11 A bad day

No I didn't get the email from esprit- the computer I'm using won't open my email either- maybe tomorrow.
The plan for the day was to get a hire car for about lunchtime, I knew it would take a few hours finding a good deal and also I had to weigh up whether it would be better to pay more for a car I could drop off at Port Elizabeth and fly to Durban or get a cheap car which I would have to return to Cape Town and fly from there. As I was wandering betweens rentals I came across a mobile phone repair shop and met the 19 year old Asian owner who was very convivial from the off. He assured me he could fix the phone for the next day but when I told him my plans he promised to push the boat out and get it done by 4 pm- adding a few hours to my itinery. He even gave me another phone to use for a 30 quid deposit though I have happily got out of the mobile phone habit- you have no idea how deeply it has got into your lives. A good two weeks after I last switched it on I was sitting in a bus which the driver was thrashing up hill in a low gear. I felt vibration through my bum from the bus but immediately went for the phone I used to carry in my back pocket.
I got the car sorted, got the flight booked and took some laundry in which they assured me would be ready for 3 pm. I went and got a hair cut in a barbers built from cardboard boxes. These were in the process of being shaken apart by booming rap music and I joined the line of dudes having various logos shaved into their heads which were barley peppered with hair as it was. He was most meticulous and I was sorely tempted to go for some tennis ball seams- but didn't. And it only cost a quid.
Unable to think of any more time killing activities I hung around the botanical gardens and joined a dozing refuse collector as we watched a rat rip open the bin bag he had just filled and drag out the contents. The sweeper guy seemed nonchalent when I would personally have literally played splat the rat with the broom resting between his legs. I do hope his restraint wasn't as a result of my presence.
I returned to the phone man to be told it now works but he couldn't save my numbers so I'll ask you again to email me your numbers since I don't seem to have many- they are not written down anywhere. However, the lcd was broken and he would only charge me 15 quid to fix it- cost price. This was in addition to the 30 quid I had already unwittingly spent as he had used the deposit to pay for the previous unauthorised repairs. He was so impressed that he got all this done for 4, plus the phone had a new cover- I suspected for a moment that he couldn't fix my old phone and gave me a new one. As they cost 160 quid it would have been a generous move. I paid my money and headed home putting it down to experience.
I went to collect my laundry- they had lost it. They gave me a refund and said come back in an hour, it was now 5.30. I returned to the laundry to be told, with pride they had found my washing and put it in the machine.It would be another hour before they could get it out- doh!

Eventually I got away from Cape Town and drove for 2 hours to the seaside town of Hermanus. I booked into a cosy hostel and having worked out that most places are quiet at the moment elected for a dorm at half the price of a room. As hoped the dorm was empty- one to me.
I wandered into town and a small but recommended fisherman's cottage which is now a restaurant. The single customer and many staff were 'jolly' and welcoming. After accepting their suggestion without looking at the menu I ate very well. We chatted as the food was prepared, the bell was rung occassionally and the Tequila began to flow- as did the 'bon hommie' despite my protests and my beer. Several hours later and while dignified on the surface I'd had more than enough to drink and it would seem by my bill, so had everyone else. Way beyond the drink drive limit (it is doubtful if there is one here) the waitress was directed to drive me home. Chinless and bespectacled she had the face of Olive from on the buses atop a figure of gargantuan proportions. I knew darn well she had knocked back as much as me and assumed her size gave her greater tolerence. It transpired she was related to the local Police. The next morning in town I spied a similarly described woman in Police uniform who could only be her sister and understood how well looked after I had been.

Ten- on the bike

I figured as time goes by it would make more sense to title these with the things I did so they are easier to find in the future.
Firstly it's time for 'oh I forgot to mention'- the other day while in the city centre I was (as so often seems to happen) I was' taken short'. Either this is something to do with my age or the amount of social drinking I'm doing but I'll consider it a problem when I stop making it to the loo in time. Anyway, it seemed that every public convenience I went to was closed for cleaning or something and my last resort was the gents in Cape Town Railway Station. If you ever feel that life is dull or that you maybe losing your edge and want a bottle tester- then taking a leak in there is the place to 'go'. It really was the dodgiest place I have ever set foot and how I walked out of there alive and with my wallet I will never know, but I won't be risking it again.

