It does exactly what it says on the tin

I went for a wee run this morning to shake off the pork belly and wine. Off I went along the coast. There are little goat trails contouring along the hills, skirting cliffs above a raging sea. They do not call it the Wild Coast for nothing. It is wild. And it is a coast. In that respect it is a lot like Ronseal Quick Drying Wood Stain.

And goats there were along my run. They scampered in fear as they saw my impressive form wheezing towards them. I have to admit that I didn’t get the best of the spectacular scenery as I was concentrating on 3 foot space in front of me to avoid coming a cropper like Billy, who had gone into rigourmortis on the rocks below a 50 foot cliff. My mind turned to the braai we are having this afternoon, but I think he might be a bit ripe for that and I wasn’t exactly sure how to get to him anyway.

I didn’t go too far, but you reach isolation very quickly. The only bodies out are the odd fisherman. I am sure I could make a joke about that. I reached a nice wee sticky-out cliff and had a good sit down and a swatch at the sea. This is something that I could do for a very long time but breakfast called.

I have just been asked to take control of the egg phase of breakfast. Kim may be a very good doctor and a creative maker of shell and driftwood mobiles, but she is pish at frying eggs and she knows it. Muffin, bacon, eggs, black pepper. Kim likes to sully hers with tomato ketchup. And that is her right, of course.

Today’s braai is to consist of a grill balanced on rocks from the beach. Simple is, of course, besto. We have a chicken and we will verily flatten the bugger and get him well cooked.

Last night we watched ‘Dan in Real Life’. Dan in Real Life is not the worst chick-flick that I have ever watched. And that is about all that we say about that.

Kimmy’s comments : Things are looking up

What a lovely weekend I’m having. We have come to ‘Hole in the Wall’ which is about 20min drive from the hospital and sits in a pretty bay with the big ‘hole’ in the wall being the featured attraction. I was never a huge fan of hole in the wall, it has a tatty hotel and oozes the remains of colonialism. The beach has lots of local kids begging for money from the spattering of tourists who stay at the hotel. The geographical feature that is the hole in the wall is quite nice, but one visit is enough.

However, we’ve struck gold by finding this little gem of a holiday home owned by some South Africans who rent it out when they’re not staying there. Normally SA holiday homes are a bit kitschy and tasteless with florals and doilies everywhere and old veneer furniture. However, this place is LOVELY. Firstly the location –tucked away just about 100m from the lapping waves on a beautiful quiet beach just round the corner from the more populated ‘hole in the wall’ beach which has a hotel etc. The place is made from a rondavel (roundhouse) with a square bit on the side making more space. All the sea facing walls are covered with big windows, letting lots of light in and the views are spectacular. You can sit with a cup of tea just watching the waves roll. Not a soul in sight. The whole interior is whites and pale blues, shells, marine themes. This owner must be an interior decorator me thinks. Lots of candles and lovely touches, a nice kitchen with everything you could need. It has such a positive vibe and is a great place to recuperate after a weeks work.

We arrived Friday night and were just about to settle down and watch a DVD (our favourite escapism pastime -thanks Al+Tori for the new material). Anyhow, just as we pressed play the electricity cut out (it’s been doing this a lot lately). This ruins all plans of DVDs and cups of tea and dinner as we hadn’t brought our camping stove and the oven works on electric.....bugger. Then Pete had the genius idea of driving over the green hills about another 20minutes to coffee bay, the home of Papazellas pizza place. So we called the owner to check they were running, he cooks on gas so all stations GO. We drove over and ordered our favourites...Papazella for Pete (mince meat, peppers, onions) and Mammazella for me (chicken, garlic, peppers). Funny how we like those named ones best...pappa and mammazellas. These pizzas are DIVINE, even by UK Italian restaurant ratings. Thin bases, nice toppings, mozzarella and even homemade chilli sauce if you can take the heat! It was delicious (are you hungry reading this?). We sat right by the big brick oven that was cooking them to keep warm.

We drove back to our haven at Hole in The Wall and the lights were back on (yippee) so settled down for a DVD- The Last Samuri, which of course I fell asleep watching and missed the end...think he gets the girl which is all I’m bothered about. Pete sold it to me saying there was a love interest in the film, he failed to remind me that that was in between extreme violence fight scenes! It was fun though.

Yesterday(Saturday) we fashioned a game of boule from some sort of round small boulders on the beach. It was fun until I lost miserably, despite my training sessions in the UK during Als wedding week I got my butt kicked twice by pete, who was sure to gloat a ridiculous amount. I blame it on the bloulders not actually being round.

