A great time was had by all...

unless, of course, you were me that had to dig the car out of the mud...but more of that just now... As mentioned previously, we were off for a weekend of sun, single malt and slinging of fly lines. Well, there was none of the first, plenty of the second, and it wasn't so much fly lines that were slung as it was mud. The weather, although I got a little sunburned around the gills due to the occasional sun ray reflecting off the water, was bloody horrible. The rainfall in Dullstroom, this January, was double the rainfall for the whole of 2005!! And it reflects in the water table which is so high that walking on the garden sounds like you're walking in a marsh. On top of which, the trampoline hole at the house was so full of water that if you jumped on it, it was like (I imagine) the upward shower from a bidet. But let me start from the beginning... Friday afternoon, we arrived in Dullstroom at about 6pm, and sat down for a coffee at "The Flying Dutchman". "Flying Crotchman" would have been more approriate...damn place was full of poop-shooters, arse-bandits, bonty-bashers, or whatever else you want to call them. Needless to say we sat down for our coffee and left at our earliest convenience when Jackie phoned to say they'd arrived in town. The house, owned by Jackie and Stan, is magnificent, I'm sure you'll agree by the photo. Probably around 30yrs old, plenty of character to it and a place we'll definately be going back to. Friday night, we all went round to some other friends who were staying at Millstream, a fly fishing resort (I mentioned in previous posts too). Lots of good red wine and single malts later and we headed off for the house, sated. A couple more newly-found single malts and it was bedtime around 01h00. A good evening, to be sure... Saturday morning, the alarm screamed at 06h30 and I was ready to get up to go fishing. Steph told me to reset it for 07h00 and I thought it was a better idea than getting up. The extra half hour would do me good. It felt like five minutes... 07h10 and I'm showered, cup of coffee in hand, sitting staring out over the large, soggy, garden waiting for Stan to surface so that we can go back to Millstream for some anticipated fishing. Huh...he eventually staggers through at around 09h00 and by the time he's finished faffing around, we eventually get in the car at about 10h00. A couple of hours later, we'd caught absolutely bugger all, except as we found out later, sunburn to our faces and arms, and around 13h00 we joined the rest of them at a little restaurant called "Fibs" (name comes from the - supposed - lies fishermen tell about the size of the one that got away). A couple of beers later and we're off back to Millstream and it's only Stan that gets a trout. I have a couple of chases, but nothing more than that. The scenery around there is simply amazing...we saw two fish eagles, herons, some wild buck that run wild around the resort, and countless other creepies and crawlies. Then the trouble started... At about 18h00, we decide to pack it in for the day and head back to the car to get rid of the waders and rods. On our way out of Millstream back to Dullstroom (about 6km in total), Stan brings out my little aluminium water bottle which was filled with...Johnny Walker red label. So we start swigging straight out of the bottle, and by the time we get back to town there's about nothing left in it, and we decide to stop in at the Dullstroom Inn for another quick one. On the way out, Stan tells me which road not to go due to the deep mud, but I think "Ahfuckit" and promptly head off in that direction. The first deep puddle is no problem, engage Difflock and through we go. The second, however, was another story altogether. As we're going through, I feel the wheels dig in up to the axles and my sphincter contracts, right about the time the car comes to a wheel-spinning halt. No way back, no way forward, we're like a big white hippo in the middle of its mudpool. Two hours later, with much rocking of car and digging with shovels, with four black guys and Stan up to their elbows and knees in stinking brown mud, I call out to them to leave it until morning. I was the only clean one among them, having watched from the clean safety of the drivers window...after all, someone had to sit in the car and dig the wheels in further, why not me?? So we head back to the house, to the amusement of the ladies who by this time had been sitting watching from the porch, wine glasses in hands, so that we could get cleaned up and ready for dinner. A fine dinner it was too, followed by loads more red wine and 12yr old single malt scotch. Another late night... A glorious morning on Sunday and at 07h00 I'm up and out the door, shovel in hand, hoping the water had drained sufficiently to allow me to drive the car out of its watery parking spot. Not bloody likely... Unbeknown to me, there had been more rain during the night followed by more water run-off into the mudpool. After about an hour and a half, I told Lewis (gardner, house-boy and all-round gopher) that I'd had enough and we'd call a tow truck. As it turns out, we didn't have to as we were able to call the owner of one of the local restaurants (who just about pissed himself laughing when we told him of our predicament, saying that it was common for this time of year), who came around with his big Toyota Land Cruiser and, at the second attempt, managed to drag the Ford out of the hole. Nice guy though...didn't want anything for coming around, except for us to go to his restaurant sometime for breakfast. Stan says the food is shite though, so maybe we'll go around sometime just to repay the debt. Anyway, I expected the worst under the car, thinking I would have to have the propshaft serviced and could see the greenbacks flying out my wallet. As it was, it had already cost me two hundred bucks in donations to the black guys who tried to dig the car out. But I was pleasantly surprised. The car had only gone deep enough for there to be about three inches of mud up the diff, and the entire chassis, including the propshaft and exhaust, were in showroom condition. Only the wheels were covered in quick-set brown cement, and the body had a few handprints over it where the guys had been pushing on it. By this time, we were ready to pack all our belongings into the cars, and head to a little coffee shop for lunch. And a reasonably fine meal it was too...but with none of the beer and single malts, as I had a three hour drive back home ahead of me. We arrived back home around 18h00, myself a little tired from the overindulgences of the nights before but more relaxed than I have been in some time. Definately worth the trip, sunburn, hangovers, and the embarassment of burying the car...that Johnny Walker's a bastard... Hope you guys also had an eventful weekend...

