Once upon a time we nearly became a "national monument"
but there were North American tee-pees, bucket toilets, pigs at our gate
(and donít forget the A-frame where that author lived)
so we didnít quite make it.
Nevertheless, weíre one big art-route.
The beauty of our natural surroundings is visible from every point.
and an artistic license infects even the most prosaic of activities.
Apart from artists and crafters, bands, dance groups, choirs,
thereís heirloom gardening, odd forms of vehicle construction,
and self-orchestrated burials
Theories have been put forward
to explain this high level of inventiveness:
like ley-lines (those geological veins of high magnetism),
aliens, vortexes, or the.reincarnation of the Knights Cathar .
But in the neighbouring Valley towns
they donít bother to explain, "McGregor se mense is sommer weird!"
is what they say. We donít mind this reputation; it could be worse:
In Swellendam, according to Aunt Stienie Goliath,
when the old people threatened naughty children
"Ons gaan julle McGregor-toe stuur!" they said.
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