Bread basket

We had supper at a nice restuarant on Friday.

The first sign you're at a nice restuarant is when they ask if you've booked.  We hadn't, but they were able to fit us in.

The second hint you're in a classy establishment, is the bread basket they deliver shortly before the meal you ordered arrives.  Interesting one this...  "Here, have some dry bread, yes... you've arrived."
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It could be a confidence thing, "Our food is so good we can leave this basket of bread infront of you, and not worry about you filling up on carbs before your lamb cutlets arrive..."

Possibly a little injoke.  "Here, eat some dry bread... we're about to over charge you for the meal you ordered, later, we may make you dance like a monkey.".

Bread sticks or not, the food was good and I left satisfied.

I switched on the kettle this morning.  No joy.  No joy with the toaster either, or the microwave.  I wondered whether we'd suffered a monstrous infrastructure failure... but further investigation revealed that there was one  electric device functioning.  The prepaid electricity meter screen. Reading "0.0".

I got a sympathetic, knowing look from the lady at the BP when I hobbled in clutching a handle full of money at 6:12.

Ride to work

The morning ride to work is always fun.

First up is my face off with the taxi offloading people on the corner of May & Beach.  I like to make sure my visor is down before I get there, so that it looks black and menacing.

Things are chilled until I make it to the 4 way at Spar.  People assume guys on bikes take gaps because they're jerks.  Have you ever tried holding in the clutch, revving (cold engine), making sure you're in first for the pull off and waving the cautious soccer mom through the intersection.  Its just not efficient.

Bar the exceptional case of a man with three arms, who's conscientious enough to let someone go first. Realistically though, given the present social discrimination against people who are 'different' and the increased chance of agressiveness associated with the stereotyped biker, its unlikely that such a fellow would have remained amiable and sensitive to the anxious leanings of middle aged woman.

Then there's the Devereux sprint, from Ronnies to the Port Rex lights.  Its us against them.  Devereux vs Hudson Avenue.  People who can do maths, vs people who think its quicker to wait in a 400m queue, squeeze through a traffic circle and then wait at a red robot.

Kettle

Our kettle is a soldier.  Our frying pan is also a soldier, CP swears he'll never cook in it.  The kettle works hard.  In lieu of this, it went on strike for 3 days a while back, fortunately returning to action before we had to take 'measures'.

These days I have an 'understanding' with the giver of hot gifts.  When it went on vac last week thursday, I remained confident that we'd have it back in a couple of days.  However, after microwaving a cup of coffee for everyone at poker night, I realized an intervention was neccessary.

Sunday evening saw CP and I stripping ol'faithful on the diningroom table... the might of our combined electrician bearing down on its stained whiteness.

After taking out all visible scews, and dismantling the handle, we stared at it for a while.  I poked some wires with a screw driver. CP told me about the last time he got shocked by a capacitor.  I asked whether the kettle had a capacitor.  Then I stopped poking things with my metal stick.

After some deliberation, we decided it was too much effort to remove the element.  Probability of fault is directly proportional to ease of access.  Its science... I don't expect you to understand.

We reassembled the kettle, plugged it in... and wished we'd looked at the element a little closer.  Flick, flick, flick... bang... BANG... nothing.  CP hit it with his fist, I hit with with the cupboard.  Nothing.

Our experience depleted, I was about to say 'I think its that time when we pra...' and then the LED turned on and the kitchen was filled with the sound of success.  Its still working.

Weather

There aren't enough hours in the day to be productive, get your admin under control and have a good time.  Weekends provide a great opportunity to catch up.  But then the likelyhood of waking up on Saturday morning and saying 'Now then, lets sort out that car licensing' is... not likely.

East London, the weatherman's nemesis.  Its overcast, grey, misty... but theres so much humidity the bathroom floor makes it look like an epileptic just got out of the bath.  Everything is wet.  Everything.  Even the salt.  What the hell... if the salt can't fortify itself what chance do the rest of us stand?!  I may as well just go find my speedo and make hay, sunshine or not.

I came up with the ultimate deathmatch this week.  Farmers vs. People who ride bikes.  I wonder if they ever pray for rain at the Bikers' Church...?

Lesson

Fresh off a good weekend; went picnicing, watched a great Movie 'Hurt Locker'... Church and managed the first food-included breakfast run.  We hit Chinta East... but it was closed.... so we hit the West side. Chintsa Bay Bar FTW.

Gonubie River is a pleasant place to have a picnic.  We found some mottled sunlight amongst the trees, and a burnt out fire place.
Lessons learnt (in general and ito speed scrabble):
1. East London needs more picnic spots.
2. An Elk is a mountainous deer, while 'ilk' is a type of person... 'Someone of his ilk'.

Tonight I cook multiple chicken pies.  Its been a while.  I can't remember exactly how it works, apart from the part about needing chicken.

Status update

My week in haikus...

Work:
There is a chasm
of carbon and silicon
the softare can't breach

Extra-mural:
Sunny lunch at the pool
Blue laps, aching arms, need more air
Whats that white stuff?!

Weekends:
Open roads, take the gap
Breakfast runs less the breakfast
Need more CC's

House:
Three beds, one is full
Alone time, thought time, restful quiet
But damn, its quiet

Leftover

Instead of having cell on Wednesday, we instead investigated a new paradigm... cell and braai.  I hosted the get together, and as a result made good on the bounty.  Meat shared, is meat over-catered.  Today is day two of left-over-braai.  We've run out of small plastic containers, great for hauling cold chops around in, so I've brought lunch to work in a plastic packet (bread packet, not a Checkers).  Classy.

We watched Bad Boys last night.  The Film and Publications Board is always an interesting issue... I have no idea how they rate movies... either they've raised their standards since the late 90's, or there's some sort of contextual African-American leeway being applied... or 13 year olds were pretty foul back when Will Smith was small.

I think I almost ran over one of my dad's friends on the way to work this morning.  She shouted at me as a woooshed past her... don't think she knew who it was. Note to pedestrians: while speed bumps might be decorated in the same vein as zebra crossings... they serve a different purpose.