Some Dubai Architecture photos...

There are some amazing buildings, old and new, in Dubai. Here's a selection of some of them...more to follow...

These were taken with my phone camera...

Inside of the Metro Station buildings, they are all identical.

The Burj Khalifa building - the highest in the world.

An old South African favourite.

Front facade of the Crowne Plaza hotel where I am staying.

Not sure what buildings these are. They are over the road from the hotel.

Mall of the Emirates - with snow ski slope (angled roof).

Not sure what these buildings are. There is a "Business Bay" area where a pile of new high rises are going up and these are some of them.

These buildings are diagonally behind the office building. I loved the late afternoon sunlight behind them.

This one shows a Metro Station building from the outside (they're also known as Armadillo's here).

The entrance to Dubai Internet City, where the office is. Just about all the major IT players are within a stone throw of each other, most around a fountained park.

Just to the right of the entrance to Dubai Internet City.

The Arenco media company building, next to the office.

Caught sight of a hot air balloon in the sky on my walk to the Armadillo.

I wonder...

if we could get our own royalty (Zuma or Malema) to come and bless our new NSRI jetski?

On Project in Dubai - Part 2

Ok, so last time I was told by the PM to get some more rest...blah, blah, blah...

In the end, I ended up doing more email and web browsing. My phone will not receive any calls or sms's - no idea why, but must be the network operator/provider, of which there are only 2 in Dubai, Etisalat and Du (short for DUH, I think).

The only one that connects on roaming for any length of time is Du and no amount of fiddling with settings has changed anything. I can send sms's but not receive, go figure.

Anyway, about midday the PM comes up on IM and I feel guilty enough to say I was just on my way out the door to go to the office.

I get my shit together and down to the door for a taxi after changing some USD for AED (Dirhams). The damn internal claims system will not allow us to claim our per diem allowance in advance anymore and I have to fork out my own cash until I can get home and claim. Fuckup, corporation, fuckup...

For USD1 you get AED3.56 at the hotel desk so I change USD25 - figure it out for yourself what I got in local money.

Into a taxi, aircon belting cool air out, and straight back out the way I had come in last night towards the office.

En route, the Paki driver starts talking and it's either he is speaking Paki or else his "Engrish" is not good. the latter is right as I eventually pick up on a word and his accent, and it becomes a little easier.

He suddenly asks me "what is a canned message?" and I'm like "WTF?". After repeating himself about five times, he points to the meter screen. "Message come here", he says, "What mean?" and I'm "Uuhhh, dunno dude, must have something to do with the taxi system". Then he hauls out a tatty Oxford Dictionary, circa 1965, and says "Engrish no so good" and I have to politely tell him it's not too bad.

When I look up the word "canned" in the dictionary it gives a meaning that it could be something "pre-set" or "pre-prepared" so I figure I'll tell him it's a pre-set message that the system is programmed to send at an event, whatever that may be.

"Ahhh, event", he says "Event on now. You know tennis? Lots of events in Dubai. Tennis on now. ATP." So I tell him him "Ok. Good.", just to shut him up.

"What means this message" pointing to the screen again, "when says 'Ok to dep'?" What? All of a sudden I'm a fuckin' expert at canned taxi system messages? Fuckoff...

"Ummm, probably means it's okay to depart", I tell him. "Ahhh, okay" says Numpty. For all I know it was Arabic code for "Ok to deploy explosive device in taxi", FFS...

All the time I'm watching the meter wondering how long my AED are going to last at this rate. When we finally pull up at the office, it reads AED36.50 (ZAR73!!). I hand Numpty AED40 in exchange for a little piece of paper, also known as a receipt. At least I can claim the trip back, minus the tip.

In the office, the three of us get together and discuss the difficulties of the client (aren't they all fuckin' difficult?) and we swap some ideas and documents for a couple of hours. I grab myself a cup of espresso from a machine in the foyer for AED2 (ZAR4...bargain) and only when I get to the bottom of, having thought it was just exceptionally strong coffee, do I find the sugar in a translucent mass.

Then I notice the the "Metro" is running. It's an elevated train system which was under construction when I was last here, 3 years ago.

It runs the straight line between the hotel and the office so right away I'm on the web having a look at prices. As it happens, there's a 300m walk from station to hotel or office at either end, a multi-use card which costs AED20, of which AED14 is fare you can use, and you can recharge the card as required. Best of all, a one-way trip is only AED5.40!! Fuck the taxi!!

