NOT a tidal pool
There's a lake on top of Table Mountain! And a beach! Photographic evidence below, taken during a 5.5 hour walk up and down the mountain on Sunday. Ok, so it's a man-made lake. They built reservoirs up there a hundred years ago to collect rainwater in winter to serve the city year round. In summer, the resevoirs are bone dry. But after a good rainy winter like this one they are full to the brim.
This place is full of surprises, I tell you. Well, at least it explains why, after a windy night, my car and the street around it is covered in a fine dusting of sand.
Tomorrow is press day and I'm suffering from a lack of time. My flitting around the world last week was fun and informative, but ultimately left me holding the baby in terms of getting the magazine ready.
Speaking of babies, something horrible has happened to mine. Last night, when I sat down to watch a DVD on my trusty Apple companion it started making horrible noises, like a terminal lung cancer patient, before spitting out the offending disk. Something horrible seems to have happened to it during the numerous packings and upackings, x-ray machines and Heathrow hand luggage restriction nightmares of last week. The whole CD drive seems buggered. Woe!
Suits me right after telling my fellow mountain-climbing companions on Sunday night that, "Had I given birth to it and shared with it my genes, I could not love it more." It's like Samson and his hair, Achilles and his heel, Icarus and his waxy wings. A damn Greek tragedy.
Speaking to Mother last night in my grief, she wisely pointed out, "At least it wasn't a tooth". Apparently, her mother (may she rest in peace) used to say that the worst thing that could happen to you was to lose a tooth. Cuts heal, things can be replaced, laptops can be repaired. But teeth don't grow back (unless you're a shark, in which case they do).
Take that, Greek philosophers! Your old mythology may be a great source of metaphor, but they all end in tragedy. Better to take on board my old Nan's words, and think more along the lines of a cheesy American movie. Samson has his hair cut off, and THINKS he's lost all his powers, but it turns out that in fact they were there all along, as inseparable from him as the colour of his eyes. So there. My ability to pull this rag together has nothing to do with my shiny Mac. I can cope without it while it's in for repairs (although I'm not handing it in until after press day). And I should CERTAINLY not think of the broken CD drive as an omen, or a metaphor. Now, let's tackle that 1200-word analysis...
By the way, below are some photos from Maputo. The chaps are doing Capoeira, in case you were wondering. One of them is upside down. There is a pic of my hotel, in which it looks nicer than in reality. And the last one is of the baggage people at the airport playing cards, waiting for the plane to land. Nice life!
This place is full of surprises, I tell you. Well, at least it explains why, after a windy night, my car and the street around it is covered in a fine dusting of sand.
Tomorrow is press day and I'm suffering from a lack of time. My flitting around the world last week was fun and informative, but ultimately left me holding the baby in terms of getting the magazine ready.
Speaking of babies, something horrible has happened to mine. Last night, when I sat down to watch a DVD on my trusty Apple companion it started making horrible noises, like a terminal lung cancer patient, before spitting out the offending disk. Something horrible seems to have happened to it during the numerous packings and upackings, x-ray machines and Heathrow hand luggage restriction nightmares of last week. The whole CD drive seems buggered. Woe!
Suits me right after telling my fellow mountain-climbing companions on Sunday night that, "Had I given birth to it and shared with it my genes, I could not love it more." It's like Samson and his hair, Achilles and his heel, Icarus and his waxy wings. A damn Greek tragedy.
Speaking to Mother last night in my grief, she wisely pointed out, "At least it wasn't a tooth". Apparently, her mother (may she rest in peace) used to say that the worst thing that could happen to you was to lose a tooth. Cuts heal, things can be replaced, laptops can be repaired. But teeth don't grow back (unless you're a shark, in which case they do).
Take that, Greek philosophers! Your old mythology may be a great source of metaphor, but they all end in tragedy. Better to take on board my old Nan's words, and think more along the lines of a cheesy American movie. Samson has his hair cut off, and THINKS he's lost all his powers, but it turns out that in fact they were there all along, as inseparable from him as the colour of his eyes. So there. My ability to pull this rag together has nothing to do with my shiny Mac. I can cope without it while it's in for repairs (although I'm not handing it in until after press day). And I should CERTAINLY not think of the broken CD drive as an omen, or a metaphor. Now, let's tackle that 1200-word analysis...
By the way, below are some photos from Maputo. The chaps are doing Capoeira, in case you were wondering. One of them is upside down. There is a pic of my hotel, in which it looks nicer than in reality. And the last one is of the baggage people at the airport playing cards, waiting for the plane to land. Nice life!
posted by Linda at 10:47
2 Comments:
A lake up there, that place sounds amazing! I see you've not been put off by your last traumatic climbing experience. Good for you. Shame about your laptop, I couldn't go a day without mine. It'll be easily fixed though I'm sure.
How was press day, and what's the latest with the sofa saga? More instalments please.
kel
xx
Between thunder and lightning three seconds have passed.
So what is uniformity if not a jester laughing in his sleeve at our inability to raise our bread as he does? Why does he love the king? No, you're not alike, like me; only farschieden. Your lake is beautiful; it holds back the threeatening brown dalesides like the colour of serenity massaging blood into a pithy lactic spasm. Easy now - only one lime left for the mojito...
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