Day 75 & 76 - Somalian Cell Signal

As a regular read of these scribbles you will know by now that my most recent purchase of a Blackberry smartphone catapulted me into 2011. With its steroid induced artificial intelligence I can chat with fellow blackberrians in all corners of the globe, I am connected permanently via e mail to all and sundry (the fact that I need a microscope to read an attachment is neither here nor there). Because of its ease, I am now so into my social network that I am even leaving the odd status update and the scary part...I am going back to check if anyone commented on it (admit it, you do the same).

And, the kicker? I can even make a phone call from this thing. How about that!

Unless of course you happen to choose to live in the only village in the northern hemisphere without cellphone signal. There are villages in Somalia and Siberia with better signal and connectivity to the outside world. I have mental images of some Somalian with his brass bangled neck laughing at me while he sends a text to his mate in the next village. I have images of the village being flooded out or burnt to the ground and no body knowing about it for days because they couldn't get hold of anyone from the cellphone as they fled in terror. In Siberia, when the snow comes they phone for take away pizza and maybe for Mr Delivery to deliver some more firewood, here in this village they huddle around the worthless phone for warmth when the winter comes. It is truly an irony that in this affluent village where today I saw, parked, a Rolls, several Beemers, Audis & Mercs and also a Bentley amongst other cars people can't make a cell phone call - it also dawned on me now that maybe this is why they can afford the smart cars, and why there is no phone shop there either.

I felt naked. I checked my pocket often hoping beyond reason that the signal fairy had arrived. Maybe she will one day. I have put my fingers on diet in preparation for being able to use the microscopic buttons with panache. Maybe to no avail? Maybe I won't after all, I won't enter the fastest finger competition at the library this summer. Maybe they will not now accept my now worthless made in China strawberry as collateral for additional airtime. Ah, the good old days of full strength signal reception are a thing of the past. Such good memories they are. Such good times we had.

I have also today reminded myself that too much beer in one night is not a good thing for concentration the next morning. It was done in the spirit of having a look at the competition. That was my excuse anyway, there have been more feeble ones than that in the past so I feel safe with that one. But beer is beer and it seems to have the same effect on me regardless of the occasion. Is that normal? Maybe I'm just out of practice?

The days of using someone else's computer are now quickly coming to an end. This will mean that you will get to read a new episode of this stuff everyday - hopefully from this Saturday? But don't hold your breath 'cos anything can happen between now and then! That's it for the moment. To my Somalian and Siberian friends out there, who will probably get to read this before I will, I hope you enjoyed the plug.

Until tomorrow.

Day 74 - Strawberry Giant

I know that we are new at this whole first world thing. That we lived here in the past counts for nothing as we have become accustomed to SA's ways - good and bad -  and traded sometimes our frustration with piss poor service levels for the beauty and warmth of the weather and the lazy lifestyle. 

I am not claiming oracle status in these few days of first world status and I'm not even sure what I think yet but our experiences so far suggest that the service staff who inhabit this part of the planet are either more tuned into service, or more educated, or better trained, or better paid or just give more of a shit. I wrote briefly yesterday about the experience in the bank with Joe Bloggs the bank employee who spent lots of time giving us some valuable street advice on what to expect, there was also the uniformed BIG Bus company guy who explained to these tourists (us) about the ins and outs of seeing the sights in London, today it was the second hand car salesmen who spent literally hours going over a car with us, all the ins and out, all the pitfalls, all the benefits.

I don't know what it is; maybe its just me, maybe I've become in tune with it because of the work I did back in SA but here it seems that you can afford to let your guard down a bit, it seems (and I hesitate to write this as I touch wood and know that I might be wrong and perhaps a little pre emptive about this!) that, wait for it, not everyone is trying to rip you off. There I have said it, I have bought curse upon myself.

The whole strawberry thing progresses along slowly (if you're a tad lost right now I am talking about my recent purchase of a blackberry smart phone). My fingers I think have not slimmed down to pencil points so typing on this thing is proving menacingly tedious. At least I am in touch with all who have one and receiving mostly one way chat - it would be two way if I could type faster and more accurately - the first person to invent voice chat will be the winner....oh wait...that would be the telephone!  At least I am now available on facebook at every given moment of the day and of course of the night too with my beeping and pinging all dancing its smart but I'm not phone. Now at least I can be important and clever and be on the phone all the time, even if I'm only exploring my voyeuristic tendencies by staring at other's profiles and more often than not their mountains of 'this is my kid' photographs.

I am tempted to try out twitter too...maybe I'll too have no one following me like some I know (that must be depressing and ego damaging?)

Anyway, I am digressing from the completely one sided opinion of what good service should be and who should be delivering it. I am suitably and so far impressed with what I have received and will try and remember these prophetic (?) words in the months and years to come. As a side note again; I mentioned the car salesman earlier. We were again at Car Giant - this time having a better look round. And i reckon there is probably five or six or seven thousand cars on this one site. That is a lot of cars making the one owner of this business some pretty serious cash! The sales guy talked about them selling some three to four thousand cars a month from this one site. Crazy volumes and imagine the logistics around all that.

Until tomorrow, hope you have a great day.

Day 73 - London Town

This is going to sound proper tourist. We have spent most of today on one of those open double decker busses that you wouldn’t be caught dead on in your home town. The type where it costs you a month’s wages and you plug your complimentary headphones in and listen to the commentary, the types where every sentence starts with ‘”And if you look to your  left now you will see...” and then proceeds to inform you of the historical significance of whatever it is.

