Tag Archives: alcohol

Blithe Spirits

Posted on by

Durban ca 1980 – I’ve been sent here by the army; I know very little about this Last Outpost of the British Empire, but my friend, fellow Free Stater Steve Reed, has been here almost a year so he knows everything. And he knows some girls.

The papers announced that some comet was due to approach Earth and – we extrapolated – threaten our way of life, our partying, our poison of choice – and perhaps even kill us. Or annoy us anyway.

We determined to protect ourselves and our favourite planet from this unwelcome alien intruder. Steve hired a beach cottage at Blythedale Beach on the Natal north coast and, as I know a lot more about warding off comets than I do about girls, I was happy to tag along with Stefaans and a bunch of his female friends and admirers. Supplied with adequate stocks of various powerful potions and elixirs to be taken internally we sallied forth. We also bought tinfoil.

In the self-catering kitchen we found plenty with which to arm and armour ourselves: Colanders, coriander, and pots and pans made good headgear. Braai forks, spatulas, braai tongs and wooden spoons made anti-galactic weapons. We warmed up our IQ’s by imbibing aplenty and so started a rip-roaring single-handed – the other hand was holding cheap and blithe spirits – Defend the Planet Party; which same ended successfully in the wee hours on the beach when a mysterious pale light appeared on the eastern horizon, over the sparkling Indian Ocean.

Was it perhaps Comet Aarseth-Brewington? Well, if it was, we made it saweth its arseth by our brewing and distillington.

Actually, it was more likely Comet Tuttle. There it is, below! It came back in 2007 but it knew better than to approach too close:

Comet_8PTuttle.JPG
– 37 million km is the closest it dared come this time –

Only after recovering from my hangover did I realise another of the planned missions had once again been a complete failure: Snaring any girls. As so often, the booze had won and I’d dipped out. And they were kif . .

– probably available chicks –

Ah, well! Hail to thee blithe spirit!

Bird thou never wert . . our ode to this comet.

~~~~oo0oo~~~~

Technicolor Yawns

Posted on by

Now we know why, when you have had a few too many, your lumpy laughter can be so spectacular . . .

Check out ‘bevshots‘ where some dude had a sudden thought – probly while suitably under the affluence of incohol. BevShots® are photographs of alcohol under a microscope.  These high-quality photographs of your favorite beers, wines, cocktails, liquers and mixers were taken after they had been crystallized on a slide and shot under a polarized light microscope. As the light refracts through the beverage crystals, the resulting photos have naturally magnificent colors and composition. Just like we had a naturally magnificent complexion, and erudite verbal composition while it was in our veins on its way to our brains where it belongs. Cheers!

Irish pale lager

Australian pale lager

Tequila

Feature pic: Irish Stout – aka ‘flokati dye‘

These pics explain why sometimes when you shoot a cat, it turns out to be a whole Bengal Tiger.

~~~~oo0oo~~~~

Improve your vocabulary: Don’t just say ‘vomit,’ use descriptive terms and synonyms: sidewalk pizza; burp cubed; spew; lumpy laughter; technicolor yawn; shoot a cat; chunder; upchuck; barf; vomit; hurl; ralph; brauer; purge; puke; hork; honk; buick; huey; louis; regurgitate; throw up; belch your boerewors; toss your cookies; lose your lunch; toss a pavement pizza; perform peristaltic pyrotechnics; paint the town red . . and yellow-green, orange and pink; calling Ralph on the big white telephone; pray to the porcelain god; grocery yodel.

Serious Optometric Research

Posted on by

We were in second year and had just moved out of downtown Joburg and Eloff Street to the salubrious semi-suburban delightful area of Doornfontein which was once Joburg’s premier suburb where all the gold mining magnates and Randlords lived and built their mansions.

– that was a while ago, ’tis true –

So some final year students asked us to help them in their research for their – whatever.

They needed volunteers to see if blood alcohol levels affected your esotropia. We gave it a moment’s thought and thought that sounded like a HELLUVA good idea as it involved free drink and would provide valuable data and it involved free drink. We volunteered. None of asked ‘what’s esotropia?’ a number of said “Free Drink!?”

It was very formal. We had to – No, you can’t have a drink yet; Hey! Step away from the drinks table, we need baseline levels before you . . you have? Well, how many? SO many? Well, quick, come, let’s measure you before – Hey! Not another one . .

Well, give them their due, they tried their best and we did our best and it was a WONDERFUL evening filled with laughter and witty repartee and I don’t know if they got any data but we did get the promised drinks and they didn’t need to return any unopened bottles to the grog shop, which I’m sure saved them a lot of bother..

Quite a lot was learned, too. Like if you give a person who has had one too many even a little bit of vertical prism he will push the phoropter away and make barfing noises and run out of the clinic. That might come in handy to future researchers, and I give it here free for anyone to use.