So, today it finally happened. After much prevaricating and procrastinating I got my hands on the motorbike I was determined to rent and headed South- as far south it is possible to get without going to sea- Cape Point- or Cape Horn to you. It was a gloomy start to the day but the sun soon acme out although it was chilly all day, especially in the sea breeze. I followed the coast road down one side of the peninsula and another back up the other side so I have had the most spectacular sea views pretty much all day. Every now and then a wave would sent spray across the road which was great although most of the journey was along the cliff tops looking across bays of green surf crashing against golden rocks. Loving motorbikes as I do I never for a second doubted I had picked the very best way to travel this road but when I stopped off at one of the tourist parking areas and heard a woman say "smell that sea air" I knew she had been breathing magic tree for the previous couple of hours while I had felt every gust of warm air off the sun baked cliffs or fresh blast form the rolling breakers.
Heading back on the Indian ocean side the scrub land was occasionally punctuated but the crimson of an indigenous baboons arse and at one point they held up the traffic and we were forced to weave between them as they picked at detritus blowing in the road. Perhaps that wasn't a good time to be on a bike but a confident stare seemed to work and the let me pass. Though they are one evil looking beast. Slightly more benign in the way of animal road blocks was a wild tortoise who raced across the road in about 10 minutes and was very nice to see.

After seeing to SA navy's main base and a couple of intended detours because the roads looked interesting I made it back to the shop with ten minutes to spare- the petrol here is about half the price of home so that was good too. I now have a few minutes to book some flights to Durban next week.

photos- if it works

Number 9 Monday

I had booked the motorbike today but I awoke to rain which stopped fairly quickly- but started again. I had an early breakfast and headed down to the rental place only to find it closed. They finally appeared at 20 past 8, apologising and blaming the traffic. It was previously pointed out to me that the booking was firm whatever the weather and I was looking at losing 55 quid or a wet day on a motorbike- which given I can get wet on a motorbike any time at home also sounded like losing 55 quid. I established that the bike was free tomorrow and then pointed out that I was paying in excess of 1 Rand per minute (a calculation I made while standing outside the locked premises waiting for them) for a bike which was mine from 8 o'clock but had been sitting in their shop window. This didn't sound like a good deal from my point of view since I could look at it through the glass for nothing on any other day. We agreed, having checked the weather forcast and found that Tuesday's predicted 30% chance of rain was preferable to today's 60% to postpone our business when they will hopefully leave home a bit earlier.
I adjourned to internet cafe with coffee to entertain you!

Number 8 day 1 1/2

Ignore the dates on these, I obviously have much better things to do than go online every day so I do several at a time- though I'm not sure I can keep up with the 500 words a day precedent I have set, I'll do my best.
That said there is no 'I forgot to mention' today as it will only come to me when I walk out of here.
Walking- I've done tonnes of it (that's based on an old fashioned tonne and not a new fangled metric tonnie which is a good deal less) so another sun filled day in the mountains was just perfect, I can spend a much needed day relaxing on the beach anytime-probably. The posse included Angela from the hostel (I have to say nice things about her because she may read this), Jan a French guy and his bevvy of fans- 3 German chics of above average attractiveness and Gregory who knows the girls but more usefully had a car to get us to the start point at the base of the mountain, a good knowledge of local flora and fauna and a book on the subject to fill the gaps in his knowledge. We set off at a gentle pace on a steady slope which soon had Angela (who was appointed map bearer and therefore decision maker- a task well within her capability) worried because we weren't climbing much. Needless to say we were soon climbing plenty and just over an hour later broke onto the plateau on Table Mountain from the opposite side we saw on Friday. A reservoir overlooked by a choice of shady boughs for the fair skinned or sun bleached rocks for the darker ones proved a good spot for lunch and we were treated to Jan's exhibitionist antics and his Dairy Milk for a very pleasant hour. The walk, nay scramble back took us down a gorge which was straight out of a plane crash movie. Lizards scurried around our feet and exotic birds broke cover as we thrashed through tortured trees and around house sized boulders. The experience was truly topped off when our view down to the bay was perfect to watch whales cavorting in the shallows. We were just getting to the point when we thought we may have to stay in the gorge forever and start a new community there when we hit the footpath which led us ultimately back to the car park.

