Fun, no matter how you look at it

I am the first one to acknowledge that, when sitting inside looking in the rain, it is never a good idea to ponder what the family in Cape Town are up too. But this weekend it was irresistable. After all, they were off the coast of Gansbaai in a cage looking at 4m Great White sharks.

So, had I been in Cape Town this weekend, I can say with some confidence that I would have seen this.

I would have swum in that cage on the right.

That could even have been my arm.

But I wasn't in Cape Town. I was in Scotland.

So instead I went to the Linlithgow jousting tournament (as you do), and saw a knight in shining armour...

men wielding swords...

and men on horses wielding long pokey objects.

All great fun. And I didn't even get seasick!

As an aside, the duel re-enactment involved much hurling of period abuse. Bambi was clearly paying attention.

Mummy, what's a fornicator?

Help!

Eating out?

Mother at Large has tagged me on a food meme - the idea being that I share the details of five eateries in Glasgow that I would recommend. This is problematic for two reasons:

The cost of eating out here leaves me with heart palpitations. For what I would pay for a beautiful meal at a reputable restaurant with a sea view in Cape Town, I can get a deep fried pizza in Glasgow. Lucky me, this would probably arrive with chips.
Budget eating in Glasgow requires the bulk consumption of grease which, after the heart palpitations would probably just send me straight to the ER.

As you may have guessed we have not eaten out very often since we've been here.
This is not to say that Glasgow does not have some fine, grease-free establishments - just that I have not frequented them. That said, there are a few places we do go to occasionally that I will share:
1. Heart Buchanan on Byres Road - amazing deli, lovely (but painfully small) coffee shop and, if you're getting to the end of the month they will slice you very small pieces of cheese to suit your budget.
2. The Loft in Ashton Lane. Spacious, family-friendly restaurant with good pasta menu. I appreciate that they have no specific kids menu but do kids portions of anything on the menu. It kind of fits my ethos that children are people too. It's also right above the Grosvenor cinema which is handy. But beware of children racing around the wide aisles in Little Tikes red plastic cars. Newbies usually sport shin bruises for weeks.
3. Wagamama on West George Street. Okay, so this is a cheat - it's a chain, I know. But I love good Japanese noodles and they really are good here. Again, it's spacious - I like to breathe between mouthfuls of food and the service is fast but not pressured. The do have a kids menu, but its not the usual fish and chips fare. Bambi particularly loves their chicken noodles which come with a mandarin sauce and slices of apple. Yum.

and that covers my culinary experience of Glasgow. Other attempts in my budget do not bear repeating.
So, instead, I thought I would tell you about my favourite two establishments near Cape Town. Because I'm homesick. Again.


1. Le Petite Ferme, Franschoek winelands. Unbelievable food with incredible views. The Good Man and I have always gone here to celebrate our anniversary - well, when we're in the Cape that is. The form is to have a drink on the lawn in front of the restaurant while perusing the menu, then meander up to your table. Enjoy a glass of the house wine (from grapes grown on the estate) over a fantastic meal and then go for a quick lie down in the shade of a tree to contemplate your expanding girth as you consider the desert menu. Which is sufficiently tempting to draw you in for another round. There is no hurry here. Lunch is considered a three hour affair - only one sitting gets booked. Bliss.
2. The River Cafe, Constantia Uitsig. When the Good Man and I had to introduce our parents to each other in the week before our wedding, this was the estate that we trusted with the food. Of course, this auspicious occasion called for the auspicious big brother of the River Cafe, the award winning Constantia Uitsig Restaurant. But now, dust having settled, we prefer the more casual ambiance of the Cafe. It's strictly a breakfast and lunch affair. Tables are arranged on the terraces and the menu features food that is familiar but always with an interesting twist -perfectly prepared and presented. And the wine shop next door isn't half bad either...

I see much opportunity in this tag. I challenge ('cos lets face it that's what tags really are):

Gwen

Katie, and

Pepette

who may well be able to shine a more informed light on the Glasgow eaterie scene. And its about time I learned!

Reluctant Memsahib - although may I request your recommendations are for Nairobi eateries??? Cheeky, I know

Debio - 'cos I'm hoping to spend a wee bit of time in Dubai soon too.

On a completely different track, my big brother in South Africa is going shark cage diving tomorrow. Now how many of you can say that?!

8 (more) things

I'm not very interesting really. The first time I got tagged I was flattered and had a clean slate to work from so made it through my list without revealing too much about my rather dull existence. But now I've been tagged again, by Theresa.


The first eight were tough enough, so this could get very boring. Feel free to move on.

1. My Good Man is allergic to alcohol. I loudly expound on the ills of drunk driving while he chauffeurs me home after one too many.


2. I grew up next door to a gynaecologist. When I was seven, his twelve year old son took it upon himself to educate me - in the textbook sense. His father's tomes about the female functions were explained in full. There is such a thing as too much information. However, one connection was made abundantly clear - sex means babies. I never had a problem saying 'no' and Bambi was very well planned.


3. I nearly got arrested in Germany for breaking into my High School to throw a party. It was an annual tradition that I got a bit too caught up in as I was the only one who could figure out how to remove the hinges from the doors to get us in. Fortunately, the police recognised that it was a pretty pointless thing to get too excited about and that, really, all should be more concerned about students breaking out of school. But, man were we ever considered cool the next day in class!