– look at her – she’s obviously had a few –

~~~oo0oo~~~

In final year, Brauer, Zena Jacobson and I did some more serious research, popping contact lenses into people’s eyes and then forgetting about them. My eyes and Pierre Leibbrandt’s eyes, as two f the guinea pigs I ca remember. Silicon extended wear we called it. I think our verdict was “Not Yet.”

Harrismith Holiday Drive-Inn

Posted on by

I’ve only ever seen one aardvark in the wild. A dead one. And it was in the boot of Redge’s car in the Harrismith Holiday Inn parking lot. So I haven’t seen an aardvark in the wild. Yet.

I have seen wildlife at the Harrismith Holiday Inn, though. Once when we had had about enough – we always knew when – Des decided he couldn’t drive home so he would check in to the inn and spend the night in a responsible manner, keeping death off the roads.

So he drove his pickup neatly between the glass double doors and right up to the reception desk. The poor HI receptionist thought WTF and called Dieter. Who came marching over with a look in his eye that made Des think ‘Maybe Not’. So he engaged reverse gear and proceeded to take his quiet and orderly departure, ignoring Dieter’s calm plea, ‘Just stop, Des, just stop’. Dieter was the long-suffering manager who was amazingly good with us locals. He tightened the leash at times and let the dogs loose at other times and he knew when was when.

Harrismith Holiday Inn

Slightly-more-than-bakkie-width double doors

Possibly the alcohol fumes misted the bakkie rearview mirror slightly, putting Des’ alignment slightly out, so this time the bumper hooked the glass door when he was halfway out and there was a sudden rather dramatic shattering of the shatterprufe glass. This made Des think again and what he thought was ‘I’m outa here’ and he accelerated off to where everyone knew he lived – on Kenroy. When he got there Gilbert drew back the duvet and fluffed up his pillows and Des leapt into bed and lay still with his face down, ignoring the persistent ringing of the phone.

On the partyline phone was Dieter wanting to say ‘Des you gotta come over and sort this out or else I have to call the police. I don’t want to call the police but I have to if you don’t come now and sort this out’. But Des buried his head deeper into the pillow, pulling another pillow over his head to block his ears. That would make it go away.

So the cops had to drive out to where everyone knew Des lived – on Kenroy – and bring him in to where an out-of-court settlement was made.

=======ooo000ooo=======

Wonderful stuff, booze

Posted on by

Booze opened wonderful opportunities for us as kids in the olden days. Firstly, it paid the bills, as Mom and Dad ran the Platberg bottle store for profit. Socially it was a big help too – as our hawk-eyed parents and their crowd became bleary-eyed and witty and hilarious, so their surveillance levels dropped and we could get on with doing more interesting things than we could when they were sober.

So it was at the MOTH picnic one year on the far bank of the mighty Vulgar river down in the President Brand park where, after a lekker braai and quite a few pots the folks were suitably shickered and plans could go afoot.

img565

The older boys formed a syndicate which consisted of them hiding and the younger boys being sent in to do the dangerous stuff. See if you can get us some beer from the pub, was the thinking. So (some of or all of) Pierre, Fluffy, Tuffy and I approached the MOTH barman and WW2 ex-serviceman Ray Taylor – as always alone at the bar, teetotal. The other old WW2 servicemen and their wives a little way off making a lot of noise. Uncle Ray, quiet as ever, was easily distracted by my accomplices and as he was being his kind and obliging self to them, I slid a full case of dumpy beers off the makeshift bar counter and turned round, hugging it vertically straight in front of me against my chest. I walked straight away with my back to Uncle Ray into the darkness of the poplar and oak trees towards the river. I had become a thief. Recruited into a crime.

Under the suspension bridge the receivers of stolen goods waited. Etienne Joubert, a Brockett and a Putterill, I seem to recall. They took the loot and told us to move along then. We were too young to be allowed to partake; we were simply a small part of the supply chain!

~~oo0oo~~

Etienne remembers: “I remember this incident well. We drank them on the river bank upstream. We had female company as well, but best we do not dwell on that subject. There was also unhappiness about the brand that was procured . . . Bloody cheek! We put our reputations at risk for those teenage beer drinkers!

Dear old Uncle Ray with his Alsatians (Etienne continues) . . Twice I went on walks with him up our beloved Platberg! He was an interesting man, who behind a façade of dullness was very wise!!

Stories like this bring back a thousand other memories……!! Cheers vir eers, Et

~~oo0oo~~

Another memory of The Far Side – of the river: Roaring around the dirt roads between those big trees in Dr Dick Venning’s light blue Triumph and in his Land Rover, Tim Venning at the helm. Hell for leather, running commentary all the way, huge grin on his face, sliding sideways around the tight corners.

~~oo0oo~~

Uncle Ray was attacked by baboons on one of his Platberg walks. Not sure if his dog/s were with him, but he said he fought off the babs with his walking stick. We were told he had suffered “shell shock” in the war.

~~oo0oo~~