Last night we took Caro through to Glasgow to see Grandaddy play at 02.
The tickets stated that the doors opened at 7pm, and most people apart from ourserves seemed to know that this meant that nothing happened until nearly 8pm. However, our early arrival meant that we were able to claim one of the few seats.
White Star Liners were the support, and very good they were too. They are from Brighton, where there’s a big music scene.
I thought that Grandaddy were superb. They are a tight-knit operation who play a distinct brand of indie rock music with many creative features. And they play loud. The drink in front of me vibrated like that well-known scene out of Jurassic Park.
The capacity crowd really enjoyed the music. Because it was a relatively early start (the band finished at 10.15pm) this was not a drunken audience expecting to clap along with churned-out old hits, and then stagger home. Instead, everyone listened very attentively to some fantastic sounds, and then showed their full appreciation.
Typical was one chap that I spoke to at the bar. “That band can play!” I said. “I’ve waited All my life for this moment” he replied.
The encore included one of the most spectacular songs you can imagine.
In 1995, after a trip to Lesotho, we were trying to make it back to the Bophuthatswana/Botswana border before it closed for the night, and somewhere on a backroad near Kroonstad we took a wrong turning and ended up 20 miles along a dirt-track going in the wrong direction.
I turned the car around, and was driving too fast along a road which hadn’t been graded for some time when I lost control in the deep ruts of a sharp-cambered corner. For a moment, I thought we were goners. The Toyota Corolla stayed upright, but turned 180 degrees and ended up facing the other direction in the ditch. Fortunately, the only damage was two burst tyres.
So, not being the most practical of people, I stood scratching my head and wondering what to do, when a bakkie came along, the first car we’d seen for half an hour. The driver jumped out and greeted us in Afrikaans. His name was Pete, or more likely, now I think about it, Piet, and he was a thick-set, heavily-bearded farmer. Tough and strong as nails.
He immediately took charge of the situation, and as I was still describing what had happened he got my spare tyre out and changed it for one of the burst tyres, which he bounced into the back of his bakkie whilst I stood around feeling spare and unmanly, and we headed off for the nearest garage.
Piet spoke very little English, so conversation was quite limited. It was 20 kilometres to the nearest town, and a garage that repaired the tyre, then he drove me back to the Toyota where he took the other burst tyre off and replaced it with the repaired one.
It was an extremely kind act of a good Good Samaritan. I offered him the biggest banknote I had, but he refused, and only went on his own way once I’d started up the Toyota and he saw that we were OK.
So, without wanting to generalise too much, I can say that Piet was a perfect example of many helpful Afrikaners we have come across over the years.
On another trip, this time to Thabazimba, we pitched our tent at a campsite near the entrance to Marakele National Park. We were tired and looking forward to a good night’s sleep and an early game drive the next morning when a group of about thirty Afrikaners drove up in several bakkies, formed a kraal not far from our tent, and got their braai going. Then the music started and they began a singalong. They had at least one accordion and several guitars, and as the beer flowed they played louder and louder. It was well past 1am when the noise died down.
Now, I’m not one to complain about parties, but what upset me was not the noise but the fact that their music and singing was dreadfully awful. And the songs were bad as well, based mostly on oom-pah – oom-pah, but rendered without the necessary vital understanding or mastering of a basic two-beat rhythm. I don’t think that any one of the thirty of them had even the slightest musical talent. This didn’t stop them from having a whale of a time, though.
As an aside, I would say that I got my own back early the next morning when I took my son Jamie, who was three, for a walk. He shot straight into the now peaceful and sleeping kraal and proceeded to undo guy-ropes, turn taps on, pull up pegs, tip up bags and so on. Normally, of course, I would have stopped him, but in this case I just left him to his usual whirlwind activity.
Again, without wanting to generalise too much, my experience in Thabuzimba and elsewhere has mostly been that Afrikaners have not impressed me as being a particularly musically-orientated people.
So, what I’m saying is from these and other experiences, I’ve found Afrikaners to be helpful, strong, practical, hard working, hard partying people, with almost no musical appreciation whatsoever.
Thus it is that I cannot explain how I’ve found such a rich vein of what I consider fantastic, fun, foot-stompin’ Afrikaner pop music on YouTube. Also, the self parody in the videos shows a much better sense of humour than anyone would expect from the traditional clichéd views of Afrikaners that we get from the media in the UK.