4. I paint, but only in oils. Watercolours require too much commitment.


5. My favourite African animal is the leopard. I've got to be pretty good at spotting them in the bush. They're easiest to spot when reclining in trees. Their tails hang down vertically - nothing else in the bush is so straight and so vertical.


6. My favourite Scottish animal is the Highland Cow. So hairy and forlorn. And they don't move very fast so are easy to spot.


7. When I was thirteen I made a cake tin full of chocolates to be distributed to guests on Christmas Day. We were celebrating in Hermanus, an hour and a half away. I left a few days early with my parents but it was scorching hot and the chocolates wouldn't have made the journey, so I left them with my older brother to bring along on Christmas day. He arrived having eaten all but six of the chocolates. My revenge has been telling this story to all mutual acquaintances since.


8. I get fairly emotional whenever I hear children sing, but the African Children's Choir reduce me to tears every time.

I need more blog friends (blogends?) as I don't know who to nominate to carry this tag on. If you'd like to nominate yourself please respond in the comments and I'll make it official.

Questions anyone?

PS Nominees (so far) are:

Gwen

Katie

Aminah (hello new friend!)

Most Beautiful City in the World

We went to friends for dinner on Friday. Actually, he's French and she's Swedish so, to be accurate, we went to theirs for cheese, meatballs and red wine on Friday. It was a get together in honour of their impending departure from Glasgow - in two months they will be living in Tunisia.

It was a gathering of academics, which is not as dull as it sounds. There were probably more doctors in the room than in your average A&E but if something goes wrong around this bunch you're hoping its a coup attempt requiring political intervention, rather than a deep cut requiring stitches. I used to find these groupings quite intimidating but have now grown quite used to my role as token housewife.

Anyway, a lot of the people at this gathering move around and so we got talking about where we'd all been - the good, the bad and the ugly. I was chatting to Tiger - born and bred in Oxford but with lingering Jamaican affiliations (mon!). He'd spent time in Cape Town and we were having a terrific time comparing notes on the beaches, mountains, sunsets, sigh....

'Yeah,' he said. 'It's so beautiful. I think it's probably the second most beautiful city in the world, mon.'

A stunned silence filled the room. My fierce loyalty to my home town is not a well-guarded secret and they could sense some tension brewing. Even Tiger looked a bit concerned when he tore his eyes away from his pina colada and noticed the guttural sounds emanating from the back of my throat.

'So what's the most beautiful then?' I growled.

'Rio.' he said, backing away slowly. Lucky for him our hosts stepped in, shoved a glass of wine into my hand and began regaling us of their tales in this South American idyll - something about the beaches, the mountains, the national beachware dress code - and 8 million people. I put my fingers in my ears and began to hum.

Eventually, two minutes later, they moved on to a discussion of other cities in the world. The rules of engagement were that at least two people had to have been to the city in question for it to make the honour role. Rio, Cape Town, Paris, Budapest and Istanbul all got favourable reviews. Islamabad was not so lucky. There were several also-rans in between - like Glasgow, for example.

But I still left feeling a bit insulted about Cape Town's second place.

I think I'll just blame that on Rio, mon.

Don't tell!

In my former life, before Zambia, Scotland, child and housewifery, I worked in advertisng. I wasn't a creative, but, rather, a strategist. So I didn't do drugs. I say this to clarify the unique approach I have to observing advertising to this day. Well, unique to strategists that is. What I am about to share with you is actually a trade secret. As I no longer work in the trade, I don't care.

Advertisements, carefully watched, can tell you more about yourself and the things you value than an experienced psychoanalyst. An easy example of this would be Playhouse Disney who advertise a range of overpriced plastic toys, home insurance and cosmetics. The toys are targetted at the children who are fully expected to whine at their parents until the object of their desires makes it over the threshold and onto the pile of unused toys in your living room. The home insurance and cosmetics are targetted directly at you, dear Mom. Concerned for your children's futures and desparate to remove the stretch marks? Those advertisers just know that you secretly watch Dora while little Sally reads stories to Baby Annabelle.

But recently I have begun to suspect that Capetonians living in the UK are a distinct target market - all studiously watching the same shows as me. Emerging from a dark, cold winter that tests our understanding of endurance, we are all longing for the light, the mountains, the rocks on Clifton beach, and advertisers know that we are easy prey.

I know, in my heart, not to take this personally. It's practical, really. You see, Cape Town is in the southern hemisphere (I'm hoping that doesn't sound condescending - it isn't meant to), which means that it is enjoying a balmy summer while this island is in the darkest depths of winter. When outdoor filming in the UK is dissolving in 3 metres of rain, the industry in Cape Town is booming with European producers keen to get ads in the can before spring promotions.

Now it is Spring and I can spot a South African in Tesco at 100 yards. Firstly, they're still wearing fleeces, coats, and scarves. But they've also developed a sudden and overwhelming desire to eat Kelloggs for breakfast, with a Muller yoghurt, while they talk on T-Mobile contracts and waft through a mist of Nivea deodorant. I also suspect they may be buying garden furniture from Homebase.

I know it's not personal, but just so as you know dear advertising folk, I may need therapy to get over the homesickness. And I hold you responsible.