The towers came down this weekend.Towers falling I missed it, but then again E-tv news described it as ‘the mother of all anti-climaxes’. I didn’t feel bad. Of course, had you listened to the radio as they came down you would have thought that something far more momentous had happened. I mean, sure, 50 years of history and part of the skyline and blah blah blah but seriously? People said they were going to “miss them”. How? In what way were polluting monstrosities part of your life? Then people wondered how they were “going to give directions to their houses now”. Look in front of you. See that MASSIVE Mountain, dominating the skyline? The big one? The one we’re famous for? See if you can use that as a guide.
It’s at times like this when I wonder if there is really nothing sacred. We can drum up that level of ridiculous sentimentality for a building, and yet a headline that reads “100’s raped outside DRC UN camp” can pass us by unnoticed. It saddens me. But then I have the same feelings towards people who will fight tooth and nail for animal rights, but have no qualms about the millions of people living like animals next door to them. In the words of a close friend, “I will henceforth refer to vegetarians, environmentalists and animal rights activists by their collective noun: "Communists."
On a lighter note, the boy decided that since I had missed the momentous occasion, and clearly needed comfort for the loss of my dear towers, I deserved to be wined and dined and treated like a little princess. We swanned into a little French wine farm Allee Bleue just outside of Franschoek for a little wine tasting. The wines were, well, average bit for the price, very well suited. Go with whites if you ever stop by. We decided to head to the restaurant for their awesome R99 steak n wine special. But my oh my. If you are looking to have steak that doesn’t require you to re-mortgage your house to afford it, and yet you don’t want to have to go to Spur, this is the place for you.
There were linen tablecloths, and linen napkins. Silver butter-dishes. These are the things that make life worthwhile. I don’t care if that makes me a snob; I like things to be proper. If at all possible I would have my evening meal brought to me on the ring of a bell, by a well-trained and highly obedient little Creole boy.
Enough of my bigotry for one day. Sufficed to say that a lovely glass of Pinotage and a juicy piece of fillet was enough to bring on the illusive, but well-documented steak dance, which I performed to the delight and immense joy of all the staff. I feel that I enriched them.
Now go forth and find steak!
No comments:
Post a Comment