As proven by this weather forecast for Cape Town for the week ahead?

Things are looking up. It’s a good sign when even the cloudy days are warm. And I have it on good authority that we may be in for a 29°C scorcha!™ on Sunday. Bring forth my ceremonial braai tongs and slaughter that bloody sheep, Jennifer. Then make a salad.

Meanwhile, less good but far more spectacular weather for my parents in the Isle of Man as a particularly virulent area of low pressure rolled in across the Irish Sea:

This was taken by my Dad this morning in Port St Mary and has a distinctly Kalk Bay feel to it. A quick look at the latest weather report from the local airport suggests that the pressure is still falling there – not good news when you have a three-hour long boat crossing of that sea tomorrow like they do.

Bon voyage…

Meh.

I was hoping to have some happy news this weekend, but the Public Sector Workers strike put paid to that. And when I say “put paid”, I mean “put paid, but not with an 8.6% increase and a R1000 housing allowance”. Just put paid a dismal and demeaning wage.
So more on that another time.

Instead, because I have many requests to elaborate on my shopping issues yesterday (as mentioned on twitter), I find myself bitching about the utterly despicable behaviour of local supermarket Constantia Pick n Pay which, as far as my recent experiences go, seems to consider it perfectly reasonable to sell goods which are past their sell by date.

Last week, I had to take some veg back to them because it was three weeks beyond its sell by date. Caveat emptor, you might say, but then why should the emptor have to caveat - shouldn’t the venditor be looking out for the emptor and taking the goods off the shelves once they’re past their best? Sure – I might have been a little more observant, but I was stressed, shopping amongst a million others (business is evidently good) in the narrow aisles of this flagship store.

That was annoying. My money. My petrol. My time.

And then yesterday. Wow. First of all, while looking for yoghurt, I noticed that one of the 6-packs on the shelf was 6 days beyond its sell by date. Not good. Fortunately, there was a PnP employee stacking the shelves right next to me, so I pointed this out to him and he removed the offending item. Easy.

But then, as I walked off down the chilled goods aisle, I forgot to get margarine. Can you imagine life without margarine? Dry toast. Dry…bread generally. And so on.

And when I realised and went back a few minutes later – guess what was back on the yoghurts shelf? That offending 6-pack again, sell by date still 30 Aug 10.
I was aghast. That’s disgraceful. Inexcusable. It was no mistake: he knew they were out of date. I tried to take a picture with my phone, but a security guy stopped me. Very pleasantly, I might add. Just doing his job.
Nice to see someone was, I thought.

The manager was “unavailable” when I asked. The staff seemed unconcerned about what had happened. I was unimpressed. Everywhere I looked, there were words beginning with “un”. That’s never a sign of a good situation.
I made a mental note to call the boss on Monday. And then I paid for the stuff I’d bought and went home. And yes, I tweeted about what had occurred, but I chose not to mention the store in question, despite a plethora of requests to “name and shame”.

And then I slid the cardboard sleeve off the ostrich fillet I had bought (this week, I’m trying ostrich biltong) and found that it too was past its best before date. I could not believe it. (I may have mentioned that.) I named and shamed.

So – back to Constantia Pick n Pay (My money. My petrol. My time), where I met Bertie, who told me that the manager was unavailable. So no change there then.

I explained to Bertie about last week’s veg, the yoghurt issue and my new-found ostrich fillet problem. Bertie half looked up from typing on his computer, apologised and said he “would look into it” with the same conviction which Zwelinzima Vavi might look into taking a 0.3% pay offer back to the Unions. But hey, at least I got to go and get some fresh ostrich fillet, although I had to pick it out from amongst those that were past that “BBD” again – those were still on the shelf when I left. Nice.

But I am determined to speak to Bertie on Monday and find out what he has discovered.
Because surely he wouldn’t have just said that to fob me off. Would he?