Leave time is drawing near...

and about time. In a previous posting I bemoaned the fact that (in my eyes anyway) I'm working too damn hard, have had enough of the building going on at home, and needed a holiday. Well, that time is just around the corner. We've decided to go away for two weeks, starting 27th February, to go down to Plettenberg Bay for some serious chilling. I might also be tempted to take down the salt water fly fishing gear. Tempted? It's a fuckin' certainty and will be the first thing I pack on the 26th. We'll also dust off the dive gear and go see if we can find some "raggies" lurking around the Storms River mouth dive sites. And I'll do the bungee jump as well...doubtful that Steph'll do it due to her last experience. As usual, I'll take lots of photos and will publish some of them when we get back.

Gone Fishing...

Off to Dullstroom for the weekend with friends, Jacqui and Stan, for some R&R...and fly fishing... This shot was taken in Dullstroom last March... Take care y'all...I'll be thinking of you when I have a fish at the end of my line in one hand, and a 12 year old single malt scotch on ice in the other... teehee...

While I'm on the sports section...

I stayed up last night to watch the NFL Superbowl. I'd promised myself to do it for years, the only thing stopping me before the fact that it starts at 01h00 local time, and I have work the following day. This year, I thought "Fuckit, I'm watching the game even if it starts at 01h00 and I have work the following day". I had a couple of hours sleep before the start and, at the shrill call of the alarm clock, staggered through to the lounge and turned on the box, just in time to see the team lists coming up. Four hours later, as much as I enjoyed the confusion of the game (due to my average understanding of the rules) and the inane expression written all over Keith Richards' face during their three-song visit on stage at halftime (and Mick Jagger's throwing of a massive pair of bloomers back into the audience from whence they came), I staggered back to bed again, questioning why I had spent the last four hours prone on the couch. As I said, I enjoy the physicality of the game, but have to question how it is that a one-hour long game, excluding the half hour half-time, can be turned into a four-hour drone. With all the stop/start "action", how is it that the athletes can look so exhausted at the end of it all? There's more breaks in the game than in Cuzzin Ross's knees after his bike accident. It's almost as if the entire game is one huge bet to see which of the coaches is going to get doused by the water jug at the end of it all. Next year, I'm going to get some sleep and watch the highlights on ESPN afterwards...they have enough of those to see the entire game spread out over a week anyway. And they call that "football"??? I think not...

Pride comes in various forms...

like, for instance, in the way the Scotland rugby team gave the French a lesson in their own way of playing the great game. Read about it here... I swear, you could have heard me a mile away when the final whistle went...at my shout of joy the dogs went moggy, running around as if someone was trying to break into the house, the birds in the trees outside flew off en masse like the cat was stalking them, and even Steph came in from the garden, gloves covered in dirt, wondering if I'd fallen off the couch and broken my leg. What was broken, however, was the French spirit at the 20-16 result. It's also the first time I've seen us beat someone while we were playing in the white strip. The moment I saw it at the start of the game, I thought "We're fucked...", but the lads sucked up the first two minutes of pressure, then gave the Frogs 78 minutes of it, Highlander-style. Way tae go, ya fuckin' beauties!!!...

I need a fuckin' holiday...

