Diary of a Daisies virgin : Day three...

Sunday Bloody (hot) Sunday

06h50: There's a nasty little tune coming out of the Blackberry. The alarm. OMG, the alarm. Rugby on in 10 minutes. Feel like I only went to bed an hour ago.

07h15: Discover a spider bites on my hips. No sign of spider. Arrrgh, probably swallowed it.

07h25: With scratchy eyes, itching hips and stale tequila breath I head to main stage with Barmy Bernie. Madcap Menno is still passed out. Wish I was.

07h40: The main stage area is the fullest I have ever seen it for the entire festival. South Africans are clearly serious about rugby!

07h45: I need tea!

07h55: I am in heaven. Found Lady Bonin's Tea Caravan and tea. BB has found coffee and we are starting to cope.

08h20: R15 for a Castle Lager and a free lamb roll is the reason we got out of bed. Had nothing to do with rugby.

08h25: A nice young man lets me win a Springbok scarf.

08h30: Things are infinitely better, we have beer and lamb-full tummies. It's going to be a good day.

08h50: Things have taken a turn for the worse. We lose the rugby. The Boks are coming home and I fear it has something to do with me winning the scarf.

09h15: Back at camp after joining mass miserable exodus. Time to start packing up. It's already getting too hot for this.

09h45: First load to the car. It's as hot as hell in there and I am pleasantly suprised to see that the champagne hasn't exploded. Yet. Consider drinking it just in case. I hate waste.

10h45: Being single is not for sissies. This car trekking is killing me. Decide I seriously need a butler that I can bring to festivals as a porter.

11h30: At last! Car is all packed up. My arms are hurting, my feet and hips are itching and my shoulders have taken on an ominous red shade. I need to have a swim.

11h45: Pop into The Daisy Den and get given a free pair of polka dot flip flops with my Brutal Fruit. Whoot! Rewards for drinking twice already today.

11h55: Flop down onto a couch and scoff free Fizzers and lollipops whilst flipping idly through a Glamour magazine. Am starting to like this Daisy Den place.

12h30: Head to the dam for a last swim. Am eternally grateful that I found my Disney spritzer. If I didn't have it I would self-combust.

13h15: Legs turning pink, time to get out of the sun and see what's happening at the main stage.

13h30: Just Jinjer may have had their ups and downs and Art may be sporting a double chin instead of dreads, but they still rock it. Awesome memory lane stuff. Make a note to haul out their CD when I get home.
14h45: Time to head home. Enough is enough. Start praying that SupaFly makes it on the dirt road in the heat. I have seen many towtrucks in action.

16h05: Home! We made it! No towtruck vultures for us! Fall on my bed in a tattered, exhausted heap for a nap.

18h00: The bath water is so brown I wonder whether I have washed off my tan.

19h45: Vegetables! I love vegetables.

21h00: Sheets, I love sheets! The mattress has never felt so good.

21h10: Fall asleep with my dog in my arms and a smile on my face. What an awesome weekend. Viva the beginning of festival season!

Why Rocking the Daisies rocks

• It is probably the most organised festival I have ever been to. The bands even ran pretty much to schedule.
• You get your drinks fast at the bar. Seemingly the barmen are not only hired for their good looks.
• These guys are serious about recycling and not damaging the flora and fauna. In my books, that ranks them as one of the top festivals.
• Potato and coriander samoosa's people. At a festival. I love these guys!
• The Daisy Den is not for woosies. It's for women everywhere and I intend to live in there next year. I may even get my nails done.
• It's so much fun even the geese pitch up.

My only gripe would be that perhaps it is a little too big (I prefer smaller festivals) and they try cram too many acts in on too many stages. I missed out on some good bands and acts because I couldn't be in three places at once. It was also quite far to the main arena from the camping site and in the heat that is no joke. But that is just me being lazy. Am bringing my butler/porter next time.

Awesome job guys! You should be proud. See you next year!

A tranquil start to the day at 7am.

That's a lot of rugby fans early in the morning!

Lady Bonin - keeping tea-lovers happy.

Just Jinjer (like his guitar strap says).

Diary of a Daisies virgin : Day two...

Sweltering Saturday

07h30: Wake up in a tent sauna with the faint smell of whisky pervading my nostrils and the sound of a hose outside.
07h35: Realise that I am at Rocking the Daisies, Madcap Menno is having a pee outside my tent and I have two shot glasses around my neck.
07h45: Crawl out of my tent and survey the immediate surroundings. Seemingly everyone is up and about apart from MM who has now passed out between tents.
08h00: Breakfast is on the go and there's a lot of pig on that skottle. Sausage fest has a whole new meaning this morning!
08h15: Blow up balloons for Canadian Friend's birthday. Festival morning breath straight into 3 balloons. God help anyone nearby if they pop.
08h30: Hand over balloons and a parasol to the birthday girl, secretly wishing I had got one for myself - it's already getting hot.
08h45: Tea. I desperately need tea. Remember that I left Monster's nifty gas cooking thingy in the car. Damn, going to have to fetch it.
09h10: Get back to camp after trek to car. My shoulders are starting to burn. Apply sunblock in a hurry.
09h30: At last, water is on the boil for tea! Took forever to figure out gas cooking thingy. Without a hangover... if I had one of those I wouldn't have even got to the car.
09h45: Realise water has been almost at boiling point for 5 minutes. Gas must've run out. What??!
09h55: Thankfully breakfast has been cooked and I can put the water on the other gas thingy. I neeeeed tea!
10h00: Eat half a pig and wash it down with birthday champers (they were kind to the birthday girl) and of course, tea. Life is good!
10h30: After using the delightful portaloos (the warmth of the sun mixed with last night's bowel movements in a blue plastic box is not a pleasant affair) I walk past a queue of women waiting to use the showers.
10h32: Am most unpopular girl at festival for telling said women that no-one bothers showering at a festival. And only woosie's would use the Daisy Den. Heh heh...
10h40: Back in tent to get changed out of sleeping gear into the Retro White Trash outfit (a nasty little swimming ensemble hauled out for festivals).
10h45: I think I am going to die. The sweat is pouring off me and I feel like I am stuck in a humidifier.
10h50: Stumble out of tent gasping and dripping. Notice how white my legs are. Back into tent to find sarong, fast!
11h00: Find MM and BB making friends in the Bloggers Tent. Am so glad they are my friends too. Shade, beer, seat, ciggie. Am set!
12h00: Am having a blast and I haven't even been anywhere. It's far too hot to venture to the main arena and the dam. Bugger that. Time for a tequila and lemonade.
14h00: Still haven't been anywhere, but the baby bottle is almost empty.
15h00: Decide it is time to get to where the action is, perhaps it has cooled down by now.
15h30: Clamber up the side of the dam wall and almost pull a hamstring. I am too unfit for this. It's still hot and I need a drink.
15h40: Aaaah, bliss. I don't care what is in this dam, it is heaven.
15h55: In amongst all the floating dingies and skinny women in bikinis I spot a gaggle of geese! Before long I see one on the bar tent as well. Start questioning the Panado I took earlier.
16h30: Make my way back to the campsite. Pop into Daisy Den on the way. There are women blow drying their hair and doing their nails! What?!
17h00: Tea time! No matter what, there is always for tea. Some blow dry their hair, others make tea.
17h45: Change of clothing needed. There are spiders in my tent. Everywhere. One is even making a web! Start catching them in a plastic cup. I love camping.
18h00: After refreshing cuppa and a change of clothing, head for the main arena. All this walking is making me thirsty and hungry.
18h30: More Brutal Fruit and a chip roll. You gotta love festivals, you eat utter junk and the only fruit you get is disguised in your drink.
21h00: Tequila time! Been a rocking evening so far with aKing and Prime Circle. It's cooler and I have been drinking tequila since noon. Wahoo!
21h10: Tigger comes bouncing past. Decide I have perhaps had enough tequila.
21h30: Civil Twilight are putting on a brave show considering the sound keeps failing. The lead singer is attempting to keep the crowds amused with lame jokes. Oh dear. He needs a tequila.
22h15: Head across to check out Boom Pam (again at the insistence of BB and MM).
22h35: Just how much fun can you have with a broken daisy and gypsy beats? Plenty! BB and MM are running amok and the birthday girl has even joined us. Fun times!
23h50: Play a game of pool in the Man Zone after watching Band of Skulls. Great band, shocking pool game. I don't think I sunk a single ball. Blame it on the height of the pool table and bad lighting.
00h45: Lark are mesmerising. First time seeing them live and I am in awe. Especially of the background graphics involving creepy dolls and eyeballs.
01h00: Madcap Menno has gone awol. The last time we saw him he was heading to the bar.
01h10: Barmy Bernie and I start phoning MM. (The next day he had ten messages on his phone saying "Hey! Where are you? And where the #### are our drinks??!!!")
02h00: Am back in the New World Tent with BB. Have run out of money and the portaloos have run out of loo roll. Time to go back to Camp of Awesomeness.
02h10: Find MM lurching around with a pizza. Pinch a piece and take him to find BB in the New World tent. BB has gone missing. MM heads into crowd. Give up and head to bed.
02h30: Yay! Bed has never felt so good. Am exhausted. OMG, I think I have a spider crawling up my leg.