We had a brunch of fried eggs and bacon on a savoury muffin with a cuppa. Brilliant.
Watched The Springboks beat The All Blacks at rugby up at a local restaurant called Whiteclay (the one with the calamari). Then had a pork belly for dinner washed down with divine oaked chardonnay (costing only £3 a bottle). Great stuff.

Today is Sunday. Some friends are coming over to us and we’re having a braai. Winter is here, and it is chilly by South African standards, but by uk standards it is definitely warm enough for a braai. Happy days.

Although being half way through our time here has given us a lull in enthusiasm, this weekend has brought a nice feeling of being settled and knowing our area. Awesome weekend, not much achieved on the surface, but actually underneath that lots done on a mental level. The cost to stay in this paradise for the weekend you ask? £7 per person per night including someone doing the dishes for us. And you know how we Brits love a bargain!

A whiff of sustainability

Yesterday I went to the first Zithulele Pre-school parents’ meeting. It was awesome.

Now, I have been banging on for a good while about how we need a committee to run the school and a parents’ committee to talk to it, sending one representative to our meetings. A pre-school committee we have. Not a big one, but it is there. I never really thought the parents end would happen without me forcing it (pessimistic swine), but on Thursday, Thandeka said to me that there was to be a meeting at 1pm on Friday. I was like, “can I come”, she was like “yes, please come”. So I went. You cannot imagine the happiness that I experience when something like this surprises me out of the blue. Good old Thandeka and good old parents too.

The woman who led the 11 women in the meeting did so with crossed arms, an incredibly Sunday-best smart outfit and the look of a teacher near retirement in the prime of her authority. She speaks good English. I met her when we enrolled the kids and she introduced herself as having worked in the hospital (in the kitchen I think) since the 70s. “Seen a lot of change?”. “Yes”.

The meeting started the way meetings here generally do, in prayer. One person is asked by the chair to pray and they make it up on the spot. Quite organic and specific to the meeting. Not that I understood a word because it was in isiXhosa, as was the meeting. Thandeka did a good job of translating the bulk so I could understand and be understood.

The agenda was laid out in 5 points. They wanted to know: who I was, how the school was being run, what we were feeding the kids, if parents were paying the fees on time and how long the school would run for.

It was well chaired and allowed me to make the point that the school will run as long as we have money; everything costs money so we are trying to do things cheaply to help it last. This was me laying down a precursor for us discussing whether to give the kids lunch or not. That is a discussion for another day.

We started blithely providing lunch, but it is one of the big running costs and we are not sure that it can sustain. Is it our responsibility to provide lunch? There is a chance that we will cut the lunches at the end of this year and start next year by asking parents to send kids to school with a packed lunch. There are pros and cons to this. I like the idea of asking the parents to commit to provide lunch as a condition (this is what Mdumbi’s lot do). Ideally, though, I would like to keep the lunches and use them as a way to teach healthy eating. We hope to have a little veggie garden as well to teach kids and parents from the school and bolster the meals with greenery. There may be a middle way. All of this boils down to money and whether this can sustain after I/we leave.

Abenathi's mum got a roasting from Thandeka because her big kid had not been coming to pick up little Abenathi on time for a week. Mum said sorry and committed to doing it herself at 1pm. Bingo.

Near the end of the meeting I was asked if we would open a grade R class next year. Their kids will all be eligible for grade R next year and that means going to a local school to join a poorly stocked, over-populated class of differently aged children. I had to tell them that we couldn’t do it. Apart from the money and admin, we don’t have a volunteer to run the early childhood development project yet. Added to this, if you get into grade R you are competing with the other schools and that opens up several cans of political worms.

The parents were happy with the school and my answers and nominated a representative to come to our committee meetings. She is a very smiley woman, the mother of the equally cheerful Sibongakonke – surely the longest named child in all the Transkei.

At the end I was told that they suspected that I was touched by God. Far be it from me to argue with those who know more about these things than I do.

Kimmy's Comments - my fading tan

It’s winter in South Africa now and my tan had faded along with my enthusiasm. I feel like I am in the middle section of the trip now. Right in the thick of the experience, and I’m tired. Pete too I think. We are lucky that our great friends Alexis, PJ, Douglas and Crawford all came to see us last week from Scotland and we did a swanky game drive with plush settings and luxurious accommodation, at a luxurious price too might I add! Think Pete’l tell you more about that.

