Long haul

We’re flying today. Total time in the air should be around 18½ hours (Cape Town is long way from anywhere), but then when you add check-ins and door to door stuff, you’re probably looking at nearer a whole day.

We could have gone on a much more direct route (and potentially avoided this), but that wouldn’t actually have saved much more than 3 or 4 hours and would have wasted half a day at the other end. It would have also cost a lot more (like almost double), and to be honest we would rather spend that money on experiences and beer than on a slightly more direct flight.

That slightly more direct flight would also be on a very old plane, instead of the shiny new ones we will be enjoying.

And although BA have now done away with their 747s, they are still running 777-200s mostly built in the last century, on the Cape Town route. Those outdated aircraft don’t offer much comfort for passengers, given that it’s their 5th longest flight at around 11½ hours.

BA’s longer flights are:
4: Gatwick to Mauritius (also on 777-200s and doubly awful because you start at Gatwick)
3: Heathrow to Singapore
2: Heathrow to Buenos Aires
1: Heathrow to Santiago

That discomfort noted, it’s worth remembering that BA have been flying to Cape Town for over 90 years now. The first flight (albeit operating under Imperial Airlines, rather than the BA name at the time) was on January 20th 1932. The distance of er… 6000 Miles… being a bit much for aircraft back in those days, there were numerous stops along the way, and the journey took 11 days rather than 11 hours.

Better book a bit more annual leave.

Here we go

Right. Holiday mode is very much beginning here, and so those pre-written posts are going to be taking over this blog for the next few weeks, each dropping at 0800 CAT. There are some absolute gems, so you might not even notice, and I will almost certainly augment the offerings on here from time to time while we are away.

Look out for photographic updates on Instagram, and don’t forget that (since Space Karen killed the twitter API) Facebook is now the best place to go* for regular 6000.co.za updates.

Simply hit the LIKE button (Facebook doesn’t know you’re lying) and get notified of new posts as soon as they are published.

Or, you know, just come here each day. That’s always an option.

* how low have we sunk, that this is even a phrase I am using?

While I’m away…

…it’s likely that – with the exception of sharing photographs on Instagram (more on that tomorrow) – I’ll probably not be on social media very much. Yes, maybe the occasional delve in just to check that there’s nothing that I’m missing, but generally, I’m hoping to be looking less at screens and more at real life.

I wonder if I’ll miss it?

I don’t think I’ll miss it.

They’re not always shared interests

I love my wife. We’ve been together a long time now. We know each other very well.
I love spending time with her. I’m fairly sure that she loves spending time with me.
We enjoy doing a lot of things together.

But we don’t enjoy doing everything together. And that’s fine, because that would actually be a bit weird.
I like football. She doesn’t like football.
She likes Netflix series. I don’t like Netflix series.

She’s chilling on a yacht in the Mediterranean at the moment, I’m writing blog posts in a gloomy Cape Town.

But because we know each other and are aware of each other’s likes and dislikes, we can still show some interest in the other person’s pastimes, even if we’re not really invested or even if we don’t really understand what’s going on. The offside rule can be rather awkward to grasp. Poorly-acted American hospital dramas can often be quite complicated to follow. She’s happy on her yacht. I’d rather be on her yacht.

I saw this cartoon recently and it made me think of just how lucky I am to be in this position. I can’t imagine being single and having to start over. And just chucking out a random attempt in the hope of finding a shared interest.

This would likely be akin to one of my best efforts at breaking the ice. And you can already see from the uninterested look on the lady’s face that it’s not going to work. I’d have to take my ball home and play with it alone.

Story of my life.

Thank goodness it was love at first sight in our case and I didn’t have to try and woo Mrs 6000 with tales of just how brilliant Bob Hatton and Keith Edwards were as a striking combination back in 1982.

How different (and by “different”, I mean much worse) life could have been.

Taking a chance?

We’re going away on Tuesday. Regular readers already know all about that.

Now, traditionally, when we’re about to go away, something bad usually happens. Not like a death or anything. Just something awkward and last minute that needs sorting before we leave.

An annoyance.

This year, I was onto it. I spotted the big branch about to fall onto the braai and I put in a pre-emptive strike and got it out of the way. I even went as far as taking down another slightly suspect one. Not on my watch, buster.

But then, as I began to dismantle and dismember the branches, the garden gate broke. So maybe the branch thing was just a red herring. Anyway, I fixed the gate as well.

Then I went to gym and, during a very energetic workout, smacked myself in the chin with a 12kg kettlebell. That’s going to leave a mark.

Haven’t I already been tested enough?

Probably, but then… then I got an invitation to play in a friendly football match on Sunday.

Hmm. The last time I played in a friendly football match on a Sunday – against the same opposition – this happened:

Lightning cannot strike twice, right?

And anyway, the pre-trip test was surely the branch or the gate, wasn’t it?

I’m signing up.
I’m playing.
I’m exorcising some demons.
Carefully.