Life's Highs and Lows

Since last I blogged, I have watched little brother sign his life away ( I hereby declare that I will not blame anybody etc. etc. if we plummet to earth ) and then soar and swoop over the outer fringes of Cape Town, albeit attached to an expert with a parachute, before landing like a butterfly with sore feet. Thereafter a drive along Glen Road to see where the very rich people of Cape Town - or Russian/Chinese oligarchs - live, looking out to sea.

Hope you noticed soar and sore and see and sea ??

What next ? Balls and bollocks maybe.

A load of, perhaps !

Cape Town Waterfront, our next stop, is a pretty sophisticated strolling about sort of place. Elegant shops, loads of good places to sit, drink coffee and watch the world go by, all with Table Mountain as a backdrop. Here, the city feels a wealthy, safe place. 

But the better off South Africans ( mostly white ) fear that Jacob Zuma, their president, is taking the country down the Mugabe route. Corrupt politics; siphoning off public funds for his own benefit. Not good for the people, not good for the nation's future. Sad, because this is a splendid place. Time should see a better educated black middle class. How long it will take is anybody's guess.

Off on a tangent again !

Getting back to the Waterfront. We had a real treat at the newly constructed African crafts market place, a very large, covered building with acoustics that were perfect for a township acapella group of around a dozen men from Khayelitsha. Think Paul Simon and the Ladysmith Black Mombaza band who sang on the Graceland album.

Hard not to love buskers as good as this. They take the pain out of wandering around shops . Couldn't help but buy one of their CDs - a sound unique to SA. 

Didn't buy any crafts.

And a couple of days later it was off to the golf course for a round that got of to an auspicious start for me. My drive off the 1st tee was painful for Alistair and Terri. They nearly wet themselves laughing, as I nearly hit the ball. A mighty swing propelled said object all of 6". Downdraft, not contact with the club, being the method of advancement.

Things got no better and the Scottish Coys were soundly wupped by the lad from Yorkshire, who racked up par after par.

 How many ? Well, only six. But that was six more than us.

Golf heh ? Not a game for the easily embarrassed , or, ageing blokes like me.... It would seem.

A return match is to follow next week on 'Pensioner's Tuesday' at the course. Says it all. Not sure if they have a nurse in attendance.

Well. Toodle pip for now.

Stuart Parfree Coy