A pleasant 15min ride from station to station, no worrying about how badly a taxi is being hurtled from lane to lane and whether I'm going to survive the ordeal, just a smooth train ride. What a pleasure. On top of it all, it is completely automated, not even a driver onboard. If it's late, you know there's been a breakdown, which there has never been since the rail was opened a year ago. And it is dead quiet except for the whine of the electric motors, even though it runs on rails. The wheels are completely silent.

Back in the hotel, I fiddle with the cell settings again, but still no incoming calls or sms's. I finish off some email and decide to head down to the gym. I had promised myself I would make the effort seeing as I had no other chores or responsibilities while away from home.

I do 30min on a treadmill, then some situps and light weights on my arms then decide I've had enough and go and get changed back into jeans for dinner. Which is where I am right now. I've just had a steak pie, chips and side salad, as well as a pint and a half of Murphy's stout (almost like Guinness).

I'll go back up to my room shortly and browse through more work documents for tomorrow before, hopefully, having a good night's sleep. I'm exhausted.


Part 3 to follow...

On Project in Abu Dhabi and Dubai - Part 1

Well, the folks in the desert finally agreed to start the project, so here I am in Dubai.

I'm booked to be here between yesterday (Monday 21st Feb) and the 8th March, about two weeks. Already, I'm wondering what sort of experience it is going to be, as there doesn't seem to be any urgency just yet. That said, it is early days, so things could change dramatically.

Monday 21st February

Awake at 5am, thinking of the trip. Alarm goes off at 6am, so I get up and make coffee, take a piss, put the dogs out for their morning slash as well, though not quite in that order.

Showered, shaved, and dressed in my best jeans, we head for the airport just before 8am as planned. There's a bit of traffic but we get to the airport just after 9am, with plenty of time to check in.

As I go through passport control, the dumbfuck doos asks me "New passport?". I just look at him and say "You noticed" and smile while going on my way. He probably noticed that there were no multi-coloured stamps on any of the pristine pages...very observant of the public servant. Fuckin' idiot...

Grab an espresso, power up the laptop and get on the phone to TT, at work in the Joburg office to try and calm her nerves about a presentation she has to do on Thursday. It's no rocket science, but it's her first and I think she'll ace it.

On board at 09h45 and he flight is empty, with most folks getting on in Shit Towne which is on our route to the desert. One of the hostesses looks like Fishman's Model Sister. The guy on the opposite side of the aisle form me strikes up a conversation with her and determines she's from Egypt. He's about 60 in the shade...dirty old barstud...down boy...

There's plenty of leg room in my row, number 19, as it is one of those emergency aisles over the wing. Sweet, I can stretch out and trip folks as they walk past. The check in crew were good enough to tell me that there was to be a family with kids next to my original seat and they moved me to this great place. Thanks, folks. The crew of Etihad airways are the friendliest bunch I've ever seen on my travels.

The flight to Joburg is over in 1.5hrs, a full 30mins ahead of schedule. Why can't all flights between those cities be cut by that time? It is very bumpy coming into Joburg - big holes in the clouds and we drop what feels like hundreds of feet (and probably was seeing as we're in a thousand ton pterodactyl) and some female passenger screams softly a couple of times. The Egyptian hostess chuckles to herself.

There was a decent lamb wrap for breakfast, followed by a hot cup of tea. Nice.

We must have had a novice pilot coming into Joburg, cos I shit you not when I say he bounced the bird THREE TIMES before keeping it on the ground, then he skews it off to the left and jams the engines into reverse to bring it under control. That's the worst thing about these onboard cameras - you can see every fuckup the flight crew make, in real time!

I check my sms's and email, but there's nothing important happened in the last couple of hours. We have a 1.5hr wait while the other passengers and baggage are loaded. I switch off the laptop and on the MP3 player - Deep Purple "Speed King" is the first track I hear...great stuff.

A new crew takes over as the CPT-leg crew actually flew down the previous night from JNB, stayed over in CPT, then flew out first thing on the Abu Dhabi-bound flight. Nice job if you can get it, I suppose.

Somebody nearby smells of stale sweat, must be the German guy in row 18. The smell started when he moved in from row 15 - maybe he was asked to move by the people sitting around him. There are plenty of open seats as the plane is nowhere near full by the time we're ready to lift off again.

