I headed down to the Eastern Cape over the weekend to visit my daughter. Although it feels like I’ve had my emotions shoved through a steam-driven shredder with rusty blades, it was actually a positive experience. I shall therefore save my introspection for the shrink (who is paid to care, after all) and focus on my solo road trip instead.
Travelling alone long-distance can be peculiar. If you have nobody to talk to, it is vitally important not to have any music playing, either. That way, when the engine suddenly changes pitch and starts doing the cha-cha, you have nothing to distract you from visions of red-hot pistons flying through the top of the hood. Damned distributor. If it wasn’t absolutely essential to the functioning of the vehicle, it would have been pounded into tiny bits with the tire-iron just this side of Mossel Bay.
Another exciting aspect is the freedom to drive until your tank is empty or your bladder is full, whichever comes first. No time wasted on anyone else’s comfort. This was how I discovered that one of the filling stations in Riviersonderend has Rosina Wachtmeister prints mounted in the restroom. I have been sorely tempted to tell my colleagues (quite truthfully, mind you) that I stopped at a garage with graphic pussy pictures on the wall of the gents’ toilet, but thus far I’ve managed to restrain myself.
And then there’s the roadworks. Don’t get me started! Who knows – maybe there is some kind of logic behind the orange-coned chaos stretching between George and Knysna, but I just can’t see it. Much as I appreciate the necessity for periodic maintenance, I’m certain the expression “without rhyme or reason” was specifically coined for the National Roads Agency decision-makers and their sodding minions. I’m beginning to suspect that the whole exercise is sponsored by manufacturers of blood-pressure pills. Yeah, that’s probably it.
You’ll soon have Rosina Wachtmeister to thank for some very disturbing search strings…
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Ha! I just had to check out that name and then leave a comment about her hit metres zooming up, but Anne beat me to it. Bitch. 🙂
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Welcome back, Kyk! Literally and figuratively. Maybe after my trek up north next I will be able to compare road notes with you. I can do without the restroom incident though – I must remember to go through the door with the skirted stick-figure.
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anne: I’m counting on it.
andrea: Quick on the draw is our Anne and writing like Yoda for some reason, I am.
katt: And here I thought you liked cats.
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Trust you to zoom past By George! knowing full well that I live there.
Luckily for you, I just so happen to be in Stellenbosch again.
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That Yoda energy was what you needed on the Roada…
Or maybe the Zen of Driving… I know they do special Zen walking which is extra slow.
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there are decision-makers in the National Roads Agency? Is that like military intelligence?
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I think you have uncovered a SCAM! Yes. That’s it. Good job.
I’m very glad the visit with your daughter went well.
And I think my past therapist is THE best friend I’ve ever paid for.
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I have noticed that there is a fierce battle to post first around here ~ specially with Miss A, natch! Hmm. Must get myself ready to do “posting” competition. ; o
Anywhoo, dude, here are my thoughts ~ if the men’s room was in the state U say it was then I wonder, Mmm, what was the powder room for us Tarts?
Smooch,
The Tart
; )
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Sheesh, I meant to ask what was there to read in the Tarty bathroom?
; )
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red: I thought I didn’t see you as I drove past.
Caroline: What is the sound of half a spark-plug firing?
Esther: Touché.
Zube Girl: Oh yes, money well spent.
Sweet Tart: You’re going to struggle to beat Anne – we’re in a similar time zone.
Incidentally, I was also curious about the décor in the powder room, but there were too many people about for me to sneak a peek. There would have been a satisfying symmetry to it if Ms Wachtmeister also did multi-media roosters in addition to her signature cat pictures.
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What with all that blood-pressure, bladder-pressure and piston-pressure, I’m surprised that another mushroom cloud wasn’t noted by the US spy satellites over the South Africa.
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glad you travelled save and enjoyed your time with your little girl how old is she. Glad you did not travelled when it was raining cats and dogs. got some flood pics on my blog if you want to have a look.
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please if you go onto Reluctants site tell him I can not get into his blog as soon as I click on his name my screen freezers. Please Thank you
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Multi-media roosters ~ ha, very funny! U really have a way with words. Just how we like U, natch!
Happy smooch,
The Tart
; )
BTW, Miss A has always been in her “own” time zone ~ me thinks! *wink*
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She sure must have been happy to see daddy, and vise versa!!!
And what us it with these road works in S.A, once there were orange cones on the road from pta to belfast for about 3 years – I kid you not 3 YERAS!!! It is crazy.
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OK, let’s try that again:
And what is it with these road works in S.A, once there were orange cones on the road from pta to belfast for about 3 years – I kid you not 3 YEARS!!! It is crazy.
(That is what happens when you are in a hurry – see.)
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Reluctant Nomad: When you put it like that, me too.
whatalotoffun: The one of the Baakens Valley is quite an eye-opener (I passed on your message, btw).
The Tart: Always happy to oblige ;-> (and I think you’ve got Anne pegged).
Spookie: Very much so. I also think you’ve answered your own question there.
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Wonderful to hear that you got to visit! Not so wonderful to hear that you make be at a dangerous level with your bp and next to stroking out. Perhaps that’s what they hide in the cones… bp pills?!
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Sheez. I must have done that trip at least 1000 times, starting with me being banished to the ‘dog box’ at the back of my parent’s VW Beetle as a result of my endless wee breaks, off-menu padkos requests, and ‘are we there yets’.
I’m so numbed by the familiar scenery these days that I tend to sail right past the Mossel Bay traffic department crouched by the side of the road, miss the detours, or worse, find myself in Hankie because I wasn’t paying attention to the road signs again.
Jocelyn – the ‘powder rooms’ are generally short on visual stimulation, unless you count the brown tap water and lurid pink slime in the soap dispensers. Sis.
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