I've had enough of work, builders, traffic, insomnia, computers, barking dogs and any other stress you can think of. As it is, I've developed a rash, not unsimilar to a children's affliction called "Prickly Heat" (another good Scots term for you, Lee) and have a rash down both arms and legs that makes me look like a goddamn prickly pear (hence the name, I suppose). Whether it's from stress or an allergy to cement and plaster dust, I don't know, but it itches like fuck!! I need to get out into the fresh air and do some vegetating, fishing, reading, listening to music and much swilling of Captain Morgan (dark rum, of course) and Coke. I need to not worry about what my diary looks like for the coming weeks cos some arsehole is trying to squeeze another fucking meeting into it. The only proposal I want to hear of is one in which the decision of "which pub do we drink in today" appears. The last time I had any real time off was last May last year, when my daughter and Cuzzin Ross came out to visit. Now that was a great chilling out time!! It's time to put in for some leave. We've already made up our minds to go down to Plettenberg Bay on the Cape south-east coast. How long is debatable, but friends of ours have a place there and have said we can have it for as long as we like. Needless to say, I'll have to do the world's highest bungee jump (again), do some diving and snorkeling, fly fishing and all the other things I mentioned previously. Watch this space for the dates...right now, I've got to be in a teleconference call with the States....{sigh}...

Help Desk, how can I fuck you around today?

This is a transcript of an actual conversation held between two IBMers (as we are affectionately known). It contains a few TLA's, as described in a previous posting, but also contains a few more... - Hello, IBM Information Technology Services, Resource Finance & Planning, pan-IOT Shared Services Centre of Excellence, how may I help you? > Oh, hello, I was given your name as the best person to speak to about resources in EMEA. - Sorry, I don't look after EMEA anymore. You should have received communication asking you not to use that term anymore. > Really? Oh, let me look in my mail. Who would the note have come from? - The EMEA Communications task ID. > Oh. OK. I'll look for it later. But anyway, are you involved in resources? - Oh, yes. Very much. > OK, good. I work in Nordic region and I need to transfer.... - I'm going to have to stop you there and ask you not to use that word please. We call them IMTs and IOTs these days. > Oh, I see. So are you supporting an IMT? - I'm supporting 8 of them. > Really? Oh, so you work for the IOT? - No. I work for both IOTs. > I'm confused. I don't understand which geo you sit it. - I don't sit in either of them. I'm shared. > But you are responsible for resources for all countries in the 2 IOTs. - Indeed. In fact, it's probably easier to say that I am the best person to speak to about resources in EMEA. > But you said I couldn't say EMEA. - Yes, because you said it in ignorance. I used it to help you understand. > OK, well thank you. I think I understand now. - Excellent. So how can I help you? > I want to transfer somebody into ITS, and I was told I need to get approval from you. - OK, would that be big ITS or small ITS? > I'm sorry? - Old ITS or new ITS? > Ummm... ITS the Line of Business. - I'll have to stop you again there... we can't say Lines of Business anymore. > Oh, what should we say now? - Business Lines. > Oh. What's the difference. - There isn't any. > OK. Anyway, about my transfer. I've found a candidate in BCS. - You mean EBS? > What's the difference? - There isn't any. They just re-badged it. > Right, well, anyway... I was told I need approval to transfer her into IGS. - You mean ITS? > Yep, OK, same thing... - No it isn't. > But you said they only renamed it. - No, that was EBS. With IGS it's different. IGS now comprises Integrated Operations, EBS and ITS. > Small ITS or big ITS? - Big ITS. Although technically it's both, because little ITS still sits in big ITS. > Really? - Yes, along with ebHS. > You mean EBS. - No, ebHS - it's different. It's part of SO. > Oh, so it sits alongside AMS? - You mean AS. > What's AS? - It's just like AMS, but without the management. > Well, whatever... i mean it's all part of SO anyway. - No, it's part of BCS now. > You mean EBS? - Yes. > What about ebHS - Still part of ITS. > Not EBS? - No. But it's all still part of IGS anyway. > OK, so I guess I would need additional approval to transfer someone from EBS. What if I found a candidate in SD? - You mean ITD? > What's the difference? - They... > ...re-badged it? - Correct. > But it's still part of IGS, right? - Yes. > So it doesn't impact headcount if I transfer someone to ITS? - Yes it does, because ITD is not part of ITS. > Look, this is getting very frustrating. Who should I escalate to? - That depends on which IMT you sit in. > Well who is in charge of total EMEA that I can speak to about this. - Nobody. We now have 2 IOT management teams instead. > What about the 5 regions? - 8 IMTs now. > So you're saying that we have 10 management structures now, instead of 6? - Actually, it's 11, if you count ITD. > I'm lost again. Look, do you think you can help me staff this vacancy? It's for a billable, customer engagement. - No. Sorry, but we don't have any resources. > What? No resources? How can this be? - Well we had to staff all these new management positions somehow... ...and I work for this lot...fuck the Help Desk...HELP ME!!!

