviourist. My interest is dogs and how they react on human interference in their way of living as domestic animals.

NANOWRIMO: Day two Animals

National Novel Writing Month

November 2: 1959 words

Gives me 3621 words for two days.

I wrote about Animals in my life.

  • Milk Goats
  • Dogs : Alaskan Malamutes, Miniature Schnauzers, Boerboel.

Tomorrow I’m going on with Animals and tell about qualifying as an animal behaviourist.

n Oupa storie. A Grandpa story

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My memoirs is besig om nader te beweeg aan die tweede deel nl my laerskool tydperk. Ek het vandag heerlik terug gedink aan my oupa wat by ons kom kuier het. Ek was toe so nege en n half jaar oud. Oupa het vir ons kom kuier vanuit Holland.

n Oupa Storie

Oupa S. het vir ons kom kuier net kort na ons Erasmia toe getrek het. Hy was redelik kort van draad gewees. Ek was maar skrikkerig vir hom omdat hy en Pappa nogal gereeld argumente gehad het. Tog het ek hom geniet. Hy het meestal in die middae op n spesifieke stoel gesit en n rukkie gedut. As hy weer wakker was kon ek op sy skoot kom sit. Hy het dan meestal die mooiste stories vertel. Dit was n hele ritueel om te besluit watter storie hy sou vertel. Hy het altyd n swart baret, skeef oor sy eenkant van sy kop getrek, gedra.

Sodra ek op sy skoot sit haal hy die baret af:“Kom, soek nou eers vir ons n storie uit!” en gee die baret vir my.

Ek sit dit oor my gesig en kyk.

“Watter een Ineke? Sien jy iets wat die moeite werd is?” Hy vat die baret en hou dit voor sy gesig.

“A, wat dink jy van daardie ene aan die linkerkant? Dit klink vir my of dit n avontuur is!” Hy gee die baret terug aan my om weer te kyk.

Ek kyk. “Oupa ek sien hom. Ooo, dit gaan n mooi verhaaltjie wees. Kyk gou weer!”

So het ons dan n storie uit sy hoed gehaal.

As mens die baret so voor jou gesig hou sien mens klein gaatjies waar die lig deurkom. Dit, was al die stories gewees en daar was baie.

Elke middag na skool en nadat Oupa sy uiltjie geknip het, het ons twee eers n heerlike storie uurtjie gehad.

………… ………….. ………….

My Grandpa

My memoirs are moving closer to the second part, called my primary school period. Today I remembered my grandfather who came to visit us. I was nine and a half years old. Grandpa came to visit us from Holland.

A Grandpa Story

Grandpa S.  visited us shortly after we moved to Erasmia. He was pretty short of thread. I was scared of him at times because he and dad often had arguments. Yet, I enjoyed his company. He usually sat in a certain chair for a while in the afternoons having a nap. If he woke up, I could sit on his lap. He then would tell the most wonderful stories. It was a whole ritual to decide what story he would tell. He always wore a black beret, crooked over his one side of his head.

As soon as I sat on his lap, he removed the beret: “Come, have a look if you can find our story!” And gave me the beret.

I put it over my face and looked.

“Which one Ineke? Do you see something worthwhile? ” He took the beret back and held it in front of his face.

“Ah, what do you think of that one on the left? It sounds like it’s an adventure story! ”   He gave the beret back to me to look again.

I looked. “Grandpa I see it. Oh, it’s going to be a good one. Have a look again! ”

That was how we took a story out of his hat each time.

If you keep the beret in front of your face, you see tiny pinpoint holes through which the light shines. Those dots were all the stories, and believe me, there were many.

Every afternoon, after school, and after Oupa had his nap, we both had a wonderful story hour.

School Stories: Completed books with own stories

After six weeks of writing stories during the school’s Enrichment periods, each child had a book as an end product. The ages of the writers ranged between eight and ten.

The students thoroughly enjoyed writing the stories.

Hard at work, writing stories.

Eleven manuscripts.

Proud writers.( The twins were absent)

Children writing Stories 2: Elisa’s two stories


A boring day out.

You know, these days when my Mum says:“We’re on a day out!”

Well, the places we visit are past boring. We go to parks or KMart to get some new clothes for Mum. It’s not like other kids. They go to water parks or hangdog. They are very fortunate.

Today was different.

Once again Mum said:”We’re going on a day out!”

“More like a boring day again,” I mumbled.

We jumped into Mum’s car and off we went. “Where are we going?”

“Surprise, surprise,” Mum answered with a grin on her face.

I crossed my arms over my chest and gave my sad face.

“Don’t feel sad about it,” Mum said seeing my face in the mirror.

“You’ll know where we are as soon as we get there.” She smiled from ear to ear.

I wasn’t sad about that, though. The last time Mum said it was a ‘surprise’ we went to  Grandmother to play scrabble.

Soon we reached the town. I expected Mum to stop at the local playground. We didn’t!

I was shocked. “Why aren’t we going to the park, Mum? We usually go there on a bor… I mean a day out?”

“Well, that’s the point. We go there too often. I decided we should go somewhere else for a change.” came Mums explanation. “We are going to the -”  POP interrupted Mum. She went white as a ghost.

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“Oh dear,” she whispered. The car stopped with a jolt. Mum jumped out and looked at the tires.”Oh my, oh my” Mum kept on saying.

I opened the car door and joined Mum. A popped tyre means only one thing.

The most boring day of my life, history. Mum gave a big sigh again: “Sorry Frank, I was going to take you to ‘hangdog’.”

I looked like a codfish. We were heading for ‘hangdog’! Now the chances of having a fun day out, crushed.

“I better call the tyre fitters or whatever they are called.” I could hardly hear my Mum’s words. That’s how our day started, with our car being towed to be fixed.

