There are days when I really miss the old normal. I miss being in an overcrowded pub, not wearing a mask, shaking hands, going to the races.
Some days, I miss going to the office, coffee breaks with the boss, listening to a colleague snore when he naps behind his desk after a late night.
What I don’t miss is the traffic and I especially enjoy the fact that I don’t spend a few thousand rand on petrol for a daily commute.
I also don’t miss endless board meetings in which a lot is said, but very little is actually done. But if I have to nominate the one thing I miss the least, it’s rugby. Relax, catch your breath, and hear me out.
In the old normal, one rugby match could consume an entire Saturday – and that’s without even going to the stadium. The preparation alone could take a few hours. Buying the provisions for the day was not a simple task.
Biltong had to come from Oom Les, sekelbos wood for the braai from a man who trades out of the back of his bakkie, the snacks, the drinks, the ice – everything meticulously selected.
Setting up was another mammoth task, which was always made easier with a couple of cold ones. And when the game eventually kicked off, it also signalled the start of running commentary by a team of rugby experts gathered around the television, each with a glass microphone in hand.
And the emptier the glasses, the louder the commentary would get. At half-time the fire would be lit and when the meat was eventually hauled over the coals, the game would be analysed again and again in detail.
As we carve out a new normal, Saturdays have suddenly become adventure days, explore days and rest days.
In the past couple of months, I have spent a Saturday in a pool with my girls and their boys, I’ve binge-watched a really good mini-series, gone on a road trip through mampoer-country, and even gone camping.
The new normal is completely unscripted, untested and unexplored. We are free to make it up as we go along. And I’m loving it.
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