We are headed to Cape Town, but will blog from the road as time allows. There won't be much time. We are only in town for a week. And yesterday's triple water main break, with eight men and an excavator in the middle of one of my mother's flowerbeds might mean that we hit the ground with gumboots on and shovels at the ready.
Sunday is the Big Bash - on my mother's birthday, but all the bells and whistles are to celebrate my father's 80th birthday, actually on the 29th, the day we land.
We will stay close to home with the exception of a quick trip up to Paternoster where I want to introduce Vince to Oep ve Koep, the restaurant I fell in love with earlier in the year, and where we'll meet our Koringberg friends for lunch. We'll spend the night in town, so that my husband, who is part fish, can wake to the sound of the sea. 'Wake' being the operative word: the last time we slept in Paternoster I slept while Vince stayed awake - I heard noises all night and had a bad feeling (presumably all in my head) and in the end he gave up and stood and sat guard the whole night long. The next day dawned beautifully. Vince passed out.
This time, our night at The Oyster Catcher will be a little different.
Such a brief visit is bittersweet. But we will squeeze out every drop we can get. Next year, we mean business.