Rob in the ‘Hood: Potteen, romantic sounds of lawnmowers … and missing Klopp
I do have this theory as to why we are feeling a little bit 'miz': the cupboard is becoming increasingly bare, with stocks of our favourite tipples running almost dry.
Hello, friends! Maybe it’s the autumn chill in the air, but have you noticed that perhaps the people are getting restless?I mean the extended lockdown is slowly getting to us. Maybe, maybe not. I do have this theory as to why we are feeling a little bit ‘miz’: the cupboard is becoming increasingly bare, with stocks of our favourite tipples running almost dry. The cupboard I am referring to, is, of course, the booze cabinet.
Cocktails for two seem to be something from the past; measure for measure is being measured. The old saying ‘a little bit of what you fancy does you good’ makes for wishful thinking these days. Fortuitously, the CO’s Irish know-how has come to the rescue. After buying tonnes of potatoes, she has been making ‘poteen’, (pron. ‘pocheen’), a lethal form of Irish whiskey, so ‘slainte’ (pron. ‘shlanshe’, meaning ‘cheers’). On with the show.
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Last year, for some, the only game in town was having Brexit up to our eyeballs and wishing it would go away. For alternative viewing we could follow one of those ‘hilariously funny’ commissions of inquiry all about the shenanigans of our dear leaders. But, here’s the rider, folks – we had English, Spanish, Italian football on television to alleviate the boredom of Brexit; not forgetting our very own brand of local politics.
We had footie on the telly; we had the ‘Boks winning the Rugby World Cup, and, well, we won’t talk about the cricket. I never thought I would say this, but I am actually missing Jurgen Klopp and his ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ band of troubadours. Come home, Kloppo! All is forgiven. And, will I ever see my beloved Manchester City ever again? Missing you, too, Pep.
Closer to home, the leafy lanes of Uvongo are echoing to the romantic sounds of lawn mowers, high-pressure hose-pipes, with a dab of wet paint here and there. Music to some people’s ears, but for others blisters (and blood) on their hands. I wouldn’t call it therapeutic, not even satisfying, but all those much-need chores in and around the house are being done.
Last week I compiled a list of favourite songs I would take with me if I was cast away on some remote island in the middle of nowhere. ‘Whistle While You Work’ would not be one of them.
On a sentimental note, friends, it is exactly five years this week since the CO and I hit town. Despite its many deprivations (and frustrations), for example, water supplies being frequently turned off, power cuts, potholes and sometimes not so spectacular service delivery by the municipalities, we have really come to love living down here on the South Coast.
I think it safe to say we have never had so many friends and acquaintances. Social activity has never been greater, and ‘getting to know you’ has never been easier. Being the Uvongo scribe has helped, and, no, I am not in the running for the Pulitzer Prize for whatever. Maybe a knighthood, but what the heck, it’s a labour of love. All thanks to you, my friends.
Here’s to better times. See you, Rob.
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