Now it’s quite clearly post-holiday-blues time and I feel I just need to get my head down bit and let time fly past as fast as possible. Is that bad that I feel I want the time to whizz by? A big part of me can’t wait to be in the ease of home. Of knowing how things work and where to get what I need and that friends and family are nearby. I’m sure I’ll miss South Africa when I’m gone, but it gets tiring being the odd one out all the time, you know, not in the same culture, white skin, different hospital experience here, TB HIV all things I never learnt about at med school, can’t speak the language. I always feel at work I’m accommodating their inability to do stuff proper. You know, how can it be right to have NO hospital transport to get patients to a specialist clinic 1 ½ hrs away? I juts fund it myself these days and give them 50rand towards a taxi ride.How is it ok for authorities to not pay you correctly. How can we run out of basic things. The latest ‘run out of’ is none sterile disposable gloves. The depot where we get them has run out so we’re waiting on them to get more so we can have some. We only have the expensive sterile gloves left...which cost lots more. Poor Monique our pharmacist is going nuts (she is in charge of such stock). She found the cleaning ladies with a big box of these expensive gloves (the gloves meant to be worn only for sewing up stuff or intimate examinations). They were literally changing one set of bed sheets in a pair of gloves, whipping them off, tossing them in the bin then getting another pair for the next bed. I hear screaming in my head at the wastefulness when Monique tells me this. Monique had words with them and has just decided to try to find her own solution by buying 40 pairs of rubber cleaning gloves so each cleaner has one. But she shouldn’t have to do stuff like that, that’s the point I’m making, or the point that is bugging me right now. Government should make these public hospitals run better. I’m on a political rant now so I’ll change subject I think.

Did I tell you about Taxi Queens? The taxis here are like white mini vans with lots of seats and everyone crams on like sardines. Everyone that is except The Taxi Queens...I’ve been told that the pretty girls who the driver takes a liking to can ride up front with him and get free transport...this then entitles him to a bit of loving with the lady. Sounds like a rubbish deal to me, I’d rather walk personally, but I guess if you have no money these sorts of things happen when you’re desperate.

I’m trying to have some hobbies again. I keep meaning to plant veg in the little garden plot out back – mum you would be very disappointed at my lack of green fingers. However, in my lunch break today I made a hanging mobile from shells and driftwood. Hung it in the bedroom tonight... I hope pete doesn’t think it too voodoo! He helped me for ages combing the beach for shells with natural holes in them to my specific liking. Oh the wild life we lead!

Trapped

I am trapped again. I am sitting on my swivel chair in my office and I cannot go anywhere. Thandeka 2 has mopped the floor around me. This is deeply oppressive. Trapped in my own home. I just wheeled myself over to the window to open it in an attempt to let some air in to dry the floor more quickly. I can see it drying now. In patches. I might be able to step through it carefully. Hopefully the font room is not a minefield as well or I could be trapped here for some time. I am hungry and thirsty.

Restless Natives

I am about to watch the movie Restless Natives. It is a quintessential Scottish movie. It is charming and funny and harmless. I think. I last watched it when I was very young so I am not sure. I hope it is not crapola.

DVDs are a big part of life out here. Sad really, but escapism really works and there is nothing quite like locking yourself away and watching an old movie that you once loved. That Kim has baked buns is the icing on the cake, if you will. I am full of lasagne, but I can manage a cake or two. Indeed, I may have several. For it is Sunday evening and hang the expense!

On Friday, Roger is coming with a team of missionaries to pick up litter in Zithulele. I am excited about that and sad to miss it. Only risk is that it is all white Americans doing the up-picking. I hope he gets the community involved and am sure he will. Saturday is Nelson Mandela Day (his 91^st birthday) and people are encouraged to do something good for their community, so it seems an excellent opportunity to get folk mobilised.

Roger has managed to convince the hospital management to allow two big bins outside their gate. They will dispose of the rubbish that gathers too, which is awesome. The place is a complete kip, so we hope that this little measure improves things a bit. You can’t really blame people for tossing their rubbish on the ground when there is no refuse service in the village. Still gets on my nerves though. Having said all of that, I have seen friends of mine throw rubbish on the street in Glasgow when a bin was nearby. You know who you are and you are a tit.

Time for Restless Natives and a cake.

