Having been away for a two-week holiday back home, and then trying to settle back into a cold-weather routine, posting to the blog hasn’t been a top priority. When I have thought about it, it’s been along the lines of “Hmmm… haven’t had a post for three weeks now, so whatever comes next had better be good.” Which immediately means that whatever comes next won’t be good (not that much of what I write is any good to begin with).
And so, I’ll get all that pressure out of the way by making this a post of shorts – a sort of dusting the scraps off the table – and will then worry about writing something worthwhile (or at least what I consider worthwhile) a bit later.
First up has to be the cricket. I was lucky enough to be at the right place at the right time, and snapped up two of the last five tickets available for the first day’s play at Newlands, for SA vs NZ. Glorious day, in fantastic seats. Proof:
Before the day’s play, I’d figured that the best possible scenario would be for New Zealand to bat first, giving us a chance of getting them all out late in the day, and thus having a chance to see our openers bat for a while. As it happens, they were all out for 45 before lunch, and we’d racked up 252/3 by the close of play. Third place on the all-time list of Day 1 domination. And with a ticket costing only £5 (compared to £50+ for a similar one here), it was a steal.
Last time I went back to South Africa, I returned alone, with the family coming back a couple of weeks later. I spent the two sunny weeks doing a lot of cycling, which eventually led to the LEJOG trip last year. It was a fantastic time, and subconsciously, my brain must have associated returning to the UK with that sort of thing. Because returning this time was a miserable, depressing experience. Coming from warm, sunny, 30° summer, and arriving in grey, wet, cold 8° winter is probably the worst way to start a new year.
Now that some real cold has arrived, with a light dusting of snow, and clear, crisp days, it’s more manageable. Beautiful, even. Enough to lift the mood back to normal again.
Alex is at a stage where he’s very interested in comparisons, and where things stand in relation to each other. I have a shirt with the first 100 digits of pi on it, with each digit being a photograph of a number – from an Uno card, to a pool ball, from racing car livery to neon signage. He’ll frequently sit on my lap when I’m wearing it, and ask “Which number do you think is the strangest?” or that sort of thing. But it extends to almost anything in life.
At the dinner table the other day, I was discussing the Mission Impossible 4 film I’d seen on the plane on the way back. He was immediately interested in whether the mission was really impossible, and what it was about. And why there were four of them. Having thought a bit about this, he came up with “So which mission out of the four was the most impossible?”