This is quite a short one, as I have had my passport confiscated and spend all my time at Home Affairs. It’s a long story, which I will tell eventually, but for the time being I have very little spare time. I know you’ve had the photos to keep you amused, more on the way of a Swazi birthday party, hosted by the mother of last year’s “Face of Africa” model. Sadly, the girl herself was unavailable, worse luck. I know the pictures are loading slowly, this is because I prefer them at higher quality. Hope you do too. Also, there have been requests for various adjustments to the diary script, version 1.1 coming very soon – try to contain your excitement.
Keep the emails coming, it’s nice to know somebody is reading this other than me. Anyway, back to the story, almost a week ago now:
When I got home after riding my bike home from work for the first time, sweating, as I was, like a pig and walking a bit funny, I found Desmond and Ava asleep on the sofa (how sweet!) and an American woman in the shower. Well, I didn’t actually find her there, but the lights went off (did I mention power cuts are commonplace in Mbabane?) and she burst out of the bathroom to inform me she’d just dropped her only pair of trousers in a puddle. Magnanimously, I lit her a candle and went back to poking Desmond with a stick. Eventually he woke up, and although it took ten minutes to persuade him that it was 6:30 p.m., and not a.m. (it is dark at both these times and not easy to judge), I did manage to get through to him that we were due at the farm, to offload Ava. As the American, Kelzie, (talk about ingenious spelling) was the only guest, he determined that she should come with us, wet trousers or no. She declined to borrow a pair of mine – probably because she’s a clear foot shorter than me. Turn-ups are just so last season.
The drive to the farm was particularly uneventful; Andy used to be a highway engineer and has recently had the entire thing graded, so for once I didn’t have to go the whole way in first gear, fearing for my life and the underside of the car. When we got there, Desmond and I dropped to our knees and grovelled to Andy like eunuchs. Sound bizarre? Well, do you remember that birthday party for Pimane we were planning? Well, neither did we, as he got stuck in Pretoria, moving home. Unfortunately, however, Andy did; he roasted an entire impala, made a salad bowl full of blancmange and bought three crates of beer from the Pine Valley bottle store. Needless to say, he and Dessy had a great weekend.. but that didn’t stop us feeling terrible. Despite not expecting us, they had laid on food for two other guys who arrived after us, and there was loads to go around. I was re-united with my Guinness hat (unworn since I put it on the telescope at Chris’s birthday party two years ago), and Kelzie was introduced to the wonders of Andy’s amazing herb, banana and orange grove garden. You can catch the photos (5 to 11) in this chapter of the album.
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