Easter Weekend continued…

The Waterfront was, as promised, packed. Mainly with the entirety of the Man U and Liverpool supporting hordes from Mitchell’s Plain, who waited long and hard in the sun to have their photos taken with the UEFA Champions League Trophy, exchanging age-old insults as they passed each other around the herpetic queuing system.
I’m a patient kind of guy, so I’m happy to wait til Sheffield United bring it back to Beautiful Downtown Bramall Lane in May 2011 and I’ll pop over and see it then.
In the meantime, I snapped a couple of quick photos, since I had a camera in my hand and it seemed silly not to:

          
Flickr set: link

My worst fears that the event was going to be drowned out by constant renditions of that god-awful choir singing that they are “The Chammmmpions! THE CHAMMMMMPIONS!!!!” weren’t realised, but I still can’t get it out of my head now anyway. Self-inflicted torture.
(Note to self: would save CIA time and money – suggest at next top secret meeting.)

The African leg of the Heineken-sponsored Champions League Trophy tour started in Nigeria at the end of February before moving on to Algeria, Egypt and then to Cape Town. The tour ends next week in Johannesburg where the trophy will be stolen in an armed raid that no-one could have foreseen. Right.
As it was, there were some big blokes in dark suits with green Heineken security passes positioned near to the trophy, slightly further away from the trophy and actually quite a long way away from the trophy, all trying to blend in with the seagulls and tourists, none of whom were wearing dark suits or the green badges. Tough ask.

This is South Africa, remember? Evidently, our reputation precedes us.

Tomorrow brings with it the obligatory egg hunt in the back garden (assuming that the seasonal bunny hasn’t been trapped and eaten by some bergie in these desperate economical times) and then a lunchtime birthday party at a local pub. Things could be worse.  
And then Monday – Panic at the Disco, Snow Patrol and Oasis at the CokeZeroFest in Somerset West. From the reviews of the Jo’burg event yesterday, it’s going to be superb and almost entirely sugar-free.

A quick mishmash

OK – because of the impending Liverpool versus Chelsea game, together with a daughter that really didn’t want to go to sleep this evening, I’m left with approximately 8 minutes to blog.

Part One: Two bands pull out of Coke Zero Fest.

Bullet for my Valentine and The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, two of the headline acts for the Coca-Cola Zero Fest 2009, have pulled out at the last minute. Studio commitments to complete their new studio album and personnel changes were given as reasons for the late cancellations.

Two days notice. Utterly disgusting. Don’t bother coming back – I wasn’t looking forward to hearing your hits… erm… whatever those hits were. I can’t even be arsed to google.
If I’m honest, I was going to use your sets to queue for a burger with everyone else who was using your sets to queue for a burger.
Oh – but also thank you, because, in order to fulfill their promise of 12 hours of music on Easter Monday, the organisers have organised the real professional bands who everyone was wanting to see (Panic! at the Disco, Snow Patrol and Oasis) to deliver “extended performances”. Get in.

Part Two: Quota photo, as supplied from here, via here.


Alan Aubry – Down Memory Lane

The set features self protraits of Alan at various places (mainly) in and around Cape Town.
Very unusual and very cool. And somehow the remote cable only adds to it.

The one above is my favourite and only works because the horizon meets the frame at exactly halfway.

Great song…

Drab boy, Dark boy, Dooting on angel boy,
In the doorway boy, she was a lipstick boy,
She was a beautiful boy and tears boy,
And all in your inner space boy.

You had handgirls boy and steals boy,
You had chemicals boy I’ve grown so close to you,
Boy and you just crone boy she says come on, come on,
Cos she smiles at you boy.

Never really understood the words, but you don’t have to understand the words for it to be a great song.
Look at The Beatles’ Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, Return to Innocence by Enigma or Aqua’s Barbie Girl.

Shouting lager, lager, lager, lager, lager….
Mega, mega white thing…
etc etc.

My god, I’m tired.

Friday morning

ADVERT: Don’t forget to nominate 6000 miles… in the 2009 SA Blog Awards. Thank you.

