Oh Christ – we beat the pigs!

Such were the unusual circumstances in which I found myself over the weekend and such were the demands of Sky TV for a Friday evening kick off that I’ve just had a “oh christ, I’ve left the iron on!” moment.

score

I can’t believe I didn’t blog about this earlier, but I see no harm in blogging about it now.

derby1

Not that there’s much to blog about. Thrilling game. We won, they didn’t.

Which is all as it should be.

Not always what it seems…

Look, I know that you’re all ready and waiting for something big after my refreshing break at Fancourt, but I need to let you in on a long-held secret here. The lifestyle of a top blogger isn’t always as exciting as you might imagine.
Sure, there’s the jet-setting up and down the country, the trips abroad, the glamorous wife and the copious volumes of red wine, but to balance that out, there has to be a certain degree of mundanitude as well.
For example, tonight, I’m going to be moving some furniture around so that my carpets can be cleaned tomorrow. And no, there are no euphemisms in there at all. Literally, I am moving a couple of couches so the guys can wash the floor covering underneath them. With two small kids and a whole heap of building work, they certainly need the attention.

But every cloud has its silver lining. On the plus side, I get to move into my new study too. The walls are up, the ceiling is done and the desk is there. In an amazing show of foresight, Mrs 6000 even managed to organise some of those special holes with the plastic edges so you don’t have wires hanging everywhere. True, I’d have preferred them in the desk, but it’s surely the thought that counts.

Once the “plumbing in” of all the electronica is completed, I can then get round to listening to some loud music and tonight’s offering may well be the bizarre – yet brilliant – sounds of Werk 80 II by German Goth legends, Atrocity. There’s something strangely captivating about Alexander Krull’s voice doing their industrial metal-style cover of Bronski Beat’s Smalltown Boy.

atrocity

Rumour has it that Alexander is rather proud of his luxurious mane – and checking it out – who wouldn’t be? In the image above, he has even had a couple of saucily-clad minxes super-imposed on the picture, but you were so busy looking at his hair, you never even noticed, right?
That’s how confident he is of the enchanting, mesmerising, hypnotising effect of his hair. It’s powerful stuff.
Strong, lengthy, well-maintained Teutonic hair. Big hair.

[Hint: one of them has a bare bottom. A slightly greased bare bottom. On the left. Got it yet?]

Regular readers will probably just suggest that I threw that picture in precisely because of the saucily-clad minxes. Apparently, I have a record of occasionally publishing gratuitous saucily-clad minx pictures.

Do you have a problem with that?

Back in Cape Town

Following an amazingly relaxing weekend away at the 5-star Fancourt resort in George, we’re back in Cape Town after a completely exhausting 38 minute flight back along the southern Cape coast.

Highlight of the weekend for little Alex was the use of our own golf cart for the duration.
Obviously, he wasn’t allowed to drive it himself. Much.

Highlight for me was the scenery, the weather and the sunsets. And seeing the family having such fun, of course.

You can see the photos here – some good ones, though I say so myself.
I’ll be back tomorrow with a proper post or two. You’d be foolish to miss it.

George

If all is well, I will be on a plane to George when this post pops up onto the interwebs. Such is the magic of WordPress.

I say “if all is well”, but I have grave doubts that all will be well. I’m writing this with exactly 12 hours to go before take off; my son has bronchitis, my wife has bronchitis and in a foolish act of solidarity, little K-pu is displaying the first signs of bronchitis.
It does not bode well. In fact since I just took up a Med-Lemon to my ailing wife, it’s boding a whole lot worse as she just told me how much the flights cost. Now I too feel slightly sick, which explains the medicinal brandies I’m just poured myself.

Anyway, given that I expect to have almost exactly no sleep tonight, I’m going to leave it at that for now.

If we do make it to George, I am going to make a special effort to meet the mayor, Phillipus Hendrik “Flip” de Swardt.
I will tell him that he has a great name. Then I will ask him if he has any decent brandy.

Tomorrow’s post is all about maps. I know that because I wrote it 10 minutes ago.

Hope for Bafana yet

Ask any (non-whining) South African about the World Cup next year and they’ll tell you two things:
Firstly, it’s going to be brilliant, exciting, amazing; and secondly, Bafana Bafana don’t stand a chance. We’re talking cat in hell, snowball in hell, fishcake in… hell (?) stuff here. No chance. At all. Not even a little bit. Nil. Zero. Zilch.
You get my point. And that’s still one more than Bafana are going to manage*.

But we’re all singing the praises of the South Africa Homeless World Cup team this week, who are fresh back from Milan, trophy in hand! Fantastic stuff. That is, until you read the small print and discover that they won the trophy for finishing 16th.

It’s all enough to make you wonder if they didn’t just steal the trophy. In the traditional South African way.  I’m not suggesting that they did nick it or anything, but getting a trophy for finishing 16th? It does sound a bit fishy.

You must forgive me, because I recognise that even being there representing their country was a special experience and an honour for those guys. And I can only salute the great positive work that NGO’s and charities do in organising these sorts of events. But, being a traditionalist at heart, I have to say first, second, third… fair enough. But a trophy for finishing 16th? Well, that devalues thing a little for me.
16th deserves more of a certificate and a pat on the back. A well done and thanks for turning up but there were another 15 teams who were better than you kind of thing. Not a trophy.

So South Africa didn’t win. They didn’t even come close. But there are those who can overlooked this minor detail if it brings in some nice publicity. ID leader Patricia de Lille for one:

I am so proud of our National Homeless Soccer Team, who persevered right until the end of the World Cup, beating Malawi in the final.

Poor deluded Patricia de Lille is still under the impression that her political party won the recent election and can’t understand why Jacob Zuma is claiming to be President.
Fortunately, for the purposes of accuracy in this article, reporter Harriet McLea helped de Lille out by adding the word “(match)” into the published quote at an appropriate point.

All a bit of a joke as far as the competition goes, then. But this surely offers some hope for Bafana Bafana in the real World Cup next year. After all, if you get a trophy just for finishing 16th, maybe they won’t be empty-handed at the end of the 2010 tournament.

* That’s enough now. Ed.