A brush with Basil

Remember Basil Brush? The fox with the wicked laugh... I do! Which of course shows my age, but am past worrying about that. I can out-party the youngsters out there any day. Ok, admittedly the recovery time is much longer, but staying power is what is important. The only people I have met who can probably out-party me are The Machine (who is older than me, gasp!), The Monster (he is an aging rockstar after all) and the gal who introduced me to the joys of tequila, Seamonster (who is also older than me, wahoo!). Put all four of us in a room with an unlimited supply of cactus juice and it will get wild. Just realised that two of those friends have the word monster in their names. It’s a sign ... monstrous good times!

Talking of fun and good times (two of my favourite things), the highlight of my weekend was having the company of Basil. And he was pretty foxy too. In a green gangstamobile way. Hailing from Mitchell’s Plain, he was kindly lent to me by Barmy Bernie. With a full tank to boot. Rocking friend huh! You better believe it (come to think of it, BB could probably out-party me too). So, cabin fever be banished, I had Ford Escort freedom!

After having tea at BB’s with Rose Thorn, who kindly came all the way from town to fetch me to take me back to town to collect Basil (I can definitely out-party RT by the way) I set off to the de Waterkant to do the first of my shoots (which is actually why I was borrowing the car – to do shoots and earn extra money for tequila). I met the most fabulous gay couple (as you do in the de Waterkant) who own a beautiful purple house and took an amble through this gay little suburb. It was like being in Greece, or Paris or Italy, but in a fabulously camp way. White shutters and hanging flower baskets mingled with shops selling wonderfully outrageous garments fit for a queen (see what I did there?). The smell of coffee drifted lazily through the air and people trotted by on their way to brunch dates or to the market. There was a wonderful ambience and I have made a vow to go back for a “day in the de Waterkant”. I shall attempt to pull out the “magazine I work for” trump card and get some free meals and if I am lucky, a night for free too. Damn I love my job ... and the de Waterkant.

After that it was off to Higgovale for my next shoot, which wasn’t really scheduled, but thought I would take a chance. Well, who would’ve thought ... a modern day hippie commune in the city. The first sign should’ve been in the directions – “turn left into the road that has a tree in the middle of it”. But it doesn’t really feel like the city as it is all wild and foresty up there. I was actually tempted to stay and probably could’ve as no one seemed to care about me wandering around this complex with it’s wild gardens (read, unkempt) and prayer flags (read, Buddhist types). Chimes with peace symbols tinkled in the trees (read, hippies) and there were tables made out of beer crates with board and poofs on tree stumps as chairs (read, definitely hippies). Needless to say I found the address of the house, but couldn’t find the key. He said I would find it under the pot plant. Upon reflection I am realising that I shouldn’t have been looking under the potted plants. Silly me...

After all that work, it was time for a bit of socialising. Popped into the Now Married Flatmate’s house for a beer to celebrate her son’s 4th birthday. Seemingly once you turn four you lose your mini rock n’ roll status as I didn’t recognise Big Tom sans afro. After a quick catch up and some pirate cake I went home for a nap with the remaining six-pack of Hunters Dry under my arm. Damn, my friends are good to me, they look after all my best interests ( I chose them well). The evening was spent at The Genie’s where we shared the spoils of my birthday boy visit. Paying it forward I think it’s called. Times are tight and one must share any good fortune. I got home at 10pm only to head out again an hour later to The Machine and Slappy’s where their braai was still in full swing. Yes, it was late, but have car, will travel to Constantia. The Monster was still there with The Young One and a good time (and chocolate tequila) was had. Basil and I got home in the wee hours. It was the first time I hadn’t been to bed before 11pm on a Saturday for weeks – I almost felt like my old self.

Sunday involved morning walkies in the park (Tino ran like the wind and rolled on the grass in leash-free bliss) some assignment work (free meals from trump cards come at a different sort of price) and cleaning house (maid is high on priority list right now, cleaning floors on hands and knees is not for an ex-colonial gal like me). Then Basil and I zooted off on a mini roadtrip to Simon’s Town for another shoot. I had grand plans to do the shoot and then treat myself to an ice cream and a walk on the beach in the sunshine. Those plans got swept out to sea with the gale force wind. But what amazed me was the sheer resilience of people determined to enjoy a hot summer’s day. There’s a howling gale where sand is being swept over the road and the beaches were full. I guess why spend a fortune in a salon when all you need is sun block and sand for a bit of light exfoliation.

Basil got returned to his rightful owner in one piece and minus a quarter of a tank of fuel that evening. I feel very honoured to have had the pleasure of his company. Here’s to you my green gangstamobile friend, you gave me back my freedom for a weekend. May you have many more years on the road and may your tank never run dry.

(Cue wicked foxy laugh)