So, let’s put this into perspective, I once lived in and about London for the best part of a decade. I have driven its streets, walked its pavements and drunk in its many bars and pubs, but today there were moments of revelation. Today I saw London in a different light; today I travelled with my eyes open. Today, in the esteemed company of my  loin fruit and my significantly better half, we saw and heard about buildings and institutions that were in use 1000 years before the white man, later the colonialists and despised builder of all things infrastructural, arrived in South Africa. We travelled to and fro across the Thames’s many bridges, we smelt the smog, pointed at the various movie sets and scenes that we have seen in a variety of films and marvelled at the many green spaces (seriously a shit load of green spaces)   – and even chuckled at the many office workers catching the bits of sun than speckled though the clouds – we felt the vibe, albeit from the top of the bus, of London, we saw the harried expressions of London’s people as they went about their Monday grind.

And we took many photographs, in front of Buckingham Palace, in Trafalgar square and just about everywhere else. With the modern marvels of smart phones we also posted these happy snaps, and posted them and posted them....Ah yes, tourists we were today!

On a more serious note I was also amazed today at what seems to be an entrepreneurial spirit that flourishes in this city. Every street is peppered with what looks like independent businesses, coffee shops, cafe’s, flower shops, bars, restaurants, hair dressers, you name it,  it was all there. And they all seem to have business, all had people going in and out on this Monday afternoon. I suppose in a city of some reportedly 14 million people one would expect this. I suppose also that in a city that never sleeps and a city that is so in demand for tourists it is to be expected. Wandering the gates of Buckingham Palace it occurred to me that there were probably more international tourists there at that point that Durban would see in a month. I made that stat up ok but the point is, there were a lot of them and only on one occasion today did we hear a British accent. Once again I kid you not.

How did I miss this the last time I was here?  Did we take life a bit too seriously the last time, when we lived here? Were we so blind to what was right here in front of us, were we so arrogant as to not see the beauty of what London has to offer. And more importantly, will we still be in this frame of mind and see it in a year or two’s time? I hope so. I can’t promise to spend my kids inheritance on taking the bus again but I will try and feel its energy when we come back.

As a side note, I had the absolute pleasure of dealing with a bloke today who is one of these personal bankers from Barclays bank. We needed to get some admin up to date and WOW is all I can say. Amazing service from this guy, completely willing to give us some incredible advice, completely made us feel like we were the best thing that happened to him today. 

Until tomorrow then, bring it on!

Day 70, 71 & 72 - Sweet Donuts

Here we sit in London, the start of a new chapter, the start of new beginnings. Outside it is still light, it is 9pm and will probably be light for another hour or so. This may be a normal part of your life, you may be used to this and yes, before you feel inclined to advise me of the seasons of the Europe I know it is summer and that winter its dark by 4pm. On a good day.

The point is that it is different. And today and yesterday, and the day before it has been different. Maybe because we realise that this is the start of a new life and so are seeing and smelling things that maybe we won't see and smell in a years time. Maybe we are appreciating the things that will hold less appeal later. Like this mall we went too ealier. I've never seen anything like it. Certainly bigger than others I have been into but also filled with an aray of shops and stores that beggars belief. From Louis Vuitton to Waitrose and everything inbetween, a selection of 'I haven't seen before' restaurants and eating style establishments, clothes shops with queues running from them to get in, girlbands belting out tunes to a crowd of maybe a thousand followers with security staff keeping the fans away, behind the barriers. A sweet donut type place, probably no bigger than 12 square meters in total but with 12 staff - I counted - behind the counter, each one them run off their feet. Recession? What recession?

I sound like a bit of a country bumpkin writing this. I have become accustomed to accepting what was on offer - I'm talking malls here before someone starts to get sensitive - in SA, and some of it was very good but there is nothing that compares to what I saw today. I kid you not.

It has also been a weekend for experiences, yesterday on arrival, I had the quickest and easiest passage through immigration at Heathrow I have ever experienced. Not even one trying or probing question. Remember, I am old school and a veteran of hours long interrogation at this very same entry point but people who I swear had seen me coming with my green mamba passport. Ever since, it must be said, I have had a healthy respect for immigration.
The youngest of my fruit experienced the uncomfortableness of cattle class, long haul, for the first time. Both of them, experienced public transport, the tube, for the first time. My oldest was hit on, twice, by men old enough to know better - if there had been a third I may not have been writing this. I have a certain protective urge and a quick elbow that may well have come to the fore had it happened again! We have also wandered around the biggest second hand car lot on the planet (interested in a Chrysler Voyager 2.4 LX, 3 years old, 12000 miles, £7800 - anyone know if this is a good car / price?), admittedly this is their own marketing so I have no idea if its true, we have braaied, fortunately not in the rain but chilly enough to not stand around the fire with a beer in hand. We have tried to play football in the park, only to be rained out after a few minutes.

And I have also joined the world of Black Berry. Now this is an interesting mobile phone, especially if you have big fingers. Instant access to all things social networkings and it seems substantially cheaper than what they cost in SA. Chat this and chat that, email connectivity and everything that I said I wouldn't do with a mobile phone! But hey I have now joined the revolution I am told. My status as B.C. is at risk. I am getting in touch apparently. I am arriving. I risk being in with the youth, if only to learn from them on how to work this bloody thing.

And finally, for today. We have been welcomed into familes home here like long lost friends. The generosity has been staggering, almost overwhelming. I look forward to telling you more as the days unfold.

Until tomorrow.

Day 68 & 69 - Tickling Splurge

There is one thing that I have come to realise in the last few days. Having a computer should be a basic human right, especially for those who have been previously and recently dispossessed of one.

I am definitely not a technogeek at all but yet I am feeling weak without my circuitry, without my trusty laptop. I write this now from a mates borrowed computer, tickling away on the keyboard while we drink beer at his house, on a public holiday no less! There are certain things that do not endear you to others and one of them should be disturbing hard working people on their rare mid week days off. So, you know who you are, thank you for allowing me to do this.

The journey previously described starts tomorrow, in one more sleep. Emotions have been laid out, especially for the older of the offspring, cases have been packed and stress has been vented. I will miss most of the people but I hopefully leave good memories in some who I have got to know. A new place is waiting for us filled with new smells, people and experiences. We shall try too to make inroads into that community like we have done here. We have learnt a few lessons, we will be better at what do.

