The butcher

I haven't done a decent grocery shop for a while, and so didn't have much in the way of lunch resources when I was prepping for the day this morning.  So I made a visit to the Spar (the home of the 12.95 Chicken Burger).

The enemy at work...

It seems the butchery is a pervasive source of discontent.  It doesn't matter whether its a Spar or a stand alone meat-market.  They're chronically staffed by deaf or persistantly disagreeable people who are incapable of accurately servicing your order.

I've taken to ordering ham by weight, because I'd given up estimating how many slices of Enterprize's finest was in a kg,  now relying on 100g multiples... depending on who's eating.
But it doesn't matter.  Oh no.  Forbid it that you should get what you order, let alone getting ever so slightly less than you order.  My package was weighed, wrapped and stickered before I could point out that 140g is not 100g.  It is infact 40% more.

Yes, I'm nit picking, but the principle holds for bigger chunks of meat.

UFH Registration

Self improvement requires a special dedication.  A persistance.  Without it, you'll wimp out long before you achieve anything noteworthy.

Acting somewhat as a filter, academic registration at Fort Hare University sits, like a toad, in the path to success.  Guaranteed to filter anyone who is wavering.  If you aren't convinced that short of civil war, or a nuclear disaster, you will be studying, you haven't got a chance.

Neccessary attributes: patience, with a hint of street smarts and a high tolerance for beaurocracy.

On a positive, the registration process did facilitate a rather awkward reunion.  Apparently a 3 year gap is a standard for people who decide they need to study further, and I met up with a couple of old classmates having a second go.  Unfortunately 3 years is also long enough for people to put on weight, change their hairstyles and to make absolute identification tricky at times.  Much staring and awkward hellos ensued.

Ice cream

Its been a tough few days, but since dad was a hobbyist writer himself, and had a similar taste for dry humour, I figure he would be ok with me putting out a post.

Along with dad, a number of trees have become deceased in the last few days.  Some what in honour of him, many of them will go out with a photo-copied photo of him, from his ID book, or at least his name - from one of the many legal documents.  Our thoughts are with the saplings who are left behind.

I stopped to get an ice-cream on the way home from a photocopying expedition, and then proceed to drive one handed, left handed, back to home base.  It occurred to me that driving while eating an ice-cream should surely be prohibited, much like cellphone calls are.  I was definitely more interested in my melting soft-serve than have I have been in many conversations I've had on the phone, and thus I'm sure more distracted.

Lasagne

The new year has brought many personal aspirations, one of which is an improved diet.
While cold Chicken burgers from Nahoon Spar are great, and only R11.95, they don't exactly say 'Sustainable diet'.
Hence we're no longer every-man-for-himself'ing it.  Monday's are mine and last night so was a lasagne.

The problem with lasagne is the sheer number of containers required.  Housemate Nic and I agree that the awesomeness of the meal is inversely proportional to number of dishes requiring a wash afterwards.  Best is 1, including the plate. Bachelor life FTW.

Noteworthy events:
White sauce exploded somewhere between 3mins to go, and me being distracted by the mince.
Oven grill very effective. Very.

Bloukrans

Other than the awe-inspiring wind turbine just outside Coega, the last item of interest on my trip to the Cape was an unscheduled stop at Bloukrans, for a bungy jump.

Long time an item on my bucket list, the 5 hour Sunday drive and Pete's casual attitude to road-tripping left enough time for a stop.

Face Adrenalin, an Aussie company, operates the jump.  An Aussie operates the office.  Putting aside my dislike for Australians (excl family), I agreed to let his team tie a rope around my legs and push me off a bridge.

In hindsight, I made some poor decisions this holiday.

Once on the bridge, you're at the mercy of the high-energy music and the dubious pronunciation of your guide.  Like something out of a bad dream, 15 of us crowded around our leader while he rattled off a list of 'Donts', but all I heard was '...Im trying to describe this girl without being disrespectful...'.  Not exactly useful information.

The video feed running to the pub on the hillside is enough to inspire confidence in anyone and priority 1 was to give a manly launch off the bridge, not to melt off the side.  They tell you not to look down.  Good call jump operators.

After my successful cover up, I had to resign myself to death for 5 seconds, as I plummeted, pulled by the bungy cord, toward the river bed.  At this point I reverted to outright terror and remember gasping for enough air to get a good scream out.  Fortunately there are no cameras down there.

Its over in about 2 minutes, which makes it a pricey experience, which I probably won't repeat, yet totally recommended for everyone... once.

Face adrenalin Bloukrans Bungy Jump bookings tel: +27 42 2811 458

Dassiesfontein

I have a number of vices.  One of them is coffee, one of the others is bread.  Fresh bread.  Fresh homemade bread.

In light of this, I asked my co-roadtripper Pete to pull in at Dassiesfontein farmstall, just before the right on the N2 toward Villiersdorp.  We were enroute to the mother city, Cape Town.

Dassiesfontein, or Dassies, is best known in our family for their homemade, white bread.  To others, Im not sure... the shop, now resembling something like a General Dealer from the 50's mated to a garage sale, and a Mugg & Bean.  And they sell kippers.  Who eats kippers...?! and wasn't born in the 50's.

Alas, despite the obvious demand for their highly prized/ced loaves, it seems they soldier on with a single oven and the singularly determined approach of placing orders in advance.  For the less-prepared, you can purchase a pie - the pie in question was the first indication that Cape Town prices... are not East London prices.

You can pre-order bread at Tel: 028 214 1475

Fortunately the bread was not essential.  I went in looking for flowers, found some awesome... yellow... ones. Green stems. Nice.

Shopping

The Christmas season is a bountiful opportunity to witness humans in action, most often in shopping centers... like Vincent Park.

I was watched a man looking at cricket bats... at Game.  First up.  Who buys a cricket bat from Game?  *Alarm bells*.  We've all seen it, and before my illusions of 'having ball skills' were shattered, I may have done similar.

Cricket bat selection process:

Step 1: Pick up prospective bat, hold it upright... twist hands on grip and shake. (Determine construction integrity of bat)
Step 2:  Play mock forward defensive.
Step 3: Repeat Step 1. (determine whether hitting the illusionary ball has damaged bat?!)
Step 4: Purse lips, glance around.  Play mock cover drive.
Step 5: Replace bat on shelf. (Satisfied, well aware that you're not sure of anything despite rigorous testing.)
Step 6: Go and buy the toaster you originally came to Game for.