Worth a try

The lack of sleep chez 6000 continues. Together with the heat of the day, this child-induced insomnia each night is pushing us to our limits. Even 2¾ year old Alex has called in the Unions who have threatened a “dirty protest” should the regular nocturnal crying from his little sister’s room persist. It’s a horrifying thought.

While down at the Waterfront, and having exhausted (npi) all other legal possibilities of inducing a good night’s sleep, I found this:

Kurt et al lullabyified

They do other bands, too.

Rockabye Baby! transforms timeless rock songs into beautiful instrumental lullabies. The soothing sounds of the glockenspiel, vibraphone, mellotron and other instruments will lull your baby into a sweet slumber.

So hopefully, from now on, with the lights out, it’s less dangerous.


National pride

The Six Nations rugby tournament kicked off yesterday, with England beating Italy 36-11 and Ireland beating France 30-21. I’m not a big fan of rugby, which is one reason I will probably never be allowed to become a South African citizen. While England top the table after their triumph, the performance was apparently nothing to write home about, according to those in the know; which will save on stamps, if nothing else.
I just found out that the Irish coach is called Declan Kidney. What an amusing name. There’s a gag about taking the p*ss in there somewhere, but I’m too hot to find it right now.  

Interestingly, the tournament sponsor, RBS, has made the weekend news for all the wrong reasons, after it emerged that they intend using £1bn of the £20bn that the UK taxpayers gave them, to pay some bonuses. I wonder how much they are paying for the Six Nations sponsorship rights? If it’s true that there’s no such thing as bad publicity, then maybe the rugby money was wasted. Just give your staff some bailout cash and you name will be all over the newspapers. The cost to you? Nowt.

Meanwhile, on the less snowy side of the Atlantic, the England cricket team were also playing. In a remarkable feat, everyone on the England team managed a half century. In total.
Fortunately, I’m not a great follower of cricket either (more negative marks on the citizenship form) so I’m not as hurt as some people may have been.

We’re off to see (and hopefully hear) Arno Carstens at Kirstenbosch later this afternoon. It’s dangerously hot in the shade, even hotter in the sun and yesterday evening’s welcome, if rather short-lived, torrential downpour is just a memory. Cape Town’s Facebook and Twitter were ablaze (not literally) with comments about heat and storms last night, in an attempt to emulate their UK counterparts’ recent fixation with all things snow. Honestly, you’d think that these people had never seen weather before.
Anyway, having carefully considered all the options, I think that cold beer is probably the best means of assisting my ailing homeostatic functions. And in a effort to avoid drunk blogging this evening, I’m going to hide the keyboard as soon as I have finished this post.

(Note to sober self: the keyboard is behind the sofa).

Parlotones at Kirstenbosch

As promised (although I’m not sure by whom, to whom), we headed out into the blisteringly hot February sunshine to Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens to see the ever-popular and completely sold-out Parlotones.

I was disappointed. They weren’t up to their usual standard and they were much, much smaller than I remember them. This could have been because we were sat so far back with a million* people and a small forest between us and them. Or it could have been because they had shrunk and weren’t as good as before.
Thanks to several beers and a mild case of heatstroke, the  jury is still out on that one. 

Thankfully, as ever, it was less about the music and more about the idle chatter, the free-flowing alcohol and the people watching. And so we chatted, drank and people watched, including Faceless pandas, Camps Bay queens, Posing dudes and Schalk Burger and Andries Bekker.
And I couldn’t resist one more quick shot for my Sunsets and Skyscapes set.

More pictures in the Parlotones – Feb 09 flickr set.

 Next week, Arno Carstens. Bigger, better and something else beginning with B.

 * teeny exaggeration.

Letter from God to Man

Sit back and enjoy the Radiohead-sampling duo of Dan le Sac vs Scroobius Pip and the original (and apparently now unofficial, but still better) video for their ditty: Letter from God to Man.
This is from their excellent CD Angles, which is in my iTunes Top 10, nestling between the unlikely bedfellows of Depeche Mode and Morten Harket. (Thankfully, no photos available).

There are so many messages in here – take from it what you will. However, if you should find yourself disappointed, then may I advise that you watch it again while using silicone-stripping solvents in a confined space, as I have just been doing. It seems so much better then.

In fact, everything seems so much better then.

Incidentally, here’s the new, flashy, expensive version should you wish to compare.


…I’ve seen too much.

The Parlotones have “filmed” their “new” video in Cape Town.
It’s different. It’s cool. It features an animated giraffe.
That’s all the boxes ticked then…

More at: http://www.powerzone.co.za/theparlotones