This is a strange time in my life. The thoughts and my incedible and sought after wit (ok it could just be my over inflated impression of  myself talking here!) are struggling to get to the front today. Perhaps I will be able to resurrect them in the following days, I will certainly try! 

I am everyday curious to know who actually reads this splurge of words. One of the things that blogspot allows you to do is to see from which country people log on from. The latest is from Iran of all places - so to you in Iran, whoever you are, welcome to my world. I sincerely hope I don't offend you too much. To those it seems regular readers in Italy and the Seychelles - big up to you, those in Germany, US, Canada, UAE, Thailand - ditto!!

Thats it for today. Will try and write tomorrow but it's gonna be a busy day me thinks!

Until tomorrow....maybe!

Day 67 - Forgiveness

And so the journey starts. With a whimper right now but in a sleep or two it will reach a crescendo of some considerable stressful note. In a sleep or two, we shall recline - if that is the right term in cattle class and reflect on the past and of new beginnings. We shall wonder what lies in store for us on the other side; whether we will be accepted by an alien culture, remarkably different to our own.

To get to this point we have had to succeed momentously - this was never the plan let me add in haste, less some pathetic but sensitive soul decide for me that it was -  at completely pissing off an element of  people we have employed and served for a decade or more. We have it seems alienated ourselves from organisations that not long ago clambered for our business. We have succeeded to fail in a recession and let it be said this is where many have been before us. We have succeeded in becoming unpopular because calling a spade a spade is now apparently a social crime. We have voiced our view on a local protection racket, we have chosen to stay away from people who are as fake as wrestlers. We are guilty of associating some with others unfairly.We have a zero tolerance for those who use and deal drugs (and yet to this day it is still a hot topic in which I am discussed). And for this what do we get?  A slap in the face and a banishment. And this is from  the people that we know. This is from people and pastors that I schooled with, this is from 'family', mates and colleagues.

Forgive me for wanting to go. Forgive me for being cynical about the motives of others. Forgive me for being bitter to people who have been in my house but now won't look me in the eye, people who won't accept my apology for my wrongs - and there are a few (wrongs I mean). Please forgive me for wanting to better the lot of my family, please forgive me for my mistakes. There will be many more different ones in the future. I ask you to accept those too.

To the 'friends' who are consumed by their importance, I look forward to meeting you again in the future - hopefully when you are more comfortable in your own skin. To the people that I have only recently met, thank you for accepting me for who I am. I look forward to meeting you again in the future too. To the mates, new and particularly old who really don't give a shit about what I do, you too are welcome.

And to my extended family. This blip in the solar system is now the global village. Communication is now easier and quicker than ever before. I will try and take advantage of this as I hope you do.

Until tomorrow.

Days 64, 65 & 66 - New Beginnings

OK I'm sorry. I promised myself to write this thing everyday and for the past few days I have not done so. You see I have been just about computorless. I have been seperated from my mechanical soulmate, our divorce has been decreed by some idiot you though it would be  good idea to take what is not his. He will sell what is not his and care less for the little money he gets.

And so it happened that we were directly affected by crime. Not violently fortunately but affected nonetheless. What a pain in the ass its turning out to be as more and more is remembered! So the car is gone, its not the end of the world as it is insured but the problem though is that the car was not mine so someone else is now also affected. Someone else has to go through the inconvenience of filling in difficult to understand forms for insurance.
The problem also is that in this car, hidden in the boot was my trusted and valued laptop, as old as it was, this piece of plastic and circuitry had not given me one bit of hassle over the 6 or so years. This laptop was due for replacement, granted, but also contained years of stuff on it. Years of e mail addresses of people that I had communicated with, right up to date current information that I had worked on, hours of worked on the day before new menu designs for a new venture.
Pain in the ass is an understatement but you know what? It could have been a lot worse, I could have disturbed the fuckers in their process of stealing it, we could have been hijacked. People we know have suffered much more than we have, so less bleating and more thinking about tomorrow is what I say.

A mate of mine gets married this week, quickly and quietly and in a completely different manner to the usual wedding conspiracy. This weekend past was his bachelors or bulls party. As this was the second one I have attended recently (albeit this one I was only at for a bit) I thought that today I shall write a piece on this. During last week I watched the movie "The Hangover 2" and pictured this or something similar happening to my mate. When I caught up with him in the early evening he was barely coherant, having being on the sauce for a number of hours already, but definately having a great time and being the life and soul of the party that hadn't actually started yet. The mates he was with are real boy's boys, Toti rugby players and keen to give him a good send off. Keen to ensure that he forever remember his single days, keen to ensure that they claim their indellible rights to this shared time and memory. And not one of them, like me, was invited to the wedding. That is commitment to a mate in my book.
So why do we blokes think its a great idea to get our mate at his bulls party as drunk as possible and then try and staggeringly help him when he pukes? I'm pretty sure that scientific books have been written on this subject, phsychologists would have studied this phenomena and all the clever people, a bit like the kings men, couldn't put the riddle together again.
This is my take on it...we like to get drunk with our real mates. Together, drunk, we know that we as strong as any body builder, are better fighters than Mike Tyson, better drivers than Jenson Button and cleverer than any nuclear physisist. We know too that a career in modelling would have been too easy because we are so good looking, that chat up lines are our chosen field and we are recognised experts in them, that there is no one more charming than us, that we are actuallly latent business gurus, that all bouncers are just an inconvenience when going to a club and really we should have considered a musical career as our singing, especially as a group has no equal.
And all this in one night.
The next day though we realise that folly of our ways. We are now less of a good friend to yesterdays best friend, our knowledge of everything, especially medical stuff, has been momentarily forgotten as we struggle to find a cure for head aches, our all charming and singing personalities have deserted us as we try and explain the charms of the evenings to our significantly better halves, we have conveniantly forgotten the bit where the lap dancer sat on our lap, offering a happy ending. The bouncer looks a whole lot bigger this morning, we sneak a look at the car, hoping that it is still in one piece. And the really good idea to take off our shoes and maybe shirt on the dancefloor is only now a recurring nightmare of embarressment.

