it's more a lifestyle than a sport.
Or, at least, for those of us who pursue it passionately, it is a lifestyle.
Both my brother and I are anglers and he is a great rock and surf angler, but aside from a number of trips on the deep sea ski boats, he hasn't taken his angling any further. Perhaps he doesn't need to, as he catches enough fish from the beach.
My father, on the other hand, is a great all-round angler, one of the best I know in fact. He started angling as a youngster in Scotland, sometimes poaching fish to earn a few bucks for the fish he sold to butchers. He once told me he held the unofficial world record for a freshwater salmon (the number 76lbs sticks in my mind) but he couldn't claim the record because it was poached (in fact, gaffed, it was so big) on private waters.
While he was growing up, dad got into fly fishing and for the most part, tied his own flies with great success. For anyone who knows fly tying, you will know that it involves great skill and patience, understanding the feeding habits of the fish you're trying to attract and the waters you'll be presenting your fly on. Scotland has some of the best fly fishing waters in the UK, although some of the fish are what we might call tiddlers these days, even compared to the hatchery trout we get in SA.
When we moved to SA in 1969, we moved to Springs, a little town just outside Johannesburg, and dad got us interested in angling in the dams, catching carp and barbel (catfish). He lost interest in it though, I think, when we started showing interest and proficiency in this aspect of the lifestyle.
But dad also dabbled a while in rock and surf angling, quite possibly to interest my brother and I in yet another form of angling. Just after we moved to Stanger on the north coast of SA, dad bought us all decent equipment and I still remember the first time we went to the beach together and I caught a small sandshark. He talked me all through the bite, what to wait for, when to strike, how to play and land the fish. Quite possibly, my brother will remember those times as well, but he ended up doing his own thing and developed his own (successful) style of angling.
At one point, after being friends with some of the commercial fishermen and going out on boats with them a few times, dad and a friend bought a small ski boat that was rigged out for deep sea fishing, and he took us out on a few occasions. Deep sea fishing is great fun, but not if you get seasick easily. Luckily for our family, all the men seem to have their "sea legs" and don't suffer from seasickness.
Just a couple of years ago, I got into the fly fishing "scene" and bought dad a 5wt fly rod, reel and line as I wanted to try flies in the sea, as well as see if I could rekindle his passion in fly fishing. After all, he has the entire Indian Ocean on his doorstep. To this date, dad is the only one of us all to catch a fish in the sea on fly. It was a small pompano, taken in the shallows just down from their house.
As for myself, aside from the aspects of the lifestyle I've mentioned myself in above, I enjoy angling because it gets me out of the house ("you watch too much tv") and into the fresh air. I get to socialise with people I would never have met if we didn't share the same passion in angling and we talk passionately about our shared lifestyle.
I've never fished in Scotland, except as a very small boy growing up there, but would like to go fly fishing with my aunt one day (yes, my aunt - she has a passion for fly fishing unlike her husband who only has a passion for Chivas Regal). I haven't tried fly fishing down here in the Cape yet as most of my angling days are spent on a beach with a 14ft rock and surf rod in my hand, trying to catch my first "real" fish here. I've caught a few sandsharks and puffer fish here, but those don't count. Until I catch a decent size edible fish, or a large shark, I will consider myself a Cape angling virgin.
I get out onto Kalk Bay harbour wall now and then, and try to catch my own chokka (squid) which is used as bait for bigger fish. The wall is always crammed with anglers trying to get their quota of chokka and there is always an air of cameraderie. No-one cares what tackle the other guys are using as chokka is caught from the wall with light spinning tackle, rather than large bulky rock and surf rigs. Everyone laughs when a chokka is caught as the rush is then on to get it past the marauding Cape fur seals who ambush your catch on the way in.
I've enjoyed my limited angling time in the Cape to such an extent that I've developed what I called the "False Bay Angling Assistant" to help other new anglers in the area. It's a simple double-sided A4 document that has a Google Earth picture with some GPS coordinates of angling spots, bag and size limits of the popular fish in the False Bay area, names and numbers of tackle shops, tackle repair guys, handy hints and tips in angling conservation, as well as types of fish that we are just not allowed to catch due to legislation. Since its creation, I'm on version 3, and the document is posted on three different angling websites. It's also been downloaded by over 400 anglers, so I like to think I'm doing my own small bit for the lifestyle.
This coming weekend, I hope to be standing on a beach again, rod in hand waiting for the "big toothy bus" to try and wrench the rod out of my arms, enjoying the company of a couple of guys from the fishing forum I'm a member of who are also passionate about the lifestyle.
