So, are you still with us?

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What? Me?

Oh, after this?

Yes.

But it was very, very hot.

I got to the place early, and having heaved my car door open into the thick, still, Green Point atmosphere, decided that I would head for the sea (only a couple of hundred metres away) in search of some moving air.

A gentle warm-up (lol!) run along the Prom followed, and there was an occasional breath of air, but it didn’t do much to cool anything down. It certainly wasn’t the fresh, sea breeze that I was longing for. And it was 41oC in the shade: of which there is infamously none on Green Point Prom.

In fact, it was so hot that Garmin gave me a virtual badge for running in it. Although I’m not sure that they should be encouraging anyone to be getting out and about in that sort of heat.

I went for just a couple of kilometres, but the dense, heavy, hot conditions were definitely taking their toll, and there was still a football match to play, and so I headed back for the safety of the footy place, bravely ignoring the option of aircon in my car on the way back through the car park.

We played, and the match was a tight, hot, sweaty, well-contested affair.
Did we win? No. Not in scoreline terms, at least. But just surviving the game, getting to the car and being able to drive home without collapsing honestly felt like at least 3 points gained.

And those are the sort of victories that don’t show up on the league table, but do mean that you are able to show up at family breakfast the next morning.

It’s all about context.

Let’s do this again

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14 years on, and we haven’t learned a thing.

We’re supposed to be grown-ups. Adults. And yet, at 6pm this evening, we’ll head out onto the pitch for another potentially epic 5-a-side football game against some other supposed adults.

Nothing wrong with that, you might think – if you aren’t in Cape Town, that is, because if you are in Cape Town then you know very well that there’s something very wrong with it – because it’s rather warm out.

Really actually quite warm already.
Almost bordering on hot, one could argue.

And, as I alluded to above, there’s history here. And it really isn’t pretty.

It was horrible. One of the worst footballing experiences of my life. Within 2 minutes of running around, I was gasping, drenched through with sweat, and feeling dizzy and nauseous. These, even by Cape Town standards, were extreme conditions. The ball wasn’t even flying through the air properly. I felt truly awful.
Some sort of sense of self-preservation should probably have kicked in here. But it didn’t. And so, with a couple of breaks, we continued to toil for an hour. What utter, utter idiots.

We all (mostly) remember (some of) that day.
I think my therapist called it PTSD: Phenomenal Temperature, Stupid Decision.

And it’s already 6 degrees warmer today than it was back on that day in February 2012.

Common sense says that they call the games off this evening. At best, it’s going to be extremely unpleasant, at worst, it could actually be dangerous. But they probably won’t. And that being the case, common sense says that we should forfeit the game. But that’s absolutely not how we roll, and I grudgingly have to respect our determination. Even though we’re clearly being very daft here.

I really wouldn’t recommend such bravado though.
To coin Wilfred Owen:

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro manus mori.

The game is still going ahead as I write this.

See you on the other side, I guess.
And yes, you can choose any meaning of that phrase that seems fit.

MBGA

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Absolutely no need for this sort of nonsense from our local supermarket.

“American inspired”, “Texas style” burgers:  whatever. We know that the US – and Texas – are famed for their butchery*.

But I don’t think that they’re doing themselves any favours by then trying to use a divisive political slogan to help sell their patties.

Honestly, apart from the political connotations, the suggestion that my burgers weren’t already great is a little disrespectful.

I don’t need my supermarket’s assistance with that. I don’t need any pseudo-transatlantic assistance either.

And I’m certainly not buying anything with that slogan on it.

* I mean of cows, not people in the Middle East.

World’s gone mad.

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How is this a real image?

I know it’s couple of days old now, and that things move fast these days, especially in the case of this conflict. But it looks like something from a cartoon.

And yet it’s also tragic that there are kids inspecting this unexploded missile in a field in Syria.

Still, could be worse…

“Ahmed! Stop that right now!”

Kirstenbosch wander

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A couple of hours in the sun at Kirstenbosch this afternoon, before the upcoming Matthew Mole concert made things loud and busy.

A few lizards and mice around. Plenty of birds, including a rather hungry Cape Sugarbird (Promerops cafer) and some very pretty, very dainty Black Saw-wings (Psalidoprocne pristoptera)

A few kilometres and some very nice fresh air was just what I needed after an unexpectedly boozy evening out last night and a very necessary lie-in this morning.

Now it’s back to real life with some household chores and a bit of FA Cup football.