So with this now water under the bridge, we move onto new beginnings where we are expected to be sensible, mature and restrained. Married life is after all sensible business where all should be shared and communicated with our stuck to the hip wear the pants wives. Us leopards, we should all change our spots, we should now ask for permission, we should now get the proverbial pink slip. Life now is serious, our intake of alcohol should be controlled, our  friendship with long standing mates should be vetted. Ah yes, married life....
Or (yes there is another option) we could just trust each other, we could have faith that the person we married because of who they were at the time will be who they are into the future. We will expect that over time the person we marry will mature with us and go through various changes in life, hopefully together we will come out the other side. We will try and travel the journey with them.

And all this will be beautiful until your next mate says he's getting married and his bulls party rolls around. It shall then start again...

Until tomorrow.

Day 63 - The Real Cost

Sixty two days ago I wrote about how amazed I was about the fact that setting up a blogging account was both so simple and that it was free.
Everyday since then I have tapped away at my laptop amusing myself and hopefully you too. My subject matter has varied, I think, from the sublime to the ridiculous, from the serious to the lighthearted.
Today is a bit different. I sit here at a desktop, because, my laptop has been stolen along with the car I have been driving. In broad daylight and on a busy road. To say that I am irritated would be an understatement.
So how is it that my laptop should be in the car...the plan was to fetch kids at school, disappear to a coffee shop, write the blog and then go from there to drink beer, a Friday afternoon ritual!
So, was I wrong to put the laptop in the boot? Should I have worried about it?


Over and over again the IT guys have whined about backing up. Have I backed up recently? Of course not.

I am really going to miss this place.

Until tomorrow

Day 62 – Tabloid News

I sat last night staring blankly at Sky News. I do this quite often, especially when I'm bored but also for a number of other reasons. Sky scrubs itself up better than the other news channel, it’s a bit tabloidy so probably appeals to me on that basis alone (I find CNN a bit too much of America is the center of the universe focused, and BBC, well the BBC is bit too bloody boring, and as for SABC news…its in English I think but for the life of me I can’t understand half of what they are talking about. You would think that 17 years into multiracial schooling there would be someone who could speak and pronounce proper English). So besides Sky going on and on about the subjects over and over again all day long and their persistent need to go to commercial breaks I still find it the most engaging, if a bit anal.

On the multi repeated news broadcast last night there were a number of things covered. In Chile, a string of volcanoes had erupted almost simultaneously. This was bound to cause them, and the people directly affected by them, to have a very bad day. Funnily enough, their eruption does not seem to have affected air travel, or at least they’re not talking about it. Can their volcanic ash and pumice be different to Iceland’s Kkjhasdjhjnflajflj volcano (ok I made the name of that Volcano up but I’m sure it sounds like that). Does its ash have a different effect of aeroplanes than the ash in Iceland? Or could it be that the Europeans are so safety conscious that they have over dramatized its effect?

Also in this broadcast, the wrong type of leaves blew onto the train tracks in northern England, causing almost the entire rail network to come to a grinding halt. These delays were exacerbated by the ongoing enquiry into the 1958 rail disaster where no one died but could have had the train left the station. A judicial decision is expected on this enquiry in the next decade or so.

In France, workers striking for more pay and a shorter working week (from 34 hours a week down to 29), rioted violently by refusing to take a mid afternoon nap. This completely affected the evening taverna trade.

In Portugal, new austerity measures were introduced, Peri Peri chicken is to become Peri Chicken without further notice. Illegal Russian and Moroccan immigrants in Portugal have indicated their displeasure at this move and have hinted at retuning home and have threatened to be a burden on their states coffers. In Greece, the rebuilding of the Parthenon has been suspended and men may from now may only wear one gold chain around their necks. Germany’s government has passed a new legislation for the saving of petrol by curtailing the maximum speed on the autobahns to 250kmh. In Italy, the Prime Minister may only have four mistresses and a wife, significantly down on last year’s performance.

And in other news, the FIFA community, the custodians of the beautiful game, have expressed surprise at Sepp Blatters move to have a World Cup every year. Inside sources have said that it’s all about the money (Surely not?) and have sent a not, in a brown paper bag expressing their dissatisfaction, at the amount. In rugby circles, it is reported that Italy is in contention to win the world cup, to be played later this year. They have reportedly jumped up the world rankings to 97, one ahead of Scotland and this is expected to boost their confidence ahead of the tournament. Pakistani cricket officials have reportedly signed a new sponsor. William Hill Bookmakers has said they are excited to be involved in the gentleman’s game and expect it to be a sound financial investment.

In politics, Julius Malema, the President in waiting in South Africa has returned to the country after his state visit to Gabon. Speaking briefly at Limpopo International Airport he said, ‘shoot the boer, its good to be home!’ He went onto say, ‘the white man, he has stolen my land so I am going to take it’. The minister of agriculture has expressed dismay at not having being invited to the shoot the boer festival. In Zimbabwe, President Mugabe has won his countries lottery again. When asked about this unbelievable streak of good luck, he commented, ‘It is because the British built the roads that is why we are lucky. They must go home and take their roads with them’.

Gaddafi, even further north, continues to believe he holds the world at ransom with his 2% of the world’s oil production. He has promised to vacate his fiefdom if and only if he is made All Conquering President for Life of the United States of Africa.

Strange Sky News world we live in. Don’t you think?

Until tomorrow.

