More sprinkler madness

The kids were going mad in the sprinkler this evening (while it’s -2°C and snowing heavily in Sheffield) and I was anxious to remove a certain post from the top spot on 6000 miles…

What does this mean for you, Dear Reader?

Looks like a sprinkler-related sort-of-quota photo.

Kinda cool when the droplets caught the evening sunlight. Like stars. Or bullet-holes. 
Or maybe that’s just the Milk Stout talking.
(Another nice one here.)

Uncle Paul’s Christmas Party

We went, we got covered in hay, we survived. And the boy, who we expected to be asleep by 8 o’clock was still throwing himself from an alarming height into huge piles of hay gone 10pm. I can’t remember ever seeing him so excited and happy. It was wonderful to watch.

Getting any decent photos from quite difficult because of the low light, the (usually rapidly) moving subjects and the huge amount of dust in the air from the hay fights, which was picked out whenever I used the flash. Still – I did my best (including several (or more) point and shoot efforts for the folks back home) and the results are here.

Helen Zille in a Mamelodi Sundowns Shirt

I need to sleep. Desperately.

Tiredness has caught up with me after I failed to return to my slumbers last night after a particularly vivid dream involving Helen Zille opening a soccer centre in Khayelitsha, resplendent in a Mamelodi Sundowns shirt. (Ms Zille, not the soccer centre).
A quick search of the local news sites revealed that this dream had absolutely nothing to do with any recent event and that explains my concern. Why the hell would I be dreaming about the leader of the opposition? And why the hell would she be wearing a yellow football shirt?
She doesn’t even like Mamelodi. They didn’t vote for her. Atteridgeville is also strongly ANC, despite Julius Malema.

And before you suggest that I must be thinking politically, I can’t even vote. Even if there was an election coming up.
Any alternative reasoning doesn’t even begin to bear thinking about. Sorry, Helen.

Anyway, from that moment on, I was afraid to return to sleep, just in case I was haunted by odd dreams about vocal politicians in footballing attire. Thus, I am knackered. And I need to get some sleep because we’re due for more weirdness tomorrow night, in the shape of the traditional (and therefore it doesn’t actually matter how weird it is, because it’s been weird for years and is therefore wholly acceptable to be weird) Uncle Paul’s Christmas Party.

I will, of course, report back on this strange phenomenon, but as far as I can work out thus far, it involves kids being invited to Uncle Paul’s farm and meeting Father Christmas, who visits each year. If you think that’s a little strange, then just be thankful you’re not at Uncle Willy’s in Rondebosch.
I. Kid. You. Not.
Oh, and attacking people by throwing straw at them, before assembling about 200 kids, with an average age of six, on a carpet of straw within  a huge circle of bales of straw and giving them each a lit candle. Yep.
I’ll pack an extinguisher in the picnic bag. I know the UK is known for it’s somewhat draconian Elf ‘n’ Safety Laws (geddit?), but I don’t think you have be Professor van der Einsteyn to work out the potential dangers of the situation.

In Finland, they slaughter a moose (probably). It’s got to be safer than this.

Right?

Dragonfly

Yesterday was a great family day, with a rip to feed the ducks at the Arderne Gardens in Claremont, followed by an afternoon of drinking, swimming and braai’ing, none of which allowed any time to blog or play with any photos or watch any footy.
Today will also be a great family day and after an early start – because the kids woke us up early – we headed out to Hout Bay Market, which is very similar to the Christmas markets of Baveria and Austria, except that it’s 36°C at this one. This afternoon, some grandparental babysitting will be partaken of as Mrs 6000 and I nip over to Val de Vie to watch The Killers reverse supporting Zebra and Giraffe.

After the photos of the mayhem on Long Street and the views of the city, I thought that something a little smaller would be appropriate for a quota photo.

This little fellow stayed still just long enough for me to catch him (digitally) yesterday. Despite his diminutive stature, he’ll quite adequately bridge the gap between Saturday and Monday, when (I would imagine) a review of today’s concert will be available here.

El Clássico

Some of you may be thankful to hear that there won’t be a huge amount from me here this evening. It’s been another busy day chez 6000 and I’m all on for for watching Barcelona and Real Madrid kick chunks out of each other in a short while. I love watching the big games and there’s probably none bigger than El Clássico. One day I will go to Spain and watch it live, but until that time, channel 203 will just have to suffice. If it is anything like as exciting as United’s game at Bristol City yesterday (we won 3-2, equaliser scored on 90+5 minutes, winner scored on 90+6, 10 yellow cards and a partridge in a pear tree) then I will be more than happy.

Earlier in the day, we watched a billion motorcycles ride past on the annual Cape Town Charity Toy Run, which passes close to our road every November. Alex – who is fortunate to be blessed with far too many teddy bears and cuddly stuff – donated several of his toys to the charity by giving them to the bikers as they passed by and as you can see by the photos here and here, he certainly wasn’t the only one. What an amazing effort. Also see my Toy Run 2009 Flickr Set

After my success earlier in the day with getting my daughter to sleep (despite the continuing roar of the passing motorcycles), I was entrusted with putting her to bed this evening. Things didn’t go quite as well as I had hoped and I had to switch to Plan B early on. Plan B wasn’t actually that great either and I didn’t have a Plan C. I ended up running through a  few more plans that I made up as I went along but lost count somewhere around L.
That, if nothing else, explains why she is going to be watching the Spanish footy with me now. Enjoy!