Johns Posts

Mossel Bay Advertiser, 26th December 1936  THE PASSING OF THE G.O.M. OF JOHNSON’S POST | Good and Faithful Servant | Mr. John McKenzie Johnson | “Father, Judge and Councilor” | Fine Masonic Tribute |  In the passing, on the 14th inst., of Mr. John Mackenzie Johnson, J.P. of Johnson’s Post, near the mouth of the Gouritz River, after an illness of a month, a legion of friends throughout the Cape will mourn the death of a wonderful personality. Living up to over 83 years of age a life that had been a dynamic effort, he was hail, hearty and busy

Walking into the past I stepped across the threshold into the bosom of die winkel and found an Oom Basie seated at the farm table which had been newly uncloaked from its stealth mode.  The multitude of furniture coverings that had until yesterday preserved every visible surface of the shop had vanished.  Even though it was darker weather outside it seemed brighter inside. Before him lay a bible of records filled with occurrences of note: of trade and receivables; of weather; of relationships and connections passed. Familiar names mentioned in the pages as though along the banks of the Gouritz

I have to let go of the resistance.  I have resistance to sit and write.  But as I’m sat here writing, I have to admit that it’s not the writing I’m resisting.  It’s the notion that I must, that I should attend to something.  That I should follow an instruction, or a rule.  Even if it’s self-imposed.  Perhaps: especially since it’s self-imposed. Either way I’m writing.  And I’m beginning to enjoy it because it’s beginning to be what I need it to be – an opportunity for reflection, self-awareness and moment-awareness.  An opportunity for gratitude.  An opportunity for perspective.  An

Confronting the passage of time Wednesday 1st October 2025 saw the first day of a new month and the beginning of a new chapter in an old story. As we were blown into the shop this afternoon we were confronted with the same familiar Johnson's Post sensations - the smells, the light. 4 paint tins in hand and instructions from Dana embedded in the phone at the ready and we were set to mark some paint samples on the walls, shelves and counters. But how to begin? Where to begin? Slowly. Gingerly, you peel back the layers of time and

Choosing a logo is more complex than it seems, the time it took with the people involved was fun and creative and the result ultimately a declaration of identity.  The elements shown are all familiar to us in different ways.  The final chosen logo had elements that resemble the original drafts; it's fun to consider how we got there.

The reality of it has begun to settle in. Lots to do.  Lots to say. Grabbing low hanging fruit.  I’m hungry, so clutching at it all, dropping most of it. Learning not to take life so seriously anymore.  I’m sure the dreadlocks had something to do with that.  Good man, Johnson. One of the main structural supports is Nicci Robertson, who got this clock called John ticking (again).  Somehow, I can’t say no to this chick!  She’s a rebel like me I think, and she’s also got something to say.  I like it.  She works incredibly hard, says the hard

The words that were written today; that took the time and awareness to construct and commit to sending to their intended audience, were not destined for here. The words were received, the meaning and sincerity intact.  I am so proud of the recipients. The meaning behind words.  The meaning behind the reason for the words: better to familiarize yourself with this area.  Because bridging this gap is where character and true self-identity are forged. Because to make a statement is cheap and easy; words are plentiful; sincerity endangered. And on this occasion the words were raw and real, unencumbered by

The winter cold fronts are pervasive this time of year.  Rain last night and the air is cold.  Fresh.  It seeks your awareness. Out of the house early and onto the beach with the dogs.  This is where it starts to make sense again. The program that governs the morning headspace has a strong tilt towards anxiety, apprehensiveness, fear.  These feelings are learned overtime, reinforced. I have to unpick this cloth. Other people are at dis-ease on this day: with themselves and each other. Not you. You are aligned because you’re aware.  Even if just for a moment.  You are

I have been visiting Johnson’s Post since as far back as I can remember.  The shop still has the same smell, though its function has changed with the seasons.  My great, great grandfather’s chair, made from old soap boxes and painted in some unique green, sits underneath the post office service window, as it has done through 2 generations of Johnson’s.  I remember with affection: Tannie Hettie, Lien, David. Like a beautiful gem she sits perched atop the green hill in the distance.  The sunsets are spectacular; the sun rises more so.  Still morning air, peaceful, fresh.  Quiet.  Pure and