If you live in Cape Town and didn’t love the shit out of this last weekend, I would seriously recommend moving somewhere else.
It was glorious. The sun beamed down on a city full of happy Capetonians and people flocked to the beaches that surround us, J-Rab and I included.
We drove down to Clifton late afternoon yesterday and dipped our toes in the water (it’s still fucking freezing, so no surprises there).
We found a gigantic rock and climbed right to the top of it and took these pics:
Today looked different in my head.
It started with me waking up before 9.30, making a killer breakfast with bacon and eggs and sausages and fried tomatoes and mushrooms cooked slowly in butter, freshly squeezed cold orange juice, toast from homemade bread, more jam than you could shake a stick at.
Can you taste that? Fahk.
After that I was going to take J-Rab somewhere away from here, away from all the cement and asphalt. We were going to drive, far out there and find a place where the two of us could be alone, there would be a river there we could drink out of, we’d spread a blanket out under some trees, pop a bottle of champagne, drink it out of crystal flutes and eat expensive sandwiches, the ones from Woolies.