The new crew hands out more sets of earplugs - no thanks, I already have a set, as you can see by the things sticking out of my ears. Here's your sign...

The doors close and there's still no-one sitting next to me - kewl. More room to stretch out. Strange, because online checkin showed that the plane was nearly full and I couldn't change my seat. Do we really have that many people that don't pitch up for their flights? The doors close at 13h40.

Somehow, though, we only manage to take off at something like 14h15 after sitting out on the tarmac for a while, waiting for other craft to bounce their landings.

Around 3h30 later, I'm penning this story into my journal, cos I'm bored of flipping through channels on a clearly-inferior entertainment system. I think Wreckless should go and sell them a new onboard mainframe or something.

There are some great movies on offer (Inception, Avatar special edition) and great UK comedy but the system has a lip-sync problem. It's so bad it's like audio-visual deja vu. You've heard the cracks, but then the comedians mouth catches up seconds later and, as you read his lips, you think "I've heard this before".

Dinner has come and gone. A terrible little lettuce salad and nice chicken tikka "breast" (the size of a R5 coin) for starters, some decent hake, potatoes and green beans for main course. Then I find the little box on the side, that I thought was apple crumble, actually contained butter for the roll, salad dressing to camouflage the lettuce, a small Gouda cheese block, and salt and pepper. The apple crumble is nowhere to be seen and actually came afterward, with coffee so I skipped it, having eaten enough already.

By that time, I'm also well down my third double Dewars White Label scotch and couldn't care for apple fuckin' crumble so settle on a cappuccino instead.

According to my watch, at this point, it's 17h45 SA time, almost dark outside the plane, the lights are turned down low for some to catch some after-dinner sleep. I'm listening to 30 Seconds to Mars "From Yesterday". Bit of a screamer, but good solid rock song.

I have two Germans sitting next to me, browsing a "Kaapstadt" travel book and I'm tempted to tell them we're going the wrong way and they should have read that book before getting on the flight, but I leave them to plan their trip.

Now it's Deep Purple "Burn" on the MP3 player...

The MP3 player is a trusty little gadget I bought on my first trip to Saudi Desertland three years ago. It also doubles up as a USB memory stick.

Flying over southern Sudan at 864km/h, still 3,199km to go...another 4hrs....groan...

Oh good, there's only 2,455km to Mecca, like I needed to know that, just off the port side of the nose of the plane.

The entertainment system has a section called Elements which is supposed to show all the duty free stuff, but aside from rules and regulations and how much alcohol and tobacco I'm allowed to take into whatever country, all it shows is a menu of items (jewellery, fragrances, watches, etc) all the sections show blank screens and "page 1 of 0"...DOH!!

I've been awake for 13hrs already so I'm going to catch a couple of hours sleep if possible. I put the MP3 player off after Status Quo's "You're in the army now"...

Tuesday 22nd February

We land at just before midnight, desert time, and it's about 25degC, nice and cool. The bus trip to the terminal is uneventful, if long, which is typical of these desert airports. Everything is miles away from everything else. Thank fuck we don't have to walk.

Customs is a breeze, thanks to my UK passport, and I pick up my suitcase and head for the bus terminus. There's a complimentary shuttle to the hotel which is just as well as my hotel is in Dubai, while I flew into Abu Dhabi, 120km apart. The bus is a luxury coach, aircon, complimentary bottle of water and a peppermint included.

The journey is about an hour long and the highways are in great condition. The SA roads guys can take a leaf out of these guys' books for road construction. The roads here take a pounding from the heat, yet do not melt, unlike ours that actually wash away with a thunderstorm.

As it's night, there are no opportunities for photos (perhaps on purpose by the authorities?) and the camera stays in its case for future reference.

By the time I get a taxi to the airport, checked in, unpacked and ready for bed, it's after 03h30 and I'm exhausted. Still, I set the alarm for 07h00 to see what the plan is for the day.

As it happens, I get told to get some more rest and go into the office later today. I can handle that, but instead I go down for some breakfast and do some email and blogging up to this point. It's now 12h16 local time and I'm about to head out, I think. After all, these guys are paying for my time...


Look out for Part 2 sometime soon...

Corporate Rip-off Artists...

...make me sick, the whole bunch of them.

