I LOVE Cape Town Winters.
It’s cold, big fat drops of water fall from murky grey skies and dreams of duvets and heaters and warm snuggles and cuddles flood your mind.
Summers are so Hot, it’s not uncommon to see flies laying down in the shade gasping for Coca Cola with lots of ice.
Radio stations like Goodhope FM play music that sounds like a rusty robot trying to fart.
I also don’t have to compete with the sun for being the hottest around... when I’m alone... and nowhere near those Clifton Beach guys with the 8 pack tummies and muscles ripped so neatly, one could use it as a cheese grater... cheese heads, the lot of them.
Also, I’m lying about being the hottest guy around... I once went to a colleague’s office and saw a hideous portrait on the wall.
"Is that picture yours? It's rubbish!"
"It's a mirror"
So you can imagine my appreciation for all things winter. Neck scarves that cover 40% of my face and thick woolly beanies that cover the rest. Additionally, the Gouda Guys are also covered up so it’s fair game on all chicks.
Winter works out well for women too. Boys will understand. Doesn't matter how hot she is - dirty, ugly feet are a deal breaker. Winter allows them to hide those digits away in fancy boots or pointy stilettos.
The cool air also rids Cape Town from Benoni Holiday summer trippers with dialects so foreign, even Zimbabwean immigrants frown.
I once met a fella from Hillbrow and the conversation went something like this:
“Nooit Broe. Ah like fully miss ver words lank and kief my ou. Ah missit! Ever since ver chinas went dubstep, ver broes gnarleyed a differnt tchoon. But that’s the Kaap for yous hey?” ...and all I’m left with for a reply is nodding viciously like one of those bobbing head dolls at the back of their Ford Cortina back windows on a gravel road.
Incidentally, People who suffer from halitosis should not say "hhhhoooowwzitt”. There should be a law. Please.
I tried dodging him thereafter and nearly bumped into him at a local pub, but a reflective window, my ninja reflexes and cat-like dexterity saved me from his incomprehensible verbal- diarrhea onslaught and a sore neck.
When those first grey clouds appear on the North western horizon and the cool skeletal fingers of winter gently poke its bony pointers down one’s spine, my mind automatically goes into Olivia Newton John mode and ♪♫Xanaduuuuu, Xanaduuuuu♫♪ bounces from the walls of my inner scalp.
I’ve never had a horrible Winter in Cape Town. History may tell us that Freddie Mercury died because of his fondness for ..... , but it also teaches us valuable lessons. Things like Bad Things always happen in Summer. I firmly support the belief (that I just made up) that Apartheid, Floods and Aids were created in Summer. Some twat was way too hot and it fizzled his brain up. I’m sure the oke invented CFCs, burnt chicken at KFCs and Eminem wannabes too.
In Winter, Trees are bare so one can plan ahead for cool tree houses. No Bieber songs blare from Soccer moms taxis. Mosquitoes diabolic plans for destroying humankind one bite at a time are put on hold. Julius Malema is quiet. Hell – Jacob Zuma is quiet. Salads are traded in for thick creamy stews. Cinemas aren’t as full. Malls aren’t as full. T-shirts are cheaper. Eating 1Kg Spur Ribs is pardonable. Everything is better.
Everything.
EVERYTHING.
...Except maybe for Cellphone companies.
I once overheard this at a MTN store on a phone that had liquid damage: "Humidity caused this rust? I'm not a Superhero or God! I can’t stop mist from entering the phone!"
...Except for the SABC as well. TV always have those Dali Thambo "Poephol of the South" repeats in July.
...and maybe the fact that it’s so cold and wet and miserable outside and you’re confined indoors because it’s just too freaking cold to go anywhere...
...maybe surrendering to those cheddar heads’ sex appeal isn’t too bad. And maybe relenting to the Sun for being the centre of the Solar system isn’t too horrible a task. I’m sure I’ll be able to tolerate Goodhope FM’s tinny music and chicks with ugly feet.
Ok – I surrender. Cape Town Summers are Awesome. Nooit Broe!
So who’s up for helping me start a ”Let’s feed a fly Coca Cola” campaign next Summer?
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