Fidler in the ‘Hood: ‘It’s very nice to go travelling, really?’
Cape Town is nigh-on perfect, we all know that, but it does have its imperfections. I, unfortunately, lost my phone.
Bonjour monsieurs et mesdames. I thought I would bring some culture and sophistication to the column this week, folks. The CO and I have just returned from a delightful two-weeks’ vacation in a foreign country. A place where everything works, where everything is spotlessly pristine – no potholes, and the tourist is numero uno.
No, I am not talking about Blackpool, not even the French Riviera. You guessed it: the place proudly referred to as the Fairest Cape, the most beautiful city in the world. A land of breathtaking beauty, fine wines and beautiful people. Move over, Rio de Janeiro.
Idyllic Dreams Shattered
The idyllic holiday in the Cape was shattered when editor David Rush messaged me. Strangely, he did not want to discuss the ‘war to end all wars’ (no, not the Ukraine war) but the upcoming battles between his Liverpool and my Manchester City warring enemy teams. Two meetings of the giants within a week is too much; not good for the old ‘tickety-boo’, and should carry a health warning.
Mr Rush messaged me with the words: “Greetings. Are you back from the ‘unfair-we-don’t-live-there-Cape?” Followed up with ‘good week space-wise, hopefully for a column”. I got the message. I told the CO we had to drop everything and high-tail it back to the Hibiscus Coast.
The CO replied: “You’re not going anywhere: sit down and eat your pâté de foie gras; and top up the glass of Méthode Cap Classique French champagne.
“Well, what was I to do? We were marooned in Franschoek; it seemed a pity to waste the terribly expensive lunch. I was only following orders, friends. She who shall be obeyed.
What Better Place to be . . .
Cape Town is nigh-on perfect, we all know that, but it does have its imperfections. I, unfortunately, lost my phone. But, if you have to lose your phone, well, there’s no better place perhaps than at an exclusive wine estate in Constantia? Maybe it was one of the many excellent restaurants on the Waterfront? Or maybe at that place we paid R85 each for an ice cream?
Don’t hold out any hope that either the local, raucously loud, Cape Town Saps station nor the phone service provider will go out of their way to help either. The mind boggled when I was asked for the box I bought the phone in.
I replied I lived near Durban and purchased the phone some three years back. It cut no ice with the glamorous ‘dolly bird’: “We must have the box you purchased the phone before we can assist you.”
We were getting nowhere. A pleasant drinky-poo in glamorous Camps Bay seemed to be in order. My stress levels began to subside. Our last evening dinner at the Waterfront was quite unique: we had no phones. Who says the art of conversation is dead?
Familiar Territory
We came back home to familiar territory. The friendly local service provider in Shelly Centre helped us out in next-to-no-time. They were even able to trace my lost phone in Cape Town: no names, no pack drill. They even figured out how I had lost my phone in the hired car and helped out with the paperwork. And off we went to that equally raucous hive of slothful service activity, namely a certain police station, for a case number. We might have well asked for help from the Man on the Moon. Travel tip: never ever lose your phone when you’re a long way from home.
Where Are We?
We arrived home in Uvongo. At first, we were unsure if we had found the right place. I asked the CO if we were in our road? The potholes had been filled in whilst we were away, although good neighbours Brian and Joan Muir had forewarned that we were in for a shock – the grass verges had been cut, the road signs were freshly painted, all thanks to the Tidy Town project which seems to have lift-off.
We slowly unpacked, put the kettle on, and put on the ‘telly’. Cape Town was a hundred pleasant memories away. The case of ‘the stolen phone’ a fast-fading memory. They say “It’s Very Nice to Go Travelling, but oh so nice to come home.”
See you, Rob.
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