In about five weeks time, I should be sitting on a Transkei beach, again with rod in hand enjoying the company of the Kosi Fishing Team (Fishman, his Sis-in-law, skoonpa -father-in-law- and Rudolph) and a couple of others who want to join us this year. Fishman has done his usual sterling job of organising this year's trip and everyone is all gee'd up to get out there. They, unfortunately for them, are all landlocked up in the Gauteng and Mpumalanga provinces, so they don't get to do as much angling as myself. But we're all looking forward to getting together again (this will be my third trip with the team) to spend five days talking shit, drinking copious amounts of Capns Organ or brandy and coke, and just generally enjoying the outdoors and the company of other passionate anglers.
But most importantly, enjoying the angling lifestyle...
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
And this is what really happened...
Some time ago, President Clinton was hosting a state dinner when, at the last minute, his regular cook fell ill and they had to get a replacement on short notice. The fellow arrived and turned out to be a very grubby-looking man named Jon. The President voiced his concerns to his Chief of Staff but was told that this was the best they could do on such short notice.
Just before the meal, the President noticed the cook sticking his finger in the soup to taste it and again complained to the Chief of Staff. He was told that this man was supposed to be a very good chef, but the President was sure that the soup tasted a little funny. Passing through the kitchen earlier, he had caught sight of the cook, Jon, scratching his rear end, which made him feel even worse. The meal was very delicious and went okay but by the time dessert came, he was starting to have stomach cramps and nausea.
After dinner the President went in to the Oval office and leaned back in his chair hoping to relax and let it pass, but it was getting worse until finally the President found his head was spinning. Before he brought it all up he decided he had better look for the bathroom. By now, the President was desperately ill with violent cramps and was so disorientated that he couldn't remember which door led to the bathroom.
He was on the verge of passing out from the pain when he finally found a door and opened it. As he unzipped his trousers and ran in, he realized to his horror he was in the passage way outside the Oval office where, with his trousers around his knees, he found he had stumbled into a young intern, Monica Lewinsky.
The President was bent over in pain and Monica got down on her knees to try and hear what he was saying. As she bent over him she heard the President rasp in a barely audible voice, "Sack my cook."
Just before the meal, the President noticed the cook sticking his finger in the soup to taste it and again complained to the Chief of Staff. He was told that this man was supposed to be a very good chef, but the President was sure that the soup tasted a little funny. Passing through the kitchen earlier, he had caught sight of the cook, Jon, scratching his rear end, which made him feel even worse. The meal was very delicious and went okay but by the time dessert came, he was starting to have stomach cramps and nausea.
After dinner the President went in to the Oval office and leaned back in his chair hoping to relax and let it pass, but it was getting worse until finally the President found his head was spinning. Before he brought it all up he decided he had better look for the bathroom. By now, the President was desperately ill with violent cramps and was so disorientated that he couldn't remember which door led to the bathroom.
He was on the verge of passing out from the pain when he finally found a door and opened it. As he unzipped his trousers and ran in, he realized to his horror he was in the passage way outside the Oval office where, with his trousers around his knees, he found he had stumbled into a young intern, Monica Lewinsky.
The President was bent over in pain and Monica got down on her knees to try and hear what he was saying. As she bent over him she heard the President rasp in a barely audible voice, "Sack my cook."
Monday, January 26, 2009
Lunar Eclipse - Monday 26th Jan 2009
I was looking forward to this morning's eclipse, even if it was a partial covering.
Unfortunately, some clouds decided to make an appearance, just as the covering was coming to its best.
I grabbed the welders helmet and peered through just to make sure the glass would shield my eyes enough, and then set the camera to various settings to see what photos I could get. After a number of failed shots, these two were the best, then the clouds came and covered the whole sky and that was the end of it.
Unfortunately, some clouds decided to make an appearance, just as the covering was coming to its best.
I grabbed the welders helmet and peered through just to make sure the glass would shield my eyes enough, and then set the camera to various settings to see what photos I could get. After a number of failed shots, these two were the best, then the clouds came and covered the whole sky and that was the end of it.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Muppet?
My daughter seems to have forgotten what I look like, so to remind her:
Me...dad...
Muppet...
Hopefully this clears up the matter...LOL...
Me...dad...
Muppet...
Hopefully this clears up the matter...LOL...
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
"Mount a pin-lock mechanism on the sliding door..."
said the new insurance policy we took out the other day, otherwise there would be no cover for the contents of the house if there was a break-in. The pin-lock has to be ninety degrees to the normal lock on the sliding door to prevent the door from being lifted off the track, so I toddled off to the local hardware store (not Builders Whorehouse, it's too far away) to see how they could help me.