I sighed. This was going to be so dull.

Then, a MIRACLE!

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“Mum, Mum, can I please go to the Water Park across the road?”

“Sure,” Mum said, not paying any attention.

“YIPPY!” I screamed as I ran towards the Water Park.

It was the best day out after all.


The stolen toy

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I am a toy. I do not have a proper name; I’m just called Toy. At the moment I’m a stolen toy. I’m in Luna’s little sisters’ bedroom.

I am so lucky not being her toy. The craziest thing happened while I was there.

She came through the door muttering something:”Luna is a big fat…. Mumble.” I could not hear clearly. She sat on her bed, heaved a big sigh. That’s when I got terrified. She grabbed Big Brown Teddy by the neck and threw him into the wall. I heard him whimpering as he crumpled to the floor like a paper being scrunched. Next, she kicked Fairy who sat on the ground into the warm heater. Fairy howled loud and long.

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Her eyes flashed with fury. She stamped on her tiger and sat on her lion. Screaming.

Luckily Luna came in.

“You stole her again!”Luna growled. She grabbed me and took me back to her room.

I’m so glad I’m back where I belong.

Children writing stories. Introduction.

Writing Clip Art


Each year Plateau School has for six weeks, one hour per week, an Enrichment period.

The sessions stretch from knitting, building robots, web pages, photography, painting, bush walks, designing, reading maps and whatever is different from the real school periods. Volunteers(mostly parents) show or help children to do things they have never tried before. Each child had to decide which session they would attend.

The sessions are the last hour of the day, on Mondays this year.

I volunteered to help them to write their own stories.

Eleven children are attending my sessions. Two boys and nine girls. They are in year four and five.

We started two weeks ago.

The first period was just an introduction to what they could expect.

I want them to write at least three stories. Then I’m going to help them to put it in a book with a cover, front page, content and maybe an introduction.

writing clipart

  1. We started off by brainstorming the ideas what they are going to write about
  2. Then the first sentence or paragraph to hook the reader into the story.
  3. Next is the body or what happened.
  4. Last paragraph, the ending where the story is rounded off.

The second period was the past week. I explained to them that writing a story is like making a sandwich. They had to tell me what they would need for the sandwich.

The top slice is the sentence in which they explain who is in the story and also to hook the reader in by just giving away a little bit of the story

The yummy middle part is where all the deliciousness lies. All the action of the story and then the bottom slice is where the main character wins the battle or is saved.

I am going to edit the stories just a little bit so that the pieces make sense. I received my first stories and am astounded by how good they are.  I’m also going to put some stories on my blog to show how good they are.

Clip Art

At the end of the six weeks, I want to publish a book with all their stories in it. It could be a good Christmas present at the end of the year.


School stories: Conservation week.

Show your backyards some love this Conservation Week. Get involved in protecting, growing, nurturing and caring for our nature.

Today four classes went out into the community around the school to pick up the rubbish along the roads. The other three classes cleaned up the school grounds and nearby property borderlines.

Rubbish picked up at the roadside.



Toeka-Tokkel no 25 : Droom

Hou jy van Afrikaans?

Indien wel, gebruik jou gedagtes en skryf hul neer in n pos. Dis waaroor Toeka-Tokkel gaan. AFRIKAANS en LEKKER GESELS.

Vir meer inligting kliek asb op volgende skakel:

Hierdie week gaan dit oor


Meeste van julle,wat my blog al n tydperk volg, sal weet dat ek n Miniatuur Schnautzer, met die naam Trompie, het. Kom reën,sneeu of sonskyn, ek en Trompie loop vir 20-30minute drie keer per dag.
Vanoggend(Woensdag) het ek met die terugloop, loop en droom oor wat ek alles oor droom kan kwytraak.
As kind het ek baie male in n droomwêreld van my eie gelewe. Flieks het my altyd gefasineer.
Eers was dit die swart en wit Tarzan flieks wat my laat droom het.Toe die eerste gekleurde Tarzan fliek uitkom, was dit hierdie aantreklike man met donker hare en blou oë. Dit was Gorden Scott(Tarzan). Droom ek, ek is  Jane wat heerlik saam met Cheeta, die sjimpansee, in die boomhuis bly. Heel romanties so hoog in die takke met net velrokkie aan.

Dan was daar die cowboy flieks. Die groot plaashuis met n stoep rondom. Lang rokke en rybroeke met stewels. Beeste wat aangejaag word om opgeveil te word. Die ‘cow-hands’ wat sulke mooigeboude, rowwe manne was. Oooo, nou droom ek sommer weer lekker dagdrome.

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The big country was my beste om van te droom. Gregory Peck was my hero, John Wayne was my pa se beste een.
Ek kon ure sit en dagdroom terwyl ek bokke opgepas het in die namiddag na skool.

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Daar is ook natuurlik die regte drome wat snags gedroom word. Daar is sekere drome wat ek oor en oor droom. Een is van n spesfieke huis(wat ek nog nooit rerig gesien het nie) in n sekere dorp en straat.
Dan is daar die regte nagmerries wat ek ook gereeld oor en oor kry. Die ergste is dat ek dit nog onthou ook.


Baie dankie aan die volgende vertellers vir hul winterstories:

Eerste was

Tannie Frannie met lewenswinters

Dis Ekke vertel van die see en winter

Kameel gesels oor ryp en die koue vandag

Die Winter

Olga gee raad met “heerlike” medisyne en lekker sop

Toorts word uitgedaag om pannekoek te bak…..

Toortsie se Toeka Tokkel oor winter

Olga het ook nog haar deel oor dorp gedien. Nou is sy weer by met haar skrywes.

—–     —–    ——

Ons volgende onderwerp is:

n Byt wat ek nie gou sal vergeet nie of steeds onthou