Nice video; Pretty storm

Posted on

Remember a little while back, I shared a quick photo of the storm surge hitting Port St Mary in the Isle of Man?

Well, the good news is that now someone has whipped out their GoPro, shot and edited a video of the waves and chucked a bit of Sigur Rós in the background. Sadly, it’s currently unavailable to put on the blog [I’m working on this], so you’ll have to go and watch on Vimeo for the moment.

Despite the raw power at play here, it’s actually rather relaxing. Stick it on fullscreen and have a cup of coffee while you watch the sunlit Irish Sea attempt the destroy my beautiful island.

Ring

Posted on

This is pretty: Mint Royale, featuring the vocal talents of Willem Dafoe, with what’s been described as “this year’s version of Baz Luhrmann’s Everyone’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen)“:

All very inspiring, but it does lack the practical advice of the original. It’s all very well “lead[ing] yourself by the hand into the unknown”, but what good is that if you’ve forgotten to “stretch” or “floss”?

Your Headline Of The Day

Posted on

Thanks to the Cambridge News for this one. If you thought that nothing ever happened in Cambridge apart from posh students doing posh studenty things, then you’d be nearly correct. Phillip Emery tried to change all that though, and in doing so, gave his local newspaper the opportunity to pen this headline:

‘Shotgun’ man with blowtorch and gas canister threatened to blow up officers after eating cheese with large knife, Cambridge Crown Court told

And how did they arrive at this headline? Well, because:

Officers arrived at Phillip Emery’s home following a call from his landlord to find him eating cheese with a large knife sat next to a blowtorch and gas canister.

Fantastic. Could Emery be the Cambridge equivalent of Wallace?
“Cracking Wensleydale, Gromit! Nice big knife, too! Now, shall we blow some coppers up?”

And having been separated from his potentially lethal gas canister by the brave officers of the law, Emery:

…then threatened to blow up the house using the gas supply, even though it did not have one.

Go on then, mate! That should be worth watching.

I am well aware that cheese is meant to give you nightmares, but I think in this case, Emery’s unusual behaviour can probably be put down to the drugs that he had been taking earlier in the evening.

Best Chinese in Cape Town?

Posted on

We went out of our Southern Suburbs comfort zone last night and headed for Sea Point to celebrate a friend’s birthday (Happy Birthday, Lindsay!). The Insurance Guy drove (thanks, Insurance Guy) and so it was up to us to drink. Hard life.

We ended up at a place called Xiang Yuan on Sea Point Main Road. And as we walked in, there were gasps of despair and horror, because the place looked… well… “shabby” (I’m being nice here). The fluorescent lights, dirty fridges and a grimy fish tank were less than inviting.
There was a glimmer of hope at the end of my tunnel vision though. Because it reminded me of somewhere I had been before: the infamous Wong Kei (aka “Wonkey’s”) in Chinatown in London. And while the decor there isn’t much to write home about, the food is superb. Could it possibly be that Xiang Yuan was Cape Town’s version of that epic restaurant experience?

Surely not.

We ordered, but then from the other end of the table came news of the bathroom – “even if you don’t need to go, you need to go…” they said with a knowing nod.

So I went. And it was fairly horrendous. A residential building from the back of the dining area up, it had a dirty bath, a filthy shower and a poorly hidden boiler…

image     image

…it also had a mysterious urn in the corner, covered with a plastic urn tray, presumably to prevent people from using it as a second loo. Please also note the (empty) toilet roll holder above the bath, because… er.. I don’t know.

image    image

Closer inspection of the shower (I tried not to touch, but the microbiologist within me had had his interest piqued) revealed a Gillette, the Best A Man Can… Ewww… razor covered in fungus so old that it (the fungus) had died, rather than just eating stuff that had died. All that was left was a bunch of highly infectious spores… Awww. [lip wobbles, holds breath]
And then there was this sign prettily affixed to the wall next to the (actually rather clean) toilet.

image     image

“Rags”? “Cloth”? What are you doing with rags and cloth in a Chinese Restaurant? Why did you bring them along and why on earth would you chuck them down the loo? Do you not have suitable or adequate rag and/or cloth disposal facilities where you come from? Like… a bin, for example?
And “Newspapers”? It must be especially bad on a Sunday with those ludicrous property sections. Now, I fully recognise that the quality of the South African media is generally pretty s**t, but who chucks a newspaper down the toilet? In a Chinese restaurant? Why would you do that? Why do you need to be told not to? Jesus wept. What’s wrong with you people?

But then: Please do not flush… “toilet paper”? But… I… How…What are we supposed to do with it, then?
Is that what the urn is for?

I DON’T UNDERSTAND. I DON’T UNDERSTAND ANY OF IT.

Back downstairs to the raucous hordes, however, and something became very clear. The food was unbelievably good, without exception. The sushi was widely praised, the hot dishes were served quickly and without fuss or ceremony, Wong Kei style. My Szechuan Pork Belly was the best thing I’ve tasted in ages. Just wow. We ate, we drank and then we ate some more.

And the price of all this debauched banqueting? A mere R150 per person, including a hefty tip for the long-suffering staff. All in all, an absolutely magnificent evening.

So, if you’re looking for the best Asian cuisine in Cape Town, I just found it for you. Boom!
6000 Recommends… Xiang Yuan, 245 Main Road, Sea Point: Food amazing, parking horrendous, bathroom… interesting.

Footnote: No-one in our group has died since last night. 

Slow puncture

Posted on

My bike seems to have a slow puncture. (If you’re wondering about me and cycling, you need to read here.) I say that because a few days ago, my back tyre wasn’t flat, and now it is. This isn’t a huge issue, because, for the moment, I can ride on it and then I can pump it up before I ride on it next time. This will, however, get rather irritating and I can see that I will have to repair the puncture. For this, I will require a puncture repair kit. And therein lies the problem. Because that means going to a bike shop and buying one.

But I’m not an expert on cycling and the people in the shop are. Not a good situation, because here’s what will happen (but with cycling terminology, obviously):

Even The Molton Brown Boys – who, admittedly, are more into cycling than I am – regularly dazzle me at dinner with their chat on what CO2 bombs and patching compounds they are buying these days (apparently, these are things that help repair punctures while “on the go”). I don’t need such fancy, schmancy stuff though. I just want something firm under my bottom, simple as. 

Careful now.

So, yes, I’ll go through the rigmarole of asking for a puncture repair kit. And I’ll get laughed at because I’ll choose the wrong polymer or the incorrect hardening agent. Bleugh.

In the meantime, I’ll be taking the boy out for another long ride this afternoon.

Punctures permitting.