Category: emigration

It’s probably ok

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You can’t judge a book by it’s cover (you can’t judge Lethal Weapon by Danny Glover), but you can look at a headline and think… hang on a second…

Hang on a second…

Nuclear Wasps were so far down my “Things We Need To Be Worried About” List for 2025 that they didn’t even make Page 3. And I think that’s a clear sign of just how horrific a state the planet is in, given that they’d definitely be in the Top 20 in most other years.

Apparently – “apparently” – it’s nothing to worry about:

The report said that the nest was on a post near a tank used to store nuclear waste and that it “was probing 100,000 dpm/100 cm2 beta/gamma.” This contamination level “is greater than 10 times the total contamination values” listed in federal regulations for areas that require contamination posting and monitoring, the report said. Still, it concluded that the radioactivity of the nest was considered to be from “onsite legacy radioactive contamination not related to a loss of contamination control.”

But you can’t help but think that no contaminated wasp nests would surely be a better situation for us to be in.

I mean, whatever next? Radioactive Shrimps?

Oh. Oh dear.

How to listen to BBC 6Music (and all the other BBC radio stations) if you are outside the UK

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We knew it was coming.

The BBC Sounds app has closed for me and the other people living outside the UK. I’m sure that you could slip in the back door via a VPN, but the BBC are (allegedly) rather good at spotting those things and not allowing them to work.

The signs of trouble were there this morning when I was in the gym, as the app glitched onto Radio 4 Xtra, and gave me a bit of Steptoe & Son while also still playing Hit by The Sugarcubes on 6Music:

Sample lyrics:

I’ve been hit, with your charm.
How could you do this to me?
You dirty old man!

But mixed messages aside, just a couple of hours later, it really was gone:

Ironically, when I clicked through onto that new app, I found that Radio 4 was about to broadcast this show: 6. The Only Friend That Mattered.

Ouch. Way to rub it in, guys…

But don’t worry. Hakuna matata. Nem panikus.

There’s still a perfectly legal, perfectly straightforward route to listen live to your favourite BBC radio stations – including 6Music, wherever you are in the world: here are the details.

Let me save you some time: here’s the direct link for the 6Music feed through your internet browser. And it’s working for me.
Three dots in the top corner, save as shortcut to your home screen, Bob are your uncle. The logo even looks the same.

Sadly, there is no obvious route to listening on catch-up or for downloading shows for those of us outside the UK. Aside from trial and error with a VPN. And (allegedly again), that can often be rather hit and miss and somewhat tedious. Or so I’m told, etc etc.

I’ve also just tested whether I can still get 6Music on my smart speaker (IYKYK) and yes, even right down here in the far bottom corner of Africa, that’s still working fine. Whether that will continue (I actually don’t know from where it plays it, it just plays it), I just don’t know. Time will tell.

This hasn’t been a clean break: some of the links from the new feed pages don’t work, although the actual feeds are fine. If the site thinks you’re in the UK, it tries to take you to the app, but then the app doesn’t work. There are clearly some issues that need to be ironed out, and whether that will affect our ability to continue to listen from overseas remains to be seen.

Or… er… heard, I guess.

Twenty-One

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Wow. Look at that.

It’s the 23rd January 2025, and that means it’s exactly a whole 21 years since I upped sticks and moved from Oxford to Cape Town. A whole 6000 miles from civilisation… (if you can call Oxford that).

Since then, several (or maybe even more) things have happened, including marriage, kids, a beagle, a couple of houses, a cottage and maybe the odd Castle Milk Stout here and there.

Nothing special planned today to celebrate – maybe just an early night, given the lack of sleep this week.

But hey: here’s to the next 21.

And so I find myself…

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…overlooking some local vineyards while waiting for my daughter and her friends to enjoy a last-day-of-the-school-holidays lunch. I’ve done a couple of jobs and a bit of shopping, and now I’m back where I dropped them off and I’m enjoying a sandwich while I wait and don’t cramp anyone’s style.

As regular readers will know, I’m well used to waiting in car parks while my kids do stuff, and this one really isn’t much of a chore, given the weather and the view.

At times like this, I’m reminded of a recent conversation about emigration. As a topic, it’s always lurking awkwardly somewhere in the background at parties and braais, ready to pop into the chat in any quiet moment. Honestly, I’d rather talk about other things. Probably with other people. People who want to talk about emigration are usually the ones who want to talk about other stuff I don’t.
I came for the beer and the meat and the happy times. An opportunity for some time off from real life.
Not to wallow in politics and economics and crime stats. (And remember: I’m not just talking about SA here.)

But there was no escape in this case. And this was the “we’re staying” version of the emigration chat.
And the line that has remained with me from the mountain walk that morning is:

If we were in the UK right now, what would the highlight of our weekend be? Probably visiting a garden centre.

I sometimes think that in justifying (or trying to justify?) these sorts of decisions, it’s easy to be biased towards whichever side you’ve chosen, sometimes by over exaggerating the positives of your choice, sometimes by denigrating the other option.

And I do definitely think that this is a bit of the latter.

But as I’ve said before (and fully recognising how lucky I am to be able to say this), for us, the lifestyle here far outweighs the problems of the place.

And without wanting to do the UK down, I can’t help but think that if I were there, I’d more likely be waiting in a shopping centre multi-storey car park and not overlooking the Constantia Valley and False Bay. (Well, obviously. But you know what I mean.) And it’s not like I don’t have the choice of a shopping centre multi-storey car park if that were my (or my daughter’s) scene.

But on a sunny, breezy Monday lunchtime under the oaks in Constantia, the biggest concerns are baboons and tourists. And why they didn’t bring a straw with her milkshake.

And this car park is really good.

Lent

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I don’t think I’m going to shock anyone when I say that sometimes, non-religious people piggyback on the porcine derriere of religious rituals and festivals. Living in a country where the main religion is Christianity, I can easily document several examples: just look at Christmas (gifts), Easter (eggs) and The Week of Prayer for Christian Unity (wait… what?!?).

Anyway, one more of those example would be Lent, whereby Christians observe 40 days of sacrifice to recognise the period which the Gospels record that Jesus spent fasting at the start of his ministry. Amateurs and non-believers usually use it as an opportunity to restart their failed New Year diet before comprehensively refailing it again at Easter (eggs).

This year – ok, especially this year – this meme from the popular Star Trek series seems just very apt:

The sun is shining, and the birds are singing outside. But I can only hear them because there’s no other sound because the power is off again. And one day, it probably won’t come back on.
And so, one plans an escape, but honestly, Where Are We Going?

Bed. I think that’s the answer. I’m going to bed. Wake me up in 40 days.