Restless Natives was very good. A sweet movie that shamelessly pushes Scotland as a tourist destination. Tonight (for it is days later now) must watch Kim’s choice of film. That means, to my utter resignation, The Accidental Bride. I am not even sure if that is the title but it is something like that and it already smells fairly bad. Yes, we are 20 minutes in and I am considering punching myself in the face so hard that I go to sleep.

Seeing some old friends on Sunday when we go to a swanky game reserve. It is not called safari. If you call it safari, South Africans take the piss. It is a game lodge. And it sounds real nice. A top place to see friends that we haven’t in ages and we are delighted that they are coming pretty close to us. Delighted that they made it onto the plane really, as two amongst them have a reputation for missing flights abroad. PJ and Douglas went to T in the Park and still managed to get on the plane the next day. Incredible. Crawford apparently will not know that he is going to South Africa until he is there and Alexis is the brains behind the operation.

The Accidental Bride was bad. Love Pete.

Another lost blog

Bollocks. I just lost anther blog. I highlighted it and dragged it here from a word document and the bastard thing disappeared. I had not saved it. So now I have to rewrite it in its entirety, trying to catch the same mood and candor. Ahem:

This weekend we went to the Kraal backpackers. It was pretty cool, but we didn't sleep that well because the bed was too wee. Travellers talk shite. Great food though.

The end. Buggeration.

Kimmy's Comments - and then there were two

Firstly thank you for all your lovely thoughtful words. I found it really helpful posting my last blog and really appreciated all the comments. Last week was a thoughtful week, I had my 6 month assessment with my UK GP trainer over the phone and we talked about my experiences and how I can relate them back to GP life in the UK. I’d thought that this yr wouldn’t really translate back to home, but after my assessment on thursday I realised that I’ve learnt so much and grown so much as a doctor. I felt really proud showing him my online portfolio of experiences. I think the assessment validated all my recent thoughts about my time here. It was great. I feel much more competent now, I’ve settled in to the work more.

More tails from work.....So, oncall on Thursday evening there was an emergency caesarean section to do. Karl pulled the baby from the womb and passed it to the midwife “dombi” they said–a girl. Then he said “I’ll just check there aren’t twins” and then pulled out another baby, bigger than the first and the nurses shouted “inkwenkwe” A BOY! They were all dancing around and gleeful about this surprise, it was infectious. Noone had the slightest idea there were twins, it is just routine to say ‘better check for a second one’ but you never actually find one.

The first baby who was much smaller and the midwife said she was worried about her so I descrubbed to resuscitate her. Her we go again I was thinking, a rerun of the horrible resusc at the weekend with the baby who died. But, I felt calmer after my previous experience and bagged the baby and after 10minutes she started breathing for herself. It was quite comical because we only had one incubator bed thingy so the big fat brother was squashed on the right side and the little scrap of a sister I was helping breathe was ‘topping and tailing’ (it is better to resusc head downwards). At one point the brother was trying to suckle the big toe of his older sister. It was funny (well, funny once the sister was breathing herself).

So, that was great, a feeling of competence and joy that the twin was okay. Not sure how this first time mum feels about 2 kids, but we were all delighted! Hope she has enough food for them both.

I’ve now moved from maternity to paediatrics ward. I feel sad to leave maternity because I knew the sisters well and felt comfortable there, but this profession is about constantly testing and challenging yourself. You’re never left on any ward long enough to get bored!
Paeds is different in many ways. When the kids are getting better it is lovely, they run around the ward and as they get more confident they interact with you too. Some get quite cheeky, they’re not so hung up on skin colour and what’s proper. If you pull a silly face at them they tend to smile. This is obviously an odd balance though, as they also know sometimes you might have to take a blood test ie needle ie pain and misery, so some of them don’t like me or cry if I appear in the room. I’m used to that now though.

We have a little burns unit on the ward....5 kids with horrid burns. It happens a lot, burns from stoves usually, and they throw all sorts on it...Dettol is a favourite ‘to stop infection’...and to burn the skin and add chemical burns to their list of problems. Brilliant! We have to give the kiddies ketamine before we change their dressings because the burns are so sore. Poor little things. I had an amusing interlude on my wards round last week when Shannon the occupational therapist was in the burns room with a sweet 4 yr old girl who has badly burnt her right hand. All the skin is blistered and peeling off. Shannon wants to keep the fingers and wrist mobile so that as the skin heals it doesn’t tighten up reducing movement. However, kids are so up for it if you just bark orders like ‘clench your fist and open it’ so instead, Shannon was found by me singing twinkle twinkle little star whilst twinkling her fingers (opening and closing them) with this sweeeet little girl singing along and moving her fingers. It was a great moment, seeing how such a simple clever thing will affect the function of this girls dominant hand in the future. Happy stories in kimmy’s comments today.

