Back to the Rock, Volume III

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I mean, technically, it’s Volume II, because the “Back to…” serves as an indication that this has happened once previously already. But you get what I mean, right?

Right.

I’m heading back to Robben Island this week, assisting with a school trip and looking forward to the amazing experience of spending another couple of nights in the converted prison which serves as the base for the Learning Centre there.

Managing 40-odd 12-year-olds – many of whom haven’t been away from their families for more than a night (if that) before – for three days is always challenging, but it’s also hugely rewarding; and to be able to see “behind the scenes” and learn about the history and nature of the island from properly knowledgeable and passionate people is a real privilege.

I’ve said that before: here.

Longer-term readers (what’s wrong with you guys?) will remember my foggy run in 2020 and my chukka partridge a year later.

I wasn’t well last time around, so I’m looking forward to renewing my acquaintance with the lighthouse and the penguins on an early morning jog (me, not them).

More on that sort of thing in the post I have planned for tomorrow.

But for now, I’m looking forward to another three days of hard work, education and enjoyment.

Market Day

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Tomorrow is Market Day for my daughter. A multi-disciplinary project at school, incorporating Design & Technology, Maths, ICT, Art and not Geography. She and a partner are selling cookies and cake-pops, and so they’ve been hugely busy all day getting things ready.

The results look rather decent:

They’ve done all the planning, advertising, budgeting and preparation themselves, and all that is left to do now is take their wares and float to school, and reap the financial benefits (and then write an assignment, probably – there’s always an assignment, isn’t there?).

But that’s assuming that these goodies make it through the night. I’m the last one up this evening, and I actually rather fancy something sweet with my Spanish football. I’m not sure I could get through all of them without getting a lot of diabetes, though.

Actually, it’s going to be an interesting week at school. More on that tomorrow (he said, enigmatically).

[cliffhanger]

Under pressure

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Life is full of questions, but I think amongst the biggest of them today is:

How have I managed so long in my life without a pressure washer?

The patio needed cleaning, and I looked at the hiring options for a pressure washer, but there were a couple of issues. Firstly, it was quite expensive, and secondly, it did far more than I needed.
Overkill. Money for nothing.

“Powerful enough to take the skin off an eland!”

boasted the blurb, but my eland is quite happy – and a whole lot less messy – with its skin on.

So when I saw that there was a reasonable, domestic-sized pressure washer on sale – to keep – for just over the price of two days hire, I thought I’d go for it.

What an amazing decision.

Blasting things clean; removing that layer of previously impenetrable dirt and renewing stuff: it’s such a deeply cathartic process. It’s a bit like when you pretend that the wood going onto the braai is the bones of your enemies [Is alles oraait byrie hys? – Ed.]. Quite literally a cleansing experience. And the patio is a whole different colour to what we saw when we bought (and lived in) the house. Not necessarily a nicer colour, but that’s not the pressure washer’s fault.

Anyway, can’t stop: so much more pressure washing to be done before tonight’s sacrificial braai.

And then there’s the car to wash…

OMG: Cannot! Wait!

Heart

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With all the cardiac problems going around, here’s some important advice.

This sort of thing takes a bit of practice. Go too fast, and you’ll leave your heart behind. Conversely, not fast enough, and your heart will inexplicably somehow get in front of you. Mmm.

You don’t want that.

Keep it inside your body as you walk. And hopefully as you do everything else, as well.