Day 61 – This is Perfection

I think I may have written about this before, I’m not sure. If I have I apologise in advance for boring you or even bringing you to these ramblings where you now have to think. Today’s thoughts have been inspired by the recent goings on in my soon to be changing life. My character, my judgment and my persona over the past decade or so has been measured by my siblings and to be honest they have found me, as I have found them, to be wanting. Obviously, now that the judgment has been passed I have looked retrospectively at myself and considered their words, as I hope they have considered mine. I believe that I am intelligent enough to see and recognise both sides of a story, even this one where I seem to be the central character, and although I have been far from perfect there are others who too are not either. Although I am not going to get into the detail – that will only even further damage my reputation – I am going to try and explore a side thought that stems from this.

Don’t you find it odd how two or more people can see or live the same series of events simultaneously but each will form their own perception of them and each will explain them and the manner in which it occurred differently. Now I understand that this is pretty basic human behaviour, each will understand differently and this process of understanding will be fed by the person’s experience of events and stimulation in their life to that point.

From kids to adults we go, each of us being bought up differently often through a set of values starkly different to our own. Some will have a distinct and clear knowledge of what is right and wrong, others will place less distinction on the importance of right and wrong. Some, in the same family will embrace, let’s say, religion while their sibling will be an atheist. Others may be academic, some sporty. Some may wear glasses, others have perfect vision. Each of our strengths and weaknesses will directly affect the manner in which we translate happenings and the way we relay them to others. To each of us we would consider our behaviour normal because this is what we are used to; this is what has been ingrained into us. To those witnessing our behaviour, it may well be seen as abnormal behaviour or even anti social. It may well be seen as arrogant or as a lack of understanding and empathy for the other person. It may well be interpreted as disrespect.

So how do we get around this? How do we solve these differences so that each feels fulfilled? It’s easy to say that we should all live perfect lives, that we should all live through the size of our hearts, we should all be generous in our spirit and with our things; but the reality is, that in a dog eat dog world that is South Africa, it is often difficult to do this. It is easy to say that we should change our circle, we should choose more carefully who we mix with. Perhaps, instead of criticizing those, we should seek to understand why these important people in our lives do what they do. Why they have formed bonds with some people that seem out of the ordinary. I am guilty of criticizing others and of not seeking to understand others. I think, no, I know that I am a reasonable person who would not in normal circumstances harm others. And so I speak through these words, not with the arrogance that is within me, but with guilt and a hankering to change my ways. I speak for the important people in my life; those who I hope will try to understand who I am now, not what I was then.

I think we all have a way to go to perfection. Until tomorrow.

Day 60 – G1 K1

On facebook recently I found a closed group called Infanterie Skool, Oudtshoorn. I am not one to hang onto the past, I prefer to look to the future to be honest, but for a year in my life, at the back end of my teens and straight after school I found myself here, in Oudtshoorn. Let me tell you the story…

Back then in the good old bad days, National Service was an obligatory service to your country. You could evade it for a while, you could duck it but they always caught up with you at some point. National Service was something everyone did, and your friends, family and community considered it your duty to do it. So off I went, straight after school, still wet behind the ears and barely shaving. Initially I was drafted to 5SAI in Ladysmith. Couple hours from Durban, not too onerous. But, being this ambitious and impatient and some would say stupid person that I am I decided that if I had to do this shit for two years I may as well as make the most of it. So I volunteered (I only found out later that in the Army you never volunteer!) for Infantry School and officer training. In Oudtshoorn which is a long way from Durban.

(as a side note, the Army’s measurement of your fitness was graded, if you were classified as G1K1, which was a requirement for Infantry School, you were deemed to be a combat trainable soldier. A while ago while walking through a mall I saw a wannabee musclemonkey guy wearing a designer shirt with the letters G5K5 emblazoned across his chest. In the army, if you were classified G5K5 you were virtually a one eyed, stone deaf, illiterate, mute retard. Made me cackle.)

And so, after a barrage of tests to check we could tell our left from our right, our fitness and our leadership capability those that remained were herded onto buses for the seriously long drive to the Cape. Were we in for a fright!?

From the minute we arrived and for the rest of that year we ran and polished and ran and polished. Being potential infantry officers meant that we had to be the fittest, the strongest, the best…it also meant that we were most likely to be put in harms way. Remember this was 1988. South Africa was at war in Angola and in every township in the country. The odds of being shot at were not in your favour.

Infantry school is a place revered by those who went through its system. At the time we hated ‘vasbyt’ – 90km walk in three days with full battle pack, we hated trench warfare phase – 6 weeks in winter sleeping in a hole in the Outeniqua mountains, we hated the opfoks given to us by bitter and twisted can’t make it in the real world PF’s, we hated the shitty food that we had to eat in seven minutes. We hated that our beds that had to be as flat as ironing boards and perfectly manicured. We hated guard duties, especially in winter and even the dumbest of us questioned why we were only given five bullets to guard the entire base. We hated the theory lessons, usually given straight after lunch, just when the tiredness of the morning kicked in. We hated the fire and movement drills, over and over again often under live fire, we hated it when the platoon sergeant stuck his noisy face into our bungalow at stupid o clock in the morning. We hated running with the poles, we hated not being allowed to move while our formation was bombed with teargas. There wasn’t much to like one would think. At the time.

It took me a while to realise the value of the lessons learnt in those times. It is difficult to explain but there were friendships forged under very trying condition. During border phase we jumped repeatedly out of a moving buffel (armoured vehicle) trying to simulate ambush conditions, we sneakily bought and drank beer from the kuka shops while on patrol, we bathed in the cattle drinking pits, we stole goats to slaughter and made fire. We slept fitfully, wondering what the next day would bring. We learnt to be self confident in a hostile environment, we learnt to take charge of situations and most of all we learnt the value of discipline. Obviously there were other lessons, like stripping an automatic weapon under fire, to clear a stoppage, pulling the pin on a hand grenade and hoping like fuck you could throw it far enough. We learnt about the pride our parents had in us, we saw their emotion at our Commissioning parade, proud but wondering if we would be alive at the end of next year. We were officers in one of the finest armies in the world (at the time it has to be said). We were respected by other young white men who also had to do National service. Our placements, mine to 101 Bn was waiting. Action was in front of us. And action we found.

