It’s happened again

Now. Let me get this straight.

The week is for working, the weekend is for chilling and relaxing.
If I remember correctly, the above statement paraphrases Henry Ford.

Yes, the car guy.

It isn’t working for me right now, Henry. I mean, I’m getting the first bit ok – that’s going really well.
But by the end of my weekends… I need… a weekend.

It’s been fun, it’s been busy.

I’m exhausted.
I’m going to bed.

Can’t Look Away

It’s New Music Monday. An occasional series, which I just thought up because alliteration is the future.

Seafret are back (you may remember them from such posts as Wildfire and Atlantis) with a new song, a new EP and a new tour which once again sadly omits the entirety of the African continent.

The music, thankfully, is readily available worldwide. Here’s their latest offering, Can’t Look Away:

(and on Spotify).

My daughter and I remain South Africa’s biggest Seafret fans.

As far as we’re aware, anyway.

Non-stop weekend

This weekend has gone past like a particularly fast thing.

Also like a particularly busy thing.

Friday night was eclipse night. We braaied (as is possibly the tradition for these things), and yes, the clouds parted like Moses was doing a Red Sea move on the sky. The kids, already knackered from a first week back at school, stayed up til 10:30 just to see they’d seen it. This was a move that I totally supported: it’s touch and go whether even either of them will around for the next decent total lunar eclipse. So this is something to tell their kids and their kids’ kids about.

It was wholly unspectacular, sure. But they were there.

Yesterday was dominated by kids’ parties: one here, one in Hout Bay – the terrifying Southern Suburbs version of Pinelands, necessitating close on 70km of driving over the mountain and back and over the mountain and back – with the kids getting into bed at 10:30. Again.
I’ve totally nailed this parenting thing.

I didn’t stop for 15 hours yesterday. It seems that I can’t do that anymore.

Today: food shopping in the horrendous Constantia Village Pick n Pay, some homework in pairs, except the other half of the pair didn’t arrive, so twice as much work in half the time, or something. Lunch with the mother-in-law, Dodgeball academy (while the smaller half bounced nearby), and then home for a Skype with the UK.

I’m not saying any of this was unpleasant (except Pick n Pay obvs), but it doesn’t give one any time for any sort of downtime. And that’s one of the things the weekend is for, right?

And that’s why I’m sitting in front of a warm blog and sipping on a Milk Stout with some Portishead occupying the background.

Not a bad end to the weekend.
Not a bad weekend. Just a very, very busy weekend.

Last times…

Last time we were on the Isle of Man, it rained. It rained a lot.
It very rarely stopped raining. And then we went to Sheffield in it rained some more.

Now I know that the UK (of which the Isle of Man isn’t part), has a bit of a reputation for this kind of thing, but the summer of 2012 was unprecedented in its raininess. There were literally a couple of nice days during our entire three week stay. The Flickr collection I made is testament to this.

We deserve better this time.

Of course, I not forgetting that we did get better back in 2009. The holiday where I regularly ended up taking our toddler son out (not in an assassination kind of way) at 6am before he woke up the whole household because he’d forgotten how to sleep:

This one was taken at the Calf Sound, where there was only us, some rabbits, some seals and a small yacht.

He’s twelve now, and does sleep occasionally. I’m hoping that this holiday is one of those times.


As a parent of school-age kids – much like when you were a student yourself – your family’s annual calendar naturally revolves around the school terms.
Term 2 of 2018 is at an end. And, having considered things carefully, I’d say that this term has been one of the most difficult that I can remember.

First “real” exams, illness, work stress, dark mornings, Eisteddfods, sad news, my effing knee: it’s all added up to a tough 10 weeks.

And yesterday was a very crappy day.

But… But… It looks like we made it.

As I switched off my early morning alarm for the next four weeks, and with just one more day in lab to go before a break of three weeks, I couldn’t help but feel just a little victorious.

There are changes on the horizon, but right now, all I have to do is get through two more meetings and put my bit of the lab to bed, and then I get to go home. And there are still quite a few jobs to do around the house before our flight in [checks] about 32 hours, but there’s time to do them. Suddenly, that first drink in the airport lounge – the traditional moment at which we feel that we can truly relax – seems closer than ever.

(Because it actually is, obviously.)

The weather looks absolutely amazing in France for the foreseeable future, flights, trains and hotels are booked and checked into. Luggage is (sort of) packed. The housesitters are primed and ready for action. There is a bone ready to distract the beagle from the moment of our actual departure. Spotify is ready to go.

I’m feeling positive. The next three weeks are going to be great.