As Jazzy as They Come
Life, I felt at that point, had grown bored of me. I couldn’t remember when life had last shown me a really good time. So I decided to jazz myself up a bit, make myself into a more interesting and attractive lover, worthy of life’s attentions.
I decided to take up ostrich racing.
I took my training at one of the best ostrich racing schools in the world, located on an ostrich farm in Oudtshoorn, South Africa. I excelled there, quickly overtaking my trainers in terms of my ostrich racing skills. I was faster than they were, bolder and more determined. Soon I was on the international circuit, competing in races everywhere, from Australia to Argentina, and winning many of them.
My favourite steed was Apunda, a big, sturdy hen with kind eyes and a permanent sneer on her face. People were often intimidated by Apunda’s sneer, but I knew there was nothing in it. That was just the way her face was set. Apunda and I won a total of 153 races in our career together. 64 of those were consecutive wins.
Then, one race, around 3 years after winning our first title together, something went wrong. We were taking a corner – a tight one, but nothing we hadn’t easily managed before – when one of Apunda’s legs flew out from under her and we both fell. We’d been going about 50 miles an hour so we went down hard, tumbling over and over along the dry dirt floor. Apunda broke her right leg. I broke my left leg and fractured my right knee. Neither of us could move. We had just one working leg between us, and at that moment, as we lay there in a jumbled heap, I wasn’t even sure if it was hers or mine. The medics had to come and disentangle us before we could be stretchered away to hospital.
Soon after that I gave up ostrich racing. Everyone assumed it was because I was too frightened to race but the truth is the whole thing had already started to lose its appeal before the accident. Several months earlier I’d realized I was no longer getting the same buzz from racing with Apunda as I’d once had, and I could tell she felt the same way too. We’d kept at it though, because we didn’t really know what else to do with our lives. But then, of course, that fall happened.
It was while recovering from my injuries that I discovered knitting. I began doing it as a way of passing the long hours while I was laid up in bed. During those months of convalescence I knitted myself 14 hats, 8 pairs of mittens and a couple of cardigans. For Apunda I knitted an extra-long yellow and turquoise scarf to keep her featherless neck warm during the cold South African winters. I presented this to her as a retirement gift at the party we threw to mark the end of our successful partnership. I could tell she was pleased with it by the way her sneer softened - just a touch - as she took the scarf in her beak and wrapped it elegantly around herself.
Since then, I’ve knitted 412 woolly jumpers, 257 tank tops and 184 cardigans, as well as thousands of hats, gloves and scarves. Many of these I give away to family and friends, and sometimes I’ll offer them to strangers if I think they’ll look particularly good in them. Whatever I don’t give away I keep for myself.
I still get a buzz each time I cast off a piece, especially if I’ve used more daring techniques like Kitchener stitching or magic looping in the creation of the item. And, dressed up in my bright, colourful woollen wear I know I’m an interesting and attractive lover for life. I’m as jazzy as they come. Life, I feel at this point, will never grow bored of me again.
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