I’m down in Cape Agulhas this weekend. You can see whether I’m having a hot or wet time of it by clicking through to view the latest conditions in nearby Struisbaai.

For other locations around SA (and there are LOTS) click here.

You might like to look at the Aurora Sky Station Live Camera from Sweden, which is producing some amazing images this evening as well.

More here too!

Thanks Dad

It was part of this paragraph that I particularly enjoyed:

We’re in a long – a very long – corridor. The overriding theme, colour-wise, is blue. Clean enough to be a hospital, except nothing is worn or in need of repair; all is pristine. Either side, set after set of swing doors. Security keypads.
On the doors, bright red and yellow notices: No Entry for Unauthorised Personnel. Danger, Hazardous Materials. Approved Clothing Must Be Worn. And the one that gives you instant pause: Stop – DNA Sensitive Area. Do Not Enter Unless You Have Given An Elimination Sample.

I’m no crime fiction reader, but even I imagined feature writer Jon Henley as some sort of serial killer, whose DNA would be found all over crime scenes across the country and sent to LGC. How very convenient that through that elimination sample, he now has the perfect alibi for all those murders and remains free to kill again. Possibly anyway. We’ll have to watch for the follow up artcile as he clears his name again.

Also interesting was the effect that the CSI programmes have had on their customers and the juries they present their findings to. It might be wise of me to point out that the technical stuff in other science/medical dramas is often also rather overblown and often just wrong – which comes at a cost:

TV’s worst inaccuracies may compromise what trust remains between doctors and patients.

And Mrs 6000′s favourite show is right at the top of the naughty list.

On Christmas morning IanVisits got up early and took pictures of an almost empty London.

And then he wrote about it on his blog:

London is never silent, not even at 3am, but on Xmas morning, it is almost silent. The background drone of aircraft approaching Heathrow has gone, and away from main roads, the streets lack the sound of car tyres rolling over tarmac.

My favourite image is this one of a deserted Waterloo Bridge:

You can see the full set here. And you should note that this isn’t the first time IanVisits has visited London on Christmas morning. He did it in 2010 and 2008 as well.

Photo © IanVisits on Flickr.

Even those readers who don’t usually enjoy the videos and music that I occasionally put on here (their prerogative, of course) should give this one a watch.

Be warned: There may be some few expletives on the video.

…in search of enchanted and remote lands typically only reserved for the eyes of it’s inhabitants, but now are captured on camera by the automated and aesthetically-neutered google street view cars that linger.
void of the main character (self-portrait) and an internal view, these images represent the closing chapter of 4 years of cinemascapes with an external view of the world.

The full range is well worth a look, but here’s one he did in Cape Town:

Wonderfully edited.

Meanwhile, for more amazing photography, be sure to check out this page of National Geographic photo competition entries (via @kelltrill on twitter).

It’s worth a read.

And even today, it’s been a bit odd:

Lots of silly hype about 11/11/11 and especially about 11:11 on 11/11/11.

In the cricket at Newlands, SA messed up by being 111/1 11 minutes early at 11:00 on 11/11/11.
However, they made up for it 11 minutes later by needing 111 to win at 11:11 on 11/11/11.

*cue twilight zone music*

Well, then, I would turn to datapointed.net - because they have helpful maps for that sort of thing:

Here are their images for the UK and Ireland:

…on the isle of Great Britain, proper – anywhere reachable from London on foot, aka the mainland – Cape Wrath ranks McFarthest. From its restless shores to the nearest McFix, the hungry traveller must traverse the Scottish Highlands to Inverness, 136 kilometers [84.5 miles] inland.

And the US of A:

As expected, McDonald’s cluster at the population centers and hug the highway grid. East of the Mississippi, there’s wall-to-wall coverage, except for a handful of meager gaps centered on the Adirondacks, inland Maine, the Everglades, and outlying West Virginia.

Initally, they had the McFarthest Spot™ down as “between the tiny Dakotan hamlets of Meadow and Glad Valley: 107 miles [172km] distant from the nearest McDonald’s, as the crow flies, and 145 miles [233km] by car!”, but that has since been updated:

Because per our calculations, the winds of McDistance have shifted – from your lovely rolling grasslands to the dusty Western outback. There, in the high desert of northwestern Nevada, you’ll find antelope, wild horses, and the Lower-48?s new-and-improved McFarthest Spot: a patch of sage and soil that is 115 miles [185km] away, as the crow flies, from the nearest McDonald’s!

Which is all very interesting and shows a certain degree of obsession and nerdiness. Not, however, as much obsession and nerdiness as actually getting in a car and actually going there. Really.