While I was there, I picked up a couple of burglar guards for our bathroom window which, until today, didn't have any and I was reluctant to leave those windows open at night for fresh air or when we went out for fear of having some fucker come through them and rip us off, or worse.
So, ZAR446 later, I toddle off home via the car wash and stick the bakkie through for a "wash 'n' go" to get the salt residue washed off and to make Gertie all shiny again.
I quickly installed the burglar guards onto the wooden window frames using one-way screws so that they can't be unscrewed again to give someone access through the window. I almost cocked it up by pre-screwing one of the screws into the frame to act as a pilot. Luckily, I remembered after only a few turns that they were one-way only and I had to take it out by means of a pair of pliars. No harm done, I had my pilot hole and successfully installed both guards.
That done, I moved onto the sliding door and the pin-lock. I figured out that it needed to be mounted to the bottom of the door, seeing as SWMSBO is not the tallest of people and would not, because of the height of the door and the step, be able to reach and unlock the lock if I mounted it to the top of the door.
Again, I used one-way screws, remembering not to try and make a pilot hole with one of them, lest I want to use the pliars again. That done, I closed the door to see where I needed to drill the hole for the pin to push into so that the pin would lock in place. The end of the pin has a small protrusion on the end of it to allow you to push the pin onto the door which will leave a small mark where you have to drill. Again, simple enough, and the hole was drilled.
At that point, I stood back and pressed the pin to check that it worked. It did. It clicked into place indicating that I'd drilled the hole to the correct depth. And you can guess what happened next.
I couldn't get the door open again. I had left the keys on the floor just inside the door. I could see the fuckin' things gleaming up at me, gloating. "Here we are", they shouted. "Fuuuuccckkkk", I shouted.
So, after thinking I could maybe go around to the back door and let myself in that way, I remembered I had just come back from the hardware store and hadn't opened that door yet. I also couldn't just jump in the open bathroom windows cos I'd just fuckin' installed fuckin' burglar fuckin' guards on them, with one fuckin' way fuckin' screws.
I thought I was screwed. I had visions of standing outside in the wind with the dogs, waiting for SWMSBO to come home, so that she could first gloat and laugh and then kak me out for being so fuckin' stupid cos she wouldn't have had one of the new keys either.
Gathering my thoughts, I figured I could use a piece of wire to lift the keys off the floor, only to find that we had left the window I had in mind closed thanks to the storm-strength south easterly wind that's blowing today.
Then I remembered that all the bedrooms have doors that open out onto the patio and that the middle bedroom door's keys would be within reach of a piece of strategically-placed wire. Into the garage, I found and straightened an old coat-hanger, made my way to the bedroom window (which I knew is always open for the cat to move about freely) and managed to move the keys into sight. Thankfully, the key ring was sticking up and it was a piece of piss to hook the ring with the wire and bring it to the window, where I stood patting myself on the back for being such a clever idiot.
Once I was inside, it was a case of heaving a sigh of relief and tidying up the tools. The piece of coat hanger wire now has a place of seniority and reverence on the workbench as it may be needed again sometime.
While I was there, I picked up a couple of burglar guards for our bathroom window which, until today, didn't have any and I was reluctant to leave those windows open at night for fresh air or when we went out for fear of having some fucker come through them and rip us off, or worse.
So, ZAR446 later, I toddle off home via the car wash and stick the bakkie through for a "wash 'n' go" to get the salt residue washed off and to make Gertie all shiny again.
I quickly installed the burglar guards onto the wooden window frames using one-way screws so that they can't be unscrewed again to give someone access through the window. I almost cocked it up by pre-screwing one of the screws into the frame to act as a pilot. Luckily, I remembered after only a few turns that they were one-way only and I had to take it out by means of a pair of pliars. No harm done, I had my pilot hole and successfully installed both guards.
That done, I moved onto the sliding door and the pin-lock. I figured out that it needed to be mounted to the bottom of the door, seeing as SWMSBO is not the tallest of people and would not, because of the height of the door and the step, be able to reach and unlock the lock if I mounted it to the top of the door.
Again, I used one-way screws, remembering not to try and make a pilot hole with one of them, lest I want to use the pliars again. That done, I closed the door to see where I needed to drill the hole for the pin to push into so that the pin would lock in place. The end of the pin has a small protrusion on the end of it to allow you to push the pin onto the door which will leave a small mark where you have to drill. Again, simple enough, and the hole was drilled.
At that point, I stood back and pressed the pin to check that it worked. It did. It clicked into place indicating that I'd drilled the hole to the correct depth. And you can guess what happened next.
