Back home to a roasting Cape Town, touching the high 30s, after a great walk on the beach Darn Sarf this morning.
Lobbed some sausages on the braai for dinner and wired up some external internet. As you do.
Now, a cold beer and some football.
It’s been a good weekend.
Can I be bothered to watch Ramaphosa’s address? Probably not.
Now. Let me get this straight.
The week is for working, the weekend is for chilling and relaxing.
If I remember correctly, the above statement paraphrases Henry Ford.
Yes, the car guy.
It isn’t working for me right now, Henry. I mean, I’m getting the first bit ok – that’s going really well.
But by the end of my weekends… I need… a weekend.
It’s been fun, it’s been busy.
I’m going to bed.
After a weekend which wasn’t even supposed to be spent at home in Cape Town, I find myself completely drained. I’ve done about a million jobs that I didn’t even know needed doing, but which – with hindsight – I’m actually glad I got out of the way.
There are a big couple of weeks ahead at work before our Europe trip, and I’ve been on the go all day, so I’m going to guide Panama a little closer to World Cup glory on the Playstation, rather than blogging this evening.
If that’s ok with you, that is?*
More – including news of Panama’s latest triumphs – tomorrow.
* or even if it’s not, to be honest.
Ironically, we attended a Scouts and Cubs AGM this weekend, but I was anything but prepared when it came to blogging.
It’s been a busy one with chores, social engagements, some late night drinking and rowdiness, a bathed beagle (grey water was saved for future use) and – despite the fact that there have been 17 matches on – absolutely no football. Weird.
It also seemed to go very quickly.
Other (better) blogs would have had posts ready as back up, but I’ve not been that organised. So suddenly I’m playing catch up and throwing together a few lines about a weekend I wish I could start again and do better.
It’s been a busy n hours since we were last in touch, dear reader.
A birthday, several pizzas, a walk in the park, some new (but actually rather old) brandy, a million bags of lawn dressing, a decent roast dinner, two Star Wars films and absolutely no partridges in any pear trees.
It’s no wonder that I’m so knackered.
More tomorrow, once I have (hopefully) recovered.