More World Cup Ramblings

Last week an opportunity arose for us to all to go to PE for a couple of days. Oh happy day. The long school holiday had arrived, and just about everyone had left town. Some went off to Mozambique - I believe a fair number of South Africans have formed a laager there...
Others just went off on holiday, like people do.

We, had no holiday plans, extra work awaited us - websights and incomplete novels - none of which we mind, really. But its not like having a HOLIDAY, is it?
And then, three days in PE. Whoopee!

Snow in the Langkloof

As we drove out along that winding valley road the mountains were covered in snow all around us. I had threatened L that if he said he was cold one more time I was going to...
The Langkloof is cold. Not Cape Town cold, not Grahamstown, Karoo or Joburg cold. It is #$@!
freezing!

Ja well, no fine, I thought, PE is never really cold, casting my mind back to a childhood of winters spent in lightweight jumpers and takkies, maybe. Well, the worlds climate is doing that warmer, colder, nothing is as it used to be, thing.
It was like being in England, only with no central heating. Still, that together with the World Cup Fevah (hurrah) happening around us - at last! - made me think back to my years in Newcastle - Upon - Tyne.
Newcastle is definitely a football mad city. In my years there I has to shape up to football, or ship out. There, everyone always and only ever wears the black and white football strip. Even in the middle of winter, with no jacket. During my work in schools it was hard to get the children to draw anything or be creative in any way that did not include black and white stripes. The Toon Army was alive and well and marching around us. We lived so close to the stadium that when they scored a goal we were swamped in a huge wave of a roar. Thank God they had no vuvuzelas!

Being back in PE also set me to thinking of my days in Arcadia when I had my own football team - unfortunately at the same time as Winnie Mandela had hers. The only Stompies we knew though were all those thrown from my Mazda 323, whilst driving down the highway loaded with at least 10 large football 'ouens'.

I wander where they all are now. They chose the Brazil strip as their own, and I spent many a Sunday morning watching them play Industrial League on that pitch at the Airport, now so bedecked with flags and a silver half skeleton of a football that lights up at night!
Ja, those were the days, inbetween riots, when I rode into Arcadia early on a Sunday to haul the boys out of bed, red eyed and 'getrek' or 'gerook' to come play football. I myself was pretty hung over some mornings, being single then, and out late myself on a Saturday night.

We watched quite a few games during our three days, enjoyed the Portuguese fans and the odd assortment of those supporting Ivory Coast, who, down at the beachfront were a motley crew of students, in various orange apparel. Fun, fun, fun - oh to be young!

We were happy to see the sun come out before we left, walking at Pipe, where the sea still belongs to only 10 surfers, and the water in winter is warmer than Kommetjie on a hot day! Memories, memories, for L and me, and as we wound through those lush hills around PE, where the horsey set live I felt at home. I remembered long outrides on horseback, down, through the bush to the beach, to gallop along the waters edge, white spray flying.

We spent hours exploring rock pools at Seaview, encountering Germans in yellow 'men at work' helmets, picking up shells. All gave a cheery wave.
We did not want to leave, the sun, the sea - and the good World Cup Vibe! Ho hum.