They say that Friday is the best day of the week. Of course, “they” say a lot of things which are untrue, poorly thought-out or just plain silly:
“This won’t hurt a bit”, “Let’s play cricket in Pakistan” or “Jacob Zuma – now there’s a bloke I’d trust”.

In all honesty, Friday started badly.
It’s not that I don’t like to hear from my kids – of course I do. I just don’t want to hear from them at 3:15am. Unless it’s really urgent. And little 7-month old K-pu – who last week looked as cute as a button with her rusk – demonstrating her new found ability to “sing” doesn’t quite make it into the really urgent bracket.

I tried to break this fact to her gently and without swearing, but she refused to listen and broke into something that sounded concerningly like Lily Allen. It was at that point that I realised that the use verbal force in order to halt the noise was entirely justified. So I used it, in a kind of hushed, trying-not-to-wake-the-rest-of-the-family way. That sort of verbal force takes a lot of practice and tightly gritted teeth. Fortunately, I have plenty of teeth to grit and have had the opportunity to practice at great length on many occasions and thus I am an expert at being loud, softly.

The Lily Allen stopped. 
K-pu blinked.
And then began with her vintage Coldplay selection…

I was momentarily caught off guard by Yellow.
“That’s actually pretty good,” I remember thinking, before the realisation hit me that it was twenty past three and I wanted to be back asleep in the arms of Claudia Schiffer my wife.

And here I must pause to tell the world what a great wife I have. A wife who brings football boots to important football matches when her half-crazed husband leaves home without them and then flies into a flat panic 20 minutes before kick off. That’s quite cool.  

OK, she’s gone now. Grovelling sycophancy completed and I’ll remind you that I am in the nursery in the early hours listening to Chris Martin Jnr belting out the classics while not wandering along a wet beach in an anorak.

In Science, if you want to know what effect something has, you change that something. For example, if I want to know what effect oxygen has on a hamster, I take two hamsters and I remove oxygen from one of them. 
Mr Oxygen Hamster wees in the corner of his cage. Mr NoOxygen Hamster is still and stiff in the corner of his.
Thus, having considered the results and put almost 20 years of education, training and experience to use, I conclude that oxygen makes floppy hamsters wee.

It would be nice to know why K-pu wakes up in the middle of the night and launches into Britpop. That way, we could perhaps prevent it happening. The trouble is, there are just too many variables (oxygen is not one of the ones I am willing to try). Is she too hot, too cold (not likely), hungry, thirsty, does she have tummy ache, earache (maybe due to the Lily Allen), is it a dirty nappy, a bad dream, was there a noise that woke her or does she maybe just like Coldplay?
But changing one of these variables each night is virtually impossible. And even if it were possible, you know that it would be the last one that you try which will make the difference. And that’s two sleepless weeks. Try it. You might like it. Not.

Fortunately, there is a little-known company called Nestlé out there that makes something called formula. Formula is a cure-all when it comes to halting episodes of Baby Idols in the early hours. Sure – it doesn’t sort out smelly nappies or earache, but it does make baby forget about them for a few hours. Much like the effect of brandy on an adult.  

Two minutes of contented sucking later (and no, this isn’t a reference to the Joost video) – beautiful silence.
Gently place happy child back in her cot.
Leave room quietly humming Trouble and climb back into bed next to wonderful boot-bringing wife.

Bliss.

Until, about a minute later, a remarkably accurate version of Travis’ 1999 hit Driftwood pipes up from K-pu’s room…

What’s A Girl To Do?

This rather interesting video and spookily 80’s song came to my attention via this remix [download], which in turn came to my attention via here.

The singer is Natasha Khan, the band Bat for Lashes and the song What’s A Girl To Do? I don’t know who the BMXing rabbit is, but I’m sure a quick visit to google will probably assist.

Once again, I must point out that she is cycling without lights at night. And does she go through a red light about 2 minutes in? When will these cyclists learn?
At least she avoided the garish lycra and daft helmet fashion error.

Anyhow; pretty girl, 80’s keyboards and somewhat quirky video? Fleet‘s going to love this.