Old Weekend Stuff

What do you like to do on weekends?

I managed to complete an article for a travel mag – just need to tweak and edit a wee bit more. Tough job though without Internet at home and a dysfunctional PC with its spacebar and Shift buttons falling out. Okay, yes…I tampered with it and can’t get them back properly now. I’m a technologically challenged person.

But what are OTHER PEOPLE up to during weekends?

Some like to sleep in and are either boiled out of bed by their body heat or too many farts (oops, er…sorry).

Others prank in undies on Camps Bay whilst their irritating loud husband plonks around on a board like a Neanderthal of old, fishing (for brains maybe?).

Couch potatoes dwell not far either. Eyes going squint, solid-square or wide-shut-snoring OFTEN. People that have a personal relationship with their telly better watch as it’s said that prolonged staring causes Alzheimers.

I am annoyingly bugged with people spending time at leisure in the shops. Heartily spending money (that they get where?) in an unnatural noisy environment of squeezing, navigating and getting squashed in the isles and endless queues.

Recently I had no choice but go on a Friday late afternoon to Pick & Pay. Choosing two boxes of chocolate, Mints and Lindt, I realized was a rather extravagant thing to do. As REAL coffee rocketed from R29 to R54 I’ll soon be without chocolates, resorting to pap & wors. Not a bad thing but it sometimes causes people to develop bloating with protruding Sotho-buttocks and bellies.

So I got rid of the Mints in the cleaning-stuff isle. I guiltily dashed away and thus ran the trolley with cat-dog-food contents right across my little toe.

The littlest toe of the anatomy is extremely fragile and prone to feel pain more than any other part of the anatomy. Refusing to look at the damage, I queued and felt quite sick when my toe began feeling rather sticky. It was bleeding to death. My little toe was in bad shape.

Blasted trolleys. You understand now why I absolutely divulge in not pushing trolleys? Ever. I’d rather break my arms carrying baskets.

Coming to the point: Just saying I stayed at home Friday night. GREAT! Under the tree, watching the sun set behind little Lions-head and gorged on Hill & Dale sauvignon blanc(s). Anyone seen The Phantom of the Opera? Nah nah, not talking about the giant panter up the tree.

I’m still a little bit stunned. Beautiful music; Andrew Lloyd Weber deserves more credit!

V&A saw me briefly (yeeeehgh) and any idea of getting Valentine flowers FOR MYSELF were blown away under a sparkling sun, over a torrent of ocean-spray and a wild howling gust at dear old reliable Dunes. Oven-baked Karoo ribs and more movie time followed later on…

Sunday a vinegar-pot-roast Italian chicken, loads of garden loitering and more movie (this one’s name I remember: North & South). Another BBC oldie and piece of brilliance. Gorgeous hunk plays in it, garls.

I’ve been offered another job. Shocking. Miracles still happen amidst depression! I may finally be given the opportunity to get rid of the blasted Mafia (and vice-versa) without a civil war breaking out.