Blog Archive

Sunday, October 09, 2011


I got up at 6:30 this morning to lend my support to South Africa in the Rugby World Cup quarter final match between us and those darned Australians. I know. Before, I would never have been interested in rugby but you can't live here and not do rugby. I think it's in our blood.

Still, I must confess that I have never known any of the rules and I am not interested in the technicalities. But I enjoy watching important matches like today's. I get really swept up by all the action on the field.

When I wanted to feed the famished cats just as the match was about to start, I discovered that we had no cat food - wet or dry. I dug a not-too-dirty pair of shorts out of the dirty clothes and drove off like a maniac. The match had already started!

Spar was still closed but luckily the rather grimy OK Mini Market was open. They didn't have our cats' usual brands and I had to settle for less. The cats are not impressed at all. They'd rather hunt and have vole on the hoof than eat something out of a strange can. Unfortunately, they are still in quarantine and each of them are only allowed two 15 minute sessions of very closely monitored fresh air per day, subject to good behaviour.

I dashed back home and took 15 minutes to get the sulky cats fed and incarcerated in their day room.

Finally I could watch the slaughter in New Zealand. Thankfully we can just about receive SABC 2 and ETV with our small indoor aerial. When I started watching, the score was 8:0 in favour of the Aussies, and about halfway through the first half. It was too nailbiting to sit down and look at and I cleaned up the kitchen, still listening. The diagonal neighbours were also watching the game and whenever I heard the woman screech I knew something exciting was happening and I could lean over the kitchen counter and see.

Anyway, as I'm sure you are aware that the Springboks were defeated by the Wallabies. The final score was 11:9. As far as I know, that means that we are out of the running for the World Cup.

Nothing to nurse a bruised ego like spending time in a small room with three sour cats, listening to Edith Piaf.

Written by I