I couldn't get the door open again. I had left the keys on the floor just inside the door. I could see the fuckin' things gleaming up at me, gloating. "Here we are", they shouted. "Fuuuuccckkkk", I shouted.
So, after thinking I could maybe go around to the back door and let myself in that way, I remembered I had just come back from the hardware store and hadn't opened that door yet. I also couldn't just jump in the open bathroom windows cos I'd just fuckin' installed fuckin' burglar fuckin' guards on them, with one fuckin' way fuckin' screws.
I thought I was screwed. I had visions of standing outside in the wind with the dogs, waiting for SWMSBO to come home, so that she could first gloat and laugh and then kak me out for being so fuckin' stupid cos she wouldn't have had one of the new keys either.
Gathering my thoughts, I figured I could use a piece of wire to lift the keys off the floor, only to find that we had left the window I had in mind closed thanks to the storm-strength south easterly wind that's blowing today.
Then I remembered that all the bedrooms have doors that open out onto the patio and that the middle bedroom door's keys would be within reach of a piece of strategically-placed wire. Into the garage, I found and straightened an old coat-hanger, made my way to the bedroom window (which I knew is always open for the cat to move about freely) and managed to move the keys into sight. Thankfully, the key ring was sticking up and it was a piece of piss to hook the ring with the wire and bring it to the window, where I stood patting myself on the back for being such a clever idiot.
Once I was inside, it was a case of heaving a sigh of relief and tidying up the tools. The piece of coat hanger wire now has a place of seniority and reverence on the workbench as it may be needed again sometime.
And now it's my turn to get a scammer emailing me...
The other day Wreckless had some stupid fuckwit send him a scam email telling him he had been given a large sum of money. I got one this morning, from a different scammer...still as stupid as the rest of them, but different anyhow. The underlying is quoted as received...
Greatings to you,
On behalf of the St.Mary's Foundation I wish to notify you as a beneficiary of £2.5m GBP in celebration of our 40th years of excellent and fullfilling services to humanity. Do contact Western Union Money Transfer, United Kingdom Branch for verification and release of your Western Union Money Transfer Control Number (MTCN) for the first £5,000 GBP that has been payed and avaliable for pick up.
Name:
Address:
Occupation:
Country:
Email:
Telephone:
You can contact our customer service with the following information:
Mr.James Formby
westenunion_costomerservice@live.com
Regional Co-ordinator
Western Unioun
United Kingdom.
The return email address is in Italy ("Carlo Colarusso" c.colarusso@enac.rupa.it) and it looks like it may be a university.
If my name was George W Bush, I might consider answering the email, but fuckit, I'm not that thick and I just don't have the time...
Greatings to you,
On behalf of the St.Mary's Foundation I wish to notify you as a beneficiary of £2.5m GBP in celebration of our 40th years of excellent and fullfilling services to humanity. Do contact Western Union Money Transfer, United Kingdom Branch for verification and release of your Western Union Money Transfer Control Number (MTCN) for the first £5,000 GBP that has been payed and avaliable for pick up.
Name:
Address:
Occupation:
Country:
Email:
Telephone:
You can contact our customer service with the following information:
Mr.James Formby
westenunion_costomerservice@live.com
Regional Co-ordinator
Western Unioun
United Kingdom.
The return email address is in Italy ("Carlo Colarusso" c.colarusso@enac.rupa.it) and it looks like it may be a university.
If my name was George W Bush, I might consider answering the email, but fuckit, I'm not that thick and I just don't have the time...
Monday, January 12, 2009
Ever heard of a "Tzeva Adom"?
Chances are, if you live in Israel, you will have...regularly.
A "Tzeva Adom" is basically an air raid alert, sent out by the Israeli Defence Force (IDF) to announce incoming Palestinian missiles. People have, on average, 15 seconds to respond to the alert and get into a bomb shelter before the missile lands. Sometimes the alert fails to get through and explosions arrive unannounced except for the whistle of the incoming rocket.
The underlying blog is written by an Israeli lady, a film producer by profession, living in a small town in Israel called "Sderot". Do yourself a favour, even if it is just for interest sake, and read what she's written. It's sad, frightening, emotional and makes you wonder what the fuck the world is coming to and why we can't live together in relative peace, understanding and tolerance. The blog also details the lack of accuracy of information reported by the media, from the number of dead to the number of missiles that are actually fired on Israel and, more accurately, on one little town.
http://sderotmovie.com/blog/
A "Tzeva Adom" is basically an air raid alert, sent out by the Israeli Defence Force (IDF) to announce incoming Palestinian missiles. People have, on average, 15 seconds to respond to the alert and get into a bomb shelter before the missile lands. Sometimes the alert fails to get through and explosions arrive unannounced except for the whistle of the incoming rocket.