All in all it was an excellent day out.

Number seven

This is the colour of the sky today and this is the colour of my face (but a bit more golden). Maybe this but anyway it is scorchio! I did the Township tour today (Sat), where a guide takes you to the historic areas as far as Apartheid is concerned and then around some of the shanty towns. It was another last minute booking- the bike hire having been put back till monday- the number of times I have stuck my head in the hostel office and said "OK for another day?" is getting silly. I will definitely go on Wednesday. Anyway the tour. This time my accomplices were four German's- three fogies (who spoke no English- how dare they) and their daughter who did all the translating which easily added an hour to the day but it was nice to chime in with a word of German every now and then- especially when the subject turned to complaints about Christmas stuff being in the shops already. Already! We've had it for an extra month in England, in fact they are probably dusting off the Easter eggs as we speak. The highlight of the tour was a visit to one of the old style shanty towns- there's no way white people can go there unless they are firemen and there's a fire. All the houses (if you can call them that) have dirt floors and walls of wriggly tin. Scabby dogs are 'de riggeur' in the pet department and snotty kids roam free, Though to be fair most people are well clothed, well shod and judging by the size of some of them well fed. They made us welcome in a 'I can't believe you paid to come here' sort of way and to avoid giving away cash I did a deal with some kids to get a cold coke to slate my slight hangover- a can for me and a bottle for them to share as payment. It seemed to work well until they tried to illicit the same deal from the Germans who weren't with the programme. All in all it was a good thing to do. The shanties are being replaced with small but solid block houses with electricity and water (though the residents object to paying for these when they had it free before as a result of 'imaginitive' rewiring) and whole communities are being moved together into free houses which can't be bad. Interestingly many of them immediately extend or build a garge out of... yep, wriggly tin which does spoil the 'curb appeal' as estate agents would say.

I arrived back at the hostel a little jaded by the heat but when a walk to the beach was offered up I accepted without thinking of the huge hill to be climbed en route. There was time for a lay on some lawns at the top as we waited to meet someone who was coming from another direction and the view upon arrival was well worth the walk. The beautiful people were out on display, the sand was fine and white, the sea blue if a little 'parky' and the mountainous backdrop breathtaking. We stayed until the sun went down and caught one of the shuttle taxis plying between the bay and the city. Efforts to organise a barbeque- or braai as they are called here, on the beach had been thwarted by local prohibitions so we grabbed some 'makings' on the way back and got the grill at the hostel fired up. At hour later and our pooled selection of wine was drastically reduced but the embers glowed well into the night and the dental floss was used to excess- which is always the sign of a good braai in my book.

Number 6- really getting going now

First a small catastrophe- my mobile got wet (drinks bladder leaked into bag) and is dead so I have absolutely no phone numbers with me. So, if you wanted me to call or text- that's why I didn't. It would be very useful if you could email your numbers if you can so I can rebuilt some sort of phonebook.

And, naturally there's a 'I forgot to mention last time'.... Before heading off to the wine region and particularly Stellenbosch I did try to call to only contact I have here, my sister's, husband's, brother's, brother-in-law's, brother I think it was. But his mobile doesn't work either and he didn't answer the landline- I'll try again when I come back to Cape Town.

Anyway, Friday- the cost of the motorbike for the weekend turned out to be uneconomical- essentially I would be paying for 3 days but only getting it for two so that was postponed till Monday. Simon- an architect staying at the same hostel and I hatched a plan to climb Table Mountain by going up one off the many gorges- just to make it a bit more interesting and, for the sack of my old knees take the cable car down. The weather was awesome and for the second day since I got here the top of the mountain was clear. A few others from the Zebra Crossing Hostel were heading up and we crossed paths now and then through the day. The view got more spectacular as we climbed and was simply breathtaking from the top, right across the bay and out past Robben island toward Antarctica. I need to cram in the superlatives now because the funny thing is it is now such a familiar vista I pretty much take it for granted. The arrival at the top was slightly marred by very noisy Dutch, British and German tourists who had taken the cable car up and couldn't enjoy the spectacle by gobbing off to their friends- oh well. We dossed in the sun at the prime view point for a good hour, half people watching and half scenery watching and if I had to sum it up I would say it was worth coming all this way for alone. I haven't yet worked out how to put photos on this site- perhaps someone can save me money and email simple instructions as I am naturally paying for computer time.