Mad Max is among us...

on his own blog. Max works with us at "Big Blue" (otherwise known as IBM) in Johannesburg...check out his rantings now and then... Click here...

LMAO? LOL! WTF?

We live in a world of TLA's (three letter acronyms) and FLA's (four letter acronyms), and even more FLA's (five letter acronyms). Hell, I even work for a TLA - IBM. Here, we have our own version of some TLA's and even have some SLA's...no, not six letter acronyms, rather Service Level Agreements. Confused? I bet you are in some cases, cos I know I am... I can be in a meeting at work and someone will mention an acronym, whereby I'll make the assumption that he/she means TLA(1), when in actual fact, they mean TLA(2). Even though they have the same abbreviation, they mean two totally different things and can confuse the hell out of a conversation. As intelligent people, I'm sure you can imagine... So here's a short list of some popular TLA's and FLA's with their descriptions, the recognised version and my own: Acronym Official Description (My Description) FLAB       Four Letter ABbreviation (Fat on a woman's arse) FYI           For Your Information (Listen up, asshole) FAO         Dunno (Fuck Away Off) GETIFUYABASA     (Ask Billy Connoly - self-explanatory, I thought) IE             Internet Explorer (Internet Exploiter) IOW        In Other Words (What didn't you get the first time, asshole?) IMHO     In My Honest Opinion (Would you buy a used car from this person?) IBM         International Business Machines (I've Been Moved, or, Install Bloody Memory) JD            Job Description (Jack Daniel's) LMAO     Laughing My Ass Off (Lick My Ass Oswald - something Drew Carey might say) LOL         Laughing Out Loud (Lots of Love, as my mum would say) OFFS       Dunno (Oh, For Fuck Sake!) OMG       Oh, my God! (Orchestral Manouevres in the Groin) ROE        Rules Of Engagement (Fish eggs) ROTFL    Rolling On The Floor Laughing (ROTi For Life) TIMS       Tactical Internet Management System (Something that belongs to Tim) WTF        What The Fuck? (What The Fuck?) WTG        Way To Go! (Nice one, dickhead!) And, I'm sure, you have your own list of favourites...send me some...

Top of the Pops...

In response to Jenny-May's request for what people are listening to at the moment, here's my list of current favourites (individual tracks in brackets - parentheses for all the budding Thesaurians out there): John Mayer - Heavier Things (Bigger than my Body) Red Hot Chili Peppers - Californication (Scar Tissue) Nickleback - All the Right Reasons (Photograph, Side of a Bullet - great guitar work on that track) Foo Fighters - In Your Honor (Best of You, Resolve) Depeche Mode - Playing the Angel (Precious) Collective Soul - Youth (There's a Way, Home, How do you Love - the whole album is great, as usual) Big Country - Peace in our Time (Broken Heart, Peace in our Time) Van Halen - Van Halen (Jamie's Cryin') The No1 80's Collection - various artists (Wang Chung, Adam and the Ants, Texas, Asia, Alphaville, ZZ Top) Green Day - American Idiot (American Idiot, Bullet in a Bible DVD) Led Zeppelin - Led Zeppelin (Black Dog, Stairway to Heaven) Nirvana - Nevermind (Come as you Are, Lithium, Lounge Act) Quite varied, for a change, but I've been told I watch too much TV. The only time I really enjoy my music is when I'm driving my car, otherwise there's so much sport, so little time.

Yup, Wednesday was another one to remember...

or not. Actually, I don't remember a whole lot after 7pm... As mentioned in a previous posting, I was off to play golf on Wednesday and fly fishing on Thursday, both of which were quite a good day out. I played the best golf of my life, firing in an 84 gross. Considering that I have only played twice in the last two years and relegated myself to an unofficial 24 handicap, I thought I didn't do too bad. In fact, I think I've only ever once carded a 90. Halfway through the round we were disturbed by a small electrical storm that lasted about a half hour, but we decided to stick it out under the trees and I'm glad we did even though it was a bit cold and wet (kind of like a dog's nose when it sticks it in your ear as you're sleeping on the couch, but I digress). After golf, it is customary to "wet your bag" with a few beverages and that's where the wheels fell off. A few games of pool and snooker, and a "few" drinks later, I got home around 1am... On Thursday, after a light breakfast, I packed the fly fishing gear into the Ranger and headed for the hills, or lakes, in this case. Try bending over to tie flies to hair-width fishing line with a hangover the size mine was...fuckin' hell...I thought my head was going to implode. Luckily I came home with a fish of around the 600g mark, which Steph promptly baked for her dinner (I had the curry I was supposed to have on Wednesday night) and the previous night's overindulgence was forgiven. And today, in their infinite wisdom, management have decided to let everyone out of their cages at 12h00 for preparation of their respective new year celebrations. So I guess I'll be outta here shortly to go and sort out the pool at home that now looks like a fuckin' mudbath, thanks to the brown sludge that poured through from the neighbour's during last night's storm... Anyway everybody...stay safe, have a fantastic new year celebration and we'll speak again next year...