The underlying blog is written by an Israeli lady, a film producer by profession, living in a small town in Israel called "Sderot". Do yourself a favour, even if it is just for interest sake, and read what she's written. It's sad, frightening, emotional and makes you wonder what the fuck the world is coming to and why we can't live together in relative peace, understanding and tolerance. The blog also details the lack of accuracy of information reported by the media, from the number of dead to the number of missiles that are actually fired on Israel and, more accurately, on one little town.
http://sderotmovie.com/blog/
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
A 365-project in the offing...
My baby has started a new photo project, which she calls her "365-project".
Basically, she takes a photo a day and posts it on her new blog page. She says it's where she'll store all her day-to-day photos, rather than the ones she wants to store on her portfolio site.
I think it's a great idea as it allows her, or anyone reading the blog, to reflect back on the year gone by, at any point in time.
Here are the links to her sites:
The 365-project http://my-365-project.blogspot.com/
The Portfolio http://foto-journey.blogspot.com/
Basically, she takes a photo a day and posts it on her new blog page. She says it's where she'll store all her day-to-day photos, rather than the ones she wants to store on her portfolio site.
I think it's a great idea as it allows her, or anyone reading the blog, to reflect back on the year gone by, at any point in time.
Here are the links to her sites:
The 365-project http://my-365-project.blogspot.com/
The Portfolio http://foto-journey.blogspot.com/
Monday, December 22, 2008
Damn this Evolution thing...
these baboons are just getting cleverer and jumping higher than ever before...
Friday, December 19, 2008
A Local Fishing Spot...
For some or other reason, it's known as "Cemetery" and yet there isn't one within a huge radius (I've checked on Google Earth).
I think it might be because the water is "dead", in other words, I went fishing there over last weekend and caught fuckall...
The scenery, though, is great from that part of the world and the water in False Bay is at least 10degC warmer than on the Atlantic Ocean side (even though the bay is fed by the same ocean).
I did, however, go down to the Kalk Bay harbour wall the other night and, although the conditions were pretty crap, managed to catch my first squid ("chokka" as it's known here). I got it on my second cast and spent the rest of the almost two and a half hours flinging the lure into the water for fuckall. If I'd known that was going to be the case, I would have buggered off home for a nice scotch right after that, but as the same going "c'est la vie". By the time Fishman and the Kosi Fishing Team come down to the Cape (we're talking about Morgan Bay as our next trip) I'm hoping that we won't have to buy bait as, with my new fishing licence, I can catch up to 20 chokka per day. Some of them we'll probably eat at home (lovely calamari), but the majority will be frozen as bait.
I think it might be because the water is "dead", in other words, I went fishing there over last weekend and caught fuckall...
The scenery, though, is great from that part of the world and the water in False Bay is at least 10degC warmer than on the Atlantic Ocean side (even though the bay is fed by the same ocean).
I did, however, go down to the Kalk Bay harbour wall the other night and, although the conditions were pretty crap, managed to catch my first squid ("chokka" as it's known here). I got it on my second cast and spent the rest of the almost two and a half hours flinging the lure into the water for fuckall. If I'd known that was going to be the case, I would have buggered off home for a nice scotch right after that, but as the same going "c'est la vie". By the time Fishman and the Kosi Fishing Team come down to the Cape (we're talking about Morgan Bay as our next trip) I'm hoping that we won't have to buy bait as, with my new fishing licence, I can catch up to 20 chokka per day. Some of them we'll probably eat at home (lovely calamari), but the majority will be frozen as bait.
Honestly, Officer...
I don't know how those weeds from my garden got into those cut-off plastic bottles. A big boy must have done it and ran away...
Actually, I found these two "weeds" growing next to our driveway and I suspect the removals guys might have had a smoke during a break they had, and thrown the seeds from their mix into the sand. These are the results and I'm keeping them as a novelty. I'll keep you posted on their progress...
Actually, I found these two "weeds" growing next to our driveway and I suspect the removals guys might have had a smoke during a break they had, and thrown the seeds from their mix into the sand. These are the results and I'm keeping them as a novelty. I'll keep you posted on their progress...
Thursday, December 11, 2008
It was time for a change...
to the look of this blog.
And maybe, just maybe, it'll stop Wreckless from bitching about the length of some of my postings. Now they'll at least look shorter due to the wide-screen format.
I like it...and that's what matters...
And maybe, just maybe, it'll stop Wreckless from bitching about the length of some of my postings. Now they'll at least look shorter due to the wide-screen format.