We, the general public, continue to get stripped of our hard-earned cash and savings, just so that these corporate fat-cats can continue to get their obscene bonuses at the end of their financial year. It was reported on Sky News the other day that the Barclays CEO was reputed to get a GBP9 million bonus.

Point in question...take Barclays Bank UK, who have just posted a pre-tax profit of GBP5.5 BILLION!!! It doesn't matter how you look at it, pre- or post-tax, it is ridiculous! In layman's terms that equates to over GBP458 million profit PER MONTH, or over GBP15 million PER DAY, or over GBP636,000 PER HOUR. Incidentally, this is about ten times what that overpaid, over-idolised wanker David Beckham makes per hour and, quite frankly, neither of them deserve it.

The fact of the matter is...the man in the street is getting ripped off for the benefit of a few shareholders of a particular company, in this case, Barclays Bank, and those are the only people that are benefiting from it. The rich get richer, the poor get ripped off more and more.

And Barclays is not the only corporation doing this, they just happen to be the one exposed to public scrutiny at the moment. I happen to work for a nameless corporation who do exactly the same thing and yet, year after year throughout the financial year, we get told we are performing great, things are looking up, getting better, the share price goes higher and higher. But woe and betide, at the end of the year we are told how we need to drive profits higher, that we haven't performed well at all, and we all need to suck it up and take a 0% increase while our executives get fat bonuses just because they are "in the driving seat" and deserve it. Do me a favour...fuck off!

Dear Mr Corporate-Fat-Fuckin'-Cat, guess what? My expenses DO go up every year in line with the unrealistic increases levied by other corporations, banks and government organisations alike with the result that I can no longer even afford a Kulula.com flight to Durban to visit my parents. Further, I get rated as an "under-performer" because I struggle to meet my fuel bill at the end of the month if I go into the office more than twice a week so I choose to personally suck up the R700 a month that "Hell-kom" rip me off for my ADSL line (because there is no 3G connectivity in my area so I can't use my corporate 3G card), which is still cheaper than the fuel would have cost me. And why? Because the corporation panders to its fat-fuckin'-cat shareholders demands for higher dividends. Fuck your shareholders, I'm an employee who you should be looking after. There will always be shareholders, but there will not always be someone with my skills or experience generating your profits. (this will be the subject of another rant very soon)

I digress, back to topic...

Did BP executives quiver in their Gucci shoes when they were penalised billions by the USA for the Gulf Oil Spill fiasco? No, they didn't. Why? Because their profits STILL EXCEEDED the fine!! The shareholders probably breathed a sigh of relief when that one was announced to the poor. So this year they get a reduced dividend on their shares...so what? They still have an operating corporation and the poor will get ripped off sufficiently in the coming year to make up for that "lost" dividend and probably more on top of that too.

Has Chevron made any revelationary utterances since the news came out that they were found guilty of polluting the Amazon River over years of drilling operations? Hardly a fuckin' word. Yet their fuels will still reach the forecourts of petrol stations around the world and the poor will continue to get ripped off at the demands of their shareholders. No doubt Chevron's profits last year (reputed to be GBP12 BILLION) will pay for the fine imposed on them, so we won't be hearing from them anytime soon, I bet. I see they have "disputed" the fine imposed upon them, but in all eventuality, the fine will probably be reduced to GBP5 BILLION and the corporation will claim a moral victory to the shareholders. They are claiming that it was Texaco that caused the damage, before they were bought out (maybe why, seeing as the lawsuit was filed 17 years ago?) by Chevron, so the fine in "un-enforceable".

Typically, what do corporations do in answer to the reports of high bonuses and profits? Nothing, nada, fokol, fuck all...except to shut right up. Say nothing, then the problem will go away. Just as most corporations do when they are taken to task publicly for things that should not, by law, be allowed to happen.

I believe corporations should be called to account to the general public (fuck the shareholders) for the obscene profits they generate and explain how and why they ripped the public off. Then they should be forced, by law, to rebate most of those profits back to the general public through tax rebates or some such mechanism. So long as a corporation makes even 1c profit, it is a successful company, yet governments (and the public) allow corporations to continue fleecing the public to the most ridiculous amounts.

Take another SA corporation...Vodacom. I know Wreckless has a bug up his ass about this lot, and so he should. Three years ago, they reported a profit of ZAR4.3 BILLION!!! I don't know what their recent profits were, but I can only imagine they must be higher than this. How can they justify the rates they are charging people for their calls and/or text messages? So much for cell phones being the way to take communications to the masses. In the end, it turned out to be just another way to rip the poor off.