Computers are the last thing on my mind...

when the prospect of a day off comes around. Aside from the posting of a few minutes ago, I haven't written anything for a while (except a disaster recovery plan for a client), but that's due to the holidays. I spend hours every day behind a laptop computer, working, and when I'm not working the laptop is relegated to the depth and darkness of its carry bag. Today, I'm off for a game of golf with some chums from my previous company and some action cricket mates, so it already looks like it's going to be an all-nighter. And tomorrow, hangover willing, I'm off for a couple of hours fly fishing. Strangely, I'm going to meet our builder at the water, as we share this pasttime and he's out camping at the resort for a couple of days with the wife and kids. So...don't expect a posting anytime soon...maybe Friday I'll post an update on the above activities. If not, I trust everyone has a safe, peaceful, New Year and I hope to read some of the hangover tales on Monday...

Season's Greetings to all...

wherever you may be... I know it's a little late to wish everyone a Merry Christmas, so I won't (oh, okay, I will), but will wish everyone the most prosperous, joyful, 2006 and beyond for the upcoming new year. May the best of 2005 be the worst of 2006 to you all...

(Gob)bling Turkey??

Inane, but worth a giggle... Click here...

If Blogging is one of the means to...

communicate with a "larger audience", then why, as Lee remarked in a previous comment to a posting, does it seem that there are regular readers on sites? I must admit, I am guilty of having a select few blogs that I visit regularly, but am keen to expand my reading, which I will do when I get the time to do so. If you pop in here on occasion, and would like me to reciprocate by reading your ramblings, please drop me a comment with your Blog address and I'll drop in sometime. By doing so you also get to drop your address to other readers (not that there's many, or at least not as many as Cuzzin Ross or Jenny-May's blogs)...

Why do we usually wait for "special" occasions...