What follows is a diary of a two day road trip to Nevada, complete with photos, videos and an image of the McFarthest Spot™,  appropriately marked:

Brilliant.

There’s loads of other wonderful stuff to get immersed in at datapointed as well – including a statistically computed visual representation of the game “Chinese Whispers“ and horoscopes dismantled:

David McCandless and friends have analyzed the text of 22,000 online horoscopes and found that they’re different permutations of the same few words, more or less.

Who knew?

Gotta love the internet. How ever did we manage without it?

But this is far less spooky. The guys from Silent UK are back – but this time, having been caught and prosecuted in the UK, they’ve gone Stateside!

For me, the adventures in London were over, my trump card used, as were my excuses. Yet something still remained, that desire to once again risk it all for that unique experience and reward. I know now that only one thing could cleanse that from my mind, and that’s death. I needed an outlet, some way to satisfy this desire but with London’s capital now off limits i was forced to look further afield. America.

In the States my slate was clean, although the consequences would still be unforgiving should i be caught, i felt safe in the knowledge the punishment wouldn’t bare the same damage multiplier the British justice system now reserves for me.

The posts relating to Silent UK were – and still are – some of the most popular on 6000 miles… and the photography is the big draw. Thankfully, it seems that despite the trans-Atlantic crossing, the quality has not suffered. So far, we’ve had some amazing images of a couple of airfields full of abandoned planes (here & here), together with some amazing images from the Manhattan Bridge:

Perhaps understandably, there is still some edginess:

It had been almost four months since i last crept through or climbed the unknown. The fear of legal repercussion grounding me, causing my inaction, the suffering forever engraved in my mind. It was something that i could not, and still have not shaken.

But it’s great to see some new stuff on the site and I hope that we see much more in the coming months.

HELL hath no fury like a goblin scorned!
A Plumtree family in Tokwana area has deserted their homestead and fled the marauding goblin which they lived with for the past seven years.
The owner of the homestead, Richard Ndlovu; his sister – Sithokozile Ndlovu; their mother only identified as Gogo NaNancy (Nancy’s mother) and three juveniles fled the homestead with nothing except the clothes they were putting on and sought safety in Plumtree town.
The reportedly bilingual goblin (speaks Kalanga and Ndebele) which introduced itself as Rah to the family started demanding human flesh in June 2009 and thereafter started reigning terror on the family after its request was turned down.
Sithokozile said they started co-habiting with rah in 2003 but they lived with him in harmony.
“We have lived with the goblin for the past seven years but it was not violent at all,” she said.
Rah became violent in 2009 after his keepers denied him human flesh.
“One day June 2009, he woke up and said he was tired of goat meat and as such wanted human flesh. We asked him whose meat and Rah mentioned my name,” Sithokozile said with troubled voice and spirit.
Sithokozile’s mother, gogo NaNancy could not kill her daughter and the goblin was infuriated.
“I was not going to sacrifice myself for the goblin and my mother could not do the same. Rah got angry and started beating everyone in the family. We have never head peace since he demanded that I become part of his meal,” she said.
It is said that at times Rah would tie children onto a tree using jerseys and spend the whole day thrashing them with switch.
The family has since deserted the homestead and is seeking refuge in Plumtree town.

That’s the way life is when you choose to live with a goblin. One minute they’re quite happy with goat meat, the next they’re demanding human flesh and reigning terror on your family.

Please note that in presenting this story to you, I am certainly not belittling the African belief in goblins and evil spirits. No more than I belittle other fanciful beliefs, anyway. It’s the individual’s choice as to whether or not they wish to believe in these things. Those in the Western world who read these sort of stories and mock such “primitive” ideas would do well to go and think about how exactly they differ from those people going to church each and every Sunday.

So no, I don’t believe in goblins, but I recognise that for some people, those beliefs are very real and form an important part of their culture.

I really do love the way these articles are presented in the Byo (Bulawayo) Daily. And thank goodness it’s there to keep us informed of these things, such as the man who stole his wife’s urine to go and do a pregnancy test:

The comical incident, which seems to have been posted on the popular social networking site, Facebook occurred at Number 18 Clark Road after the man suspected that his wife was trying to abort the fruits of his all night sweat job.

Interesting to note that the protagonist in that one is also a Mr Ndlovu. A Mr Polite Bukosi Ndlovu, in fact.

Or the woman who pulled a gentleman “by his manhood over a distance of 50 meters after failing to pay $15 he owed her”.
His name?

Mr Ndlovu.

I think I see a pattern developing here.