Monday, December 19, 2011


For The Dean

I've seen the future. The future wears Disney themed clothing, gurgles, screams, bounds after terrified pets and is the centre of attention for all gathered. And there are a LOT of them.

Yes, my long weekend was spent in the company or vicinity of children. Lots of them.
Most were in the 7 and under age group, and yesterday thankfully, they were of the early 20s to early 40s persuasion. Sans Disney prints.

Friday started off with a bang. I wish I could say I was being purposely "nudge-nudge-wink-wink" but...
Ran around like a blue arsed fly (never actually seen a blue arsed fly in action, but it's a saying that has stuck with me from my youth nonetheless). Many errands and even some shopping. Here's a tip when entering a monument to consumerism such as Canal Walk. Accept that it may take 3 minutes longer to find parking (the COW packing her Merc full of festive season swag and then NOT vacating her parking whilst blissfully unaware that I was idling away my entire petrol tank patiently with my indicator ever hopefully flashing is going to meet a grim and premature ending if my prayers are answered...) and thrust your hands deep in your pockets as you stroll along and whistle a popular Christmas jingle through you clenched teeth. Worked for me. Got in. Found item. Paid. Got out. No Vaalies were harmed in the purchase of this gift.

Friday afternoon heralded the annual Bimsi's Wonderland Of Mince Pies And Festive Season Pleasantries. Ate myself to near "Seven" type gluttony death, yet somehow failed to ingest even one Mince Pie. Although, come to think of it, that may be a good thing, as this post would then have been more of a rant-piece on how the term "mince" is somewhat misleading. There were lots of children and no boozing. Took a pleasant, seatbelt loosened drive out through the Durbanville Wine Route on the way home and listened to Fetish. Made up for being a responsible driver by spending the evening getting rat-arsed.

Saturday morning was more band practice followed by our long awaited birthday celebration away in the Table Mountain Nature Reserve. I have mentioned that I'm quite fond of my chunk of rock, haven't I? Orangekloof tented resort is the stuff dreams are made of. Entire structures are constructed from removed alien vegetation. Luxury hotel tents are enclosed in wooden structures, the main cabin is big enough to host the entire Wenches And Benches year end function, the showers and bathrooms look out over magnificent vistas and the braai is big enough to plank over and use as a rollerskating rink. The little wooden knives and forks were actually tongue depressers with little indents in them.
We sat with our feet in mountain streams that could turn flowers solid on contact, we gazed wistfully at spectacular sunsets (I was seeing double by then already), we braaied, we consumed our body weight in beer. We added to the untouched splendour and class of the surroundings by reversing my car to the gate, opening the back hatch and pomping the tunes...

The next morning we ate breakfast with sunglasses on. Indoors.

And after packing up we toddled off to that place The Dean calls home. They had been partying even harder and in fact hadn't bothered to stop yet by the time we got there. Now that's dedication. On with the swimming trunks and the sunscreen and flop down on lilo to drift around for a few hours of bacon crispy bliss. Sunday afternoon braais will always be a good idea. We had one. Sunday evenings spent chilling at home with one's better half curled up on the couch are also a good idea. I had one of those too.

Which brings us to today's life-sapping hangover. I don't think I have the reserves to make the week. It's like watching Wally Hayward stumble into the stadium at the end of the Comrades. You just don't know...

NGDG: "Kirstie Alley is the only cast member of Cheers never to cameo on Frasier because, as a Scientologist, a show that 'endorsed psychology' is against her beliefs. Well any dietician will tell you that nuts are high in fat."

Spread The Love. It Always Ends In Screaming. If You're Doing It Right. Or Wrong...

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