I took a trip to Kommetjie this morning to have a look at two Jack Russell puppies. It’s a start. I have been without a dog for more than two years now. Maybe I need a puppy to prove to myself that I am not incapable of commitment. Not sure. I had my previous staffie for more than 13 years. A dog is a big commitment. It’s like having a child. In some respects.
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Puppydom
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I am new to this. The Wifi thing. I know it’s old hat for many but this morning I ventured down to my local coffee shop hoping to sample the caffeine and merrily blog away, only to find that I couldn’t get my computer to access the Internet.
I typed in the coffee shop’s code. I indicated that it was a public network. I ensured that my laptop’s Wifi function was on. The troubleshooter even told me that my computer was correctly configured – but somehow that wasn’t enough. Even the helpful and friendly owner of the establishment came across to lend a hand.
I was connected but disconnected.
(I think I could use that for a report comment – note to self.)
In any case, I enjoyed a good cup of Americano and an apple and cinnamon muffin. It was a little frustrating to say the least when two American lasses strolled in, asked if they could share my table, whipped out their laptops (back to back, face to face) and proceeded to chat with one another while slurping back their cappucinos and surfing away.
Did it have something to do with the Holy Bible the one had discreetly placed next to her laptop?
It sucks for those of us who want more out of life, for those of us who recognize the inner stirrings and desire for a more committed relationship. This is one of the main reasons that promiscuity sucks.
Once upon a time I was a well-behaved young man. Some of my friends would have said too much so. Then came the advance towards midlife and something inside me wanted to strike out.
But in the eight years since I struck out on that road of “adventure” I’ve come to learn that playing around comes with some hard knocks.
Don’t get me wrong – I need to say this up front seeing as you (most probably) don’t even know me. I am not the kind of guy who spins from one one-night stand to the next, but previously there was no such thing in my life. Now – for better or worse – I know the real flesh and blood meaning of No Strings Attached.
Once upon a time as a teenage lad I was an idealistic romantic. I made and decorated homemade Valentines Day cards. I delivered some of them at the crack of dawn on my bicycle.
Now I just feel like I have seen a bit too much of life…
This is the beginning – the beginning of a new season of blogging.
It is Sunday night. I am seated in an Internet Cafe in Kloof Street in Cape Town. It’s a Soccer World Cup night. The incessant vuvuzelas pour out of the television overhead and some from the streets outside.
I am tired. A busy term of teaching lies behind me. A voice inside me says, “Well done!”. Indeed. I and all the other teachers like me deserve that. FIFA and the government decreed that we would shift things around this year – hence a much shorter second term to accommodate the month long soccer festivities.
Not that I’m complaining. It’s fantastic to have four weeks of midyear vacation ahead. But, oh boy, did we work hard to get everything done, work and exams and reports and all compressed into little more than eight weeks.
Tonight I treated myself to a great meal at Blues – a somewhat upmarket restaurant in Camps Bay. With hot soup and delicious pasta and a side order of rocket salad that redefines the notion of a “side” salad, I comforted myself out of a day of more or less unmitigated loneliness. The TV and the dvd player no longer do the trick. I was seated amidst a scattering of tourists all watching the first round match between Australia and Germany – in which the Ozzies were systematically annihilated. Final score 4 – 0 to Germany.