Pre-empting your questions:

1. I will go to another supermarket once they have finished building at Blue Route. Until then, it’s impossible to park.
2. I can’t afford the money, petrol or time to go to Table Bay Butchery. But thanks for the heads up.
3. I am aware that @picknpay are on twitter. But why would I want to go through a middleman when I have the name and number of the manager? What is the middleman going to do? Give me the name and number of the manager? Get him to call me? I can just about afford a local call, thank you.
Besides which, I have also had dealings with (and not necessarily complaints) MTN and Avis, whose social media presence is handled by the same agency and have received no assistance whatsoever by going that route.
Is it really worth these companies shelling out for this service? Not in my opinion – all you get are happy sycophants who get the occasional chance to win prizes. When it comes to the negative side of things, things seem somewhat less helpful.
There’s a whole other post in there – have you ever been helped via social media? And by “helped”, I mean got somewhere you couldn’t have done on your own? Let me know – I’d be interested.
My feeling is that (assuming you get any response) you simply get put through to the same people that couldn’t be bothered to help you in the first place.
4. The ostrich biltong should be ready tomorrow – I’ll let you know how good it is.

As for Constantia Pick n Pay – what can I say? I’m appalled.
I hope to speak to the manager tomorrow – maybe I’ll find out why I wasn’t able to on Saturday. And I’ll let you know what he says, because if he’s not bothered about what’s going on, then why should any other Pick n Pay manager be? Perhaps you might want to review your other options (such as they are) out there.

Sorry to rant.
6000 – protecting the rights (and the health) of the South African consumer – out.

Too tired to blog about politics tonight, too irritated to blog about the local supermarket and their disgraceful policy of selling out of date veg, dairy products and meat. So, because Bafana are leading Niger by one goal to nil approaching halftime at the Mbombela Stadium, a gratuitous – MAKE THAT 2-0!!! Bernard Parker, you biscuit! – (ahem) a gratuitous vuvuzela picture.

Much like England’s 4-0 win last night against Bulgaria, it looks like South Africa are going to make a great start to their qualifying campaign. And – were he still awake – this little fellow would be paaarrrping all over the house.

Fortunately for us all – he’s fast asleep upstairs.

Up until today, my favourite phobia was arachibutyrophobia. It’s that one that always comes up in pub quiz questions and I know what it means. This makes me look good while others flounder around looking for links to spiders and stuff.
But this is “arachi”, not “arachno”. And “arachi” refers to ground nuts.
That’s why arachibutyrophobia is “the fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of your mouth.”

Although I like it, I’ve never quite understood it. Why would someone be afraid of having peanut butter sticking to the roof of their mouth? What harm will it do up there anyway? Why not just lick it off with your tongue? That’s what it’s there for. Or maybe just avoid eating the peanut butter in the first place, thus negating any chance of palate adherence.

Some fears are understandable: Equinophobia – the fear of horses (they’re damn scary) or Helminthophobia – the fear of being infested with worms. Others not so much: Linonophobia – the fear of string (really?) and Omphalophobia – fear of belly buttons (they’re not great, but they’re nothing to be afraid of). And then there’s the ever so interesting double meaning of Cholerophobia – the fear of anger (not understandable) or the fear of cholera (very understandable).

I turned to the internet to help me out with the peanut butter thing:

The actual problem brought by peanuts is the presence of silicon gel type properties that get stuck to the upper part of the mouth.
When the sticky thing gets into the mouth and dissolves with the saliva it is impossible for it to get bonded at any particular part of the mouth because of the watery situation.
But, the roof of the mouth is the only part which remains a bit dry thus helping the sticky thing to get tangled in there. It feels very annoying when the butter gets stuck to the upper part of the mouth and you are unable to pull it out in the public crowd.

Last time I pulled it out in the public crowd, two women fainted. They were probably phallophobic.

All this is immaterial now though, because I have a new favourite phobia, as mentioned in the title of this post:

Anatidaephobia

I’ll cut to the chase here: Anatidaephobia is the fear that you are being watched by a duck.

Like this fellow here.
Who, I have to say, has been made to look a whole lot more menacing by the use of a somewhat hectic camera angle. He’s probably completely harmless and even if he isn’t, he’ll be easily distracted by some small pieces of bread flung in his general direction.

