Day 572 – Floor

Bit of a frustrating day. We’re having some new flooring laid, dragging the house from the 1980s, kicking and screaming into at least the 2010s. (The 2020s are so damn expensive and pandemicky, we felt them best avoided in flooring terms. Sadly, we had very little option in actual chronological terms.) The guys came and did the prep work yesterday, and it took a couple of hours. We were hoping for the same again today, but it took six hours. That’s not to say that they didn’t do an excellent job, but I had plans for four of those six hours. But now they’ll have to wait for tomorrow.

I’m off to see a specialist tomorrow afternoon about this ongoing Covid nonsense. Part of me wants him to cure me completely. Well, I suppose all of me wants him to cure me completely, it’s just that all of me knows that that isn’t going to happen. So tomorrow will be a bit of a watershed moment. Either he has huge plans for my recovery (not ruling out a total cure, but, you know…), or he’s going to tell me to give it another six months and see how we’re doing then.

I’ve always been on of those “well, at least I know where I stand now” kind of people when it comes to medical diagnoses, but I’m not looking forward to the – let’s face it – more probable latter prognosis.

In the meantime, the floor does look much nicer. Next up, replacing the rotting wood of the cottage-paned patio doors, and dragging the house… ah, you know the story.

I’m off outside to enjoy the last of the sunshine and try and get a photo of one of our Cape Robin Chats.

Day 571 – Prep

Knackered (surprise, surprise) after a busy day of Robben Island prep. I assigned a couple of tasks, found a very friendly butcher, almost sorted a whole budget, listed some birds and animals, and purchased 200 plastic sacks and 6kg of chicken nuggets.

Amongst other things.

Listened to some music:
New Placebo is good.
New Einaudi is good.

But I’m not going to make it to kick off time for Arsenal v Palace tonight.

Sorry for the brevity. More tomorrow.

Day 570 – Weekend

After my being broken yesterday morning, we had an enjoyable afternoon out at a friend’s place with sparkling conversation, delicious not-homemade pizza and lots and lots of sitting down. It’s hard to say which was the best bit, but the sitting down was very nice.

Then home just in time to see United bounce two goals in in the last ten minutes to beat the mighty Stoke City:

…and then early to bed.

It’s been a bit of a lazy Sunday. We’re looking forward to the return of our prodigal son, who has had the worst weather for his Scouts survival weekend. Cold (9C), Wet (26mm) and Miserable (3 sad faces*). In the meantime, I’ve lit the fire (the SA equivalent of having to switch your central heating on again) and played some lackadaisical pool.

I’m about to go and sit in front of Everton v West Ham, and even if it’s really exciting, I absolutely reserve the right to fall asleep on the couch like an old man. If the caps fits…

* I don’t know what the SI unit is for Misery

Day 569 – Experiments gone disastrously wrong

If you’ve been in science for any length of time, you’ll have had plenty of these. They’re sometimes expected, often annoying, and occasionally soul-destroying, but it’s all part of the learning experience. I tried two experiments yesterday. One of them was documented in some detail here, and the other one was simply enjoying a small bottle of Castle Milk Stout with dinner.

Both were fun experiments to do, and both seemed like really good ideas at the time. But in retrospect, neither of them have gone particularly well. I woke up last night at 3am with a towering hangover of note, and despite the best efforts of a combination of paracetamol, ibuprofen and codeine, I then woke up at a more reasonable time this morning with a collection of symptoms best described as “being completely broken”. Head, joints, muscles…
And my brain is not working again. Argh.

Let’s get the learning process going, then. No more alcohol experiments for a while. Not even a little CMS. And that’s disappointing. Not because I need the alcohol, but more because I like the taste (now that I can again). Sure, there are the well-advertised 0.0% alternatives (although thankfully(?) not for Milk Stout), but they are often very disappointing in the taste department.

Which brings us to the elephant in the room. The one which seemingly rolled over me in bed last night. Because in 11 days time, I have to go back to the rock and do three days of stuff, back to back. Based on the results from yesterday, this is is going to be very difficult. And that’s got me very worried. The first rule of Parents Assisting With School Visits To Robben Island Club is that you do not talk about Parents Assisting With School Visits To Robben Island Club, but I generally ignore that one. However, the second rule of Parents Assisting With School Visits To Robben Island Club is that you need to actually assist with the school visit to Robben Island, rather than being a liability.

And honestly, this morning, I would be a liability.

Crap it all. To use a well-used South African phrase: What must happen now?*

* The use of the phrase “What must happen now?” often then followed by an awkward silence, purposefully shifts the burden of the decision-making process – and therefore all responsibility for any negative outcomes resulting from that process – onto someone else, immediately absolving the protagonist of any blame, guilt or accountability.
I am fully aware of the implications of using it here, and despite that, I am still using it here.

Almost desperately.

Day 567 – Did they notice?

I’m running slightly behind schedule today, having done a million things before writing this blog post. And so I have only just noticed that it’s Day 567 of the South African lockdown. Cases are at an all time low (well, since Covid started, obviously; cases were much lower for all of 2018, for example, being about zero on average) and things are tentatively “ok” for the moment.

But the real question today is whether local old-person radio station Cape Talk made a big deal out of today. I wouldn’t know, because I’m not in their demographic. Far too young.
But 567 is their frequency and so it’s their day and so you’d expect some sort of fanfare.

Presumably they have someone at the station who looks out for this sort of thing.

To be honest, I haven’t listened to a Medium Wave station since I had no choice on the Isle of Man in 1986.

Tomorrow: much more excitement than I think I can possibly handle.
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