Category: flickr

Roman Rock

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One of a great many photos that I took at Boulders Beach this morning, more of which I will upload tomorrow morning as there is a rugby and curry evening starting 4 minutes ago and we’re hosting. Oops.

This is the Roman Rock Lighthouse, just outside Simonstown Harbour, thus satisfying my lighthouse fetish. And, in the foreground, some of the famous Boulders on the beach, which was actually surprisingly devoid of penguins  – apart from the odd one every now again stumbling onto the sand after being pushed down the path by TMNP employees desperate to keep the tourists happy.

As I said, more photos tomorrow. But now: some Tri-Nations and a quart of Castle Milk Stout. As you do.

Big Hole by night

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Now that I’ve started writing this, I realise that without a “before” photo, this “after” photo won’t mean a huge amount to anyone. But, for the record, suffice to say that if it were taken a few weeks ago, the majority of this particular photograph would have been taken up by my big tree, which fell over in high winds earlier this month.

I now have a Big Hole to rival Kimberley’s Big Hole (this is a reference to Kimberley in the Northern Cape and not Kimberley on Sea Point Main Road) (although she does also have a big hole) (allegedly).


My garden minus the big tree, yesterday evening.

While I was taking that photo, I took a couple of others – one with a smaller, barer tree that we can now see and another which captured a rare visit by a zebra to our garden.

What? This is Africa, you know?

I’m making excuses…

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It’s something that I have won many awards in – or at least, I would have done if there were awards to be won for making excuses.
Which, I guess, is an excuse – I hope that you can see the dedication therein.

I still haven’t uploaded the pictures from London (including those of the pathetic and awkward Michael Jackson tribute in Trafalgar Square) onto flickr and Big Ant is not going to be happy when he finds out. This annoyance has either just begun upon him reading the last line or has already occurred when he ventured onto my flickr and failed to find the images I had promised.
Either way, you probably heard the roar of disapproval.
The excuse is that it’s been so nice and sunny here that I have just been playing outside, with the kids, with the braai and with the new camera.

My intention was to play catch up this weekend. I’ve lost touch with everything a bit: news, sport, gossip, music and everything else besides. However, with the weather being so beautiful and the kids being so… “interactive” (for want of a better word), it just hasn’t happened. So I’m sorry that there is a paucity of observations on current affairs and the like. I would say stuff, but I’m still in holiday mode and I actually don’t know what’s going on. I wonder if this is what normal people feel like most of the time?
Maybe by Thursday, when it’s pitching down with rain (as is more usual for a Cape Town winter), you’ll get the sort of incisive comment which youhave come to rely upon – and which 6000 miles… has become infamous for – on those important matters. Until then, it’s sunny. Sorry.

Right now, I have to go an “interact” with the kids some more – it’s bathtime.
After that, I have big plans to “interact” with a nice robust red wine and – quite possibly – FIFA 08 on the PlayStation 2 (Yes, I like to do things a little Old Skool).

More trivial posts will follow until precipitation arrives. Please feel free to leave trivial comments.
I deserve nothing more.  

P.S. Please note the lack of an apology for not uploading those photographs.
I would have said sorry, but I’d already published this post.

Gansey – a parenting revelation

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Behold! A picture of Gansey – the beach in the Isle of Man where I spent most of my childhood summers.


Gansey (gets bigger here)

It had everything a young boy could want: ample sand for beach football or cricket, sun, sea, rocks with the essential rock pools, a small river etc etc. It was perfect.
At the time it never really troubled me, but looking back, I wondered how come my parents were so happy to let us spend so much time on the beach each holiday? Finally, as I visited there for the first time as a parent myself, the answer came to me.
It was so bloody EASY!

Even at their young ages, my kids were completely visible, completely safe and completely happy. As parents, we didn’t have to do anything except provide the odd biscuit and relax. And it cost nothing.
This is obviously the Manx equivalent of dropping the kids off at Westlake and getting the police to bring them back.

I’m going to highlight this post to my son when he has his own kids. Because forget all that stuff you learn at parenting classes about diets and nutrition, about bathing and which soaps are best to use for baby’s skin. That pales into insignificance against this sort of information. This sort of information is invaluable. It’s gold dust. It’s priceless. (Pammie – I hope you’re listening)

And relaxed parents mean happier children. Or so I’m told.

Gansey flickr set here.

Back home

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After a 20 hour trip during which I was impressed with National Express coaches, during which we were repeatedly thrown all over the sky (most especially above Nigeria) and during which the children were mysteriously (but thankfully) well behaved, we find ourselves back in Cape Town, where the Mountain is flat and the people are allegedly rather cliquey.
Not that either of those things bother us particularly, because although the excitement of the holiday is disappearing and although the thought of work looms large on the horizon, we have our own beds in our own rooms; our own sandpit and our own Nanny (where applicable) and I have my own Uitkyk potstill brandy.


All these places feel like home…?

And although in some ways, I wish we were still over on my beautiful Island, it is good to be back home. Routines can be reinstated, normal life can begin again. And yes, routine and normality have their highs and their lows, but if they didn’t then those times away wouldn’t be so special.
Of course, if when I win the lottery, I will be on holiday all the time and it will still be special, but that’s because I’ll take my own bed with me wherever I go. The benefits and security of home coupled with the enjoyment and novelty of being away. I think I could manage that quite nicely.

Many thanks to all of you who have made the last few weeks so special. You know who you are. Apologies to those of you who we were unable to see. You know who you are too. And you should also be aware that you are top of our list for next time. Whenever that may be. I would say “don’t hold your breath”, but that would be a little pointless, since I’m sure it’ll be longer than a minute or two and you’d get all uncomfortable.

And with that, I am heading off to pray at the temple of El Matresso, the Mayan God of Sleep.

All hail, El Matresso. We are not worthy.