Getting back to the hostel we had a much needed shower and headed out for some dinner. There are plenty of restaurants in the neighbourhood but after our days exertions we decided to splash out and went to a swanky Italian where a main cost 5.50. It is pretty cheap around here but of course by the time you've paid for accommodation, breakfast (usually toast and jam and buy a coffee), lunch (bead and cheese on the go) and dinner ( cooked in the hostel of go to restaurant) plus taxi's here and there and the actually cost of doing things it can really add up. I think I'll worry about all that another time. My kit choices seem to have worked out- with the exception of the drink bladder. I did my first laundry run today but noted the only thing I had run out of was clean pants. Still being near civilization there was no need to resort to turning them inside out then back to front so I got some more which should get me ten days between washes if I don't go 'commando'.

Thanks for the comments I didn't notice having an odd sock- I do hope that has nothing to do with an old Navy tradition I once heard about- if you don't know it don't even think of asking.

Number 5- finally day ONE

Yep I'm excited!!
The weather forecast was gloomy, cloudy and shit! I awoke at about 8, peeked out of the window (straight up at Table Mountain) to see fantastic blue skies. I bugged out, grabbed a super quick shower and went to the small office. I must have shocked the girl working there with my enthusiasm as she positively reeled back as I went in.
Her resposnse to my request and her phone call was "he'll be here in 5 minutes!", I stuck two slices in the communal toaster and ran to the coffee shop next door with a paper cup I found- they don't do take away normally.
6 minutes later I was with a great young Finnish couple and a quiet guy from Singapore in a mini bus loaded up with mountain bikes headed for the wine region as I stuffed toast and supps of coffee into my mouth.
If you know me, you'll know what I like. A day (and a full day at that) of cycling in brilliant sunshine through the mountains from one wine producer to another. The scenery was just brilliant- I mean absoultely beautiful.We stopped off to taste wine and cheese, had guided tours and a picnic in gardens looking across the valley. In the afternoon we were driven to Stellenbosch for a history walk through the town (which is gorgeous by anybody's standards) and then to another vineyard where after the obligatory tasting saw cheetahs and eagles close up. Oh, and this Turkish dog thing which is massive, hard as nails but has been bred to think it's a sheep. They give them to farmers who let them loose to live amongst their flocks in the Savannah, when a predatory cat comes a huntin' the said Turkish dog kicks the cat's arse! Result- cat gets the message, sheep live and farmers have no need to kill big cats- perfect. There were some great lines about the psychological problems this would leave the dogs.

I felt very sorry for Li, the guy from Singapore who didn't like mountain biking much and certainly didn't like wine- bless. I took him under my wing and made sure the wine people were never offended by his untouched glass. At one stage I was explaining to him the 'legs' on a red wine. The serving guy presented a huge glass of Merlot for demonstration purposes which strangely evaporated as soon as the point was made- nice!
All in all a brilliant day- my holiday finally started.If weather holds am hoping to do a township tour in the morning- you would not believe what those places are like. PM, climb Table Mountain. Plan to hire motor bike is in balance because I didn't get chance to call and reserve a bike- we'll see.

Thanks for comments-even if they are anonymous, it's nice to know I'm not the only one reading this. Any questions?
Chris

Number four- day one

After writing for an hour yesterday morning I walked away from the cafe thinking- I shouldn't have drunk all that coffee, I need a wee now and more importantly (although not to me at the time) darn! There were a few things I forgot to mention. So, I resolved there and then to open each page with the things I forgot from the day before. But guess what, I can't remember them. I did write them down in my trusty note book in which I record my thoughts, well some of them and experiences- but I forgot to bring it.