to reflect on things? I asked myself this question this morning, having read Lee and Jenny-May's latest blog postings for the umpteenth time, trying to figure out how to post a response or comment. For anyone who reads this and hasn't read their blogs, do so first and see what I'm referring to. In the western world, Christmas is supposed to be one of those "special" occasions, so as it's only a couple of weeks away, I'm going to reflect. And before you think "he's just going to be boasting about how much he's got", you're wrong. I'm actually reflecting on how privileged I am to have things and people in my life, that enrich my life. You might want to get the Kleenex out, as this posting has changed from what I originally planned, this sentence having been added after it was written. As someone who has worked (relatively) hard my entire working life for the things and people I have in my life, having made a few mistakes along the way and having to rebuild as I went along, I started reflecting on how fortunate I actually am compared to some others. Summer is in full swing in southern Africa and while you may think "so what?", we are also in the middle of a drought (or "minor drought" as the fuckwit on SkyNews weather calls it - there's no such thing as a "minor drought", ya twat!!), having had only about 20% of our expected rainfall so far. This means that there are people out there (you've all seen the pictures and news footage) who are struggling to get a drink of water, yet all I have to do is turn my tap on and there it is. There are farmers who are battling to get crops raised to feed these same masses, yet I can leave it to my computer-controlled sprinkler system to ensure that my plants don't die. I can afford, though not extravagantly, to go out to a supermarket and buy groceries, or to a fast food outlet, to keep my overweight gut in "shape" (round is also a shape, you know) and to keep my stomach from grumbling, yet there are those that I see every day on street corners, begging a few coins for something to eat or drink (the latest "scam" is for beggars to drag along a blind person to try and elicit sympathy, and money, from motorists). Those that I can, and being able to judge (I think) a genuine case, I will drop a few coins into their cup, or hand them one of my McDonald's junior cheeseburgers when I'm treating myself (the chips are mine, no way I share those). In winter, I can load an extra duvet onto the bed or turn up the electric blanket a point or two, yet there are those that don't even have a blanket for warmth. I can snuggle up closer to the ever-warm Steph, yet there are those who don't even have someone they can say hello to, let alone hug for a bit of warmth or affection. I have my health, even if I'm a little bit overweight (I blame Steph's great cooking, another privilege), but again everyone has seen the footage of masses of people in food shelters, waiting patiently for morsels, or in filthy make-shift field hospitals, coughing their lungs out or suffering, sometimes in silence, from some or other unmentionable (yet preventable) disease. I have my family, a loving mother, father, brother and sister, daughter, and friends whom I can call up and ask how they're doing, what they're up to, how their lives are going, or to send them a gift on a "special occasion". There are, on the other hand, those out there who don't have anyone in their lives, no-one to speak to and with no-one wanting to speak to them, alone and lonely, no-one to hand them a gift to unwrap and see the smile on their face. I'm sitting here (supposedly working) in my house which is currently in a state of upheaval while we have an extra lounge added to increase our style of living, with a partially-leaky roof over my head (due to the ineptitude of the builders), but I have a roof over my head at night to shelter me from storms, heat and cold. Meanwhile, somewhere in the world, there are those that live under bridges, shelter in cardboard boxes in shop doorways, or tin shacks in overcrowded townships, even those that don't even have that. I have a car that I can get into, drive to do whatever I have to, yet there are those who have to walk many kilometres to carry water back to their homes, to be repeated daily. I can pick up a book, look at the insert and decide if it's "worth reading", yet there are those that cannot read or write. I can walk to the fridge, powered by electricity, take out something to eat or drink, yet there are those who still light up their homes by candlelight, those that don't know what the hell a fridge is. I have a job, as frustrating, mundane or unexciting as it may be at times, that pays my water and lights bills every month, allows me to buy my groceries, pays for my car and fuel, extends the roof over my head, keeps my health (and gut) in shape, buys my books to read, and countless other privileges I could mention. There are those that don't have a job, or one that enables them to barely scrape a living above the bread line. So, why do we wait for "special occasions" to reflect? I don't know, but the main thing is to reflect...and be eternally thankful for what we have. I am... So also, to respond to Lee and Jenny-May's postings, there are special people that, even though I may never meet them, I know have enriched my life by our interaction and I am privileged to have that. You two ladies are two such people...thank you.

What would you do if you had the means...

to give everyone one wish? I was reading through some of my regular blogger's pages and there's a common theme to them (for some strange reason or other). Every one of them either has, or wants to, travel. That would be my gift to everyone who has the desire to see somewhere different than the four walls in which they live. Think carefully about it, pick a spot in the world you would like to see, here you go, here's your ticket to ________. I've had the privilege to travel quite widely, most of which has been done within the boundaries of South Africa (in fact, I've seen more of SA than most locals have..top to bottom and left to right, right around the coastline). I've also been to Dallas and Florida in the States, twice seen the southern part of Ireland from Dublin to the West Coast (fantastic), Zurich and the Alps in Switzerland, Canterbury in England, my home country Scotland (small enough to travel around it in one day, which we did...Edinburgh to Inverness, down past Oban and Sterling to Glenrothes and back to Edinburgh in 16hrs), Lagos in Nigeria (way different to anywhere else you might go), Mozambique from the southern SA border up to Inhambane (500km north of Maputo - wonderful beaches), and Dar es Salaam in Tanzania (arse-end of the world, that was). My greatest trip, however, and I have mentioned it before, was sailing from Durban to Zanzibar, for which I still need to blog the diary, as promised. I'll get round to it one day. So...in the words of {nnggggggg} Microsoft, "Where do you want to go today?"

Ok, so it's time...