The sad part of it all is that governments are encouraging these rip-offs, as can be read in this Sky News article.

And what happens in the world of high finance to "assist" the poor to try and make ends meet? The banks push up their rates, as appears to be the call to the Bank of England in this article. This, in turn, will cause the other banks (Barclays included) to push up their rates and guess who gets it in the neck again because all the other corporations push up their rates to cover the cost of lending money from the banks? Yup, you guessed it, the poor-ripped-off-man-in-the-street....again!

Anyone with half a brain can see that the world economy is driven by one thing and one thing only. Ok, two things, the second of which is sex, but that's another story. It's not demand for money, overindulgence by spenders, profits from investments (and shareholders demands), loans to the poor, food prices, or just about any of the other reasons that are given by corporations and governments the world over.

No...the world economy is driven by THE FUEL PRICE! Let your half a brain wander for a bit of a think. EVERYTHING we have in this fucked up world is driven by the cost of getting from Point A to Point Z, sometimes via B, C and D as well if you are driving a government/taxpayer-sponsored vehicle. Grocery prices go up because delivery trucks drink diesel and goods need to be delivered from depots to store shelves. Bank rates go up because of daily operational costs to move cash around, replenish ATM's, and to refuel fat-cat-executives luxury vehicles. Communications costs go up because of the vehicles they have on the road to fix and service line demands. Even the crude oil we need to make more petrol has to be shipped so it becomes more expensive to transport that crude. Pick something in your life and you will see how the fuel price affects it with a bit of lateral thinking. Even our NSRI fuel costs go up because of price hikes, which in turn causes our corporate sponsors to have to increase their charges to clients because their sponsorships of this vital service are costing them more.

This is up for debate, actually no, it's not...just have a think about it. Man is his own worst enemy. He fucks up everything he comes in contact with, eventually. And that includes his own species.

Things that make you go "Hmmmmm"...

This year we will experience 4 unusual dates.... 1/1/11, 1/11/11, 11/1/11, 11/11/11 ...

NOW go figure this out.... take the last 2 digits of the year you were born plus the age you will be this year and it WILL EQUAL TO 111!...


Things That Make You Go "Hmmmmmm"...

The Year of Tamlyn...

...that's what 2011 is going to be.

As some of you may know, Tamlyn is my daughter, now twenty-four years young and residing in Glenrothes, Scotland, with her fiance whom I call "Scott-in-Law".

Why is it going to be Tamlyn Year? Because of three main reasons...

Firstly, Tamlyn and Scott-in-Law will be arriving in Cape Town on 3rd April 2011 for a couple of weeks holiday. Woohoo...no more need be said about that, it is going to be great!

Secondly, they will be getting married at Cape Point on the 14th. While everyone thinks Cape Point is the southernmost part of the African continent, alas it is not. That honour falls to Cape Agulhas, just over an hour's drive from Cape Point. It is, however, a far more beautiful part of the tip of Africa than Agulhas is, and a fitting place for the two of them to get married. Alternatively, it is quite the spot to throw Scott-in-Law from if he gets cold feet at the last minute...but I digress...



Thirdly, about a year ago, Tamlyn had a miscarriage and I know it affected her deeply (as it did Scott-in-Law as well, no doubt). When we spoke on Christmas Day 2010, Tamlyn again advised me that she was just over four weeks expectant/pregnant, this time with little "Noodle". She tells me she is feeling much better than last time, healthier, more assured that this time she is going to carry full term. Even better, Noodle is expected to appear either on my birthday, or the day after. How cool would that be if we had the same birth date?



Tamlyn has started up a blog-diary to keep track of events leading up to the birth of Noodle. If you're interested, follow it here.... I, for one, will be reading it regularly and keeping up to date with goings-on...


So, needless to say, the next four months or so are, in some respects going to drag by slowwwwwwly, but in others are going to fly by at the speed of a smelly fart.

I'm really looking forward to them...the end of the four months, that is, not the smelly fart...

That time of year to Reflect?

If you think it is, go ahead. I've supplied the mirror.

Personally, I am thankful for every day that I am down here in the Cape Town area, not having to withstand/resist the crap that is going on in other parts of the country/world. I have enough issues to deal with, without having to listen to politicians and self-righteous "aid" organisations spouting on about what sort of trouble they/their country/the world is/are in.