Anyway, I did leave my all singin' all dancin' wash bag in DTL's hotel room and spent an enjoyable hour replacing it and it's contents (eleven quid but as they are consumables I can still use them if I get the bag back) and also I forgot to say how clean African countries are. Obviously because there is so much cheap labour about, book stores can afford to have ladies dusting the books on display. I'm not saying it's right but the result is very nice.
So, the afternoon trip to Robben Island- prison to Nelson Mandela and his closest friends- well they were by the time he got out. I aimed to get the 2pm ferry and arrived at the terminal for 1340 only to find that the next available places were on the 1700- and with a 3 1/2 hour round trip I didn't fancy it in the half dark. The weather was very gloomy with low coastal cloud and only just comfortable in T shirt. I became vaguely aware of a commotion at the adjacent ticket desk and saw a large black lady becoming very 'excited' and vocal. It seems that she had purchased tickets for the 14.00 sailing but members of her group had failed to show and the ticket desk refused a refund. Ah ha- fate presents opportunities and it's up to us to take them. I offered a solution to one of her problems and gave her face value for the ticket without much interaction. It was a better feeling when she told her friends and they congratulated her on her fantastic saleswomanship (for you politically correct types- non correct types, yours is coming). She took their praise and I joined the queue.

The ferry trip out was marred by a bunch of middle aged Canadian women who shouted above the roar of the engines endless inane babble (how their kids are doing at Uni, their favourite breed of dog etc, etc) and the fact that the seating was so cramped I had trouble assembling the components of a cheese and tomato bagguette between my knees. I eventually succeeded but the result was similar to my waking up in the park but with crumbs around me rather than leaves. We joined the throng on the tour bus and a very well worked tourist machine. The guide was excellent with lines like, "do you know who Steve Becko is?" all shout "yes", "do you know who Nelson Mandela is?" reply "yes", "do you know who Mkebe Ntosi is?" reply "noooo". "Well thanks a lot, I introduced myself just 5 minutes ago!"- I guess you had to be there. And really that's what it boiled down to, I had to be there and so, as I learned, did the prisoners!
Second part of the tour was of the prison block, including Nelson's cell. Our guide did 6 years with Nelson and the whole thing was pitched like they had been thrown in there for belonging to the ANC or printing some political leaflets or acts which would have any right minded person calling their incasceration (with 4 hours a day allowed them for political debate amongst themselves) 'oppressive'.

It later transpired that chummy had been arrested by South African security forces having spent 2 years in an Angolan terrorist training camp-( he called that 'living in exile') and returned to SA to blow up a building. He pleaded not guilty and it was with utter surprise that he was convicted on the evidence of his co-accused. This revelation caused murmurings around the room- his former toilet block so it echoed a bit. Essentially the Brits saying- sounds like he deserved to be here, you can't go round blowing people up. And the Americans (sorry guys but you know I'm telling the truth) saying "well I hope young people of today's SA realise the sacrifices he made for their freedom- six years of a young man's life, that's a shocking waste" Yeah right!

The ferry returned to cape Town in heavy rain- so a pint was in order, especially because the 'ladies' from Victoria, Canada sat behind me on the way back- doh. It was nice to catch up on all the details on the cat's operation. By the time I finished it was getting on so I picked up some food and caught the bus back from the Waterfront to the city. It was a rough old bus, at 27p the fare was attractive and I didn't feel at all uncomfortable being the only white on board. Everyone was extremely polite to me and each other to the extent that I almost felt they were putting on a show for my benefit- how lovely. A walk through the city from the bus station on a very gloomy, dark night can bring on sinister feelings and is not recommended in the Lonely Planet Guide but I was nodded to or exchanged friendly words with several 'rough types' and got back to the hostel feeling quite pleased with myself for not getting a taxi door to door.

I drank ANOTHER glass of wine, and went to bed.

Number four- day one (again)

I forgot to mention, while I gatwick airport departure lounge I went looking for a book to read (I know, what else would I do with it?), anyway browsing the shelves of WHSmith I picked up two random books. The first told me that 'I am independent because I am single and I am single because I am independent' apparently if this is to change I have to break my cycle! That's all very well but how the hell am I going to get to work every day when I get back, walk? I don't bloody think so! The second book told me (well anyone really) 'if you hold on to your career your career will hold on to you"!- trop tard, preaching to the converted- I bought neither of them.