Until tomorrow.

Day 59 – Faulty Bean Sprouts

Yet again Federer choked, after all the hype about being the best player ever to have graced a tennis court, he choked. Just like our cricket team in the world cup earlier this year. And hopefully not like our rugby team later this year in New Zealand. On that subject, a long standing joke goes something like this, “If you want to hide something from a Kiwi, where would you put it?” And the answer is…..in the Webb Ellis Trophy. I wonder if they find that funny. What we’re not going to find funny is having to drink beer and tan meat at eight in the morning. It will be a test of our collective fortitude, it will challenge our national spirit but we will achieve this feat, we will rearrange our countries business schedule to adapt to this. Just so long as our boys don’t choke.

Let it be said, am I the only one who has noticed that it seems that, as the Super 15 nears the business end of the competition, the NZ teams have lost their sparkle and their form. I might regret those words but that’s fine…as long the Aussies don’t win.

And so it came to pass that the Spanish guy won yet again. The atmosphere in this household was at best brittle. My ever the graceful I don’t brag and don’t say I didn’t tell you so missus was humble in her glory as you can imagine. That her Spanish compatriot retains his number one spot in world tennis for a while longer keeps her happy. I of course support Federer…and anyone who plays against Nadal. Obviously I pretend in her presence to admire the depth of his game and of course his all conquering skill. Even if he is gay. And so we will go to Wimbledon where battle lines will again be drawn in the grass.

Today I have tried to pass business to three different people that could probably do with it. I am yet to receive a reply or a return phone call from any one of these people. Can it be that busy out there? Am I the only one missing out on the action that it seems everyone must have a part of? I am loathe to blame south coast slowness but hell, that is what it looks like. I cannot believe that in the days of a global slowdown people don’t grab every call on the first ring and try and make the sale. And these are people who own their own business.

Maybe they’ve been struck down by faulty bean sprouts from Spain. Oh wait. The faulty bean sprouts didn’t come from Spain after all. They came from Germany. This they now know after just about the entire agricultural sector in Spain has come to a grinding halt. They know this now that Spanish farmers have lost their livelihoods, their workers have been laid off, and orders have been cancelled. And it won’t be until next year and next season that money will once again start flowing in the right direction.

Now you would think. Amongst this highly respected and educated scientific lot there would be someone, perhaps some sort of protocol formed from previous fuck ups, that determines who can say what to who and when. You would think that there would be some realisation of the damage that could be caused to an entire economy by releasing incorrect information. You would think that there might just be some unfairness in trading the already extinguished lives of nineteen or so people with the lives of millions. But those in the suits with the so called education and money lack this clear thinking ability. It seems to me that they lack the ability to apply common sense, to apply real world reasoning. What next do you think?

Today has come to an end. Until tomorrow.

Day 58 – Extraordinary Rendition

I sit here writing this and sort of keeping one eye on the final of the French Open. By the time you read it may be over and you may know who the winner is but please allow me to keep you updated on the action in this household for the next half hour or so.

My significant and way more mature and learned about tennis than I will ever hope to be is an anally retentive, nothing is better than big left arm and skinny right arm Nadal fan. My wife thinks that because she once worked in a Spanish restaurant and can speak the language she has a connection to this boy. She thinks that because she may have been to Spain or at least driven through Spain she has some claim of anything Spanish. So obviously we mercilessly take the piss out of her, especially when he or any other Spanish dude who happens to play tennis, or any sport really, loses, which has been quite often this year. Although most of the time she gives it back as good as she gets it – especially when Federer loses – she has been known on occasion to lose her temper with both us, the family and the player. Unfortunately, since her commentary is in addition to the broadcasted commentary, it means that we are unable to turn her volume down. Unfortunately too, the Spanish generally, have done quite well in sport over the past few months. So we have heard it and got it repeatedly. Our kids have gone hungry and without sleep because she has been cheering on the Spanish.

The Portuguese government has even been in touch, querying her allegiance to the Portuguese king (is there such a thing?). I am in fact concerned that because of her traitorous behaviour to Portuguese sport she could become the target of extraordinary rendition. I can just imagine the Portuguese Special Forces screaming to a halt outside our house in their Seat Voltarens, all blinged up in their gold chains and medallions, chain smoking and drinking strong black espressos while shouting at each other and selling vegetables. I have a mental image of her being tortured by Morinho and promising to support Sporting Lisbon for eternity.

And so Federer is right now on the brink of breaking serve for the second time in this first set. The volume has again been raised a notch or two. The neighbour has just called, concerned for our children’s safety. If this was Australia, she would have been arrested for swearing and maybe even for talking to fast. Thank god we live in Africa, for the moment anyway. She is safe. It is unlikely that our children will eat tonight. And maybe tomorrow neither, if Nadal loses this match. There will be a period of mourning as the king of clay is laid to rest. Spain and probably Portugal too will declare an international incident. Switzerland, long revered for its neutrality will launch intercontinental ballistic missiles, completely destroying all the coffee shops and peri peri chicken outlets in Madrid and Lisbon. The expat communities in these Mediterranean backwaters will flea to first world Europe, in Barcelona, the forever losing and hard done by Catalans will declare independence and fly the white flag. In the southern parts the resorts will go belly up, thousands of illegal Moroccan and Russian immigrants will book tickets to their home countries, sick of the post war fall out from this tennis match.

In Wimbledon, the strawberries will wither and most probably die. The cream will sour. And Andy Murray’s mom will drink tea in celebration of his elevation to the gay boy of grass.

May all the Swiss tennis players in the final of the French open win all that they deserve. May all the Spanish players in the final be infested with the fleas from a Moroccan’s camel.

Until tomorrow.