He is not spying on you.

Anatidaephobia is an intense, irrational fear that one is being watched by a duck. Sometimes that fear can become so intense as to completely stop a person’s ability to maintain daily functioning. Unchecked, Anatidaephobia can become a debilitating condition that interferes with the person’s social life, their personal life and job responsibilities. Untreated, Anatidaephobia touches every aspect of a person’s life.

Especially when they are near a pond. Or in the local park.
Or, in a worst case scenario, near a pond in the local park. Terrifying.

Still, put yourself in the position of the duck. He’s done nothing wrong. This is an irrational fear, remember – like the string thing. And he has a whole lot more to fear than you do. Foxes, pollution, people thinking he is watching them. Constantly… watching them…

A little known fact is that most ducks are also arachibutyrophobic. So, if all else fails and your local duck seems to be around ever corner, in your meetings at work, in the back seat of your car on the way home: if he’s watching you in your damn shower, for god’s sake!!!!, then simply lace your decoy bread with Black Cat Crunchy and your duck will be gone.
And with it, your anatidaephobia.

You can thank me later. It’s a pleasure.

Despite an understated (ie. I didn’t do anything) campaign, 6000 miles… is honoured to have been shortlisted as a finalist for not just one, but two 2010 South African Blog Awards. Unfortunately, it seems that both nominations are in the same category, which should split my vote nicely and allow others a chance to win.

The category in question is Best Post on a South African Blog and my posts that have been shortlisted are:

Dear Uruguay – an open letter to that country in which I explored the somewhat irrational reasoning behind the apparent South African hatred of all things Uruguayan during the recent (and epic) FIFA World Cup.

And Popular Cape Town Website Gets New Look – which was really just a brainfart, but which, for some reason, many readers took as being some sort of parody of popular Cape Town website 2OceansVibe.com.

Should you wish to vote, you can do so by clicking here or on the big icon in the sidebar on the right, which will remain there during the voting period. Then select the post (preferably one of mine) you wish to vote for (and see my other recommendations below), scroll down to the bottom for the verification bit.
You can vote once per day per email address throughout the voting period – so do.

Despite the fact that the blog has done really well in terms of visitors this year, I’m not expecting to win at all – it’s just nice to be read. I do appreciate the nomination and shortlisting, which means that I’m already in the top 10. In fact, since I got two spots in the top 10, I guess that means I’m top 5, right? Bring it.
Hopefully it will be a fair and transparent process this year, aside from my plan to smear each of my fellow contenders in the Best Post category with some sort of dirt. Once again, the Awards have already been coated in a nice sticky layer of controversy which has upset a few people (several of whom coincidentally didn’t make the cut), but you can’t please all of the people all of the time: “h8rs gotta h8″, or so I’m told.

I haven’t had a LONG look at the LONG list of finalists yet, but there are some that stand out immediately as being obvious choices and which I would like you to consider voting for in order that they can go up on stage to collect an award alongside me.

Up front, I’m going with Bangers and Nash for the Exclus1ve Best Entertainment Blog.
In Best Politics Blog: Jacques Rouseau’s Synapses.co.za
Miss Moss in Best Design Blog (sponsored by Havana Club Rum)
Joyanne’s Portfolio Collection Travel Blog in er… Best Travel Blog (sponsored by Kulula.com)
And for the “Ogilvy Microblogger of the Year” (ie. Best Twitter Stream) Mandy Wiener

All of which I nominated and all of which I will be voting for.
Consider yourselves endorsed.

Please feel free to add your suggestions (together with your reasons) in the comments below.

UPDATE: Must see video from GottaQuirk – Hitler doesn’t get nominated for the 2010 SA Blog Awards .
(sorry Geoffrey – I saw this and thought of you…)

“It is an unfortunate reality that these things can happen to anybody”

The words of Springbok Rugby Coach Peter de Villiers, quoted in this morning’s Cape Times on the Bees Roux incident in which the Bulls’ prop is accused of beating a Tshwane Metro Police Officer to death in the early hours of Friday morning.

