Thursday, February 08, 2007

Snow, pina coladas, and the reluctant cow

It's snowing in London. Yesterday they were making all sorts of dire predictions on the radio about the weather causing havoc. God forbid we ever get a bit too much rain or snow, or even heat - and there's widespread panic. Saying that, the reception on my digital radio is pretty shyte today and I had to switch it off and listen to iTunes instead.

In South Africa thunder and lightening storms regularly blow up my sisters electricity and Internet system. They're so used to it now that at the first signs of a storm they go around unplugging things and get the candles out in preparation. They've just come through a heatwave and she tells me it's 34 degrees Celsius there at the moment - "Too hot", she says.

This time of year always makes me think of places like the Mexico or Barbados. I imagine myself lying on the beach looking much better in my bathing suit than I ever could in reality, drinking a PinaColada (the reason I don't look good in my bathing suit), and reading novels and autobiographies. Robert will be lying next to me doing pretty much the same, only he'll be under six layers of industrial strength sunblock and be reading a historical tome. In the evenings we'll drink cold beers or house champagne, play cards, and then go and eat delicious freshly caught fish.

I'll inevitably sulk when we have to go home, and start on with my usual bullshit about how if you can live anywhere in the world, why wouldn't you live there, instead of a country that can't even deal with a bit of snow. Before Robert points out a few home truths about mosquitoes, monsoons, the small matter of work logistics, having good broadband, and preferring to live a comfortable life in a place that's not at the expense of the underprivileged local people. The broadband thing gets me every time, and I reluctantly finish my packing.

Last night I dreamt that Chantell (my sister) told me that I was anorexic, before a shift in the dream, and suddenly I was doing some top notch Spanish dancing. The night before I dreamt an old school friend was having sex with a (reluctant) cow, and I stood by unable to make him stop - absolutely devastated that no one other than me saw this as being fundamentally wrong, cruel, and sick. I might add that to my knowledge none of my old school friends has ever had sex with a cow nor expressed any interest in doing so. Not even a hint.

The me being anorexic bit should have immediately alerted me to the fact that I dreaming, but instead I looked down at my body and back at my sister and said, 'Are you sure?'

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