Burning fynbos

It’s half past six, but it feels like half past ten. Sunset was over an hour ago, and I’m standing next to a beagle and a braai, drinking my seventeenth Milk Stout on a chilly night in Suiderstrand.

After a run, a hike, a milkshake and a walk today, I almost forgot to blog. But that you are reading this kinda proves that I didn’t.

Whatever wood I am using smells amazing and is going to flavour the meat with those typically herbal fynbossy tones. Perfect.

Now? I’m going back to my music and my fire. Have a lovely evening. I know I will.

FBYC timelapse

None of the things I said I hadn’t done yesterday have been done, aside from the braai which was actually in Simonstown, and not Fishhoek. No harm done, since we found this out just before we set off for Fishhoek, which is on the way to Simonstown anyway.

The braai – at the posh yacht club, nogal – was a lot of fun with plenty of waterborne activities for the kids, and The Boy  Wonder set up a timelapse to record (some of) the afternoon while I slaved over the hot coals.

Not bad for a entry level mobile phone on an entry level tripod.
Colour me impressed.

Now I really need to make a start on those jobs I needed to have done a couple of days ago.

See you tomorrow.

School night rookie error

Last night was great fun. A few friends round for a braai, several (or more) beers and an awful lot of really good wine. There was much merriment, some really well-cooked fillet and everyone had a really good time.

But partying on a school night? Rookie error.

This morning, as perhaps you may already have imagined, was less good. Mild dehydration coupled with a distinct lack of sleep and sprinkled with a topping of new medical waste disposal guidelines and international conference calls at work.

Never party on a school night. Move either the party or the school.
Because it is plainly clear that you really can’t do both. Not at my age.

The consequences of my foolishness are several-fold:

– I’m really rather grumpy and have shouted at the new medical waste guidelines quite a lot because they are rubbish. (In my defence, they were already rubbish before last night’s shenanigans.)
– I have drunk almost all the coffee in Cape Town. And as any fule kno,  that’s a lot of coffee – mainly because of all the huge coffee plantations and associated agriculture just downstream from the Theewaterskloof Dam.
– I’m almost certainly not going to be able to stay up to watch the Magic of the FA Cup 3rd Round this evening. The Tall Accountant tells me that “Liverpool will clobber them” (“them” being Everton). I’ll just have to find out in the morning.
– It’s gone 4pm and I’ve only just remembered that I have to write a blog post today. Even though I have to write a blog post every day.
– I am tired in all eleven official national languages and I still have 3 pages of technical stuff to read, digest, cogitate and forget. Back to it.

Lesson learned.

Until next time.

Lighter balls

Careful now.

I’m referring to these puppies.

Clean. Odourless. R3.50 per fire. And they will light and stay lit for (a rather exact) 17 minutes. They never fail.

Not a sponsored post. Just a really easy way to light your braai.

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Nearly forgot (twice)

One of those days where time just slips by so easily. Visitors, an afternoon chilling in the sun before an evening braai. It’s all good, until you remember that you need to write a blog post.

I hadn’t quite forgotten, honestly. In fact, I was just settling down in front of the fire, under impractical, romantic lantern light, with my first brandy this week (I haven’t been 100%) to pop some words onto the site when the huge beetle hit the back of my neck. And in the shock of that, I did almost forget that you readers deserve some verbiage.

So this is it. I’m sitting in front of a cosy, if now slightly past it, braai fire, the sounds of the South Atlantic and a-ha’s 2010 concert in Oslo vying for my aural attention, and yes, that glass of brandy in my hand, and yes, that beetle on the back of my neck.

I’ll be honest: it’s not a bad situation.

Apart from the beetle, obviously.