However, that said, I will make it known that I am grateful for all the loving family and friends that I have, both locally and around the world. It is you people that make my life worthwhile and I am forever indebted to you all for it.

Love. Always.
Semper Amor.

A blessed, peaceful, safe, loving Christmas and holiday season to you all, with wishes that the best of 2010 is the worst of 2011 to every one of you.

My new dress (kilt)...

With my daughter coming out from the UK to get married at Slangkop Lighthouse in April 2011, I decided I had better get something to wear.

I've always wanted a full dress kilt and all the bits that go along with it, so I placed an order on an online website which was very helpful (and reasonably cheap too). If you're ever in need of a kilt, check them out here...

So, the outfit includes:

* Argyll jacket & vest
* Dress shirt & bow tie
* 5 yard 16oz handmade wool kilt (in Douglas Modern tartan)
* Dressed sporran & chains
* Belt & buckle
* Socks
* Matching flashes (in Douglas Modern tartan)
* Ghillie brogues (shoes)
* Sgian dubh (dagger - not real these days)
* Kilt pin (little metal dagger thingy)


Och aye the noo, gonna look "stylin" in that lot, ye ken...

Have new camera gadget...

...but has anyone got some batteries for me?

I picked up my new YN468 Speedlite from the SARS Customs Office, which I ordered some three weeks ago via eBay.

I'm surprised as all hell that it arrived as I've had items disappear on at least one previous occasion, which did not leave me with a warm snuzzy feeling that the flash was going to arrive, particularly as I had ordered it so long ago.

Anyway, it is here, but I am in the office without access to my camera and some batteries for the flash...

I guess I'll just have to wait for a couple of hours...

More Photos...

Had another session with the camera-guru today. He took me around the local township, Masiphumelele (don't know what it means) to shoot (pictures of) some of the locals.

He has a bigger set of kahunas than me, asking all and sundry whether they minded him taking their photo. I like to think of it as a bit of an invasion of privacy, but mostly focussed (no pun intended) on the graffiti. My baby gave me the idea from one of her photos and I thought it would be good as a theme and totally non-intrusive.

Some of the kids, though, didn't mind and were very willing to show off for the camera.







The above place is actually run by a Rasta dude. Why he has the Cross of David as a symbol on the ad, only he will know.



"Ummm...I'll have Option 3, please"...

Some of my Photos...

I'm taking some photography lessons, really around the composition of images, following my purchase of a Canon 450D. My "tutor" is an ex-photographer for a local magazine, but is still a fulltime professional photog.

Here are some of my shots so far. They are all low resolution here so that they will upload to the blogosphere quicker...

All photos here are copyrighted to ME! If I find anyone using them without my written permission (in triplicate on carbonised paper and posted via surface mail) I will hunt you down and embarrass you in front of your friends and family by tarring and feathering your genitals with molasses and letting the African Killer Bees bees have their way with you.

Kulula dot Fuckin' (in)Com(petent)...

I hate Kulula.fuckin'com...period...

Until yesterday, they were my choice of cheapy-airlines. Now, they can go to hell. I'll fly into Joburg International and have a choice of carriers from now on.

I was out of bed on Monday morning, of all days, at 4am to catch the 6am red-eye to Shit Towne for a day of business with a client and my good friend, Wreckless.

I landed at just on 08h00, but thanks to the morning Shit Towne traffic, I get to the client facility at a little before 09h30. Things are not going too swimmingly and I reiterate to myself why we left that horrible fuckin' place in the first place.

Anyway...we have a session with the client and a cup of mediocre coffee, then retire to our allocated office for a bit of work. We have a proposal to develop and get to them by Friday...do-able, I think.

I was advised to leave the centre of Shit Towne at a little before 3pm to make the flight in time, so I do exactly that. Later I would ask myself why the hell I did. Hindsight is 20/20 vision, and all that.

Another good mate, Fishman, texts me to ask "where are we drinking?" and I tell him I have to fly out that afternoon and can he meet me at the airport to have a quick drink and catch up on some of the news.

Literally five minutes from the airport, Fishman texts me again and asks where I am. He's already in the airport. The man is thirsty for a Monday.

Almost at the same time, I get a text on my phone, "Hi, from Kulula.com. Apologies, your flight for today has been delayed, new estimated time of departure is @18h30..."

