Quota photo time

When all else fails and one needs to fulfill one’s obligations to one’s readers – namely a post a day in February – one must turn to the quota photo.
I’m going back to late 2005  and early 2006 for these, either of which I would happily (and concietedly) submit to postcard manufacturers and both of which are available with added generosity in the height and width departments by clicking their descriptions. 


Picture Postcard Day in Franschhoek


Hout Bay from Chapman’s Peak Drive

The reason for this lack of wordage is not laziness – it’s sheer bloody exhaustion.
Last night, child-wise, sleep-wise, was… bad. Further detail would only bring back horrid memories and tears to my eyes. I now find myself desperately playing catch up.
So, with that – and at 8:24pm – goodnight…

National pride

The Six Nations rugby tournament kicked off yesterday, with England beating Italy 36-11 and Ireland beating France 30-21. I’m not a big fan of rugby, which is one reason I will probably never be allowed to become a South African citizen. While England top the table after their triumph, the performance was apparently nothing to write home about, according to those in the know; which will save on stamps, if nothing else.
I just found out that the Irish coach is called Declan Kidney. What an amusing name. There’s a gag about taking the p*ss in there somewhere, but I’m too hot to find it right now.  

Interestingly, the tournament sponsor, RBS, has made the weekend news for all the wrong reasons, after it emerged that they intend using £1bn of the £20bn that the UK taxpayers gave them, to pay some bonuses. I wonder how much they are paying for the Six Nations sponsorship rights? If it’s true that there’s no such thing as bad publicity, then maybe the rugby money was wasted. Just give your staff some bailout cash and you name will be all over the newspapers. The cost to you? Nowt.

Meanwhile, on the less snowy side of the Atlantic, the England cricket team were also playing. In a remarkable feat, everyone on the England team managed a half century. In total.
Fortunately, I’m not a great follower of cricket either (more negative marks on the citizenship form) so I’m not as hurt as some people may have been.

We’re off to see (and hopefully hear) Arno Carstens at Kirstenbosch later this afternoon. It’s dangerously hot in the shade, even hotter in the sun and yesterday evening’s welcome, if rather short-lived, torrential downpour is just a memory. Cape Town’s Facebook and Twitter were ablaze (not literally) with comments about heat and storms last night, in an attempt to emulate their UK counterparts’ recent fixation with all things snow. Honestly, you’d think that these people had never seen weather before.
Anyway, having carefully considered all the options, I think that cold beer is probably the best means of assisting my ailing homeostatic functions. And in a effort to avoid drunk blogging this evening, I’m going to hide the keyboard as soon as I have finished this post.

(Note to sober self: the keyboard is behind the sofa).

Actually not that bad

I’m pleased to announce that I have made a full recovery from yesterday’s very mild bout of homesickness, which was brought on by the snow back in the UK. A couple of beers overlooking a Table Bay sunset last night and a trip up the R27 during a top secret (and failed) lunchtime mission – on which I got lost and ended up watching pelicans on the Milnerton Lagoon – soon sorted me out.
It’s a wonderful bird, is the pelican, for its beak can hold more than its belly can. And if you’ve ever seen how big a pelican poo is (like a large bowlful of fishy white porridge), you’ll appreciate that they must have really, really big beaks.
I did used to get lost in the UK occasionally as well, but there were no pelicans to see.

The view from that Lagoon goes out to Po, the microbiologist with whom I seemingly swapped my life, five years ago. I know she hates photos of Table Mountain in the sun, especially when she’s not able to look at Table Mountain in the sun. And, seeing as she’s snowed {UPDATE: slushed} in in Oxford at the moment – that’s now.


Famous view

It’s a very pleasant 36°C out there today, which might seem like an oxymoron, but there’s a lovely breeze and no fires… yet. I’ll be braai’ing this evening and celebrating the difference between here and the UK by daring to try a cold beer or eight with the pelican I caught*.

Of course, there’s far more to South Africa than just the spectacular weather and wide variety of large-billed edible waterfowl, but I see no need to go any further right now.
It’s going to be a weekend of sitting by the pool or on the beach.
So, you see, it’s actually not that bad.

* he’s not the dinner guest – he’s the dinner.

A February admin post

Look at the title: This is an admin post. No – I don’t like them either, but they are necessary evils to keep you informed and to remind me what I did and why I did it. Keep reading – you might learn something.