Of course, this music sounds far better played very loud (at least warp 23 on the headphones) after some beers (Castles, if you want to do it right), which I advise you to have before clicking on the links below, and then one more beer for each video. The important thing is that in most cases, due to the videos, you don’t have to understand Afrikaans to enjoy the songs. I don’t know any Afrikaans, so I hope the words are not too rude.
First off is Rooies. Listen to the excellent mixture of English and Afrikaans words.
Just to show that Rooies is not a one-hit-wonder, above is: Hou jou hanne van my lyf af
Robbie Wessels – Macarena Mambo
It’s Robbie again, but look away if you’re offended by budgie smugglers.
Bok Van Blerk.
Oeps Didi – DJ Ossewa
Anton Myburgh – Visgat. Boerewors is a type of sausage, essential eating in South Africa.
This one, by Andriette, is set in a library!
OK. They are getting more oom-pah – oom-pah, this one doesn’t get going until 1:18 and it may not be safe for work.
Bruce & Die Flooze. Watch this one to the end.
Kurt Darren – Lekker Lekker
If you’re under 25, there’s also someone called Snotkop, who looks as if he’s not the sort of chap you’d take home to meet your Mum & Dad.
From the above, you can see and hear that South Africa could win every Eurovision Song Contest by a mile.
To finish off, here’s one with a beautiful slide-show (which of course manages to feature boerewors) entitled: Kom Huis toe… for homesick South-Africans.
Tip – For a unique experience, why not play two of the above, at the same time, through the heads.
The good behaviour was bound to end at some point, and after the meal last night at Tapa Leith, it did.
Tapa
I would just like to reassure neighbours and anyone else who may have been disturbed late last night that the 4 am rendition of ‘California Dreaming’ by Roddy and The Babes was definitely their final performance, and that there are no plans whatsoever for a reunion gig.
It’s been a hectic week of partying, in celebration of Shaun’s 21st. Various people have been staying here at different times, and I’ve been busy in the kitchen catering for 6, 7, 23 and 21 mouths.
Shaun’s girlfriend April brought with her some impressive vegetables from her Dad’s garden. I used the onion below in a paella.
A French onion
The next evening it was a braai for Shaun and his friends.
In the gazebo
When the drinking games started, I made my excuses and left. I wouldn’t want to show up the youth.
The next evening it was an appropriate 21 family and friends for the 21st slightly more formal party. I wasn’t aware of any drinking games at this one.
The birthday boy with the Rubic’s cube cake that Lindsey made.
Shaun’s 21st
Later on, Andrew entertained everyone with some impressive guitar playing
The Hotels4U.com Blog has just published an Edinburgh Travel Guide. When to go, things to do, nightlife, day trips, shopping, culture, transport, etc. Very useful for visitors.
If you scroll right down to the bottom, you’ll see tips from local bloggers, including some information on print and online guides, from moi.
Back in March Lindsey and I enjoyed a great meal at the Bridge of Lochay Hotel, so I was looking forward to more good food during the family outing to Killin last weekend.
I wasn’t disappointed. The chef knows what he’s doing. The desserts are superb.
Rib eye
Family meal
Some of the family group stayed at the Maragowan Caravan Club site, some at the hotel, and some in a yurt at Loch Tay Highland Lodges.
Fat Mac doesn’t get much fresh air nowadays, and this is probably one reason why he catches ‘flu so often. It’s only 100 yards from his flat to the offie, and often that’s the only exercise he gets each day.
I had a touch of ‘flu towards the end of last week, but unlike Fat Mac who revels in sickness, I shrugged it off and we went up to Killin for a fresh-air family outing.
There was lots of it around – fresh air, that is. It was also the weekend of the annual Killin Show.
Pipers at the Show
There was an excellent turnout. We saw a pipe band, and some terrier racing.
Terrier racing heat
Then it was time for the tug-of-war.
Tug of war
Anyone could join in for the first tug. Then it was down to the more serious teams.
The Fire Brigade
The ‘fermers’
My money would have gone on the Fire Brigade, but despite, or maybe because of, beer at half time, the Farmers eventually won.
There was a parade of vintage tractors, which the wee boys in the crowd liked.
Vintage tractors
Triple challenge
The triple challenge involved teams of three. The first one rolled a bale of hay from one end of the field to the other, and then stood on top of another bale. The second one ran and jumped up on the bale, and ate a pie, and then the third one ran and jumped up on the same bale and drank a can of beer.
