(Context)
We’re starting the long weekend just right.
Steak, ribbetjies, chicken for the vegetarians, and the infamous Playlist for a Chilled Braai.
Perfection.
It’s a happy day for the family as my brother reaches a milestone birthday.
And a sad one, as we remember April 24th last year.
We’ll raise a glass to them both tonight.
Twice the famous lemon and lime soft drink.
Fourteen years of (at least) a post a day, as mentioned here.
And there are no signs of stopping [audience groans].
Obviously, that’s far too many posts to go through individually, but we have had:
Some football
Some lockdown exercise
An occasional view
Some menacing trains
A bit of physics
Much parenting stuff, and
That Chinese restaurant
Stick with us (it’s actually just me, sorry) for much, much more. Probably.
Here’s to the next fourteen years.
Wow. Look at that.
It’s the 23rd January 2025, and that means it’s exactly a whole 21 years since I upped sticks and moved from Oxford to Cape Town. A whole 6000 miles from civilisation… (if you can call Oxford that).
Since then, several (or maybe even more) things have happened, including marriage, kids, a beagle, a couple of houses, a cottage and maybe the odd Castle Milk Stout here and there.
Nothing special planned today to celebrate – maybe just an early night, given the lack of sleep this week.
But hey: here’s to the next 21.
After an afternoon in front of the last home game at Bramall Lane (and the last home game in the Championship for at least a while) for Sheffield United, we headed into town for a pre-anniversary meal out.
Eighteen of your South African years. Incredible.
A night out in town can be a big adventure when you have become ensconced in the Southern Suburbs. And we were reminded early on of why we like to keep it local with a scary ride into the CBD in an Uber with no shock absorbers. Well, no working ones anyway. The driver also asked us what sort of music we’d like to listen to, and we said we weren’t really bothered – just not jazz. Sadly, something was lost in translation and we ended up with a Smooth Jazz mix which wouldn’t have been out of place in a 1980s elevator, the interesting percussion patterns augmented by the clanking of what was left of the rear axle each and every time we went over a bump in the road.
Thankfully, at the end of the journey was The Dark Horse, complete with beer, wine, rooftop seating and views over a chilly Cape Town. Jack Black Weiss? Don’t mind if I do. Heavenly stuff.
And then, after a bit of that, there was the place across the road.
The Black Sheep is always amazing. The vibe, the food, the wine and the service are all top notch. And last night was no exception. We were treated to tasting plates from several of the starters including their incredible chili squid before exceptional mains of kudu loin and coconut lentil curry. All washed down with some of Gabrielskloof’s Bordeaux Blend and a few glasses of Migliarina Chenin Blanc. So good.
No room for desserts, but there is always next time.
Sadly, we turn into pumpkins if we don’t get back to the safety of the ‘burbs around the mountain before midnight, so we headed home and this time I booked a ‘spensive moose Uber Black to avoid the dangers of a poorly serviced Toyota Corolla. The Beemer 3 series that turned up was lovely and comfy, but the driver had clearly never driven it before. Nor could he follow a map. A bizarre and wholly uncalled for left turn by the fire station in town. Weird acceleration and braking all over Philip Kgosana Drive. And then a couple of missed junctions nearer home meant that we went far further than we needed to. And then he didn’t end the trip on his phone.
A 2 star rating (you’re apparently only allowed to give 1 star if you died en route) and our money back following a complaint and a fare review this morning. But now I’m very open to Uber alternatives, please.
A late anniversary morning lie-in today, followed by a thorough workout in the gym, because I have loads and loads of calories to get rid of. And once this blog post is done – which it very nearly is (cue sighs of relief from both readers) – a quick wander in the Green Belt with the beagle.
Tomorrow. More food and wine. But more about that then.
Was it the right decision? Too lenient? Too draconian? Were the bans on alcohol and tobacco correct? Or even legal?
I’m not getting into those discussions, simply because the views are all already so polarised and entrenched that whatever I write (or anyone else writes), no-one’s mind is going to be changed. So what’s the point?
We’re now a whole year on from that initial plan of three weeks, and we’re still in a National State of Disaster and a level 1 lockdown, with promises of a third wave of infections and a harsher Easter sanctions on the way. And we’re also a whole year on from my very first “Lockdown Diaries” post; something I’ve kept going with at least one post a day ever since. Of course, not all those posts are specifically about coronavirus and the lockdown: sometimes you want to get your mind far, far away from all the nonsense. Sometimes you don’t have a choice.
The last year has been pretty awful for everyone. Very few people have come out of it wholly unscathed, and now we’re living in this new, weird world – but at least we’re still here.
Plenty aren’t.
I don’t see myself being vaccinated this year unless something changes dramatically. And that basically means that we’re not going to go anywhere for at least another 12 months, prolonging my personal lockdown for another year.
See you on March 26th 2022 for some better news?