Day Twenty-Five

Noordhoek.

It’s a place I’ve gone to ever since I was tiny. The house is a cabin, it’s wooden, it’s in a forest, and a four minute roll down the hill to a 4km stretch of wild beach. There are rough-skinned boulders and smelly kelp pieces and children and surfers and horses.

It’s great.

So when my Aunt, Uncle and cuzzies came down, a trip to Noordhoek was inevitable. We arrived after fish and chips at the Kalk Bay harbour, eaten out of the packets and with no forks (let alone tomato sauce). There were fishermen everywhere and waves crashing over and children sleeping in cars and hooks flying and fish beaten on rocks. It was so Cape Town.

So after that and I stop at the garage for coffee and ice creams, we arrived home. Into bed only to be woken up in the morning by the streaming-in-through-the-window-sun made me excited for the work-filled day.

This day...was a beautiful day. The sun was sunny, the surfers were surfing, and the dogs were fetching.

We all went down to the beach, at which I pulled out my hefty textbooks and read for hours on the effectiveness of rhyme. And structure. In poems. It was interesting, but the swimmers were making me jealous...

We had braai, ate to the bursting, a quick snooze and back to the beach.

 The evening was still as busy but with the masses now sitting on rocks with drums and guitars and singing Youth Group songs. Every body huddled on rocks and soaked in the last warmth of the sun.

How spoilt these Capetonians are...