I even had one 1 yr old who managed to giggle and laugh all through me sticking needles in his arms trying to get a precious blood sample. Who knows why, I just kept grinning at him and he seemed not to feel the pain. He was cute. I’ve noticed my ‘favourite child of the week’ is always the one that smiles at me. Does that make me a bad person? I was on fired on Friday though, had 1 drip (iv line) to put in and two blood samples to take and got them all pretty quickly. I was delighted. I high fived the nurses. They probably think I'm nuts, but hopefully in an infectious way. I think I’ll like get to like paeds, at least I hope so.

Kimmys comments – “Life and Death in The Village”

It’s strange being back in Zithulele Village where there is not very much. A stark contrast to my last two weeks in The UK where takeaways are on tap, corner shops sell valuable supplies and clean water and working electricity are a given.
Life is different here, polar opposite. After the trip home this seems more obvious to me than ever. And yet we try to surround ourselves with the comforts of home, as if to cope better. Watch a DVD on the laptop and escape into a story line. Tucked away in the hospital accommodation complex whilst the rain beats down on our nice sealed roof. All the while knowing that a big storm 2 weeks back blew the thatched roofs off a few rondavel houses in the area. I’m sure they’re not so comfortable or dry.
And so life is different here compared to home...as is death. I’ve been thinking a lot about it over the weekend. On Saturday night oncall I resuscitated a 1200g baby born prematurely. The baby was delivered by emergency caesarean section (cut out) at midnight(these things always happen at the most inconvenient times!). After 35minutes of adrenaline, breathing for the baby with a bag and tube and pumping it’s heart with compressions we had to stop and let it fend for itself (we don’t have any intensive care facilities and can’t ventilate (breath for) a baby for ever) so have to let it try for itself after a time). The Drs in Mthatha Hospital (referral hosp) are also on strike. In a nut shell this was survival of the fittest. The baby never breathed for itself, and I watched the heart slow and stop. It was a boy. He didn’t survive. It was tough.
This mum has had 13 pregnancies and only two live children. It must be like a recurring nightmare for her. Eleven premature labours all ending badly. I imagine how a UK woman might react to such a thing (from my UK hospital experiences) compared with this Xhosa lady. I just imagine lots of noise and tears and sadness. But women here are so tough, I don’t know, they just seem to get on with it. She said a brief goodbye to the pale fetus wrapped in its blanket and then took a deep breath and coped. Is this just a cultural thing? It is not the first time I’ve witnessed tragic death here believe me, and the reaction is often similar. Outwardly women are expected to wear black mourning clothes for a period of time, inwardly I am not sure what goes on. I wonder if they grieve properly? They don’t break down and cry, sometimes I see them smiling and laughing within days. Which reaction to death is right? Is there a ‘better’ way to react? Don’t they care? That is unfair, I am sure they do. Certainly we don’t comfortably talk about death back home, though it one of those certainties in life. Maybe death is just more exposed here, more expected, more witnessed by communities? All just thoughts running through my mind. No right or wrong answers of course. I think it is good to be challenged by these things and to think about patients’ health beliefs etc.
In the UK we love the whole ‘debriefing’ thing at work. Children rarely die, so if they do everybody has a moment to catch their breath and discuss things if they feel like it. Not quite the same here. I remember being called to a ‘gasping’ baby on my first evening oncall only to arrive to a blue breathless lifeless baby. I think I was more visibly upset by this than the mother whom I broke the news to. I was offering my emotional support to the nurses saying they did all they could....In retrospect 4 months down the line I think they probably thought me barking mad and overreacting for being so affected. It is just the way things go out here. Kids die. Anyway, this blog is sort of a debrief for me. My skin has certainly thickened in the last 4 months, and so I could carry on to the next sick patient this weekend after the awful resuscitation of that newborn baby. I can step back and objectively say that the baby didn’t stand much chance given the medical history of the mum, but still it feels like a failure on your part as a doctor when a fresh new life never really started.
My oncall has been rubbish this weekend. Lots of sleepless nights up on the wards. I am still oncall as I type. It’s Sunday night and I finish tomorrow at 8, well, not really finish because I then start the fresh working day of Monday. The break will come next weekend. My superstitious-ness comes out when I am oncall. I think if I look at my phone it will ring. Even as I type this blog I think my phone will go because I am thinking about it. If I put my socks on it’ll ring. Or if I leave the room. I go quietly insane having this hate-hate relationship with my ringtone. I realise I sound completely mad....if you’re a medic you might get it??? I thought I could set up the phone with a special ring for the hospital so that I wouldn’t jump if pete or a friend called. My phone is too basic for that. Damn. It hasn’t rung yet so I’m going to post the blog and not look at that bloody phone!

