Three bird visits
In the last week, I’ve been privileged to have been visited by three different types of birds.
In the last week, I’ve been privileged to have been visited by three different types of birds.
Another sunny day in Uitenhage
Dit was ’n snikhete warm Karoodag … die dag van die rooi onderbroek. Die hittegolwe het soos ’n drukkende teenwoordigheid op die Karoovlaktes gerus. Die doodse stilte van warm en windlose Karoodae wat stadsmense nie ken nie, het in die atmosfeer oorheers.
Let us not be sad. After all, as all South Africans know, dead Springbok means biltong.
During my personal trials this week I’ve been telling myself: At least I’m not a worn-out, toothless herbivore facing a raging red dragon with my back to a cliff, a crag or a crevasse in the Welsh winter this weekend.
Alas, what awaits the hapless herbivores in the land of other people’s fathers tomorrow?
If you could give permission for your death, which is inevitable anyway, to save seven lives, wouldn’t you do it?
An open letter to the Springboks, from the fans.

Things have not been the same between us for a long time now.

Although attributing blame is hardly ever constructive during a crisis, it’s still fun.
Let’s think out of the box and ask ourselves, who is to blame?
These are again Multiple Choice, which in this case, means that you may choose as many options as you please.
Let’s face it: it’s a bad time to be a Springbok supporter. As we await what has an excellent chance of being an embarrassing defeat against Italy (please, please let me be wrong), let’s consider our options:
To consider options, of course, one would have to have options in the first place … and we don’t, but I like to make things up as I go along.
So here are my few options for us as Springbok supporters. Note that I don’t pretend to offer a solution to the Boks’ woes. If I had that the matter would be different. These are options to us in lieu of a solution:
There are many stranger than fiction stories in teaching of which every word is true.
However, thrice a year teachers have to do something called exam invigilation and during these sessions it is alarmingly easy to become delusional. (OK, I cannot speak for everyone, but I have an active imagination and a few other flaws, so invigilation brings out the wack in me.)