… I want to get off.
Yep. Whatever. Call me when you can pirouette your way to safety around an Ebola outbreak or conjure up some much needed water in the Sudanese desert using just your cha-cha skills.
And who would ever want to explore Mars when there was an opportunity to wow the audience with some exciting team ballroom work?
I actually have nothing against dancers, but “future-proofing our children” by teaching the Merengue instead of Microbiology?
No. Just no.
Much is made of the Bull Sharks found in the waters of the lower Breede River, but I think we’re pretty safe about about 150km up the Orange.
Sadly, one of the many reasons that we might be safe is that there really isn’t a lot of water for sharks (or anything else) to swim in.
Having loaded up the Ossewa – ‘n tradisionele vervoermiddel, veral in Suidelike Afrika – and all being well… we headed Oop North yesterday, via:
the M3 (for 4.8km), the N2 (1.3km), the M5 (3.6km), the N1 (4.2km), and then onto the N7 for the next 671km.
Eina – quite a ride. For those of you reading in the UK, it’s the equivalent of driving from Sheffield to just past Inverness. And you know that Inverness is a long way from everywhere, so “just past Inverness” is a near inconceivable distance.
Thus, I’m likely to be out of radio range for the foreseeable future, but posts will continue on 6000 miles…. via the seamless magic of WordPress.
As usual, please be aware that if some massive international incident, world war, political upheaval or mass outbreak of beaglitis virus has occurred, I will a) likely not know about it, and b) certainly not be mentioning it on the blog, because, as I am writing this, it hasn’t happened yet.
[EDIT: Actually, after I wrote this, but before we went away, there was some degree of local instability.]
Equally, if I die (or have died), you’ll only know when I don’t blog next Friday. Which will be good.
Good Friday, I mean – not great that I’ve thrown a seven.
Theres an anonymous Grammar Vigilante in Bristol, UK. A gentleman who is going around under cover of darkness, mending apostrophes. And by mending, I mean wiping out the one’s that shouldnt be there and adding the one’s that should. Theres a radio show about him going out later today.
The Grammar Vigilante carrie’s an Apostrophiser (spoiler: its just a big stick) around with him to expunge the errant punctuation and to add in anything missing. To be honest, he actually sounds a bit creepy in real life (theres a quick interview with him on that link), but I think this is a great idea.
I might start a similar campaign here.
Today was the last free day we had before our trip away. There are a few more days before we go, but they’re not free. They have annoying stuff like lab work and spreadsheets lying in wait for me. And potentially a report waiting to leap out from behind a Tuesday afternoon and be dealt with.
So, obviously, we sorted everything out for our trip today.
It being our last free day.
No. No, we didn’t.
Instead of that, we sat outside in the sun with friends and discussed fracking, Theresa May and the ridiculous price of private education in South Africa. The conversation was lubricated by several (or more) bottles of wine, a couple of Bloody Noras* and (perhaps to a lesser degree) by some non-alcoholic gin and tonics. Mmm. I know.
For the record, I regret nothing – except maybe the G&T thing.
Anyway, consequently, there will be some panic this week. Hopefully not too much, but it would be foolish to not take the opportunity to worry a bit.
And I know all about not taking opportunities.
* A Bloody Nora is like a Bloody Mary, but made with Henderson’s Relish.