to create a new posting and let the world know it hasn't got rid of me yet... The only reason I haven't put anything out recently is that things are extremely busy on this side of nowhere. Work is keeping me going through the day, to such an extent that, by the time 17h00 comes around I resolve to switch the laptop off until the following morning unless there's something urgent to complete. And that's from starting anywhere between 08h00 and 09h00. On top of that, there's meetings to attend and, as usual, they're not always the best use of one's time. On the home-front, things are at a virtual standstill on the building of the lounge, with the project manager always full of excuses as to why there are delays. To you lot out there who are considering building, or adding to your homes, put penalty clauses into the agreement. Hindsight is wonderful... Consider the photo to the left of this paragraph. It's a photo of my 19yr old daughter's back, or at least the new tattoo on it. As much as it's a nice picture and the artist has some talent, she really hasn't gone into this with any forethought of future consequences. Yeah, I know it's her body and her life, and, and, and, and all the other arguments, but she's only 19 and has a future ahead of her in which she can never be certain how body art will be received. Yeah, I know companies are not supposed to discriminate on the basis of loads of things, but face it, that's in an ideal world. She has a full career ahead of her and if someone senior sees it, it will probably be used against her at some point. And yes, she knows I'm disappointed in her for not thinking further ahead and going on impulse. Maybe I am an old fuddy-duddy at 43, but I have the benefit of age and experience. Incidentally, I have two tattoo's, one of Taz on my left shoulder and one, taken from the Scottish Rugby Union website of a thistle in the shape of a rugby ball, on the back of my right calf...both of which are unseen in normal workwear. The last two weeks have been an absolute alcoholic blur. It all started when my best mate (and brother I wished I'd had) Al, arrived from Houston as guest speaker at a seminar I hosted. He's been here a few times before, but this is the first time from the States. In previous visits, he'd been based in the UK, and he'd only had to endure a "normal" overnight flight. This time it took him almost two days to get here. Flight BA55 arrived at 07h00 or so, and after we'd sorted out a problem with Al's ATM card (wish the USA would get on the same systems as the REST of the world), we headed out for a breakfast, getting there at 10h30 and, you guessed it...the mail plane had flown over already so the bar was open. That was the start of a long Saturday, ending at about 21h30 or so when Al couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, and which somewhere in the middle included me getting my head shaved in support of Cancer Day. The following morning we were up early for a 2-hour drive to the seminar venue, Bakubung Bush Lodge in the heart of the Pilanesberg National Park (where we took daughter Tami and Cuzzin Ross earlier this year). After a couple of sessions, it was off for a game drive where we saw, mostly the "usual suspects" but also a lone male lion. The Pilanesberg had had a very bad bush fire a few weeks ago where a number of elephants were badly burned, some dying from their wounds, and the park rangers had left one of the carcasses for the scavengers to feed from. According to the ranger on our drive, it explained why this particular lion had been seen in this area for a while. Following the drive, we had an African Drumming Experience team building set up for the delegates, during and following which more alcohol was drunk, with the last of us retiring at about 02h00. Needless to say that on the Monday morning none of us were feeling too strong and the morning sessions went off very quietly. By lunchtime, everyone had started to wake up again, as Al had begun his presentations. He's a remarkable presenter and can keep you listening to him for hours. Being from Belfast helps too, as the Irish from that part of the world don't always know when to shut the fuck up. In his case, though, it's a good thing. For the afternoon, we'd arranged a game of cricket for a bit of sport, with yours truly acting as the impartial umpire. A fun time was had by all, with a couple of minor injuries caused by delegates throwing themselves around the tennis court we were playing on. Following that was another game drive and another few beers, though by 21h30 everyone had remembered the previous evening's "injuries" and retired to bed. Tuesday saw a couple of wrap-up sessions, following which Al and I went to de-stress in Manyane, another of the Pilanesberg camps, which is the same camp we went to in May. Too many beers and Captain Morgan 'n' Cokes later, we decided to call it a day. On Wednesday evening, back in Johannesburg, we ended up having dinner with Al's boss who was also in the country, but on holiday (his wife is from SA). Again, too much alcohol and another late night. We were supposed to go to Action Cricket on the Thursday night (and regular readers will know what that does to me), but the game was cancelled so Al and I sat at home and had a little barbecue by ourselves...and more alcohol... Friday saw us in the office for a few hours, followed by another dinner with Al's boss and a couple of other friends...and more alcohol... Needless to say that, after all that boozing, none of us surfaced until after 10h00 on Saturday and all we had to do was some shopping for curios for Al to take back to the States. He was under threat of divorce if he didn't bring back a pair of oven gloves with an African pattern on them, and knock me over and spank my ass with a rough plank if we didn't find a pair of gloves exactly the same as he had back home. Oven gloves may be a strange thing to take back from Africa for someone, but the original pair had been burned recently and Mrs Al really liked them (as he says, if she didn't have them, she'd end up burning her hands taking th TV dinners out of the oven - Al is the chief cook in the house). As is customary with our farewells, that evening it took us all of two seconds to say good bye (neitherof us like long goodbye's) and for Al to go belting off to get through customs in time to do some more bargain hunting before the two-day flight home. and it really is a bargain out here for visitors from the States and the UK as the exchange rates are so much in their favour (ZAR6.7 and ZAR12.4 to the dollar and pound respectively just now). Saturday, Sunday, Monday and Tuesday ended up being nice and quiet at home, just the two of us with perhaps only a sundowner for a drink, but Wednesday was another story. You guessed it...Action Cricket night!! Staggered in at somewhere around midnight, ravaged the missus (she loves it when I'm on the Captian Morgan 'n' Coke) and passed out sometime soon after. Thursday, as we had missed the game the previous week, ended up being a repeat of Wednesday, except for the ravaging part (too fucking knackered) and ended up getting to bed about 22h30. Somewhere through the haze I remember that we set up a game of golf for this coming Thursday...must get hold of the guys to find out more details. We expected to have a quiet Friday evening, just the two of us, but the neighbour's kids came over for a couple of hours while mum and dad went off to a work function (granny let them down on the babysitting). It ended up being not too late a night, with the kids' folks picking them up around 22h30...and very little alcohol. Saturday, however, was another story. After pottering around the garden and cleaning up the caravan for a few hours (we're going camping this weekend at a place Mbizi), we went to the wedding of two of our friends. Let me tell you that red wine and single malt scotch DO NOT MIX!! That was probably the worst hangover of my entire fucking life and Sunday was spent vegetating on the couch after a haggis and fried egg sandwich. Anyway, that's what I've been up to over the last few weeks, just in case you wondered. And, oh yes, Wednesday night is Action Cricket again...anyone got a spare liver? Take care, y'all...