Overheard on Saturday:

• "I woke up in my tent with a whole lot of people I didn't know."
• "Shit, even the sunscreen is hot."
• "Sausage fest for breakfast! Wahooo!"
• "It's treacherous out there"
• "There's bitches in bikini's everywhere. It's epic!"
• "We went, we panicked and we came back for more booze."
• "I only buy crack for festivals."

Next up: Sunday Bloody (hot) Sunday

Geese! I kid you not...

The Daisy Den is the answer to any festival hair problems.

Boom Pam!

Band of Skulls

The Man Zone for free pool and lots of Black Label.

Rocking those daisies!

Diary of a Daisies virgin : Day one...

Flower Power Friday

09h00: Wake up with hangover. Buying extra jugs of margarita during happy hour always seems a good idea at the time.

10h00: Attempt to locate tent and other useful camping items.

12h00: Take fourth headache tablet.

12h30: Decant tequila into a baby bottle. It holds almost half a bottle of tequila. Babies drink a lot!

13h00: Go to shops for supplies. Get irritated with queues (does everyone leave work at 1pm on a Friday?)

14h30: Return home and try squash everything into one bag. Parking far from the campsite sucks. Really, it does.

15h00: Take sixth headache tablet. Migraine is threatening and messing with my packing abilities.

15h05: Give up and start packing car, with 3 bags, tent, sleeping gear and coolerbox.

15h30: Give pets a cuddle and promise to try be back by Sunday. Give them SPCA number in case.

15h45: Put in fuel. Only to have pump to run dry at R10.

16h00: Wedge a packet of ice into coolerbox after chucking half my camping kit on the ground at petrol station in an effort to locate coolerbox.

16h15: MP3 player plugged in and I am on my way!

17h30: Arrive in a cloud of dust and rattling doors at Cloof Wine Farm. There's a whole village of tents and cars in front of me. I feel like I am at Woodstock. Wahoo! Realise however that I have no weed.

18h00: Locate the Camp of Awesomeness and start the trek backwards and forwards to and from the car.

18h15: Where the hell are the porters with their trusty wheelbarrows? Have carried one load of bedding and I am exhausted.

18h20: Realise my feet are itching like mad. Daisies? What daisies? Nettles more like it. Arrrrrgh!!

18h45: Gasp! They discover my bottle of champers in my bag. They really do check thoroughly. Even dodgy knickers and holey socks don't put these guys off.

18h50: Give up trying to convince guy to let me in with champers for Canadian Friend's birthday. But it's not like I can decanter it or that champers comes in plastic bottles now is it?

18h55: Take bottle of champers back to car (thankfully they let you do that). Collect last of camping gear. Fourth trip...

19h05: Spot wheelbarrow porters..

19h30: Tent is up, have a beer to celebrate. Feet still itching...

20h00: Realise that I have missed The Arrows and Foto Na Dans. Damn!

20h15: Make my way to the main arena. Make that "start my trek to the main arena". Big festivals = long distance walks.

20h30: Head straight to the bar. No cider! What! Settle for Brutal Fruit instead. And a shot of tequila.

20h40: Join the masses at main stage for RTD All Stars. There's a man strutting around on stage sporting an afro and wearing a gold Elvis suit. Disco Dave is rocking it and I be loving it!

20h55: George van der Spuy falls over on stage for the second time. Am trying to figure out who the hot guitarist is. Must put media pass to good use and find out.

21h45: Gazelle's bass goes straight through your balls. Even if you don't have any. Discover they pretty flambouyant too, swanning around in afro-chic attire and prancing about with zebra cloaks. I like this band!

22h45: Get dragged off to Napalma by Barmy Bernie and Madcap Menno. Figure I should see something different and try not to kick and scream as I am hauled off to the Nu World Beat Ring.

22h55: The seal is broken. Dreaded portaloo time. Barmy Bernie and I join the boys queue and hoof them all out of the queue to pee around the back. Get to the loo in no time much to annoyance of girls in the other queue.

23h05: Stop at Red Stag tent and have shots of red whisky. Red sweet whisky. Uh oh, this could be the beginning of the end.

23h20: Feet aren't itching anymore. They dancing to the drumming beats of Napalma. This is not so bad actually. I feel like I am at Rio Carnival in Brazil. Start wondering if in fact I am.

23h45: Head back to main tent (stopping at Red Stag en-route for refills) to catch the end of Jack Bloody Parow. He's being quite respectable this time, no brandy and coke down his front. What??!

00h20: Hop between the Red Bull Studio, the Nu World Tent and the bar. Watch people punch each other in the boxing ring. Talk kak. Drink. Watch people fall over. Try not to fall over. As you do at a festival.

01h10: Discover potato and coriander samoosa's at the food court. OMG...

01h30: Go back for second samoosa. Am having a love affair with bits of potato and coriander wrapped in bubbly pastry.

01h45: Realise that I have in fact had enough of electro music and nu world beats and head back to camp leaving BB amd MM living it large at the Red Bull Studio.

02h00: Locate tent (wahoooo!)

02h10: Hmmm, the ground is hard. And I found my tent. Gasp, I realise I am relatively sober... I blame it on the electro beats. They beat all the alcohol outta me. No wonder people take drugs...

Next up: Sweltering Saturday

Overheard on Friday:

• "The best way to get people to move out your way is to bite them."
• "I totally saw Jeremy de Tolly tune George van der Spuy at the bar."
• Dude one: "I really need a blowjob right now." Dude two: "I really need E right now."

Festival facts

• A rocking 12 000 people stomped their way through the flowers, nettles and bars at Rocking the Daisies this year. I wonder how many Black Labels were consumed? Must find out...
• 100 of those people actually WALKED 60km to get there. I salute you. Don't expect me to do that next year. Or ever. Walking from my car to the camping area with bedding almost broke me.

Disco Dave rocking the Elvis suit

The flambouyant Gazelle - best band find of the weekend.

Ivo Maia of Napalma will have your hips swinging to Brazilian beats.

Jack Parow - pin-up boy for girls all over Belville.

Lessons from observations, experiences and situations

 

It has been a while since I took the streets. OK that's a blatant lie (with a straight face too). But it sounds far better than it's been a while since I wrote anything. Which essentially is also fibs because I am constantly writing. Writing nonsense on Facebook, writing silly messages on skype and sending ridiculous late night text-tweets. I occasionally write for Getaway too. So there!

