Mama and the Octopus

Let me set the scene. It's 1993 and it's a Sunday. I'm 19 and under duress, I am at the beach with my parents. It's a lovely place to be with lots of alcoves and chalets and stuff, and we've been here often. It's a favourite family place. But I'm 19 and want to be around family like I want snow in December. Not a lot. If you want, you could google map Beachview, Port Elizabeth. There are rocks, from which clever people get all sorts of mussels and oysters etc. My mother never normally joined us out on the rocks. Mainly because it takes her HOURS to delicately make her way over the jagged rocks and also because getting her trainers mucky isn't something she does.
However, on this day, the allure of oysters is just too great and some 3 hours later, she joins us in foraging.

Dad is about 10 jagged rocks to the right, Mom has one foot in a paddling pool between two steep rocks. The other foot is on a rock. I'm arsing about on the top of mother's rock as I'm far too cool to be a hunter gatherer. I'm better at watching waves.

I hear my mother giggling and saying 'Oh stop it John' (my dad) and 'Oh that tickles, stop it' and then: 'OW' so I look over- and my dad is still 20 metres away. I ask the woman "Who ARE you talking to, Daddy is over there?" - I probably did an eye roll - I was 19 like that.

She looks up, she looks down.... and she SCREAMS! Loudly! So loud that Dad comes bounding over the rocks like Bambi on speed.

With one more mighty shriek, she lifts up the leg that's in the rock pool and there's a great big octopus dangling off it. (I say 'great big' but like any sea faring story, the octopus size increases with each telling of the tale)

She kicks it with such force that not even *insert a fine goalkeeper name here* would have been able to save it.

Said octopus goes flying in Daddy's direction (he ducks, the crowd goes wild!)

Mother then scrabbles up rock face, crying and screaming all at once. Her lovely painted long nails are shredded by the time she gets to me. She grabs me, clings to me, whelping like a puppy: "mommy mommy mommy" over and over again. It's like she's trying to climb ONTO my head.

Took us nearly an hour to get her over about 10 rocks. Like a limpet she was, clinging to us. A few cups of tea and she stopped calling for her mommy.

No one ever enquired after the octopus but Mom does have a little scar on her ankle from the experience.

And that's some 17 years ago now and it still remains the family story that makes me cackle like a hyena every time I tell it. Consider it shared!