Would you eat something that looked like this?

There's a stream not far from the house and a while ago I'd seen some barbel (catfish) swimming around in it, so today with nothing better to do and fed up sitting in front of the laptop working on a presentation for an upcoming seminar we're hosting, I took my fly rod down. After looking around the river for a while, not seeing a rise, I went back upstream and saw a pool where there were some fish rising. That was all I needed to get me to put the rod together (a 9-weight saltwater rod - those fish would break my 5-weight rod, I reckoned) and move the car back closer to the pool. First I tied on an orange "booby" fly (a dry fly that floats with the aid of sponge for eyes....dunno what it's supposed to look like). Nothing happened after a few minutes so I tied on a fly called a "Yellow DDD" and had a few casts. No luck...so I tried a fly called a "half-a-chicken", a big black thing with red tail streamers which is supposed to be good for barbel. Again, no luck after a few casts. This time I thought I might try an imitation grass hopper, called a "Joe's Hopper". A few casts and I had a few chases, but only after I noticed that they were chasing it after it "plunked" onto the surface....it looked like the noise was attracting them. So I waited for a rise and splashed the Hopper right next to it. Next thing I know, the line straightens and a barbel takes off like a fucking freight train. It took all the loose line I was hanging onto, about 3 or 4 metres, and then carried on going, taking about another 3 or 4 off the reel which was screaming like a banshee from the drag. I managed to get the fish under control, brought it in a bit, it took a couple more runs and started swimming upstream, so I followed it from the bank. After about 10 minutes it tired, and I managed to get it to the bank but there was no way I was going to pick that slimy thing up. Luckily it was so tired it just flopped about a bit and I tried to get the fly out its mouth with some long-nose pliers, but the knot snapped as I tried to twist the hook out. Judging by the look of the fly, it was buggered anyway, so I didn't try any more to get the fly back and guided the fish back into the stream. Not before I got some pictures of it though...... ;-)))) Even while I was fighting it, I had one hand on the rod and managed to get the digital camera out of my fly vest pocket to take a couple of pictures. Then when I got it to the bank, I took a couple more. I reckon the fish was between 4 and 5 kilograms......have a look at the pictures and judge for yourself. On top of which, the leader I was using was rated 2.5kg breaking strain...so it was a good fight and result. The thin red circle to the left of it's mouth is where I highlighted the fly, still in the fish's mouth. After that, I had to tie on another leader cos the barbel tried to wrap me around some debris in the water and frayed it, so I also tied on another grasshopper imitation from my fly box and tried a while longer. Turns out, the hook on that version was very weak (it was actually a number 10 trout hook) and bent straight on two subsequent takes that I had. Ah well....... It turned out to be quite an interesting afternoon and I'll probably do it again sometime that I need a break..... ;-))))

I wish these builders were more constructive...

than they have been until now. What should have been a 6-week project to build the new lounge is dragging on and on and on... Today, however, they should be starting to take out the upstairs Dormer window to patch the two roofs into each other. Until now, we've been lucky (unlucky, the farmers would say) to have not had any rain, but Chicken Licken's Luck says that as soon as you don't have a roof over your head, something will fall on it.