A quick post on a rainy day

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Yes, seriously: a rainy day.

We don’t get many of them in Cape Town at this time of the year.

Anyway, two things to cover today. The main one being the widespread outrage* at the lack of a beagle update in yesterday’s post. I won’t be making that mistake again.

The beagle is doing fine, thank you very much. A first check-up with the vet this morning was passed with flying colours and we are now moving on towards bandage removal next week. Stitches and staples will come out the week after that, and then there’s this crazy plan to get her into a swimming pool for some hydrotherapy.

Good luck with that.

The other thing is to do a control image for yesterday’s Heathrow picture. Because how do you know that it isn’t always that quiet (although, you do).

So here’s that one for you. Some catch-up going on.

On that note, we’ve got a quiet day overhead today, with all the local planes taking off to the North, and not bothering this side of the peninsular at all.

Like how I tied that all together at the end?
Mmm. Me too.

* I got a whole email

Heathr-no

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Like the airport, but with a different ending.

Amazing Covid-esque like scenes at Europe’s busiest airport this morning, as a fire at a nearby substation crashed the power to the whole place, necessitating its closure for the day.

It’s like a plane-free ghost town there at the moment:

Especially when you compare it to other normally-running European airports like Schiphol:

or Frankfurt:

The later local flights from Cape Town, which set off yesterday evening, but then found that they had nowhere to land, have diverted to Barcelona and Madrid.

Buenos días, señor.

I mean, lucky them. The other flight ended up at Gatwick.

Eww.

The flights that were due to come down from LHR to Cape Town made it out before the whole gemors, and – if all goes well – should be able to leave on time tonight. But obviously, the flights which were due to depart from Heathrow to Cape Town this evening will now, not.

We’re not going to have a lot of influence on the global repositioning of the planes from the 1,400 flights that will be affected. But the knock-on effect for tourists wanting to EsCape Town tomorrow will be tangible.

Oh no. We’re going to have to stay another day or two rather than going back to London.

Heartbreaking for them.

No sleep til bedtime

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Yeah, remember that song?

Tony Hawks is still doing the rounds on the more mature end of the UK comedy circuit.

But no.

Because I spent last night downstairs with the beagle – a rather swish, organised affair with a mattress and everything – and the beagle didn’t sleep very much, I am knackered. I have been knackered all day, and I’m off out to a birthday party this evening.

A late afternoon nap seemed in order.

I was all set up for that when next door’s kids (quite rightly) ignored the light rain and started playing outside, loudly. No sooner had I closed the appropriate windows than the dog across the road started expressing its outrage at one (or more) passing bastard squirrels. And then Mr Leaf Blower kicked in.

It did all rather seem like a conspiracy.

Anyway, long story short, I finally managed to grab an hour, during which time I dreamt vividly about a weird guitar competition involving an Austrian gentleman. As you do.

I’m feeling almost – almost – human again.

Let’s go party*!

* but let’s also not stay out too late, ok?

Return of the Beagle

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The beagle is back home after a night in the hospital. Yes, she’s smashed off her face on drugs, mostly wrapped in a MASSIVE bandage and quite pissed off with the world, but we’re all allowed to be like that after surgery.

It doesn’t help that it’s the hottest day of the year. When the sun – already lower than proper summer – hit the thermometer earlier, it showed 46.8C.

But even that was only 11 more than in the shade.

I’ve just remembered that I’m playing football this evening. :/

So now comes the hard work. The rehabilitation, gentle exercise, general care. Of the beagle, obviously.

A long road ahead. But it’s good to have her home.

Good news

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We dropped Colin the Beagle in for a much needed operation on her right hind leg, around lunchtime today.

New place, new vet, new surgeon. Highly recommended by friends and by our usual vet, but still not the familiar faces we’re used to when there are beagle issues.

And it’s been 7 hours since she went in.

Trying to stay calm and focused this afternoon has been tough, but finally, we got a call once their theatre day had finished.

Things went well. They found some arthritis in the knee joint. They removed some damaged cartilage. That’s ok. We were expecting these things. That’s why I’m determined not to let the guy near my knee. He’d probably lop my leg off.
And the actual bit of the op they wanted to do to mend the joint as best as possible also was a success.

But despite trusting the experts, there’s still that nagging doubt. If only there was some way, some sign that Colin could send us so that we could know that she was ok.

Oh, and she’s just eaten a load of chicken.

Boom. There it is. The secret message.
Beagles will eat 24/7 if you will allow them, but a sick or unhappy beagle will not eat, and when that happens, you know something needs to be sorted.

To be eating “a load” of chicken just after coming out from under the surgeon’s knife… well… clearly things are as good as they possibly could be.

Pick up is tomorrow, after some ketamine dreams (Colin, not me).