Day 57 – Genuine Fake Ferrari

We have spent most of our day today on the main beach in ‘Toti. Under any other circumstances this would not be top of my list to do on a Saturday afternoon but since it was the kid’s party to say goodbye to their mates I had little choice.

For the few hours that we were there I was able to reflect on just what it is that makes this a special place. It’s easy to take what stares you in the face for granted, it’s easy to become complacent with your surrounding and a day like today does, I admit, sharpen the image again. To sit on that beach on a perfect weather day is a treat. Several hundred meters wide and completely under utilized in the Durban winter. A small game of beach volleyball happening over there, the ice cream guy ringing his bell, the odd announcement from the lifeguards. Some lifeguard training in progress just a little down the sand. Gentle waves – today at least – and the noise of kids playing in the surf.

And of course the obligatory wicker basket, hat and genuine fake sunglasses sales people hassling you from the minute of your arrival. For the very first time ever I actually bought a pair of the genuine fake Ferrari sunglasses. They look good, will probably last a week or so. So what.  And now even my new turned over a new leaf very patient self was getting a little irritable with their persistence. I mean how many times should I tell someone that I don’t want a wicker basket? To add to the humour of using this pristine piece of nature, the car guard – a species that are anyway quite low on my list of favourite people – offers me the opportunity to buy drugs from him. If you are a parent you will know what it entails to take the kids to the beach. The only thing that doesn’t go it seems is perhaps the bathroom sink. And after a few hours in the sun, carting all this stuff back to the car, along with herd me if you can kids can be somewhat tiresome. So offering to sell me drugs at this stage of our day out is not clever. Perhaps there is a need for a marketing and advertising course for drug dealers and peddlers. Perhaps “Selling Drugs for Dummies”? Anyway, I didn’t get into the detail but very politely told him to fuck off. I was very polite. Honest.

My eleven year old who thinks she is eighteen had a great day, posing and pouting with her mates.  Watching her closely today I am worried for my health, especially for my heart into the future. And the health of her future but yet still unknown boyfriends. They will need to walk tall to impress her I think.

My six year old. Well he doesn’t give a shit really. As long as he can build sand castles, eat the odd hotdog now and again and kick a ball round he is satisfied. Obviously he hasn’t yet done much thinking about girls yet but that will come in due course. He likes the ladies, especially blondes. I encourage that. It would be a catastrophe otherwise.

The clock is ticking, we are in the final stages. New adventures are beckoning, new people are waiting to be met. It is today less than two weeks. More on this later.

Until tomorrow.

Day 56 – Lady Luck

Yesterday I dreamed of winning today’s jackpot. I wrote briefly about possibilities of a very long bucket list fueled by mountains of cash. So I dropped this exciting and very attractive but unfortunately very unlikely possibility into a few conversations to see what people would do with that sort of money.

And the reaction is quite interesting. In all, with no exceptions, you can see the invisible mind wonder off, thinking about being debt free and without a worry for, well, for ever really. Ok so how much debt do you have? If you take a couple of days to pay it, chances are that with the interest you’ll have more than what you started out with. So what then.

For some, top of the bucket list if to fly first class on a long haul flight. Like them I find flying cattle class to be a tad tedious. I have often heard stories of people being bumped up to business or first class. Why is it that it has never been me? I have never even been offered it. I have walked through the plane, through first class from the kennels in the back, and secretly poked people’s eyes out as they have slept or supped off bone china and crystal wine glasses. I have wondered at their expense account or the size of their bank account. And I have wondered back down the aisle of the plane to my seat, which is invariably next to the screaming child or obese and awfully smelling snoring Norwegian. But a win of this magnitude will forever end this hardship.

For others it would be about going on holiday but that on its own would have its own set of problems. I mean which tropical island with million star resort would you go to. The choice of so many can only be confusing. Would you take the package that included the drinks or would you opt to pay that bill separately? Do you want the water sports package included or not? Oh, sir, and how are you going to pay for that, the travel consultant would ask. And I would reply, ‘I’m not, while pointing to my former international supermodel personal assistant who also doubles as my chauffer and …. (now now I can hear your dirty minds from here!), she is. I don’t carry cash’. And so it would go. The boxes that needed ticking on my bucket list would gradually diminish, but not without its problems.

Others have said that they would be looking forward to sharing it. Imagine how many lives you could change with that amount of money. Imagine how much relief you could bring to organizations that help the less advantaged. Imagine family members of yours that forever could be financially stable. And sadly, imagine how many new friends you would make. Imagine how many begging letters you would get. And all this for the money. All this because today your luck was in.

It could get very complicated. Especially if you have young children who still needed schooling. My significantly better and way more mature and balanced than me other half is of the opinion that we could employ a full time teacher to travel with us wherever we go to teach our offspring. And we could no doubt. But we differ in opinion because I believe that education is not just what you learn in school. Its also about the interaction with your peers, playing in sports teams, having the good and  bad of peer pressure. Years ago lazing in a village called Dahab on the Red Sea,  I met an American family that was mom and dad and four kids, ranging in age from about 6 to 16. They had been on the road for about 10 years traveling the world. All the kids could speak fluent Arabic, they had seen things that most would never. Their social interaction skills and knowledge of pretty menial current affairs was the poorest I have ever seen. I am digressing but the point is, with money comes relief and complication.

There will be lots of advice, lots of experts trying to make their cut from it. I think, but obviously I don’t really know, it would require strong caution and loads of discipline. But it would be a great pleasure to be free. Hold thumbs and cross fingers. Is your luck in?

Until tomorrow. 

Day 55 – Lots A Dollars

Alcohol has once again invited the demons from under the surface. Although I have written before about this, the difference this time is that besides me hanging a bit today, it wasn’t my demons! Now that makes a change.