Being a month later, it's all too much to catch up on now and I know your attention span is less than a fat kid in a candy store. So I will keep it basic by not regaling you with my usual tales from my chaotic social life. I will simply tell you about a few things I have learnt over the past few weeks. Many things in life come with a lesson, you meet people for a reason and nothing is random. Deep huh! You better believe it.

Here they are, some deep, most not. Because if you get too deep, you could drown.

• Monday and Tuesday have been declared the new Saturday and Sunday. Choosing to go to work on Wednesday is optional.
• Enter competitions, you may just win one.
• You never know where a night out will take you. Especially if it's a "school night".
• If they say "cook for 15 minutes" on a packet of Jasmine rice, they mean it.
• People who have nothing are often the most giving.
• Approach a new relationship with passion and give it your all. But don't hang about if you are being strung along. If someone is into you, they don't play games and make things complicated.
• The couch loves company and has abandoment issues too.
• Sometimes those that seem happy all the time are not always so. Faking it doesn't just belong to the bedroom.
• Same goes for relationships that seem blissfully perfect. You never really know what goes on behind closed doors.
• Dishes do not wash themselves. They WILL be there in the morning. And the morning after that. And the following evening. Ignoring them is futile.
• When a puppy poos on your carpet, he will reverse and walk into it. Leaving poo paw prints everywhere. Guaranteed.
• I really shouldn't say this, but chocolate vodka could just be the new tequila. Ok, perhaps not. But definitely the new nightcap.
• Texts From Last Night is possibly the best website ever created.
• Nobody loves you more than your dog. They make good hot water bottles too.
• On a distraction level, Skype is worse than Facebook.
• I definitely have AADD (Adult Attention Deficit Disorder).
• Some routines are important. Especially simple ones like going for a walk every morning and having a cup of tea under the stars before going to bed. They keep you grounded.
• Air hugs and a kiss on each cheek do not fly with me. That's as fake as you can get. If you like me, hug and kiss me properly. Otherwise don't bother. Unless you are my PR agent.
• You wanted to know, so here it is... 90 cases of Black Label on Student Night at Mercury. That's over 2 000 Black Labels in one night. Woah!! (Read more in September's issue of LMG magazine.)
• Old friends are actually the best friends you can have. They know you, understand you and love you. Keep in touch with them.
• People in the world as a whole are getting pissed off and starting to show it. It's only a matter of time before the whole thing explodes.
• If you get caught in the rain, there is a high possibility that you will discover you have a hole in your shoe.
• If you are running late (in my life, make that when), there will always be a queue at the till. Or the cashier will be opening up little pesky bags of coins. Reeeaaally slowwwwlyyy.
• R100 is not going to cut it for a night out. You will discover this after your first tequila and two beers within an hour .
• Fracking is going to do damage. Serious damage. Stop supporting Shell.
• Prozac helps pets too.
• Primeval is completely addictive. It's so realistic and believable I have found myself peering around the shelves in Pick n' Pay expecting to come face to face with a T-Rex.
• Be grateful for what you have. If a begger who has been given somebody's scraps can bow his head and say a prayer of thanks, so can you.
• If you are a bystander at LMG's Pub Quiz and not actually competing, you WILL know the answers to the jackpot questions.
• There is no meaning to life. So stop searching for it and simply make your life meaningful.
• A toasted chicken mayo sandwich from Wimpy is definitely yum. But for R20 extra you can buy a whole cooked chicken, a loaf of bread and make chicken mayo sandwiches for a week.
• The All Blacks do occasionally lose a match.
• There is no such thing as one drink. Ever. Even if you only have R100.

Found that enlightening? Helped you in any way? Need a chat? Want to know more?
Meet me at the bar and buy me a chocolate vodka. I have all the time in the world...

Making waves at the new Zula Bar

7th Son

Remember the grand opening of the Zula Bar? Springbok Nude Girls, Hog Hoggidy Hog, The Rudimentals and Ashtray Electric were there. So was I. So were approximately 1 500 revellers. It was mayhem. It was crowded and chaos reigned. But it rocked, literally. Arno Carstens outdid himself and Hogs fans spilt beer on one another in the mosh-pit. Girls in ridiculous heels wobbled up and down the stairs, teenagers snogged in the corners, people took photos with their Crackberries and the barmen struggled to keep up with orders at the bars. It was whilst waiting for a drink at a bar that I wondered how this new venue was going to fare after the big opening night.

As it turns out, quite well. I went back a few days later for the 7th Son and Tidal Waves gig. Not bands I know particularly well, but was told by The Viking that Tidal Waves was not to be missed. As they are from Pretoria and seldom play on our shores, I decided to check it out.

The funny part was parking was more difficult to find than on opening night. Which goes to show that getting parking is all about luck and timing, not about how many cars there are. Zula was noticably much less crowded and it was nice to actually say hello to the bouncers and not grimace at them whilst trying to push through the door. The barmen were less stressed and getting a drink was a far quicker affair. Nice to know that drinks prices are still excellent. Savanna Dry at R13 will certainly have me coming back for another round, so I hope they keep it that way.

It wasn't difficult to realise what sort of gig you were at, even if not a die-hard fan of the bands. Dreads, beads, tye-dye pants, bare feet ... I almost felt as if I needed to go have a spliff to fit in. I have to admit that I am not the biggest fan of reggae/ska music (more of a rock chick), but I have to say that I really enjoyed 7th Son and Tidal Waves. Everyone else there did too - there was even a stoner-reggae-vibes mosh-pit happening at one point. Somehow a lot less busy than a punk rock moshpit. Must have something to do with having bare feet. My friend Bob was there too and even he let his hair down. The best part for me was that I actually got to see the bands properly (even got right up to the stage) and there was room to move. Or dance. Or mosh. Or just stand there clutching your beer with a grin on your face without being bumped or pushed.

All in all I liked it. The space is awesome and the drinks are cheap and they are hosting cool South African bands. I'm easy to please like that. The only complaint I have is that whoever designed the loos in the ladies was either really tall or has a good sense of humour. C'mon guys, I am just over 5ft. I have to stretch twice my body length to pull the chain. So far I have been relatively sober whilst attempting this. It will, and I repeat, will, be a disaster at some point.

Oh, I was also lucky enough to meet the Tidal Waves band members. They even posed for a photo* for me and called me "sista".What a bunch of cool guys. I am now a firm fan of Tidal Waves. I reckon I could be an even bigger fan of the new Zula Bar in time.

See you all at The Dirty Skirts on Saturday night. I may very well be the one with her feet sticking out of the toilet.

Upcoming gigs in July at Zula Bar:

Friday 22nd – Van Coke Kartel ft Southern Gypsy Queens

Saturday 23rd – The Dirty Skirts Album Launch

Friday 29th – Popskaar and Gazelle

Saturday 30th – FAR TOO LOUD

Sign up the Zula Bar Loyalty Card - I just did! Hopefully I get a free tequila on my birthday (why else would they ask for my birth date?)

*First photo crisis of my life. Lost the photos! But it did happen. I wasn't stoned. Promise. Perhaps the cool Tidal Waves guys will give their sista another chance to take a rocking band pic...

A Jolly Roger-ing in Plumstead

The other weekend I had a series of "firsts". No, it wasn't the first time I got "rogered" as the title may suggestively suggest. It was the first time I saw the band Three Chord Theory (at their last gig, go figure) and it was the first time I went to a pub on Plumstead main road called The Jolly Roger. The gig was there, so it was a very convenient two firsts with one pint. The band rocked with their good old school punk rock and I was so impressed I even wanted to buy their CD. I was told there wasn't one as they had spent all their funds on beer back in the day. Ah, how very punk of them! I was also pretty impressed with the venue, especially as the floor in front of the stage literally bounced. At a punk gig you can just imagine. It was fabulous! So when I was asked to go back to The Jolly Roger to do a write up about their plans, I leapt on the gangplank immediately. And boy, do they have plans!