Mumbling a little, I think, "Ok, not too bad, another hour or so to drink with Fishman" and continue on to the airport bar.

As we get down to the end of our second beer, I get another text, "Hi, from Kulula.com. Your flight has been further delayed to @20h25...". This time, no apologies....hmmmm....

"Ah fuck!", I think to myself. Fishman has to leave cos it's his government's girls night out and he has to babysit, so I'm left on my own. I order a munchies basket and another Capn's Organ and Coke Light, figuring I may as well get comfortable for a while as it's only just gone 17h30 and I have another three fuckin' hours to kill.

I potter about a bit on the internet, do some more email, and then with an hour to go, move down to the departure lounge figuring I'm going to be one of the first to claim my seat on that fuckin' plane.

At 20h00, there's an announcement, barely audible, that "Kulula.com is pleased to announce that flight {mumble mumble} is boarding for Cape Town", so myself and a hundred other hopefuls make a dash for the queue. Then we hear that there is another Cape Town flight, which was supposed to have left three hours after us, is actually going to leave an hour before us!! WTF!!!!

We all sit down again, pick up another section of discarded newspaper (the business section of all things) and grind our teeth through another hour of waiting.

At 20h30, the announcement finally comes over the PA system, or at least we think it's for us. It has to be, as there is barely enough people left in the room to fill half a Cessna so it's unlikely that there is another flight out of Lanseria tonight. We all get into the queue again and watch the rain and lightning outside on the tarmac. A typical summer Shit Towne storm had come through in the last hour or so and I was fully believing that Kulula.fuckin'com would use that as an excuse to delay us even more.

Not so. We get checked through then herded onto the sopping runway, with no umbrellas, to make our own way to the aircraft about 100m away. We get there quite wet, only to find a whole basket load of umbrellas standing in the rain waiting to be used. Thanks, Kulula.fuckin'com....thanks for nothing.

As mentioned, there was not even half an airplane full of people on the flight, when we eventually left the runway at 21h12 exactly. Actually, it made for a very comfortable flight, as I had a whole emergency aisle row to myself, extra leg room and space to stretch.

We landed in Cape Town at just before 11pm and you could hear a collective sigh of relief when the doors opened and spewed us out onto the windy tarmac. I still had almost an hour to go for the drive home and I pulled into the driveway at 23h50, having been awake for almost 20 hours.

And Kulula.fuckin'com's excuse for the delay? "Technical problems". Ha...yeah, fuckin' right. I'm no dummy, next time tell me what the fuckin' problem was, then I might be a little more understanding and accepting of your excuse, you miserable bunch of twats...

On top of it all, there was no mention of some sort of rebate on the flight price, no voucher for a freebie flight for the inconvenience, not even a free drink or sandwich on the plane.

Fuck them...next time, I fly Mango or some other carrier...

RIP, Duke...

It was with much sadness and heavy-heartedness that Steph made one of the most difficult decisions of her life yesterday.

We discovered that Duke, our brown Doberman, had a distended stomach and was battling to pass anything out, was in general discomfort and very restless.

With that, Steph took him to the vet and, after an X-ray and an explanation of the problem from the vet, she made the decision to have him put to rest. When Steph arrived back from the vet, I noticed Duke wasn't in the car and thought the vet had kept the dog in for observation. But then she gave me the sad news.

Duke had been suffering from a heart problem for just under a year and the vet was surprised that he'd lasted this long with it. He advised her that there was a chance that an operation would sort out the stomach problem, though it may occur again sometime in the future, but also that Duke may not survive the operation because of his heart condition.

It took a brave decision on her part to ask the vet to put him to rest and put him out of the misery he had been enduring for the past few months. I do not envy her having to make that decision.

She told me she waited with Duke as he closed his eyes, to pass on to the wide open beach in the sky, to run and chase birds to his heart's content.

His pain is no more, which is a blessing. Duke was Steph's "shadow" and as much he and I butted heads on authority stuff, I will miss him too.

Duke was about eight years old and we raised him from when he was just eight weeks. He was the largest in a litter of eight pups and his grandmother was a world champion in her class. He has a name the length of my arm, but was christened Duke by Steph.

We will have a solemn little ceremony for him on our local beach in a few days when the vet gets his ashes to us.

RIP, boy...go chase that seagull...