PS sorry this post is so dark.

Stormy weather

It has been an interesting half week back with lots happening and not happening.

Our newly recruited and fantastic ARV counsellor did not turn up for work on day one and gave Sal a weak excuse when called. So she can beat it and I am trying to contact the number 3 choice to give her a go. I had the best gut feel about number 3, despite her having slightly weaker English, so let's see if I was right. Only problem is that I am not getting through on her phone.

School is out so that is one less thing to think about for now. Thandeka, the teacher, has had her roof pretty much blow off in some horrendous winds. She called me to see if the Foundation can help. I am going to speak to her today, but I think this could be a mine field. My instant reaction is to help fix it with funding, but I have a nagging feeling that that is not the answer. I have thought about an advance on her pay, but that could lead to a lot of requests for advances on pay from all our employees. What I can do is give budgeting advice to try to get her managing her finances better. We shall see.

I am learning constantly about the dynamics of charity and development work. I suspect I will write more about that later. At the moment I am quietly content that this job is so difficult and that I think I can get it right with time and help from others. It is all about relationships.

Kim had an awful night on call last night, only returning for about 2 and a half hours of the night between doing a caesarian and stitching up some dudes hand and other things. Today is is second on call so hopefully will be free and then tomorrow she is back first on call. She is sleeping next door with a face that has slept so deeply on the pillow that it has nearly folded itself in half. I watched In The Thick Of It whilst she healed the sick and laughed my ass off (big thank you to Tom and Sara for that pressie). I had watched the movie In The Loop on the plane and the series is as good if not better. Lots of excellently creative swearing which always pleases me. And the Scots run the show, just like real UK government.

So it is Saturday and I am not sure what we'll do today. It pissed it down all last night, which must have been very helpful for Thandeka and her bust roof. And today is grey and threatening. The Sprinboks get the chance to put the nail in the coffin of the Lions this afternoon. The series is over and we lost, but I suspect it will be a hard contested game anyway. That is if we have any uninjured players left.

Back in the village

Back again. That flew by quickly. Al and Tori are now successfully married. To eachother. And that is super. Tori is also with child so it is very much all go in the family progress department. The only sad thing is that we are based out here and can’t spend time with the happy couple over the next few months to the birth and beyond. We should return to a wee baby in early 2010.

My body is ruined after a week of food abuse and heavy drinking. It was an ace time in lovely surroundings. My best man’s speech went well and I kept the swearing to a minimum to parents’ delight. Saw lots of family which was brilliant. We were in a slightly bizarre culture shock mode but hopefully it didn’t show too much. My niece Isla is so different now and so lovely. Liz, Ian and her arrived after a long car journey and I stuck my big beardy face real close to say “hi”. Needless to say it scared the crap out of her and she screamed. Nice.

Got a lovely welcome back here in Zithulele as pretty much everyone came round to say hi. Monique who has been borrowing our house had cooked our dinner and cleaned the place so that was lovely.

It is odd to be back. Great to be in our home and not hoboing around at other peoples houses or hotels (though those were are mint). We will be slobbing hard this week. Kim is on call this weekend which is crap in one way but quite good to get it out of the way.

We flew from Joburg to Mthatha over the Drachensburg mountains, which are more than likely spelt differently than that. They are beautiful though. I am keen to go and walk about in them. Kim would rather eat broken glass smothered in dung than do so, so I need to work the persuasive angle there.

The long flight from London was eased by another awesome upgrade courtesy of Al’s e-mailing the flight crew. Had a good sleep and watched good movies and the food was, well, good. Economy class really is not good enough anymore. I wonder if I could ever afford to travel club everywhere I went?

In other annoyances, I realized that all of the e-mails that I sent the DfT did not get there because of DISCRIMINATION against yahoo. The DfT is an e-mailist Department and must be stopped. I will try to resend the e-mails from another address and apologise to people who think that I am rude, rather than simply incompetent.

Decided to try to keep up the blog a bit more so we will see how that goes.