Some background first. Because you should always ask about backgrounds. Nope, the place isn't haunted. But if the regular that goes there from 11am in the morning until 10pm at night dies, it could be. She loves it that much and that way she can never be asked to leave when the bar is closing. But I digress, as I love to do...

The premises was originally lawyers' officers. That made me laugh, from sharks to pirates! It's all too perfect. Then it became Hickory's and then Gunners on Main (something about the Arsenal football club was mentioned at this point). And now it's The Jolly Roger. Down the road you'll find Pirates and The Birkenhead, so The Jolly Roger is well in keeping with the nautical theme. I suggest the next time you have a pirate-themed party and want to go out afterwards, this part of the Plumstead "strip" would be very fitting. Talking of parties, they don't actually cater for functions, but you are most welcome to have a function or party at the pub. Tables can be set aside for you and if you wish to bring snacks to put on the tables you can.

It's all fun and games  
Get to the Jolly Roger on a Thursday for the LMG Cape Town Pub Quiz. Prizes include beer, wine, concert tickets and cash! Sounding good? It gets better - there's also a R500 jackpot to be won. All you need to do is pitch up, get yourself a drink and a shot of Sailor's Revenge (I recommend you have one, they are quite yummy) and be seated by 7.30pm. It'll cost you R20 (you can't even buy a box of cigarettes for that) and teams are limited to 6 people per team. There will be snacks available and with Castle draught on tap at R15 a pint, it could be the best Phuza Thursday you'll have. Bonus if you win the jackpot.

If you not too sharp on general knowledge, but like flinging sharp metal objects into boards, then join their Darts League. The darts-loving folk meet on a Wednesday night and there's even a spot of gambling involved. On that note, if you are feeling lucky, they have gaming machines too. Ones that actually pay out - someone recently won R7 000! If you prefer big sticks and colourful balls, there's also a pool table.

Having a gas
If you fancy a pint or two with your mateys on a Sunday, pop in with your braai meat and use the gas braai out the back on the balcony (which can be covered if it decides to rain as it does in Cape Town). At this stage you need to bring your own meat, but they will be offering braai packs in the future. If you lucky, you might even get potjie if you choose the right Sunday. Then sit back and listen to some jazz or accoustic tunes. Just how a lazy Sunday should be.

Jump on the bandwagon
Whilst there is already a resident DJ and cover bands on a Saturday and Sunday night, the most exciting plans the guys at The Jolly Roger have are to start having more gigs at the venue. Three Cord Theory was the first of many in the pipeline. There is a full PA System and any extra band equipment is available from SMD Technical at affordable prices. So not much schlepping around of band bits and pieces required. The venue is fairly small (150 max), creating an intimate atmosphere which would make it perfect for fledgling bands to launch their music careers. All this in addition to the spring-loaded floor and a percentage of bar sales? I say "Hell yeah!"

Give Dave a shout on (021) 447 7706 or email him on nixsah@gmail.com to book your gig. Like do it now!

I have to say that I think this is going to be the next cool happening spot and am quite excited about the fact I am going to have a new local. There's guarded parking out the back, cool rock and rockabilly tunes in the bar, the cheapest draught on main road, a sprung floor, an enclosed balcony, band equipment, ongoing drinks specials, jackpots and slots, a pool table and a spot to have a braai. If you run out of booze money or the slots aren't kind, there are banks on the main road. There are also plenty of take-away joints in the area (because eating is not cheating!)

The Jolly Roger is open every day from 10am to 2am every day. See you there? Yes? Jolly good!

• Email thejollyrogerct@gmail.com or call Fred on 083 630 9961. You can also join their Facebook page so you are in the know about what's happening.
• Bands wanting to book some stage time can contact Dave on (021) 447 7706 or on email at nixsah@gmail.com
  

Hit men, a boxer, the gangster's wife and free popcorn

That's got you interested! Or perhaps just the picture of that famous poster did. Except I don't hang around with hit men (although the owner of the corner store where I get my ciggies on credit could turn into one soon), or boxers (OK, my grandfather was one) or gangsters (that too could be debatable). But I did get free popcorn and lots of it!

So, Monday night was spent at the Grand Daddy Hotel at The Pink Flamingo roof top cinema. I was sent an email in the morning asking which movie would I like to see with the choices being Casablanca, Rocky Horror Picture Show or Pulp Fiction. All iconic films and nice to be given a choice. My choice was in the order they gave them as I last watched Casablanca as a kid, watched a Rocky Horror re-run years ago and watched Pulp Fiction again a week ago. I got a mail back later saying the first two were out of the DVD club, so Pulp Fiction it was. I then got a mail from Big Tom's Mom to say that she couldn't make it to the movies. Something about husband working late and kid needing fetching from creche. There's always something with parents of small children. And they wonder why suddenly their friends stop asking them out to stuff. Note to parents - your childless friends who have all the fun don't invite you out anymore because you are likely to cancel! It's not personal... Anyway, I digress, there's content there for a whole other blog (if I don't get beaten to death in my sleep by my child-rearing friends)...

I ended up getting The Viking to join me - he's single (and childless) at the moment. Perfect. We both love popcorn. Naturally, first stop upon arrival on the rooftop was at the bar. There was mention of free gluwein after all! Unfortunately the gluwein had just run out ( they went scuttling downstairs for more) but the comforting smell of popcorn made up for that. We grabbed a packet and then went to grab our seats. The gluwein arrived shortly after and with blankets over our knees and heaters overhead we sat contentedly munching our popcorn and watching one of the greatest cult movies of modern times.

It was great! Where else can you go to the cinema and drink gluwein, go to the bar when you feel like it (OK, the Labia serves alcohol too) and even have a smoke on the sidelines whilst still watching the movie. They did try gas us out at one point (perhaps they were trying to stop us lighting up our ciggies), but the rest of the heaters kept us super warm. They also ran out of sweets before we got there, but this was more than made up for by the endless packets of popcorn that kept arriving. In fact while Uma Thurman was OD-ing on heroin and frothing at the mouth I was OD-ing on popcorn with pretty much the same effect. The movie also jumped and got stuck a few times (as DVD's do), but no matter. In the shower scene I got to see just how shaven Bruce Willis really was. Really. No hair. Anywhere.

As we were leaving, The Viking said "It's only in Cape Town that you can do cool stuff like this." Perhaps that is true, but then again I live in Cape Town so am biased. What is true is that The Pink Flamingo Cinema is a fun concept and a novel way to go catch a movie. We got the R60 ticket which includes the movie, popcorn, gluwein and sweets. Considering what a movie and popcorn will cost you in a standard, overcrowded, musty cinema, it is great value. You can also get a gourmet picnic ticket (the food in those hampers looked and smelt amazing) and one that includes a night in one of their famous airstream trailers.

We enjoyed it so much that we are going back with a group of friends. You should too. But get in early as we are planning to book it out next time...

"Just because you are a character doesn't mean that you have character." - The Wolf

No right to be at Student Night

Monday nights. Nothing happening right? It's the ultimate school night. Ha! You couldn't be more wrong. While you are all tucked up safely in your beds, there's a whole other world happening. It's called Student Night at Mercury.

Party Partner and I stumbled (literally) upon Student Night many shots ago and whilst nursing momumental hangovers at work the next day both agreed that we have absolutely no right to be at Student Night. Yet we kept going back until we eventually learnt the error of our ways and decided to quit the ultimate "school night" jol. That was until this Monday...

Party Partner also happens to be a drummer and has joined the band One Song On. They were playing a gig at Mercury on Monday night, so of course we had every right to be there. I was also requested to take photographs of the fledgling band at one of their first gigs, which are always iconic. The gig, not the photos necessarily.