De Villers went on to say:

The team supports Bees 100 percent, not on the deed, but rather on the circumstances that led to the situation developing.

Well, let’s have a quick run through on what we know so far, shall we?

It is alleged that Jacobus Stephanus “Bees” Roux (“Bees” being Afrikaans for “Ox”) was pulled over in the early hours of Friday morning (a few hours ahead of the Pumas v Bulls game) when Metro Police suspected he was driving while drunk. What followed seems a little confused – depending on whom you choose to believe, so here’s an independent eye-witness account from Richard Motegeni, a security guard at a nearby building:

Motegeni said the white VW Polo was seen driving very slowly at about 1.36am.

“Suddenly a large man and a Metro police officer tumbled out of the door on the driver’s side.”

He said the big man, whom he only later learned was Bees Roux, was immediately on top of Mohale.

“He shouted, ‘You thief! You want to steal my car!’ and repeatedly hit the officer very hard in the face. The officer did not fight back.

“The big man then twice lifted the officer up by his clothes at his shoulders and back and threw him down hard on the tarred road, head first.”

Motegeni said Roux then kicked the officer, after which he walked away quickly to his car, which was apparently rolling very slowly forwards.

“He brought his car to a stop, returned and started hitting the officer again.”

And that ties in with what paramedics found when they got to the scene:

Netcare911 spokesperson Chris Botha told News24 that when paramedics arrived on the scene the deceased was already dead.

“He had a massive injury to the head. I don’t know what they used (to hit him),” he said.

Botha said there was blood on the road where the body was lying. “It looks like his head hit the tar road.”

Suddenly, all becomes clear. And what seemed like another utterly idiotic statement from the gaffe-prone de Villers makes perfect sense. I mean, who among us wouldn’t support Roux “on the circumstances that led to the situation developing”? You know, having a skinful on the night before a big game and then jumping in your car to head home? Of course the Boks support him 100% in that – after all, it’s the perfect message to be sending out, isn’t it?

Dodgy Headline

And yes, the whole picking up a police officer by his shoulders and throwing him down hard onto the tarred road, head first: that’s the sort of thing that can happen to anybody.

Actually, if I’m absolutely honest, that hasn’t ever happened to me, although I once almost tripped up a firefighter, but that was an accident and he was off duty at the time.

I wonder if it’s ever happened to any of my readers?
Or to Peter?
Or to any of the other Springbok players who are “100% behind Bees”?

There’s long been a suspicion that de Villiers isn’t the man for the Springbok coaching position. They say he can’t handle the media, that he’s out of his depth. Many cite his lack of experience, although the much-loved Jake White had even less experience when he took on the job.

But then others suggest that de Villiers’ detractors are racist and that it is actually not his experience nor his ability which is the problem, but rather the colour of his skin.

Having seen the interview he gave yesterday and read about it in the newspapers today, I’d like to suggest that we look beyond his experience, his ethnicity and his annoying voice and just think about what he has said for a moment.

There is absolutely no excuse for his voicing any kind of support for Bees Roux – either in the alleged fatal assault, nor in the supposedly ubiquitous “circumstances leading up to the situation developing”. I wonder what the players think of this? Are they really 100% behind Roux as de Villiers suggests? And if so, why?

As far as I’m concerned, the diplomatic way to go would have been to choose not to comment on the situation. But he did.

The next best thing would have been to distanced yourself and your team from the situation. To have made some comment about the police investigation being ongoing etc etc and then move on to the next question about why your side doesn’t have a defence.

But at no point do you come out and support a man who has allegedly used his huge size and strength to repeatedly smash a police officer’s head into the road until he was dead.

I don’t care about how good or how crap de Villiers is as a coach. It doesn’t bother me if he thinks there’s a referee’s conspiracy against the Boks. I don’t give a toss if he is coloured, black, white or green and gold. He could come in polka dot for all I care. But when he sits there as the national coach and says what he did, when he sends out the message to kids that it’s OK to drink drive, that your colleagues will support your actions when you have spent the weekend in a prison cell on a murder charge, then I simply cannot understand why this man still has a job. Anywhere else on this earth, he would rightfully already have been sacked.