I like it...and that's what matters...
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Our new lodger...part 2...
has flown the nest...literally...
Aside from noticing that mommy-dove had not been around to feed the lodger in the last couple of days, we have had some storm-strength winds recently, and I found he/she/it sitting on the little wall directly below the nest. Whether it had been blown out of the nest, I'm not sure, but that is likely.
I approached it to see if there was any damage and it flew into the middle of the garden. Again, I approached to see if I could pick the lodger up to put it back in the nest, but the dove then flew over the property wall and we have not seen it since. The dove's wings were well developed and most of the juvenile feathers had been shed, so I'm hoping he/she/it will be okay...
Good luck, little dove...
Aside from noticing that mommy-dove had not been around to feed the lodger in the last couple of days, we have had some storm-strength winds recently, and I found he/she/it sitting on the little wall directly below the nest. Whether it had been blown out of the nest, I'm not sure, but that is likely.
I approached it to see if there was any damage and it flew into the middle of the garden. Again, I approached to see if I could pick the lodger up to put it back in the nest, but the dove then flew over the property wall and we have not seen it since. The dove's wings were well developed and most of the juvenile feathers had been shed, so I'm hoping he/she/it will be okay...
Good luck, little dove...
Monday, December 08, 2008
Our new lodger...
In a tree right outside our lounge sliding door, a dove built a nest. Here is the fruit of her loins, aged about two weeks...
Oor Hoos...
Some pics of the house we are renting for the first six months of our stay in the Cape...
The garden (what little there is of it)
The front door (look, no burglar guards)
The master bedroom, nice and airy (all bedrooms have these doors leading out into the garden)
The kitchen (the photo belies the actual size)
From the Dining Area looking out the sliding door to the garden
The front of the house, to the carport
The view out the lounge picture window (not pictured is the double garage, behind the guest house, both out of view to the right)
The garden (what little there is of it)
The front door (look, no burglar guards)
The master bedroom, nice and airy (all bedrooms have these doors leading out into the garden)
The kitchen (the photo belies the actual size)
From the Dining Area looking out the sliding door to the garden
The front of the house, to the carport
The view out the lounge picture window (not pictured is the double garage, behind the guest house, both out of view to the right)
Friday, December 05, 2008
Since I've been in the Cape...
it appears my mates have gone all "responsible" on me.
Wreckless had a good reason for not being with us at Quartz for a few pints last night (Lucky L's prize-giving at school) so it was to be just Fishman, Corner, Jacko and myself sitting out in the "fresh" Shit Towne air getting wasted. Or at least so I thought...
We all pitched up around 5pm, as arranged, with Fishman and Corner already there when I arrived. Jacko arrived a couple of minutes after me. I arrived in SWMSBO's 206cc cabriolet, top down, to the gay jeers and pelvic thrusting motions from Fishman (no, neither of us are gay, the car just attracts weird pelvic thrusts from jeering fishermen).
After pleasantries, I had my third beer of the day having been at a team lunch earlier. Jacko arrived just in time, while I was standing at the bar buying drinks, so I got one for him too. Sitting in the warm, humid, Shit Towne air wasn't all that pleasant as the few weeks I've had in Cape Town has acclimatised me to the cooler air and I was sweating buckets.
It was great to sit and talk shit with the guys again, as it is one way of venting one's frustrations and, being in Joburg, those frustrations build pretty quickly. I couldn't believe the difference in the characters of the people in the different cities. It's as if Cape Town is not even part of South Africa.
We chatted until about 19h30 or so and when I went for a pee, I came back to find Jacko ready to leave, with Fishman and Corner also pleading responsibilities. I finally managed to convince Corner to have an ABF (Absolutely Bloody Final) drink and we threw another Capn's Organ down our throats then headed into the traffic.
On the road back to Buccleuch, the storm that had been brewing over the past couple of hours finally let loose and there was some serious lightning and hard rain that slowed the traffic hooligans down to a scream.
Feeling a little peckish, I stopped in at KFC for a quick Sweet Chilli Wrap and then headed for our ex-neighbour's house where I've been staying for the last couple of nights. We ended up sitting chatting and watching some or other daft TV movie and I was surprised to see that it was after 23h15 when I made my way to the room I was sleeping in.
It's too bad that Wreckless couldn't join us, but I might be back in Shit Towne again next week (still to be confirmed) and I'm sure we'll get together then. And I don't think the others will need another formal invitation to go out for a couple of hours.
Friends are the only thing I miss about Shit Towne and it's always great to see old friends, even if they do have other responsibilities to take care of...