So camera bag in hand, I arrived confidently outside the doors of Mercury at about 9.45pm. Only to be met by a queue of epic proportions. It's one thing to drive past this queue on a Monday night and nod smugly going "bloody students everywhere", it's another to know that you have to get in that queue. And there's no "age before beauty" policy here. I considered trying the "I'm with the band" thing, but there was no guest list. I also made a mental note to find out about getting a VIP Tequila Tart card. I am damn sure I deserve one by now - they can take the cost out of the money I have been pumping into their bar over the last few years.

After being asked for my ID by the boucer (he has a good sense of humour) I was finally let through the door. Into what seemed like quite a civilised crowd. I found my friends and the band members and set about finding my way to the bar. The wait and the josling is worth it for a R7 Hunter's Dry. The main draw of Student Night is cheap liquor and although I am not a student, my budget is very similar.

Then it was time to go upstairs for a cigarette (no smoking allowed downstairs, sigh). Now this is where it gets interesting. Every student in Cape Town makes their way upstairs and what greets you at the door is a cesspit of heaving bodies. There's a distinct whiff of alcohol, cigarette smoke and hormones. Raging ones. Every single person in there is out to get hammered and get laid. To be honest, I had never seen anything like it. Or perhaps I had on previous occasions, but it's all quite different when you are sober. Which is clearly not the way to be at Student Night. So after my fix, I went back downstairs (make that pushed and shoved my way) to the safety net of my friends, got another R7 drink and got ready to play photographer.

The photos came out quite well and the band did a good set. Not that I am musical or anything, but they sounded good to me. Whilst I was busy with that, Brainy Friend (even he braved it for the night) was apparently pounced upon (literally) by a chick that he described as "a very large gothic version of Amy Winehouse". Needless to say he left shortly after our friends finished their set. Clever lad ... I however have difficulty in finding the "home" button on the party remote.

A few more cheap drinks later and Dancing Partner (yes, she was there too!) and I headed upstairs again. By now the dubstep was in full swing and so were the students. You gotta give it to Dancing Partner though, she got fully involved. No dancing on the outskirts for her, oh no. She found her way onto the dance floor and dubstepped it along with the rest of them. Having lost my pal in the seething masses, I stayed on the fringes trying not to look mortified whilst being bumped into from every direction. No manners these kids of today... there was almost bloodshed. I am taking my walking stick next time.

Then the next minute a set of tentacles (sorry, arms) found their way around my waist from behind, followed by a breathy "You are so damn hot" in my ear. I quietly removed arms from around my waist, turned my head around and replied "This kind of hot is old enough to be your mother." To which I got a reply... "Oh, but I like it like that." I swear he still had acne. I was out of there like an old woman running for the shops on Pensioners' Day. On the way out a chap with a fake mohawk dropped his bottle on my foot. It smashed, he said "Sorry bru", I stepped over it very dramatically and ran next door to The Shack, leaving Dancing Partner to fend for herself.

The Shack was a quieter, slightly more adult affair in the company of a few remaining members of the Drunken Hillbilly Bar Flies who also have problems locating the "home" button. Whilst there I met quite a nice young lad (no acne) who had to leave on account of getting up early to do a shoot. On the way out he said to me "So, do you come here often?" and then burst out laughing.

What a night. Starting with being chatted up by the youngest lad in Mercury and ending with the oldest chat up line in history at The Shack. Fun times ...

Postscript:No students were harmed, although some should have been.
Dancing Partner managed to make it home safely and unscathed.
And to the hot young photographer .. "Yes, I do go there often. Hope to see you soon."

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There's more than potatoes in Napier...

This time last week I was heading out to Napier with my good friend Vuvuzella in her trusty steed, Snowey. It all seems like a lifetime ago already, but going through countless photographs (oh the life of a wannabe journo) brought it all flooding back. Good times indeed...

Here are some highlights:

• Sweet potato soup in a teacup at The Red Windmill. A novel idea that will be used at next dinner party.
  
• A very yummy baby Bunny Chow from the same place. It was apparently mildly currried, but my sinuses remained clear for the rest of the weekend.
  
• Happily discovering a bottle of wine, a block of Camembert cheese and a jar of rusks at Journey's Rest farm. We love free stuff! Especially food and alcoholic beverages.
  
• Unhappily discovering that Monster and The Viking chose to "swop" our bottle of red wine for their bottle of white wine. They can't believe we noticed. Come on guys, us girls don't miss a thing. We just let you get away with it.
  
• The heating panels at Journey's Rest were a godsend. I am going to get one next winter.
  
• Phoning the main house to organise a light for the braai area. Only to find our light charging in the kitchen after they had left.
  
• Monster and The Viking scratching at our window after midnight. Apparently it was their version of The Blair Witch Project. A drunk version...
  
• Being locked in the house by Monster after Blair Witch Project incident. Vuvuzella had to climb out the window the next morning to let us out. Glad they were drunk enough to leave the key in the door.
  
• Stomping around at 8am in the morning in the freezing cold (sorry, crisp country air) taking photographs. Sometimes "picture perfect hour" comes at a price. My slippers have never recovered.
  
• Listening to the sheep and frogs at night. Watching horses run free whilst having a morning cuppa and scratching a donkey between his ears. There's a lot to be said for simple living.
  
• Going to the local OK store to buy Milk of Magnesia. Who would've thought a childhood remedy would come back to haunt me. The design has never changed. I finished the bottle in a day.
  
• Hearing the quaint story of the Barber of Napier. Every Friday he braai's boerewors and listens to his Boer music ... just for a few hours, after work, every Friday.
  
• Buying sweet potato soup in little containers with a pink sticker on them saying "I love Napier". Packaging is everything.
  
• Eating the best damn chicken pie I have ever had from the Napier Farm Stall - get yourself one the next time you in town.
  
• Watching the parade down the main street complete with a brass band, vintage cars and tractors.
  
• Meeting Miss Napier, the best looking kid in town. Out of seven entrants...
  
• Visiting an organic cheese-making farm with 60 hand-reared goats, 100 chickens and 2 pigs. Sunrise must be quite something.
  
• Almost getting butted up the bum by a goat called Lindt. Apparently she is just really friendly, but I was not so sure. Yellow eyes and large horns should be respected.
  
• Having tea and cheesecake at Pascals. Cheesecake, my God, that cheesecake...
  
• Learning how Napier Bier is made. No wonder I don't like it much, you should smell the stuff that goes into it.
  
• Finding out that they wash out the pipes for the beer with acid. Not sure if I am going to be drinking beer again in a hurry.
  
• Attempting to take a photo of the brewery from the outside only to be thwarted by two very young girls sitting outside with a baby in a pram. Not very PC, but the photo just screams "Napier Bier, better than mother's milk".
  
• Pizza at the Suntouched Inn. It is probably the best pizza in South Africa. Make that Africa.
  
• Being asked advice on how to deal with a tummy bug and recommending Jaegermeister shots. Well, it worked for me! For a while...
  
• Being told to keep quiet during The Hedges gig. Apparently Vuvuzella and I were making more noise than the band and causing people to watch us instead of the band. Folk bands, they clearly not very loud and we are clearly much more entertaining.
  
• Asking a random group of guests at the inn if I could have a potato wedgie, "because you are not eating them".
  
• Shouting "Ooooh, I love wedgies" at the top of my voice at the bar and wondering why I was getting strange looks.
  
• Asking the owner of the inn (who is a friend, thankfully) to go get the left over potato wedges and give them to me because they still wern't eating them. This resulted in me getting my own bowl of pototo wedgies, on the house. Thanks guys! I ate ALL of them! Because I love wedgies...
  
• Driving along the country dirt roads after midnight, listening to Bob Marley and singing along to "Easy Skanky" .... what??!!
  
• Having to stop mid-country road jaunt due to the "burning bum incident". Nope, not mine (thanks to Jaegermeister), but rather Vuvuzella. Smoking and driving can be hazardous. Especially when listening to the King of Reggae (and head lice).
  
• Seeing car headlights behind us and realising that the lads had caught up to us even though they left a good half hour after us. They blame poor driving, we blame it on the "burning bum incident". But between you and me, the speedometer did read 40 at one point.
  
