Braai or Blog?

What with all the catching up after this week’s Immodium-fest, it came down to a choice between these two behemoths of time-passing enjoyment late this afternoon.
And, sorry for you, reader, I went with the braai. There were guests too, guests who brought potatoes and a cabbage salad: made… with cabbage.
There were anecdotes, there was laughter, there was a disturbing amount of balsamic vinegar in the cabbage salad dressing.

Tomorrow, there will be ample time for blogging, and there are no plans for any alliterative alternative to challenge it for supremacy.

As long as no-one mentions beer, of course.

Caring Government

There’s been a groundswell of movements of late that suggest that those in charge of our nations – whichever nations they may be in this global society – don’t care about the common man (or woman) (or gender-fluid individual) on the street. They may be right, but that’s not what this post is about. This post is about how things weren’t always this way. There is evidence that, less than 40 years ago, the UK government still cared for its subjects.

If the United Kingdom is stuck by a natural disaster, devastating pandemic, bioterrorist attack or other catastrophe… Pre-Emergency Services have been set up to supply citizens with “essential survival items” including ping pong balls, rubber bands, furniture polish, drinks coasters and crocheted toilet-roll covers that looked like Georgian ladies.

All the important bases covered, I’m sure you will agree. And as the Minister for Internal Affairs assured us:

Should an unexpected catastrophe occur, such as the one which may or may not take place later this year on October 14th, we guarantee that working families and those most in need, such as table tennis players, will be the first to receive the emergency supplies listed in this leaflet.

Indeed, the selfless Prime Minister even offered to forgo his own rubber band and drinks coaster rations saying:

“The knowledge that the people of the United Kingdom are safe is all the comfort I need and I will gladly make do with less vital resources”

These “less vital resources” were later revealed to be water purification tablets, dried food goods and medical supplies.

Fortunately for all concerned, the events of October 14th failed to materialise, and there was no need for the Pre-Emergency Services’ supplies to be handed out.

But one does have to wonder if the UK (or any other) Government of today would be as understanding and generous when considering the needs of its people.

This history, of course, courtesy of Scarfolk.

Keep On Running

In Loperamide (C29H33ClN2O2), we trust.

Ah yes. Day 2 of this infernal “24 hour” viral gastroenteritis, bringing with it the traditional four symptoms of viral gastroenteritis: sweating, shaking, swearing and farting. And frequent trips to the bathroom, obviously.

I haven’t had much contact with other individuals, but apparently, “everyone has got it”, which I suppose is meant to bring some comfort in that you then understand that you’re not suffering alone. However, all it makes me think of is numerous sweaty, shaky, sweary, farty individuals across Cape Town who can’t stray too far from a toilet.

And that’s not pleasant.

I’m actually rather annoyed that I’ve contracted this nasty bug: being a microbiologist, I’m anal about hand-washing and hygiene. (Perhaps I should use soap and water like other people?)
So, be aware, Cape Town people – you are hereby advised to stock up on Immodium, Rehydrate and Lucozade, because if I can get it, anyone can get it.

Right, I’m off for my 14th shower of the day.
Stay healthy, peeps.