Soooo the plane touched down in a rainy Namibia- yep the first rain for 8 months happened a month before it was due and the morning I got there. The stop over was 10 hours and unlike my fellow passengers I elected not to spend it at the modern but small and quiet (dead) airport (go figure). As the mini bus ate up the 40 k journey in to the capital city Windhoek, the clouds cleared, the sun came out and the wet roads began to steam which gave the place the feel of a concrete sauna- with a few palm trees dotted about. Locals were on the whole friendly and I spent a few hours drinking coffee and people watching. The most interesting subjects being countless Dutch Harry and Hilda couples (from the sit-com Ever Decreasing Circles- they wear matching clothes and take delight in not doing things but doing things together, in their world everything is wonderful, not so bad maybe), I even saw the real Goldmember, evil Dutchman from the Austin Powers movie.
Food was cheap so after lunch I sat in a local park to write some postcards- but nodded off laying on the grass. I woke with a start hearing a scraping noise. A groundskeeper had raked up leaves from all around me and I got up to find leaves on the grass where I lay, shaped like me!
Eventually I got back to the airport (having done a deal with a taxi driver when I arrived in the city) and boarded to Cape Town. It was a special flight because the moon was full on the port side (so big and bright it was hard to look at), the sun setting red and orange on the starboard side and a thunderstorm flashing in clouds around us as they rolled across the desert below- you don't see that everyday.
I got to the backpackers hostel late on Monday, Cape Town was wet and cloudy. After a quick shower I headed out for a beer- I deserved it. On sitting at a table I was soon approached my a huge, fat but friendly German guy who was happy to converse in English while I did in German. It soon became apparent that his interest in me was not entirely lingual (but possibly.......fill in the gap yourself). After an invitation to 'spend some time with him' I took my leave and went to my comfortable if musty bed.
First morning, with an iron will to take it easy, find my way around (alone), not to over plan- all those things you told me to do- I did. I covered some ground on foot but got the measure of the city and having missed lunch treated myself to a glass of wine and the biggest seafood platter you ever saw (American readers disregard- you proabbly saw bigger) all for a tenner. After a wander back to the hostel I joined some fellows in the lounge. As they were engrossed in a programme about Aids orphans and a sex predator killing 7 year olds girls in the townships I couldn't even start a conversation so I went out for a beer, carefully scanning the clientele for my Teutonic friend before committing to a purchase.
Tired I went back to the hostel to find a different crowd up for a chat before bed. My vague plan is to visit Robben Island- Prison to Nelson Mandela by boat this afternoon. Interestingly, in the tourist area is a shop selling 'presidential shirts' in the outrageously colourful Nelson styleee. Tomorrow- weather forcast still cloudy, try to get to the wine region. Friday, forcast clear, hire a motorbike and ride to Cape Point, the end of the Cape Of Good Hope and Southerly tip of the continent. It's inhabited by friendly jackass penguins and highly recommended. Sat- climb Table Mountain. Sun- still thinking. Mon, head off to Hermanus to see Whales breeding (I'm not so interested in the fact they are breeding but that's what they come here to do and it's all they do when they get here and it's happening now!)

Don't forget the comments- is this what you want to read about or can I cut my internet and coffee bills by writing less? Click below.
Chris

number threee

I was thinking of calling this 'day one' in a poor effort to live today rather than thinking about tomorrow all the time- as I do. So the third 'day one' started with plans around the post ski show party for the new staff and the people from the company. I made the mistake of actually going to the Ski Show first which was a waste of thirteen quid- although there were some American kids break dancing which was absolutley amazing.
The ski soiree, as it was billed was held in a pub across the road from the show and given the hour of the day was predictably jam packed with posh twenty somethings all talking 'yaa I ski'. I spent 20 mins battling for a pint (I was thirsty and the weather was unnaturally hot) before heading upstairs to the party where I found many glum faces. Not because I did anything wrong- the pub was so busy they hadn't been able to spare bar staff and I was the only one with a drink. We were each given a badge with our name, resort and job and left to mingle. I made a point of tracking down the other resort managers to gleen as much info as possible on what the hell my job was. Most of them were a little off at first, demanding to know how I got Lech ( because that's where they wanted) and how did I get resort manager with no previous experience (they were all old hands and started off as chalet staff). The answer to question one was ' I got there first' and to the second 'I have absolutley no idea!
As the night wore on a bunch of hyper-active girls (all with the ubiquitous exposed belly) gathered a posse to go clubbing. They were all recruited to be Santa's Little Helpers at the company's Lapland resort over Christmas and they fitted the bill perfectly- in a Munchkinesque kind of way. I decided to slope off back to the hotel room generously donated by DTL.
This left me with a day in London- and a beautiful day it was. A stroll in Autumnal Hyde park, the V&A (where I learnt the meaning of taking someone down a peg or two) and the National Portrait Gallery where I learnt that Wallis Simpson was actually better looking than I thought (good but surely not worth the thrown).