Wreckless had a good reason for not being with us at Quartz for a few pints last night (Lucky L's prize-giving at school) so it was to be just Fishman, Corner, Jacko and myself sitting out in the "fresh" Shit Towne air getting wasted. Or at least so I thought...
We all pitched up around 5pm, as arranged, with Fishman and Corner already there when I arrived. Jacko arrived a couple of minutes after me. I arrived in SWMSBO's 206cc cabriolet, top down, to the gay jeers and pelvic thrusting motions from Fishman (no, neither of us are gay, the car just attracts weird pelvic thrusts from jeering fishermen).
After pleasantries, I had my third beer of the day having been at a team lunch earlier. Jacko arrived just in time, while I was standing at the bar buying drinks, so I got one for him too. Sitting in the warm, humid, Shit Towne air wasn't all that pleasant as the few weeks I've had in Cape Town has acclimatised me to the cooler air and I was sweating buckets.
It was great to sit and talk shit with the guys again, as it is one way of venting one's frustrations and, being in Joburg, those frustrations build pretty quickly. I couldn't believe the difference in the characters of the people in the different cities. It's as if Cape Town is not even part of South Africa.
We chatted until about 19h30 or so and when I went for a pee, I came back to find Jacko ready to leave, with Fishman and Corner also pleading responsibilities. I finally managed to convince Corner to have an ABF (Absolutely Bloody Final) drink and we threw another Capn's Organ down our throats then headed into the traffic.
On the road back to Buccleuch, the storm that had been brewing over the past couple of hours finally let loose and there was some serious lightning and hard rain that slowed the traffic hooligans down to a scream.
Feeling a little peckish, I stopped in at KFC for a quick Sweet Chilli Wrap and then headed for our ex-neighbour's house where I've been staying for the last couple of nights. We ended up sitting chatting and watching some or other daft TV movie and I was surprised to see that it was after 23h15 when I made my way to the room I was sleeping in.
It's too bad that Wreckless couldn't join us, but I might be back in Shit Towne again next week (still to be confirmed) and I'm sure we'll get together then. And I don't think the others will need another formal invitation to go out for a couple of hours.
Friends are the only thing I miss about Shit Towne and it's always great to see old friends, even if they do have other responsibilities to take care of...
Thursday, December 04, 2008
Son of a Bitch Fish...
The parish priest went on a fishing trip. On the last day of his trip he hooked a monster fish and proceeded to reel it in. The guide, holding a net, yelled, "Look at the size of that Son of a Bitch!"
"Son, I'm a priest. Your language is uncalled for!"
"No, Father, that's what kind of fish it is - a Son of a Bitch fish!"
"Really? Well then, help me land this Son of a Bitch!"
Once in the boat, they marveled at the size of the monster.
"Father, that's the biggest Son of a Bitch I've ever seen"
"Yes, it is a big Son of a Bitch. What should I do with it?"
"Why, eat it! Of course. You've never tasted anything as good as Son of a Bitch!"
Elated, the priest headed home to the rectory.
While unloading his gear and his prize catch, Sister Mary inquired about his trip.
"Take a look at this big Son of a Bitch I caught!"
Sister Mary gasped and clutched her rosary, "Father!"
"It's OK, Sister. That's what kind of fish it is, a Son of a Bitch fish!"
"Oh, well then, what are you going to do with that big Son of a Bitch?"
Sister Mary informed the priest that the new Bishop was scheduled to visit in a few days and that they should fix the Son of a Bitch for his dinner.
"I'll even clean the Son of a Bitch", she said.
As she was cleaning the huge fish, the Friar walked in. "What are you doing Sister?"
"Father wants me to clean this big Son of a Bitch for the new Bishop's Dinner"
"Sister! I'll clean it if you're so upset! Please watch your language!"
"No, no, no, it's called a Son of a Bitch Fish."
"Really? Well, in that case, I'll fix up a great meal to go with it, and that Son of a Bitch can be the main course! Let me know when you've finished cleaning that Son of a Bitch."
On the night of the new Bishop's visit, everything was perfect. The Friar had prepared an excellent meal. The wine was fine, and the fish was excellent.
The new Bishop said, "This is great fish, where did you get it?"
"I caught that Son of a Bitch!" proclaimed the proud priest.
"And I cleaned the Son of a Bitch!" exclaimed the Sister.
The Friar added, "And I prepared the Son of a Bitch, using a special recipe!"
The new Bishop looked around at each of them. A big smile crept across his face as he said, "You fuckers are my kind of people!".....
"Son, I'm a priest. Your language is uncalled for!"
"No, Father, that's what kind of fish it is - a Son of a Bitch fish!"
"Really? Well then, help me land this Son of a Bitch!"