• Watching Vuvuzella spread peanut butter on her toast. No wonder a jar only lasts her a few days and she's banned herself from buying it.
  
• Meeting Daniel Bourget, the French rastafarian baker. Rastafarians taught him how to speak English, which explains everything. A legend with a whole lotta dreads under a chef's hat.
  
• Eating breakfast at Napier Farm Stall, only to scoff about five croissants later at the croissant-making demonstration.
  
• If that wasn't enough, it was straight on to Pascals for their Sunday roast lunch. Roast pork .. considering we had spent the day being piggies it was quite fitting really.
  
• Being requested to review another fine establishement in Napier at a later date, with free accommodation at said establishment in return.  Which means I will have to go back to Napier. Sigh, sometimes I love my job...

The Rapture II - technology

I have been bleating on about this stuff to my long-suffering colleagues and friends for some time. Especially when I am getting cabin fever and a little tired of looking at a screen all day. Especially when I have fifty emails to answer, photos from a weekend party to upload onto Facebook and return phone calls to make. Especially when I hear people complaining that their internet is not working when they should actually be more worried about the fact that there will be no water in five year's time.

So I am going to say this again. Modern technology is ruining our lives. Gasp! Says someone who exploits social media and sends texts constantly. OK, I like to keep in touch and be in touch. But I also know that in the old days we used to keep in touch by actually phoning people, visiting people and... oooh, writing letters! Remember those days? Hell, I am not THAT old and I remember them. And it is time we went back to them. What we need is a Rapture ... but not the religious kind, the technological kind...

Internet
Fondly known as the Interwebs. World Wide Web. More commonly known simply as Google. These days you can do just about anything online. Banking and shopping being the most convenient to many. You can also find out stuff, book accommodation and even book a dvd for the night. You can also download music and movies and ringtones. The list could go on and on. And of course there's porn. Which is the backbone of the internet anyway. But that's a whole different story... Where it has gone wrong is this...

So with all this stuff we can do online, we no longer need to go into the bank, the shops, the travel agent or the dvd store. We no longer need to buy music or movies as there are means of downloading them for free. And when last did you go to a movie?? So we have people losing jobs left, right and centre, popcorn going stale in movie houses and libraries becoming obsolete. Kids these days no longer get a set of Encyclopedia's for their birthday, they get a laptop. Gone are the days when you knew the name of your local greengrocer (now there's an old-fashioned word) and gone are the days when you couldn't wait for an album by your favourite band to come out so you could go buy it. Chances are you haven't even bothered to pop into your local cafe down the road or met the owner of the dvd store as you probably downloaded a movie yesterday that isn't even on the circuit yet. It's a crying shame.

Email
The worst thing that happened in our company last year was when the email system crashed. We couldn't cope. We couldn't do our work and it felt like we had lost contact with the outside world completely. Except the outside world of course, was just that. Outside. Not in the computer. I personally loved it, I got to spend more time outside. In the real world. Don't get me wrong, I love email. I get to send and receive funny jokes and I get to keep in touch with friends and family that are miles away. But where it has gone wrong is this...

Now we send emails to a colleague who sits across from us instead of talking to them. We send emails to friends asking how they are instead of phoning them. We send emails instead of birthday cards. We break up with people on email! How sad is that?! Verbal communication has gone down the proverbial ethernet cable. And to be honest, who doesn't miss getting a phone call "just to catch up", or a birthday card or a handwritten (what!) letter in the mail...

Facebook
Being the queen of socialising, nothing has come along that is more fun to me than Facebook. I will be the first to admit it. I constantly tell people what I am up to, what I was up to and if all else fails, just find some nonsense to write on my status update. I love knowing what gigs are happening, what everyone else is doing and looking at their photographs. But where it has gone wrong is this ...

We no longer send personal invitations to friend's for parties, we put it on FB. Sending photos to friends and family is a thing of the past, we now make albums on FB. And God-forbid you actually PRINT them! Friends and family who are not on FB lose out on our lives completely. How many times has someone said "How was your weekend away" and you respond by saying "Oh it was great. I put updates on Facebook and I uploaded the photos yesterday. You see, if you were on Facebook you would have seen them already."

And then there are FB friends. Sending a "friend request" has to be the funniest thing ever. Bit like being at school and saying to the new girl "Can I be your friend?" Then there's the angst of what to do if someone wants to be your friend and you don't really want to be theirs. So you spinelessly stick them in Facebook purgatory. Now, how many friends do you have on FB that you actually know personally? How many FB friends do you have that you actually know where they live? Then there's the removing of FB friends if you no longer like them or have had a fallout. You don't have to give a reason, you can just quietly remove them from your page. My pal Monster got upset the other day when he noticed that he had lost two FB friends. He wondered what he had said. What!!!? I think we should be worrying more about keeping our good friends. The ones that actually phone us, invite us over to dinner and just pop in to visit when they are in the hood. In other words, real friends...

Mobile phones
The best thing Virgin Mobile ever did was give me 1 000 free smses a month. Yup, one thousand! I can sms everyone about everything, which of course I do. The worst thing they have done is not get their act together with getting in Blackberry. Everybody these days has a Blackberry and everyone is busy BBM'ing everyone else about everything. So I basically feel that I am missing out and I hate that. Mobile phones are useful, fun and great when you get lost or are running late. But where it has gone wrong is this ...

Notice when people get together at a restaurant, or any gathering around a table for that matter, how they immediately get their phones out and put them on the table. In front of them and between you and them. They glance at it constantly and their face lights up when it flashes with a message or a call. Now unless that call is urgent, I consider this to be rude. You are with me, or in good company of others, so be present dammit! Then you get those that feel a constant need to check Facebook from their phones. Or constantly update their status on FB whilst they are out at said gathering. Which means they are not entirely there.. they would rather be on Facebook. The online world being so much more exciting than actually being with real people. And don't get me started on how many people have been dumped via sms. It's sick.

I generally have my phone on silent mode, because I selfishly don't like the interruption of a ringing or bleeping phone when I am involved in something. It messes with my concentration and sometimes upsets the little harmonic world I am in at the time. Which upsets my friends when they can't get hold of me. They do have a point in some cases and I was recently victim of not being able to get hold of some of my friends when I really needed to. But what happened to the days when you only had a landline and when you were out, you were out? Now people can find you anytime and anywhere. Even if you are in hospital, the office will call you and forget about going on holiday and getting away from it all if you take your cellphone.


So, to sum up a very long blog (I had a lot to say), there are a myriad of articles out there talking about times have changed and how we are in fact more lonely in a world of social networking and instant communication than ever before. Of course we are. We spend so much time immersed in all this technology that we have forgotten how to talk to one another in the flesh. We have no idea how to reach out to someone unless it's via a text, BBM or online dating. People are even having cybersex?!! What's next, cyber dinner with a downloadable movie?

We are more worried about losing the movie and music downloads on our portable hard drives than we are about global warming and animal abuse. No longer able to meet a potential partner through friends and social gatherings, we are resorting to finding them online. We are more interested in checking our Facebook updates on our phones than actually listening to the conversation taking place around the dinner table. We get more upset about our laptop crashing than the fact we are going to run out of food in ten years time (my personal favourite rampage).

Technology and devices are being updated at a rapid rate to make our lives more simple, yet it has become more complicated. We are now working later and spending our days checking emails, smses and Facebook. We seem to have less time for our friends, less time to socialise and less time for ourselves.

It all needs to go and soon! A world ruled by robots is suddenly not such a ridiculous prediction after all. Because it seems that it is the human race that are becoming the robots. And that scares the crap out of me...

Phuza Thursday, unplugged

I really didn't see this one coming. Going to an unplugged, quiet gig at a hotel with a strange name, on a week night, with Mum Friend from 6pm to 8pm. Easy stuff. Tame evening. Early night.