Eventually I got to Gatwick and the long flight to Namibia. The airline was pretty good- the cabin crew very pretty and a reasonable number of vacant seats- which begs the question "why was it so hard to get a seat on this flight?" During my nocturnal random thoughts a vision came to me- Reg Woolley (I hope you are reading this Eddie). Reg was from the Mumbles, Swansea. Tall, ungainly and with a clump of curly hair, he had not left the seaside town where he lived with his mother until joining the Air Force and ending up in the same block as us. Nowadays we would call him call him a geek, he was big into short wave radio and not much else (maybe zig zag jumpers which were too small for him). To the extent that he drove a reddy gold Renault 5 with a 3 metre whip aerial on the roof and his call sign in stickers down the side- not a trendy CB style handle but a random collection of letters and numbers. Anyway, the point is Reg naturally spoke daily to those of his ilk from all over the World and, as we were living in Germany, had been to visit many of them. He had experiences the rest of us couldn't imagine- but could he tell you anything about them, spin a yarn, share an interesting fact or funny story- NO, he bloody couldn't. In fact the most communicating he did was a poor impression of the Swansea and Mumbles Steam Railway- yep. choo choo. It was at that moment on Sunday night I resolved to fill these pages and let you decide what to read.

Good news by the way. The Army (God bless 'em) have agreed to pay me in the region of $(no pound sign) 4500 and give a military flight to Borneo if I agree to give 3 presentaions, write 4 articles/features for magazines and attend some recruiting events- I'm still thinking about it!!!

Don't forget comments at the bottom of the page- I am half endurring this trip for you because I know how pissed off you'll be with me if I don't have a good time.
Chris

Number two...more deep than newsy

I suppose you could call this 'Day One'. I'm tired after a week of getting the house tready to handover to Dave (who's been working in London and missed all the 'fun'), Becky and Guy whom shall hence forth be collectively referred to as the 'housemates'. I cannot believe how much rubbish I have thrown out! Anyway, I sit here at my parent's with flu like symptoms which will be either a reaction from one of the 5 vaccine jabs I had on Monday or ..........the flu.

The big question- am I getting excited yet? (Beacause, let's face it, I bloody well should). I did have a moment driving down here, the cloudy sky over Birmingham broke to let through shafts of warm sunshine (think Sistine Chapel but two kids advertising Vodaphone on the side of Fort Dunlop instead of swooping arches around Adam and Eve) and I got one of those little adrenalyne rushes (runners will know what I mean) - I thought wow it's really happening! It lasted about 5 minutes and then I went back to trying to work out where the hell the spare lenses to my Oakleys had got to. I know this frustrates many of you but if I was the sort of person who got really excited about doing this I'd also be the sort of person who get's too scared to actually do it. Sorry :?(

The house seems sparse and a little heartless having had so many personal things removed. It hadn't felt the same since I got back from the 2 weeks with the Army, Dave had moved in to my room and I had a floordrobe in the spare bedroom. Most of everything I own had been squeezed into the kit room which was, after Cristina had worked her magic, amazingly tidy.

It was with a little pang of 'will I see it again?' (more 'will I kill myself doing something stupid while away' than 'can I trust the housemates not to burn it down') as I locked up the house for the final time. I was thinking of the question put to me the night before about there being so much of 'me' in the house. I assume that was more to do with my having bought it off plan and watched go up, planned and built the garden from scratch, decorated every room to my taste, chosen unique furniture and hung my own 'works of art' on the walls than the fact that house dust is 90% human skin. I really wish I had some photos of it, to give me some sense of home and also to show the people I meet where I come from. If anyone wants to try out their camera- get round there on a nice day and send me some copies.

Some ironing, more packing, then off to London for a skier's party before heading South for the Winter (well Autumn)- Cape Town on Sunday. Look forward to the next mildly interesting installment!

And don't forget to leave your comments. Also, £5 reward for lost Oakley Half Jacket lenses in G23 pink (special contrast for skiing etc).

Chris