Early days, but…

A bit of a heads up: the weather from Sunday evening in and around Cape Town is looking decidedly wintery.

Properly nasty stuff, and a far cry from today’s balmy bergwind-assisted 28C.

I’ve stocked up with half a ton of fire and braai wood, not just because we might want to pollute the atmosphere keep warm next week, but also so that the skink in the woodpile has a bit more shelter when the storm does hit. Got to think of the nature, right?

This one (the storm, not the skink) seems not just to be the biggest one of the year so far, but will also feature a series of cold fronts one after the other, prompting worries that any damage early on could be compounded and exacerbated by the following few days.

It’s still all at least five days away though, so nothing is set in stone just yet. But it might be worth clearing out your gutters and sheltering your skink just so you’re all prepared.

Abandoned

This was the second week in a row this season that our football match has been abandoned due to a proper Cape Town winter storm.

I can’t really fault the decision of the officials. It was wet and windy when we arrived, but as the games before ours got underway, they actually got underwater. It belted down for a solid half hour and despite our best efforts to get on and get playing, it was clearly a lost cause.

Frustrating stuff. Why must it always rain on Tuesdays?

Cold, wet and irritated, I have now arrived home, had a hot shower and lit the fire. I’m now warm and dry, but I would have liked to have had a game of football this evening.

Next week, perhaps? Has anyone seen the forecast?

Don’t joke

Don’t joke about crazy journeys.

I once did that once (it was yesterday) and it almost backfired.

But I don’t have editing time right now: I’ll get to that should I survive my flight back into severely stormy Cape Town this evening.
It could be a crazy journey.
But it would take a bit to beat this one…

Now I don’t believe in tempting fate and all that nonsense, but if I were to believe in it, I’d consider that those lines above would be a really good way of doing it.

The descent into Cape Town last night was distinctly unpretty. In fact, it was a horror show. Bumpy, shaky, loud: wholly unpleasant. There were regular gasps and screams from the length of the cabin as we were chucked around over the Winelands. A member of the cabin crew was knocked clean off her feet. Another was throwing up near the back of the plane. The elderly Muslim gentleman sitting next to me grabbed my arm out of sheer terror. Twice.

Now, I have complete faith in the tolerances and the engineering that go into building passenger aircraft, and also in the tensile strength of the materials involved, but even I had to continually remind myself of these things as we bounced our way down into the Mother City.

When we did make it down onto the runway, it was with a big bang. And when we finally made it to a full stop, my neighbour gently whispered “Thank Allah” under his breath, which I thought was a little unkind given the best efforts of the well-trained pilots. But then I vaguely recalled that the First Officer had introduced himself as Allah van Zyl prior to departure, so I guess that’s maybe what he was thinking.

Even when we were sitting safely on the tarmac awaiting the stairs to take us out into the cold evening, the plane was still bumping around, being buffeted by the wind which was gusting to 100kph.

The dash to the terminal was fun, with horizontal rain, lost hats, mild swearing and relieved laughter filling the air.

Nastiest 15 minutes of my flying life? Probably. I really didn’t enjoy it.

Props (no pun intended) then to Captain Jesus Schoeman* and Big A the First Officer for getting us down safely.

I have no air travel planned for the foreseeable future.

 

* possibly a made-up name.