Dedicated to a father:
In the quaint town of Velddrif, nestled along the tranquil banks of the Berg River, a tale of renovation and rejuvenation unfolds, starring an unlikely duo: a filled-with-ideas daughter and her determined, practical 73-year-old father. Their mission? To transform a tired, two-bedroom flat into a haven of modern comfort and coastal charm, fit for the discerning holidaymaker.
But as soon as we swung open the door, reality hit us like a ton of bricks – well, more like a torrential West Coast rainstorm. Nothing salvageable. Gut it all, start anew was the only way. And that’s exactly what we did. That meant major budget adjustments had to be made. This was meant to be a two-week job, but it ended up taking two months.
Now, imagine this: a 73-year-old man from Limpopo, brimming with determination, rolling up his sleeves and diving headfirst into a renovation project on the West Coast. That’s my dad, At. He’s not one to shy away from a challenge, especially when it involves a bit of blood, sweat, and maybe a tear or two. ‘Never to be repeated again,’ he was probably saying to himself.
He did all the work himself. The external help came when we gutted the place, moved the window back (which he had to fix again, no surprise there), and replaced the cornices and skirtings. Only on insistence, as the man was working himself to the bone seven days a week.
He created a brand-new kitchen and bathrooms, enlarged a small second bedroom and improved the main bedroom. There’s a lovely entrance hall and a cupboard to store cleaning products.
For two months straight, he battled the elements: rain, cold and more rain. But amidst the chaos, a vision began to emerge. With every chalk mark, every cup of coffee, he inched closer to creating my vision – a space that defied the norms, that breathed new life into the old, that whispered tales of adventure and possibility.
My dad, with his years of wisdom and resourcefulness, became the heart and soul of the operation. Armed with limited tools but boundless creativity, he breathed new life into every corner of the flat. Walls came down, bulkheads went up, and louvre doors were meticulously repurposed to redefine spaces and maximize functionality. All the while trying to help me keep the budget low. Hiring only a jackhammer and cleverly using tools to make it function in ways it was never meant to. But he did it.
As challenges arose – a crooked floor here, a finicky electrical system there – he faced them head-on, undeterred by setbacks. With a neighbour lending a helping hand and an old radio providing a soundtrack to their labour, he pressed on, one day at a time.
Meanwhile, since I could not partake in all the physical labour parts, I handled the artistic aspect of the renovation. From handcrafted light fittings to bespoke artwork adorning the walls to create warmth in the space, ensuring that every detail reflected our shared vision.
And so, after two months of relentless dedication and unwavering perseverance, our labour of love reached its culmination. The flat, reborn from the ashes of its former self, stood proudly, ready to welcome its first guests. Through a harmonious blend of ingenuity, extremely hard work, and a sprinkle of coastal magic, he had turned a humble flat into a sanctuary by the river – a testament to the power of family, collaboration, and the joy of creating something truly special. This is dedicated to my father; without his help I would never have been able to make my vision come to life.