CTICC signwriters demand increase

And who can blame them?

Cape Town welcomes The World Congress


Link

A conference so dull, it’s guaranteed to put you to sleep. But at least that’s the idea, so it’s still one up on accountancy.

More diary entries please

Actually, there wasn’t a “please”.

I may be 34 years old, but despite my distance (both physical and chronological) from the family nest, the voice of my mum (now often experienced via email) still carries that air of authority. Apparently, there aren’t enough “diary entries” on 6000 miles… Nor should I be drinking beer during Lent. This despite the fact that both my mother and I are committed atheists and drunkards.

So. Diary entries.
Well, this evening, we attended the Summer Sunset Concert at Kirstenbosch Gardens under threatening, but lenient skies. Arno Carstens was performing, and any South African will tell you that you can’t miss Arno.
Once again, he performed some of his great music and totally failed to connect with the audience. Except for that expletive when he got a blast of feedback, which sent several old people home in disgust. Probably mostly retired mixing desk technicians.

I’ve uploaded a few pics from the concert. I’ve got to be honest: once again, it was primarily about the people watching and less about the music. Don’t get me wrong – the music was excellent – but the opportunity to gaze at and comment upon the population of Cape Town’s southern suburbs is not one that can easily be passed up.

   
Click for bigger versions of each pic

First up, we have a lady who we know, but we don’t. Yes, that friend of a friend thing strikes again. If the wife wasn’t pregnant and had a brain consisting mainly of freshly boiled porridge oats and if I hadn’t had a skinful of Castle Milk Stout, we would remember you. Sorry. I feel that I should offer some sort of reward for your name. I’m thinking “Dave”, but that just doesn’t sound right.

Secondly, an aggravating old bloke who wanted to stalk watch Arno with binoculars the whole time. Creepy. He kept getting irritated with people for standing up and blocking his perving.
Fancy. Standing up at a music concert. Whatever next?
His lady* friend went on to ignore the no smoking signs and exhaled her fumes all over my pregnant wife. Bitch.

Lastly, a shot of Arno on stage, doing his thing. I may have got a bit of my beer bottle in shot. Sorry about that. Photography isn’t my strong point. Drinking is though and one out of two ain’t bad.

So, Mum; I hope this pacifies you a little. I sat next to a really iritating bloke and his filthy missus just so that I had some stuff to tell the world about.
It was worth it though: as I lay back with my 5th bottle of beer and gazed up at the lack of mountain, Arno did his best to sum it all up:

Can you feel it?
Can you feel it?
It is heaven on earth

Well, Arno – perhaps for you.
Personally, I was missing the naked dancing girls, the masseuse, a Debonairs pizza and some sunshine.
I guess you just set your standards a little lower than I do.
I’m surprised. You always struck me as the naked dancing girl type as well.

* It might have been female, anyway.

Equine sign

In the week that Canadian diva, Celine “Ole Horse Face” Dion arrived in Cape Town to perform two concerts at Vergelegen Wine Estate as part of her Taking Chances tour , the Western Province Horse Society chose to release the following reminder to horse owners across the province:

African Horse Sickness
Link

Coincidence? I think not.

If only Canada had enforced some sort of export ban, we’d be feeling a lot happier in Cape Town right now.

I’m sure that I’m not alone in this city as I pray for hoarse of a different kind.
Won’t somebody please think of the children?

Beer shortage hits home

I have decided to give up drinking beer.
Apparently, anyway.

Yes, in some moment of weakness, probably after a bang on the head or something, any ongoing prevarication on the beer imbibage issue was ended and the big decision made.

I can’t recall exactly when that moment was. Neither, perhaps more importantly, can I remember what exactly prompted me to make sure a foolish decision, although I’m tempted to blame Eskom. Right now, everything in South Africa can be blamed on Eskom. Eskom then blame Thabo Mbeki, Mbeki blames Jacob Zuma and then everyone’s happy. Apart from the ANC Youth League. But no-one listens to them anymore anyway.

The only thing which served as reminder to this heinous decision were the barren, empty shelves of my beer fridge when I popped in to pick up a cold one on Saturday afternoon. There was barely even a trace of Castle Milk Stout. It was a crippling blow. Heartbreaking, even. I can safely say this as I found myself both crippled and heartbroken.

I would never normally have allowed such a situation to arise and was instantly suspicious of the wife. She’s long been of the opinion that if I drank less, I’d be fitter, happier, more productive. And she’s probably right.
With the exception of the happier bit, obviously.

Alternatively, it could be the “if I can’t drink then neither should he” approach. An approach with which I would wholeheartedly agree were it not for the fact that it would prevent me drinking. Marriage and pregnancy are all about sharing, you see: while she is eating for two, I’m doing the decent thing and drinking for two. Or at least I would be if the damn fridge wasn’t looking so bare.

Given that it’s now Thursday and I have endured successfully completed 5 beer free days, I feel that I should be noticing the benefits of my new healthier lifestyle.
Well, it’s not happening.

And so, this lunchtime, I will be heading to Ultra Liquors on Somerset Road to replenish my supplies of Milk Stout. And this evening, with the missus up in Jo’burg, I will be revisiting the combination of Milk Stout and Debonairs Pizza while she’s not looking.

Upon her return, I will feign complete and utter surprise at the newly stocked fridge and claim that the beer fairies must have visited while I was drunk asleep. 

I will then duck and roll and head for the tent I have already erected in the back garden for such emergencies. It is ready prepared with everything I need to spent the night outside: a sleeping bag, mosquito repellent, a good book, a torch and – most importantly – a cool box full of beer.