And so it’s Easter. And while regular readers will be aware that the celebration means little to me, I’m happy to hypocritically enjoy the public holidays that come with it.
It’s tough to observe only certain public holidays and your choices will almost certainly get you into trouble with someone.
Besides which, a bit of misplaced Christian privilege never did anyone any harm, right?
Easter is synonymous with Spring up in the distant Northern Hemisphere, which means that we must be heading autumnward here on the Southern Tip. But you’d be hard pressed to believe it on this banger of a day.
The Boy Wonder and I grabbed a couple of bikes and ascended the 160m hill up the back of the village, where we were rewarded with viewz 4 dayz over at least a couple of oceans and across the Agulhas Plain.
It was a great way to work off some excess energy (him) and to work off the mild hangover induced by a 2006 French blend and some rather lovely brandy last night (me).
Tomorrow, the same team intends to visit the shipwreck down the road. Hopefully, there will be less babalasness to recover from on the way.
Although, I make no promises.
