Barley Sharks

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I’ve dealt with a lot of baboons in orchards before. They’re not great in that context: eating fruit, damaging fences and waterlines, injuring trees. But I’d never seen them in a field of barley before.

This was on the way back from a wander around the area, with some superb views over the Breede Valley.

We christened the baboons “Barley Sharks”, with their dark shapes swimming through the field, occasionally popping a head up to check they were safe from any predators. The barley had been left – probably because the floods here earlier in the year at damaged the yield to the point where it wasn’t worth harvesting.

But the barley sharks were enjoying what was left as a free, easy snack.

How many times have you woken up and prayed for the rain?

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Many of you will recognise that line from The Stranglers’ 1986 hit Always The Sun. That also contains one of the most ridiculous lines ever written:

And who gets the job of pushing the knob?
That’s the sort of responsibility you draw straws for if you’re mad enough.

But that’s not relevant right now.

Yesterday was too hot for me. But today was meant to be cooler. And there was meant to be some rain. I was looking forward to a nice, cool run. And then we were going to go to the Bush Pub up the road. We popped in there yesterday to get some ice and it was rude not to try their Soup of the Day.

But:

How many times have the weathermen told you stories
That made you laugh?

It hasn’t started that way. It’s already rather warm and it’s only early morning. There is a bit of cloud, but there’s nothing even vaguely threatening at the moment.

I’m not sure I can face another stinkingly hot, humid day. I’ll have to resort to having some more of my matching beer.

Oh well.

I can’t find one

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We’re going away for a few days tomorrow morning, I haven’t even started thinking about packing, and I spent much of this morning on a wild goose chase still looking for a [redacted] as a Christmas gift for my wife. It seems that the suppliers supplying [redacted]s haven’t supplied enough, and now they’ve all gone on holiday.

Bastards.

Obviously, I can’t reveal what the prospective gift is right now, because my wife sometimes reads this blog (although probably not this post because she’ll be waist deep in gin and tonic for the next few days).

But once I have managed to successfully acquire a [redacted] – because I shall prevail – and once Christmas is all done and dusted, I’ll let you all know what it is and we can all wonder together about why there appears to be a local (global?) shortage of them.

Because [redacted]s seem like the sort of thing that there really shouldn’t be a massive demand for at any time of the year…

especially in summer

…he said, mysteriously.

Bit Knackered

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It’s been a long day after not much sleep last night.

I completely understand why my mind decided that I couldn’t sleep until 1am, after a dramatic Sheffield United win at Millwall and my entirely justified rage at our lanky, Welsh number 9 for his lack of effort in the final few minutes. However, quite why the same mind decided that 4am would be a good time to start thinking about so-called important things instead of sleeping is a bit beyond me.

An early morning followed, with a 7am pilates class – I just go for the stretching – and then a rush home to rescue the washing from the surprise rainstorm.

I decided to throw myself into things and go for a run in the rain, and it was lovely. But it did use what meagre energy I had left. A couple of errands around the locality, and then some horseriding (not me), and suddenly, the day was gone.

And let me tell you: the night isn’t going to last very long either. My bed is singing out to me, and who am I to refuse the Sirens’ call?