1) A week of spectacular sunshine and mild weather, sometimes slightly hazy because of the sea. It felt just like Cape Town on a those clear days that would miraculously interrupt the winter rain.
2) We had a barbeque last night. A more restrained, quieter, British one. But it involved some Fairtrade wine from Du Toitskloof, burger patties and general happiness.
3) More wine. In the supermarket, I overhear a man telling is son "This wine is from South Africa. From the Cape of Good Hope." The son gurgles happily. It's something red from Douglas Green. A cabernet perhaps?
4) Branston pickles are on the bottom shelf. As I crouch down to take one, a tall, thin bottle of Mrs Ball's peers out from the darkness at the back of the other pickles.
My flight is on Monday.
2) We had a barbeque last night. A more restrained, quieter, British one. But it involved some Fairtrade wine from Du Toitskloof, burger patties and general happiness.
3) More wine. In the supermarket, I overhear a man telling is son "This wine is from South Africa. From the Cape of Good Hope." The son gurgles happily. It's something red from Douglas Green. A cabernet perhaps?
4) Branston pickles are on the bottom shelf. As I crouch down to take one, a tall, thin bottle of Mrs Ball's peers out from the darkness at the back of the other pickles.
My flight is on Monday.
4 comments:
Flying...home?
I miss those briliant blue days of winter, and I miss the green winter. Invariably I visit Cape Town in summer, and occasionally in spring.
Nou verlang ek.
I just bought Warick's Three Cape Ladies, a Simonsig chenin blanc billed as a "quaffer", and Releaf, new to me: cab, merlot, shiraz blend.
And lamb ribs from the Halaal butcher. Nobody else will cut just lamb ribs for you.
Home, yes: a week on the Highveld, then a bit of looking out over the gray/blue/white choppy/tranquil/stormy water of False Bay.
My earliest memories of the Cape involve the many faces of April: waves lashing Noah's Ark with spray enveloping the lighthouse, yachts driven up against the railway under Redhill; gray drizzle for days on end, with snoek and chips and a glass of sauvignon; but also sunny quiet days with empty, almost private beaches with brilliant white sand. Sometimes even a couple of early whales. And the fornicating penguins of course!
Ek verlang ook nou.
En ek gaan huil!
Fly safely. Lekker.
happy, happy!
(ek huil nie)
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