Peter de Villiers is a disgrace.

I can’t tell you how sad this is for me:

The world’s longest-running sitcom, Last of the Summer Wine, comes to an end this weekend. In the Yorkshire town where the series is set, fans are preparing to bid farewell to a TV institution.
On a soggy afternoon in Holmfirth, the Last of the Summer Wine tour bus is almost full. Sightseers peer through the rain-streaked windows at the cobbled streets and lush green fields that are part of sitcom history.

In this picturesque setting, three old friends ambled up hill and down dale – pondering life, plotting harebrained schemes and refusing to bow to the passing years.
For the coach load of tourists following in their footsteps, the journey is bittersweet. After 295 episodes, the summer wine has finally run dry.

Last of the Summer Wine was filmed just up the road from Sheffield in the Pennines and always reminds me of the beauty of my home country. When I first came over to SA, I was delighted to find it on DSTV: there’s something comforting about seeing “home” is still there when you’ve made such a big step.

Everyone in Yorkshire could easily identify with the three main characters, Foggy, Clegg and Compo: representing, as they did, varying tiers of British society, and meaning that one of them must have been like your granddad.

That said, it reinforced some terrible stereotypes about “God’s Own County” and the people that lived there (Compo drinking his tea out of his saucer in Ivy’s Tea Room springs immediately to mind), but even that gave it a certain comedic value before a word had even been spoken.

Fair enough, it was never the same once Compo and Foggy left the series (because they died – always a risk when filming a long running series with elderly protagonists, I guess). The more recent efforts were poor in comparison for me, simply because while there were still the ridiculous storylines, they revolved more around secondary characters – but it’s still sad to see it go.

More pictures here and unnecessary analysis here.

I was at the well-organised, well-attended and most enjoyable “Loving Local” PSL Double Header at the Cape Town Stadium last night – the first big event there since the World Cup semi final in July.

Cape Town’s PSL new boys Vasco da Gama were edged out 2-1 by Orlando Pirates in the first game and then Ajax Cape Town put in a great performance against Bloemfontein Celtic to win 2-0.
That second game was billed as the clash of the strikers – by me anyway – with SA legend Thembinkosi “Terror” Fanteni for the Urban Warriors and ex-Ajax favourite Nathan Paulse up front for Bloem Celtic.
Fanteni was disappointing, despite all the good service he got from his Ajax collegues and Paulse had an absolutely brilliant game despite having no help at all. Neither scored.

Here is Paulse finding space to get in a (single) header once again and here are the rest of the pics I took last night.

Flicking through the Cape Times yesterday, I noticed a half-page ad for Cape Union Mart, the local camping, hiking and general outdoor sports suppliers. The ad in question (pictured here) detailed the wide variety of rucksacks which they sell, complete with stats on each and a brief blurb listing the features of the pack in question. All very handy, especially if you’re thinking about buying a new rucksack.

However, if you do find yourself in that situation, then might I advise you to read carefully and perhaps even try before you buy?
Because if you are planning trail running, mountain biking or a spot of climbing, then you might think that the Hydro Velocity 6 would be your pack of choice. Sure, it’s only got a capacity of 6 litres, but it is relatively cheap at R250 and it does have contoured shoulder straps for comfort. And they’re going to come in very handy, since it weighs 415kg.

Yes, it’s approaching half a metric ton, but it has got that mesh back for ventilation. And that’ll keep you nicely cool as you wait for the fire crew to try and get you out from under it.

But wait, in true Verimark style – there’s more.

What if you were planning a “short hiking trip” or some “general use”? You’re going to need something bigger than the pitiful Hydro Velocity 6 for that, right? Right.
Well, may I then suggest that you head for the R299 Ignite? At 28 litres, it’s got the capacity you need and features a detachable waist belt and a large main compartment. But don’t go putting anything too heavy in that large main compartment, because the backpack itself weighs an incredible 612kg before you’ve even started.