Once in the boat, they marveled at the size of the monster.
"Father, that's the biggest Son of a Bitch I've ever seen"
"Yes, it is a big Son of a Bitch. What should I do with it?"
"Why, eat it! Of course. You've never tasted anything as good as Son of a Bitch!"
Elated, the priest headed home to the rectory.
While unloading his gear and his prize catch, Sister Mary inquired about his trip.
"Take a look at this big Son of a Bitch I caught!"
Sister Mary gasped and clutched her rosary, "Father!"
"It's OK, Sister. That's what kind of fish it is, a Son of a Bitch fish!"
"Oh, well then, what are you going to do with that big Son of a Bitch?"
Sister Mary informed the priest that the new Bishop was scheduled to visit in a few days and that they should fix the Son of a Bitch for his dinner.
"I'll even clean the Son of a Bitch", she said.
As she was cleaning the huge fish, the Friar walked in. "What are you doing Sister?"
"Father wants me to clean this big Son of a Bitch for the new Bishop's Dinner"
"Sister! I'll clean it if you're so upset! Please watch your language!"
"No, no, no, it's called a Son of a Bitch Fish."
"Really? Well, in that case, I'll fix up a great meal to go with it, and that Son of a Bitch can be the main course! Let me know when you've finished cleaning that Son of a Bitch."
On the night of the new Bishop's visit, everything was perfect. The Friar had prepared an excellent meal. The wine was fine, and the fish was excellent.
The new Bishop said, "This is great fish, where did you get it?"
"I caught that Son of a Bitch!" proclaimed the proud priest.
"And I cleaned the Son of a Bitch!" exclaimed the Sister.
The Friar added, "And I prepared the Son of a Bitch, using a special recipe!"
The new Bishop looked around at each of them. A big smile crept across his face as he said, "You fuckers are my kind of people!".....
Monday, December 01, 2008
Cape Fish 1 - Kosi Fisher 0
I registered on a local website that specialises as a forum for Cape-based fishermen, and a valuable site it is too...full of great information and a good bunch of guys to chat with. "Kosi Fisher" is my forum-name seeing as it is popular to do it this way rather than having your real name bandied about all over the place.
So, on Saturday I drew a blank.
After stopping off at "Misty Cliffs" to see who belonged to the blue bakkie with the Cape Town Fishing website sticker, I made my way along to a spot called "Blakes" where I was going to throw my first line in anger in Cape waters. I noticed that there were a few guys coming off the beach at the AECI pipe and checked what was happening there, but the wind was pumping through and I guess that was the reason for everyone coming off?
Anyway, I headed back to the bakkie and went past Blakes to see that the water was way out and the wind was whipping around there too, so I made my way to Gordons Bay New Harbour wall. The wind wasn't too bad, even though it was straight in the face and the water looked good for some toothy critters, and I put out a nice medium-sized head...2hrs later, I pulled it in to see that some minnows had been having a go at it.
Even hanging about there for another couple of hours, changing baits between chokkka and sardine, I still drew a blank. Then, at about 4pm, the wind picked up and I couldn't even throw a 6oz more than about 50m so I gave up. Probably just as well...as soon as I got into the bakkie, the rain came down and never stopped...
I stopped off at Kalk Bay Harbour on the way home and the guys were hauling in some nice sized chokka on lures...might try that myself sometime and save a few bucks on bait.
Ah well, there's always next weekend...
So, on Saturday I drew a blank.
After stopping off at "Misty Cliffs" to see who belonged to the blue bakkie with the Cape Town Fishing website sticker, I made my way along to a spot called "Blakes" where I was going to throw my first line in anger in Cape waters. I noticed that there were a few guys coming off the beach at the AECI pipe and checked what was happening there, but the wind was pumping through and I guess that was the reason for everyone coming off?
Anyway, I headed back to the bakkie and went past Blakes to see that the water was way out and the wind was whipping around there too, so I made my way to Gordons Bay New Harbour wall. The wind wasn't too bad, even though it was straight in the face and the water looked good for some toothy critters, and I put out a nice medium-sized head...2hrs later, I pulled it in to see that some minnows had been having a go at it.
Even hanging about there for another couple of hours, changing baits between chokkka and sardine, I still drew a blank. Then, at about 4pm, the wind picked up and I couldn't even throw a 6oz more than about 50m so I gave up. Probably just as well...as soon as I got into the bakkie, the rain came down and never stopped...
I stopped off at Kalk Bay Harbour on the way home and the guys were hauling in some nice sized chokka on lures...might try that myself sometime and save a few bucks on bait.
Ah well, there's always next weekend...
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