George

If all is well, I will be on a plane to George when this post pops up onto the interwebs. Such is the magic of WordPress.

I say “if all is well”, but I have grave doubts that all will be well. I’m writing this with exactly 12 hours to go before take off; my son has bronchitis, my wife has bronchitis and in a foolish act of solidarity, little K-pu is displaying the first signs of bronchitis.
It does not bode well. In fact since I just took up a Med-Lemon to my ailing wife, it’s boding a whole lot worse as she just told me how much the flights cost. Now I too feel slightly sick, which explains the medicinal brandies I’m just poured myself.

Anyway, given that I expect to have almost exactly no sleep tonight, I’m going to leave it at that for now.

If we do make it to George, I am going to make a special effort to meet the mayor, Phillipus Hendrik “Flip” de Swardt.
I will tell him that he has a great name. Then I will ask him if he has any decent brandy.

Tomorrow’s post is all about maps. I know that because I wrote it 10 minutes ago.

Makeshift quota photo post

Having spent the day looking after the kids, with the builders building all around us and dust and noise everywhere, I find myself sitting on the floor stuck with a makeshift computer setup – wires everywhere, minimum necessary equipment connected: monitor (on coffee table), keyboard (on lap), mouse (works on carpet – impressed) – just like the old days.

Tonight, I have two tasks to complete – upload photos to Flickr and write a blog post. The former is underway (by pigeon), the latter is what you’re reading at the moment. And then I thought:

Why not combine the two?

Hence, you get this quota photo:


Want more generous dimensions?

Taken fromWynberg School field this evening where we took the kids to get rid of their excess energy. Judging by the silence upstairs, it seems to have worked.
Viva Wynberg School field, Viva!

Name that bird

We were down at the Waterfront today, terrorising sealife in the aquarium, watching eco-friendly puppet shows and drinking chocolate milkshakes.
While I was enjoying a coffee at the pub [shurely shome mistake?], I spotted this little fellow, who later tried to defaecate on me. Despite consulting Sinclair, Hockey and Tarboton’s Birds of Southern Africa (which, after all, is where I are finding myself today), I have no idea what sort of bird this is – anyone able to accurately ID it for me, please?

newbird

As there is nothing to relate the size to, I can tell you that it was about… this big. And it was only while reviewing the day’s photographs this evening that I noticed that it was ringed. I’m pretty sure that makes no difference to what species it is, though.

Answers on a postcard, please.
Or just leave a comment.

World of Birds revisited

It had been a while since we had been out to Hout Bay’s World of Birds and been crawled all over by squirrel monkeys, so we met up with friends and headed out there yesterday. Maybe it’s because we’re nearing the end of winter now and not yet into tourist season, but I have to say that the place needs some TLC desperately. Muddy paths, broken cages, damaged signs and bins, overgrown bushes. Nothing huge, but  the whole place just needed a good clean up and some work and money put in to it.
And, at R155 for the three of us (K-pu was a freebie) they should really have the money to do something about it. Although maybe they’re suffering in the credit crunch as well. Some big corporate sponsorship wouldn’t go amiss. Investec World of Birds, Woolworths World of Birds or maybe Rainbow Chickens World of Birds. Or maybe not.

That said, the animals all looked well kept, happy and healthy as ever and the kids really enjoyed themselves, and at the end of the day, I guess those are the things that are important. Thus – for me – it still remains a recommended attraction for visitors to Cape Town – especially those with kids. Alex was particularly taken by the parrots and the promise of an ice cream at the end of the visit.

I tried to get photos with the “new” camera, but it’s tough when you have your own little monkey hanging off your arm and another one chasing a turkey. Here are my best efforts. I particularly like the Kookaburra shot.
I’m no big fan of things Australian, but I’d love to taste one of them for real.

So Proud

Any parent will tell you that when their child gets to certain milestones in their development – first sleep through the whole night, first steps etc. – it’s big news for the family and brings out jealousy in the parents of others who haven’t quite got there yet. And you want to tell the world.

But equally, the child will only reach each of these milestones once, so it’s important to make sure that you don’t jump the gun. Exactly who are you trying to kid if you think that 9 in the evening to 4 in the morning counts as “all night” or letting go of the coffee table and taking half a stumbling pace forward before falling over* means “walking”? Don’t stress – they’ll get there.

Which brings me to the point of this post, my daughter’s first word. “Mama” and “Dada” don’t count and nor does that-noise-that-sounds-a-bit-like-“apple”-if-you-pretend-that-it-sounds-like-“apple”.  Remember, you’re only fooling yourselves. And that’s why I have been waiting, anticipating what happened this morning so that I can note it down in her baby milestones book and then we can look back together in years to come and say “that was the day you said your first proper word”.

It occurred, for the record, in the kitchen at 7:48 this morning. Packed lunches were under construction for her dad and her brother and it was as I opened the fridge to get out the margarine, that little Kristen walked over, gazed up at the shelves towering in front of her, pointed to the cheese and said, with amazing clarity:

“Feck!”

I have to admit that this moment was one of the proudest of my life thus far. I was quite overcome. I rushed out of the kitchen to pass on the good news to Mrs 6000, so fast in fact, that I left the child by the open fridge (I later returned to find her chewing on some bacon).
If I’m completely honest, I was a little disappointed by my wife’s seeming lack of excitement at the momentous occasion. I thought she’d be over the moon, but instead, she just seemed a bit shocked. Perhaps she was overcome by the gravity of the moment as well. I’m sure she’s recovered now and is proudly telling all her colleagues and anyone who’ll listen that her daughter said “Feck!” this morning, just like I am.

I’m going to call my parents in the UK now. So proud.

* Just like Daddy does when he’s drunk.