Complacency

It's easy to become complacent, and every now and then something you've taken for granted disappears and you find yourself clasping the coffee bottle between your knees trying to get the top off with one hand.

this isn't me.

I went in for a glorious try at Frisbee on Thursday evening, putting in an akward dive in the in-zone to catch a pass.  Alas, I hit the deck, without the prize in hand and snapped my collar bone.  Had I caught it, it would have been totally worth it.

Observations since Thursday:

• Shoe laces are a total cost.
• It gets light at about 5:45.
• I'm not as mentally stable as I like to think I am.
• Predictive text has a way to go.

Life is balanced though, in tough times the medical community grants you special license to partake in things ordinarily reserved for addicts and the homeless.  My Tramacet may have negatively affected social interactions but its been fun spending time with my new friend Charlie the unicorn.

Mutton

We didn't cater for our weekend away in Port Alfred.  Instead, we arrived. Then we went shopping.

In keeping with the theme of our holiday, when we'd stocked up on bread, we went hunting for meat.  There was a vague menu plan;  that we'd eat at least 3 times a day, and we'd braai when it was dark.

Nic and Jay returned with a herd of old sheep neatly packed into a jumbo mutton bonanza pack.  I voiced my approval and we went looking for less-essentials.

Alas, our meat megaload turned out to be a wolf in sheeps clothing.  The not so nice parts of an old and sinewy wolf... to be sure.  But these are just life lessons, filed alongside the invaluable chicken-pie know how I've gleaned in the past three years.

All the ladies in our lives will be pleased to know, that the over-riding sentiment, following Sunday night's supper was that girls definitely up the ante when it comes to meal times.  That said, all that time saved by forfeiting salad, a decorated table and a table... meant we made the build up to round one of 2011's MotoGP in Qatar.

Fishing

My shiny new fishing rod has been gathering dust, lying in two pieces under my bed since I got it in Feb.  But a man-weekend of braaing, fishing and farting in Port Alfred promised an opportunity to get it wet.

Jay organised a barge for Saturday and we set out, for what looked like a week judging by our supplies, down the Kowie River.

Like other skillful hobbies, people in the know make it look easy, and noobs make it look impossible.  I, fulfilling the role of the latter, quickly pulled a lead in the 'Kraaines' award race.  Defn: When your neatly rolled fishing line erupts into a ball of unimagineably intertwined mess.

But fishing is everything I dreamt it would be.  Which isn't much... infact, its largely standing on a boat, or a shore.  Second only to floating on your back in the river.  Verified.

I was pleasantly surprised that I'm not that squeamish.  Everything else about fishing is quite pleasant, but baiting your hook with a variety of dismembered sea creatures pretty much makes up for it.

Snorkelling

East London is outdoorsy.  No debate.  Most popular item of clothing in summer: a Surfer's Challenge t-shirt.

So when Frisbee player Brad pitched snorkelling in the river just below the Highlander, the opportunity to experience a niche outdoor acitivity was too much to resist.

I'm guessing we were enjoying a low tide, because water was in scarce supply in the lagoon, 2 Frisbee fields worth to be exact. We found a channel running along the rocks, with genuinely inviting, mediterranean looking water.

Snorkelling equipment is awesome.  It's like it was specifically designed without the human face in mind.

I was standing in the pond, up to my chin, watching some minnows nibble my toes.  Picturesque indeed.  Cath and Brad were dissecting the snorkel-mask connection mechanism.  Once the space invaders were ready to rock... bottom... I acted as bait while they gasped and splurted around me.  Snorkelling catch 22... you look ridiculous, but if you laugh, you drown.

When I finally got underwater it became clear, that it wasn't clear.  Strangely cloudier with goggles in place.  But on the other hand, you can get a lot deeper, and when we decended into the trench we discovered a satisfying collection of, albeit grey, fish.

Highlight of the trip:  Watching the snorkellers do pool monsters.

Japan tsunami

I'm not sure this deserves a whole post, but Ill try and make it count.

My desk job, and liberal internet access mean that I've been able to track events in Japan, from the initial reports of an earthquake, to footage of the tsunami devastating the island.  Its tragic.  If you haven't had a chance to check it out, go have a word with IT and see if they'll give you access over lunch.

I am genuinely speechless, the task at hand is unimaginable.

But Japanese spirit is strong, and I have no doubt they'll pull through.

However, this disaster has revealed that there is a group of people with no hope.  Lost... beyond help.

- Alwyn, a News24 reader suggests "All this is mother natures payback for the dolphins,whales and Rhinos"

I woud have passed it off as some idiot who's outlook onlife is pinned on his daily pimple count, but then someone said it infront of me!!

Thank you world.  You have once again called my bluff.  Back to the drawing board.

Fish fingers

In an attempt to streamline our meals, and eat a litle more salad, and not cook everyday, our digs now cooks together, or rather, one person cooks for everyone.

The challenge of putting something desirable infront of your housemates twice a week is proving difficult, and I found ymself clutching a pack of fish fingers, in desparation, in the Spar on Wednesday evening.

Thing is, I remember fish fingers being about an inch wide, solid, filling... mainly big and chunky.  I haven't eaten them in ages.  Years. Maybe even a decade.  I picked a box of 12, 4 each... plenty.

Alas, not so.

What a let down! Spindly, diet fingers, no substance, no inch-wide'ness... I could have eaten the whole box. Faux-fish-fingers.  Not cool I&J, if all the Omega three you're adding means you can't fit enough fish in the finger... then lets check our priorities.

On a positive note, there were suspicions that the fingers were made out of shark.  A careful analysis of the ingredients brought clarity.  That said, Im sure shark fishing is a high risk business and getting less shark for your buck is a more palateable cutback.

Geocaching

The internet is a pervasive creature, taking ground daily into our lives... first it was the restuarant menu, then scrabble word checking...

But as much as is available, living in East London, aka the tech-bunker, means we have to be content with qualified access to all the web has on offer.  So when Jay discovered geocaching, and then discoverd a trove of sites within easy reach of a Slummies local, we couldn't resist.

Geocaching works like this.  I hide something, give you the GPS co-ords... you go find it, leave a note in the container (cache), and then brag to everyone else on geocaching.com, about how you actually found it; giving cryptic advice to future treasure hunters.

We may have been a little ambitious; attempting to hit 3 sites in our Friday lunch hour. Equipped with a suspect cellphone GPS and a naive amount of enthusiasm, we returned empty handed.

Things we did find:
A trove of cigarette stompies
Two wasps nests
Some would-be muggers, who couldn't speak highly enough of the view from their lookout (read dark corner out of public view) over the Nahoon River.

Questions left unanswered:
What does a cabbage tree look like? (another cryptic clue)