It started innocently enough at a wine tasting and food pairing evening last night. As the wine flowed, and I’m not a great wine person only because it gives me heart burn, it tasted so much like some more. Every glass became tastier than the one before and before long the absolutely stupid and immature lets go out after this and drink even more conversation started taking place. And you know how it is. At the time it sounds just like the best idea in the whole wide world. Because we really need some more alcohol. And all this on a school night too. Getting up this morning was a mighty challenge I have to say.

At least I didn’t have to apologise this time, unlike some others I know. At least there was no fighting but it did come close with a bunch of we think we’re strong because there is eight of us, we drink brandy and we’re from Joburg guys. In their work shirts still at midnight. Chops.

Do they not know that ‘texas people fight each other all year around until someone from Johannesburg turns up? Then we all stand together. The real pride of the community. I know it’s a bit of a Ripley’s believe it or not moment but s’trew ‘guv. That’s what happens. Its ‘texas against the rest.

I have officially joined the ranks of the unemployed. I don’t consider myself part of great unwashed yet but I am without income. And it feels great to be honest. My latest adventure has come to an end and in the next few weeks we will be making a profound change in our family life as we start afresh.

We, the missus and I are fortunate to not fear change. We are fortunate to have lived a fairly, by some standards, adventurous past. We have traveled far and wide and both of us think it’s important to instill the sense of travel and excitement in our kids. One things for sure; when the conversation around the fire dries up turn it to travel and you’ll be amazed by the stories some can tell. I have a mate, who to his greatest regret, years ago while traveling in Europe, got involved in a minor drug dealing syndicate so that he could eat. As a youngster at the time he recalls how scared he was, how frightened he was that he would be caught. I think the fear of having to explain why he was in jail to his parents forced his hand and he gave this up. Fortunately. I had another, whom I met in Kenya, who hailed from a very wealthy English family and spoke with the proverbial hot potato in his mouth. You could see in him that hardship had not knocked at his door but, to my amazement, was the most down to earth person I think I met on that African odyssey.

I knew others in Israel that I shared both a hostel room with and many many bottles of very cheap Russian vodka and appetizer. Back them we worked on the beach renting out deckchairs and umbrellas to some pretty and some pretty disgusting people. Baked brown in the sun we lived a carefree existence on Vodka and pizza at night and free staff food at day. Those days I think set the travel virus free in me. I tried to write a list the other day when I was bored, of where I had been to. It goes something like this: SA, England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, France, Spain, Portugal, Greece, Turkey, Israel, Egypt, USA, Croatia, Slovenia, Bosnia, Germany, Kenya, Tanzania, Zanzibar, Zimbabwe, Mozambique, Namibia, Angola, Malawi, Lesotho (does that count as a country?).I think that’s about it but I’m not actually sure. I would like to spend more time in the States, I would like to go to Australia and New Zealand. If I remember correctly, on day 1 of these ramblings I wrote about this bucket list…Oz and NZ would be on that list.

Tomorrow, the Powerball (our sort of lottery thing) is R100 million. Imagine how long a bucket list could be with that sort of money. Even in our mickey mouse money that would buy you a lot of dollars or pounds! Phew. I am allowed to dream.

Until tomorrow.

Day 54 – Burning Desire

I am always amazed when you see people grow in stature every day. People who through doing certain things develop confidence to be considered an expert in their field, people who become confident enough to tap the unknown, to challenge their comfort zone, to question the status quo and most importantly to recognise their own growth. I am also often surprised by people who can see opportunity and grab it and the respective changes it requires in a heartbeat.

In contrast I become incredibly frustrated with those who could be so much more but force themselves to be stagnant in an ever changing world. People who you know well will only know you well for a finite amount of time if you refuse to change, adapt and learn. They and you may not realize or recognise a change in the relationship but eventually one party will drift away in the sub conscious thought that they are now at a different place. That they have less in common with you than before.

I become frustrated when people are scared of change, when people can’t see what is patently obvious to others. I think as one gets older the fear of change becomes ever more present. That change risks everything. To some extent this may be true. I have a view that the opposite is also true though. Sometimes change is integral to progress, both in the business and financial sense but also in the personal arena. Sometimes at least considering change is the spark that ignites the burning desire for it.

I don’t believe that I am afraid of change. I have forced myself to understand alien concepts, to integrate in cultures that are not my own and to learn so that I become self sufficient. Years ago, during my dodgy night club owner days I was forced to teach myself how to DJ because I was constantly let down by inconsiderate people that thought I relied on them. I don’t think I was ever any good at it but it did a few things for me; it put me in touch with the youth music scene, it allowed me to talk with authority about latest trends to demanding customers, it taught me to be a showman, which I’m sure you’ll get is an important attributer as an entertainer, and it forced me to recognise rhythm – something that was definitely not my strength before!!

I did this because relying on inconsiderate people is not my strength. I was determined to be better at my trade than the next person. I was determined to have the edge, and I believe that embracing this skill and others gave me that edge.

I am now doing a bit of small business consulting. I thought I was unique but what is becoming more and more apparent is that although businesses are different, the principles are the same and the owners who populate these small businesses have very, very similar issues. I have a variety of mates who all think that they and their businesses are unique. I can tell them; you are not and nor are the issues in your business! I can’t speak for owners of businesses in foreign lands but I can’t imagine that it will be much different to here.

Some wise guy once said that owners of these businesses should work more on their businesses that in them. Which is a great concept but in tough times is incredibly difficult to implement. The cost pressure to a small business can be crippling and here in South Africa it seems that every fucker out there wants a slice of your action. The cost pressure subliminally forces four wall syndrome upon its victims. The cost pressure forces you to be in than on.

Accountants will tell you about the published tax rates, that’s the easy bit, but they can’t tell you about the hidden taxes. The hidden bits are the bits that really hurt and almost make it an untenable proposition. The hidden bits are not about money, they’re more about time and stress.

What we need, I think, is more money and time and less stress. What we have is less money, less time and more stress. Something is wrong here?

Food for thought. Until tomorrow.