Moorreesburg goes Mexican
Yes, I know I have been gone for a while, but this is a season of a new discipline (and a new diet...)
For the past couple of days I've been feeling very flu-ey and particularly sorry for myself. So last night, after the end of a long day behind the computer forcing myself to write semi-coherently about the scintillating topic of racial transformation in South Africa's insurance industry, all I wanted to do was slather myself in vicks vapo-rub and go to bed. With honey and lemon, but without the honey because of the diet.
What I actually did was to go to a bizarre Moorreesburg version of a Mexican night because friends phoned us to say they were there and that we absolutely had to come.
It is a very big deal, you understand. There is only usually one place open at night in Moorreesburg... a horrible dive called Guttos where we once waited two hours for our steak order before giving up and going home.
So the thought that there was actually somewhere elso open was enough to rouse me from my sick bed.
The new owner of Die Stoep, a man with an impressive mustache, was wearing trousers with (thankfully plastic) buttocks sticking out the back. Is that what they do in Mexico?
He had a selection of music on a CD player, and when the occasional Mexican-sounding song came on he rushed over, put on his sambrero and picked up a guitar which he pretended to play while encouraging all 10 of his patrons to yell "holaaa"
But this is Moorreesburg, so it was exciting.
And the company was great.
The next big event on the Moorreesburg calendar is when Die Stoep hosts a Chinese evening in a month's time.
By the way, I asked Greg if I was looking any thinner, but he said I just looked sick. I take that as a good sign. I've often thought very thin people look sick.
For the past couple of days I've been feeling very flu-ey and particularly sorry for myself. So last night, after the end of a long day behind the computer forcing myself to write semi-coherently about the scintillating topic of racial transformation in South Africa's insurance industry, all I wanted to do was slather myself in vicks vapo-rub and go to bed. With honey and lemon, but without the honey because of the diet.
What I actually did was to go to a bizarre Moorreesburg version of a Mexican night because friends phoned us to say they were there and that we absolutely had to come.
It is a very big deal, you understand. There is only usually one place open at night in Moorreesburg... a horrible dive called Guttos where we once waited two hours for our steak order before giving up and going home.
So the thought that there was actually somewhere elso open was enough to rouse me from my sick bed.
The new owner of Die Stoep, a man with an impressive mustache, was wearing trousers with (thankfully plastic) buttocks sticking out the back. Is that what they do in Mexico?
He had a selection of music on a CD player, and when the occasional Mexican-sounding song came on he rushed over, put on his sambrero and picked up a guitar which he pretended to play while encouraging all 10 of his patrons to yell "holaaa"
But this is Moorreesburg, so it was exciting.
And the company was great.
The next big event on the Moorreesburg calendar is when Die Stoep hosts a Chinese evening in a month's time.
By the way, I asked Greg if I was looking any thinner, but he said I just looked sick. I take that as a good sign. I've often thought very thin people look sick.
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