Yeah right. I should have known better.

I judge how my evening is going to go by how they start. My evening at the Arno Carstens and Albert Frost Unplugged gig started with me arriving at the Sky Bar at the Grand Daddy Hotel and seeing a giant Olmeca tequila banner. Nice! It was my first time there and they had my stamp of approval. Five minutes later I am fighting with my Savanna. I managed to choose the biggest slice of lemon in the dish and squirted it into my eye whilst trying to wedge it down the bottleneck. That resulted in cursing and much eye-rubbing. During all of this, the lemon decided to play ball and slip into the bottle. Actually it dived into the bottle. There was Savanna everywhere. On the bar, on me and possibly on the people next to me. I don't know, I was too busy trying to get the lemon juice (and a small piece of lemon I am sure) out of my eye without smudging my eyeliner and looking like a panda. Great start huh! It was definitely going to be a good evening.

On to find Mum Friend who was busy BBM'ing on her Crackberry. The one night she gets to go out for two hours on the town, there is drama on the homefront. Turns out hubby was having fun with their almost-two year old daughter who had poo'd in the bath and... wait for it .. had been diagnosed as having lice that day by the creche. Yup, you better believe it! I felt I needed to be useful and empathetic. I ran off to get us tequila's immediately.

Back at the bar I start chatting to a very friendly young man who was wearing a jersey with The Grand Daddy logo emblazoned on it.

Me: Oh, so you work here then?
Friendly young man: Er, yes I do. I run the place.
Me: Oh really! Ooops. OK. Well nice to meet you, I am Tequila Tart.
FYM: Ah, Tequila Tart! I'm Sergio the General Manager. Let's have a tequila.

What followed was a whole lot of free tequila's and a good few free drinks too. Sergio rocked and me and Mum Friend rocked out. Cheers to that!

As for the gig? It was bloody fantastic. Take two highly talented musicians (OK, one super-talented one and one good-looking one with a good amount of talent), stick them together on a stage, give them acoustic guitars and an enthusiastic audience to jam for and you are in for a great evening. It was awesome! I couldn't believe that they don't rehearse this stuff. Just a look here, a wink there and it sounded like they played together all the time. They strummed their guitars, sang, laughed, stomped their feet, winked at eachother and even managed to cause a small power failure. The crowd sang along, clapped, cheered and drank lots of beer. My personal favourites were Little, Blue Eyes, Genie and that famous song from the ad, Another Universe. Inbetween all that, I was running around taking pics with a semi-functional camera, bumping into old friends from Zim and ordering drinks at the bar. Mum Friend BBM'd, drank beer, reminisced about gigs in the old days (as mum's do) and informed me about the different types of lice shampoo for two-year olds. Certainly not a dull evening by anyone's standards. Nor tame. Nor quiet. Gig ended at 8pm. We did not.

We went straight to the bar where Mum Friend dished out advice on the music industry to the youngsters while I forced Albert into having a tequila with me whilst shouting "It's on the house, ask Sergio, he rocks!" Arno gave me a hug (sympathy for the hangover I was going to have the next day?) and Sergio promised to let me stay overnight in one of the Airstream trailers (I am sending him a link to this blog). Basically I drank a lot of ciders and tequila and made a lot of noise. Pretty much what I do every time I go out.

I got home at midnight with a wad of Olmeca Black Scratch n Win cards (all saying "try again" - which I did, clearly) and an Olmeca wristband. What a great gig! Even the tequila was unplugged.

Friday started with 3 panados and a toasted sandwich.

Rocking times..

Oh the rapture...

I knew it was going to be a good weekend when everyone started raving on about The Rapture. Rapture? What the hell? Er, perhaps hell is the wrong word to use here.

According to a religious freak (namely one Harold Camping), The Rapture was going to happen on Saturday 21 May. Before you could say ten Hail Mary's (or have ten Bloody Mary's), Facebook and emails were full of enlightening and often amusing information on this doomsday event. Fanatical Christians in the States (WHY is it ALWAYS America?) were closing bank accounts, going on wild spending sprees and gathering in groups to await their moment of glory when they would be sucked up into the sky to meet their Maker. Minivans and billboards were everywhere with messages proclaiming the end of the world (as we know it, la la, di da).

Then, my personal favourite - After The Rapture Pet Care. Complete with video showing your precious fuzzy friend watching you disappear into the sky with dramatic classical music background. I love it!! Believers could sign up for a non-believer to take care of their pet after The Rapture for a small US$10 deposit into a PayPal account. I wonder if refunds are being demanded? Actually, I am wondering more why I never come up with schemes like this?  I have to admit that I almost signed up as a volunteer, but just so I could get the t-shirt saying "After The Rapture pet caregiver". I figured it could earn me points when trying to find food in the wasteland I was going to be roaming about in. "I need food. But it's not for me. It's for the 20 dogs and 15 cats I have volunteeringly rescued". Cunning plan I like to think.

But more importantly, when exactly was this going to happen? Well, at one point all hell was going to break loose at 6pm in your country of residence. I made a mental note to phone my cousins in Australia at 9am that morning to find out if they were being raptured and more importantly, what was the zombie contingency plan. Then it became 3pm globally. 3pm came and went and I was dismally sitting at my desk doing some work. Definitely not a fun or tarty way to go and since then I have decided not to spend so much time behind a computer and more time having fun and being tarty.  But clearly our clocks are not set to the same time as God's clocks because again, nothing happened. All downright boring if you ask me. Almost as boring as being in front of a computer. Which is why I am going home soon...

Anyway, for me the only Rapture I knew about before Thursday was the song by Siouxsie & the Banshees. Which of course was quite fitting in light of the fact that I was off to a goth party on the Saturday to celebrate World Goth Day. Again, how convenient that World Goth Day fell on the day we were all going to be sucked into the pitfire of hell. On top of that, the location was changed at the last minute and the thought crossed my mind for a second that this too was done on purpose. Perhaps the Voom Voom Club (previously Bang Bang Club - c'mon, how creative are these people?) was in fact a portal straight into Satan's chamber. Who knows, but I already had my game plan sorted. I was going to go in disguise as an angel and offer redemption to anyone who bought me a tequila. Turns out I couldn't find my wings (why does that not suprise me) and decided to go in camouflage instead. If I too was clad from head to toe in black like everyone else, then I would probably get missed when it was time for judgements to be handed out. Being short can have its advantages.

As it happens, I fitted in quite well and the only thing that was being handed out was tequila, hugs from friends and Black Milk stickers. The music rocked (old school, yay!) and the dj's put a lot of effort into making sure they included some songs suitable for the end of the world. Which never came of course. Unless it did and I was having too much fun to notice. Perhaps it did all happen and now I am wandering around in a world "of horror and chaos beyond description". I don't doubt that for a second actually. But the bright side is that all my pals are seemingly still here too. Which means we are going to have a bloody awesome time. Until 21 October that is. Apparently...

Postscript:

At the time of going to publication Mr Camping had told the Associated Press, May 21 had instead been a “spiritual” Judgment Day, which places the entire world under Christ’s judgment. He went on to tell the Associated Press that because God’s judgment and salvation were completed on Saturday, there’s no point in continuing to warn people about it, so his network will now just play Christian music and programs until the final end on Oct. 21.

Wonder if he would like a copy of the playlist from Saturday night? Bugger it, I am going to send him one. I'm probably in hell anyway...

Joining the joyride



Photo by Marisa Steyn

 At risk of showing my age, I am going to start off this blog like this … Back in the day we used to buy music on cassettes. Er, we also had walkmans and tape decks. Cassettes used to get chewed in tape decks, quite regularly. I remember cursing whilst pulling out reams of tiny brown tape out of the car cassette player. It would inevitably snap and you would repair it with sellotape. This resulted in the tape jumping at a certain point every time you played it. You soon got to know when it was going to do this and would apologise to any fellow passengers beforehand. Oh, and you had to physically rewind the chewed tape using either your finger or a ballpoint pen! Ah the days … but I digress… on with the story at hand.