And that’s about the weight of a fairly large horse, which is probably why the ad doesn’t suggest that you try horse-riding while wearing it, because that would cripple your steed. And you.

Obviously, there’s nothing in the picture to scale the Ignite against, but based on the fact that at 28 litres, it’s just a small rucksack, I’m guessing that it must be made of something hugely heavy, like plutonium or something similar. Not brilliant healthwise perhaps, but the pale glow of the decaying atoms therein would certainly be handy to guide the fire crew in to rescue you from underneath it, should night have fallen while you were craning it from the back of your truck.

They can then take you to the nearest hospital to die from crush injuries and radiation poisoning.

Or: “Why you need to be nice to people in Cape Town“.

This is a bit of a personal story, but there’s an important message in it (I think), so I’m going to bore you with it anyway.

A few months back, the company I worked for closed its doors “for operational reasons”, meaning that the people working for that company were summarily retrenched. Me included. It was not a pleasant time, as you might imagine and it was a particularly unpleasant process. This unpleasantness was due in no small part to the attitude of the people who employed us and the lawyer who they had hired to do the hatchet job.
Now, at this point, you can spring forth with all your “Did you really expect to meet a nice lawyer?” quotes and your perhaps more reasonable claims that I would say something like this because I’m being subjective and the matter was emotionally charged and of course I’m not going to like what’s going on, am I?
Do you want to get those things out of your systems now? I can wait.

Done? Good.

Because I have met nice lawyers before: they don’t all conform to the stereotype in the same way that not all accountants are dull and grey and not all microbiologists are good-looking, witty ex-pat bloggers.
And while it was not a nice thing to happen, I accepted that a business decision had been made and we didn’t realistically have a huge amount (read “any”) chance of reversing things. So I did my homework, spoke to some (nice) lawyers I know and made sure I understood my rights in terms of the Labour Relations Act 1995 (section 189) and Basic Conditions of Employment Act 1997 (sections 35, 37 and 41). Fascinating stuff.

Given the situation, I chose to put emotions away and went in to the discussions with my new-found knowledge and my scientific logic as my sword and shield.
Sadly, the lawyer who turned up for the other side scored highly in every category of “typical” lawyer behaviour. On the personal side, I found him pompous, arrogant, aggressive, belittling and generally unpleasant. On the professional side, he sailed very close to the wind of illegality in his actions when going through the official processes. And then he made a verbal agreement on behalf of his clients which he later went back on. Which was nice.

Anyway, to cut a long story slightly shorter, we fought back and we won.

And that’s that. Except to say that then, out of the blue, his wedding photos popped up on my Facebook stream yesterday. Because while the entire world is apparently interconnected via the famous human web of Six Degrees of Separation, in Cape Town it’s generally about 1.2 Degrees of Separation. Friend of a friend happens here very regularly.
And that’s well worth remembering before you act like an arse.

Sure – I’m aware that there’s some parts of anyone’s job that aren’t easy and aren’t pleasant. But when you are dealing with people – especially upset, vulnerable people – while “just doing your job” and you act like you don’t give a damn, try to weasel your way out of promises you made and walk all over them, well that’s when you clearly cross the line from “professional” to “arse” for me.
Don’t get me wrong: I’m not asking you to care, I’m just asking you to make it less obvious that you really don’t.

Interestingly, seeing his those photos allowed me to put some pieces into my mental jigsaw and I realised that I had actually bumped into him “socially” a couple of weeks ago (through the same friend). My mind couldn’t quite work out who he was, seeing him out of context like that, but I didn’t introduce myself because there was this nagging doubt that I knew this person but I didn’t like him.
Now I know why. My mind is great and I have renewed respect for it.

So be nice, be respectful to people you meet: professionally, socially or even on the roads. Especially in Cape Town.
Because you will meet them again at some point and your previous actions could make that situation rather awkward.

Just saying.