Without wanting to give too much away (just in case the Overlords are reading), despite my physical geographical location being 33°54’44″S 18°29’19″E (ish) as I write this, it is becoming evident that my emotional geographical location is much more 53°23’09″N 1°28’10″W.

I’m missing the snow and the warm beer. All we have here is soaring temperatures, hot winds and runaway veld fires. I’m missing the decent football, although last night’s Merseyside derby cup replay didn’t do much to promote the beautiful (English) game. As one correspondent to the blog remarked: “What a complete waste of nearly 3 hours of potential sleep time.”

And he was right.

But no-one likes a morose blogger, so keeping my mind busy with other things is what’s required. Thus, it’s spring-cleaning time at 6000 miles….
Out go a couple of redundant blogs from the blogroll, in comes heavyweight English comedian Stephen Fry and his unsurprisingly chatty personal offerings.
The RSS feed has been updated too. Following a myriad of pleading emails, it’s now full text. See? I listen!
I have been signed up by GlobalPost.com and will now be telling the truth about South Africa to people even more globally than before – if that’s possible.

Additionally, I’m now on twitter. Not for any other reason than everyone else seemed to be doing it and it looked a bit of fun. You can look in the sidebar for my latest status, or if you follow me @6000, it’ll even keep you in the know about updates on here.

Finally, I’m attempting a post a day in February. This is day five of February and this is my fifth post. So all in all, it seems to be going quite well. And your response has been wonderful too – visitors are up almost 300% on this time last year. Thanks. And tell your friends to come and have a look too.

There. All done, I think. Like a uneventful visit to the dentist – not as bad as you thought, was it?
Although you haven’t got my bill yet.

Should Expats be able to vote?

With an election imminent, as with any political party in any country, each of the political parties in SA is working out how best to maximise their chances of not losing too heavily to the ANC. Apart from the ANC, of course. Their tactic seems to be to not give a toss what happens because they’re going to win anyway.

Such is democracy.

Botox Queen Helen Zille’s DA (the Desperate Alternative) and Pieter Mulder’s FF+ (which is actually a political party and not a remedy for period pain) have launched separate court actions in Cape Town and Pretoria respectively to try and change the rules so that South Africans living overseas can vote in the upcoming ballot. And, since these are “white” parties and the majority of expats also fall neatly into that racial demographic, presumably for them.
One would imagine they’ve done their sums and worked out that the expat vote would be a “good thing” for their numbers, anyway. That would be a mighty own goal otherwise. Jacob Zuma would kill himself laughing.
Maybe that’s the plan.

So, should South Africans living and working abroad be allowed to vote in the SA elections?

No. They shouldn’t.

I should be allowed to vote here though. I’m a permanent resident here. I’ve lived here for five years. Paid taxes here for five years. So give me their vote. I promise to use it wisely (if not quite as they might have done).
The ironic thing is that I can still vote in the UK, despite not living there or having even stepped on British soil for over two years. I choose not to though. I think that I gave up that privilege when I made the decision to come and live here in Cape Town. And so it should be with those who have chosen to leave Cape Town – or wherever and head off to the UK – or wherever.

Don’t get me wrong. People like Gabrielle Johannes (does she mean renounced and not denounced, by the way?), currently annoying people in South West London on a two-year working visa, are not the ones I’m talking about. If you are overseas “temporarily” – like on a 2-year visa – then I’m all for your rights. Although, there’s always the counter argument that you knew the rules when you left the country and you still chose to go. Why moan now?

But if that also means that Frikkie van der Merwe who left SA in – let’s choose a year at random here – say 1994, also has the right to vote this year, then something has gone very wrong with the system.
And if that means that you renounce your South African citizenship (or at least that aspect of it) when you choose to move abroad – well, so be it. I have seen too many SA expats who rely solely on dodgy news sites with dodgy reporters and dodgy agendas for their information about South Africa. That those ill-informed individuals should get the opportunity to influence the future of the country is plain wrong.

As it is, whether Helen and Pieter’s court cases are successful or not will almost certainly have very little bearing on the outcome of the election. But it’s nice that they have suddenly realised that they want to campaign for the disenfranchised masses overseas. In an election year.

Who’d have thunk it?