One of the very first cassettes I ever bought was Look Sharp by Roxette. I absolutely loved it. I danced to it, sang along with it and I probably even cried to it. Or course it eventually got chewed. So imagine my suprise when I got offered a ticket to go to their concert. What! Roxette playing a gig! Unbelievable. I simply had to go. So with ticket in hand and a few bucks for a drink or two, I was suddenly on my way to Grand West Casino to see a bunch of Swedes who had shaped much of my youth. With great excitement I might add… teenage excitement.

The ticket said 8pm so I got there fashionably late at 8.10pm. All was quiet in the arena so naturally I headed straight to the bar. There I chatted to other fans, remarkably all my age and some more overweight than me. Some even had Roxette shirts from the concerts “back then” and a few had even got dressed up in 80′s gear. You gotta love us older set, always game to go the extra mile. Even if it requires us to haul out our bad 80′s wardrobe that we keep “just in case it comes back into fashion”. Anyway, just as I had acquired my first drink, the doors were flung open and along with it a resounding roar from the crowd. Then I heard it … “Dressed for Success”… Thinking this was the support band playing a joke I casually put my change away and thought of going for a ciggie before the show. Then it dawned on me that this was no cover, it was the headline act. The ticket said 8pm folks and they wern’t kidding. Old rockstars don’t keep you waiting because they don’t need to. They won you over years ago, along with a whole lot of chewed up cassettes.

What a rocking evening indeed. I am not ashamed to say that I loved it all (this also comes with age – you don’t need to dislike a band because everyone thinks they are crap, or the band is not deemed cool, or heaven-forbid they are too commercial). They played all their classics, some of which I had even forgotten. I jumped up and down and sang along to Dressed For Success, Joyride, How Do You Do!, Dangerous and She’s Got The Look. All my teenage angsts and broken hearts came flooding back when they played It Must’ve Been Love and Listen To Your Heart.

Marie Fredriksson and Per Gessle were sporting leathers and looked pretty good in them too considering they are older than me, gasp! Per still has that frog-leg thing going though. Some things from the 80′s need to stay there. Along with Roxette, probably. But good for them, they are still rocking it and judging by the crowd, have quite the fan base. Perhaps some of the youngsters there were dragged along by their parents, but none of them seemed to be complaining.

The Swedes did two encores and finally retired for the evening at about 10.30pm. Two hours of entertainment by an aging rock band is pretty good going! Ok, I will admit there were times when I did feel a little old, especially during some of the slow songs. The ones I didn’t know that is. I found myself thinking “Gosh, some popcorn would be nice now”. I also got highly peeved to find the bar had closed mid-concert. Who in their right mind closes a bar during a concert?? Talk about drunken crowd control. It was probably the most sober concert I have ever had. But it was also one of the most fun. Here’s to you Roxette … long live your joyride!

Oh, just to finish off, I just have to leave you with some pearls of songwriting wisdom from the Swedes:

• “I hit the road out of nowhere, I had to jump in my car. And be a rider in a love game, following the stars.” – Joyride
• “I’m gonna get dressed for success, shaping me up for the big time, baby.” – Dressed for Success
• “Make believing we’re together. That I’m sheltered by your heart. But in and outside I turn to water, like a teardrop in your palm.” – It Must’ve Been Love
• “You know she’s a little bit dangerous. She’s got what it takes to make ends meet.” – Dangerous
• “I ran a long long way from home to find a heart that’s made of stone.” – Fading Like a Flower
• “Well, here we are crackin’ jokes in the corner of our mouths and I feel like I’m laughing in a dream.” – How Do You Do!
• “Never was a quitter, tasty like a raindrop, she’s got the look.” – The Look

Go on … admit it. You are humming one of those tunes. Yes you are!!

A rotten little tale of foxes, papsaks and gangrene

I should have known better. Those weekends that you think will be quiet and focussed, with perhaps one small outing to keep you from climbing the walls with tequila-deprived anxiety, very seldom turn out that way. Not for me anyway ...

Friday work drinks was welcomed with open arms as thanks to numerous public holidays we hadn't had one for ages. I reckon if they had've cancelled it again, there would have been mutiny. But they knew better and no-one was scampering down to the "free drinks bar" faster than yours truly. A few drinks later and I was whole-heartedly agreeing to go to the Red Ox for a tequila. Then I went half way across the country to Milnerton and had a fat party with The Tonester, Reckless Freckles and a dude who used to be a heroin addict. We had an absolute blast and at some point were joined by The Swede and The Zulu. Friday ended for me when birds across the land were waking from their good night's sleep and about to start their day.

The next day I checked my phone and it turns out I was sending text messages that went something like this:

8.20pm: "Wassuuup! Am at Red Fox. I am the red fox. No. I am the fox."
8.30pm: "Ooops. Turns out I am at the Red Ox. Which makes me an ox. Pfft. I prefer fox."
10.05pm: "Sometimes you think wtf? And then you just go with it."
10.30pm: "Mumford. They even on DMX. Like Jesus n Christ."

In future will someone please take my phone away from me the minute I hit my first Savanna. If you miss that boat, wrestle it from me after the first tequila.

Most of Saturday was naturally spent in bed recovering, apart from a small visit for tea by Vuvuzella. Who was also feeling a tad rough after having a party at Mom Friend's house the night before. A party I was supposed to be at. Ooops! But seemingly I was not missed too much and they still had some gin left over the next day (which of course would not have been the case if I was there). Sometimes it pays not to have me at your parties.

Then it was off to the rugby at Newlands which I was extremely excited about. Not only was I going to my very first big "sold out" match, I was also going to be watching some fine young men from New Zealand running around the field sporting tattoos and hot bods. It was a bit disappointing that Dan Carter was not going to be making an appearance, but Sonny Bill was a fine replacement for the day. First stop was the beer tent where I had a much needed stabliser and then into the stadium we filed. We had the R50 standing tickets (that's what happens when you leave it to the last minute) and seemingly so did half the nation. But we managed to get inside in good time and found an excellent spot. We could see the field clearly and The Crusaders were warming up right in front of me. Not bad for the cheap seats! The teams ran on and within minutes my team scored their first try. Right in front of me. Bonus! I was delirious... the rest of the Stormers-supporting stand was not so delirious. Anyhoo, this sounds like a fairytale doesn't it. All sweet, civilised and mushy. Except it turns into a rotten little Grimms fairytale quite smartly.

About 15 minutes into the game, there was much pushing and shoving and before anyone (except me) could say "WP jou lekker ding", we were surrounded by the Papsak and Gangrene Brigade. It seems the seats were so cheap that even the bergies could afford them. Or perhaps they just let them in, who knows. What I do know is that apart from reeking of the week's wine intake, the one with a bandage on his foot is going to lose that foot by the end of the week. The smell of rotting flesh (told you, grimmmmm) was enough to have me almost gagging and I even saw his pals wrinkle their noses occassionally. It also turned out that the P&G Brigade were staunch Stormers fans and after their arrival their team scored a few points ... so there was much clapping and hugging and singing and waving of flags. They also decided to involve everyone else in the celebration. Including me.

Ten minutes before half time we decided that gangrene feet and stale wine make for bad rugby viewing and went to the beer tent. On the way out we were told that there were no pass outs. Considering we had almost passed out there was no bloody way we would be going back. But the beer tent was a rocking affair where you didn't have to queue for beer and you could get boerie rolls and pizza's for supper. There were big screens so I could really feast my eyes on Sonny Bill up close and we even had a Stormers slut doing a striptease. All very entertaining and worth the R50 ticket... which we needn't have even had.

I had a grand time at the rugby and will always be able to say that I got poked by a Stormers flag and got hugged by bergies at my very first big game! Just a pity I never managed to get us all on telly ...