On the first of the new month Rob leaves (again) for Canada, this time for three weeks, to take care of our house in Marchmount Road – essentially, to rent it out, now that Eve and Shaun and little Joshua have moved to a house of their own, and to see friends, take in an exhibit perhaps at the AGO, breathe in the Canadian air and, perchance, get a taste of early winter.
Our house here in Joburg will feel empty without her, but with the year just galloping along, in no time she’ll be back, followed closely by Jonathan, Hayley and wee Gabriel, visiting from the UK, and my mother, who will be coming up to join us for Christmas.
Jono en famille in fact fly out to SA on Monday, from Heathrow, and will be spending the next couple of weeks in the Cape, where I hope to hook up with them for dinner, before they head north to our little corner of reality.
So much for the news – the family stuff anyway (I am assiduously avoiding the political, which is nauseating – hey, so how are the rest of you doing, in Brexitworld, Trumpistan or, sadly, sadly, Catalonia?!). And for reading so far, here is a photograph – a rather bemusing image, to my eye anyway, taken from the gallery of the Kalk Bay Modern in Cape Town.
We had barely taken our seats at Coobs in Parkhurst last night when a seeming explosion rent the air, as if from the street two feet from the patio where we were sitting. Moments later the sky opened up, torrential, rinsing rain emptied the sky, the wind grasped the trees lining the sidewalk and shook them.
Meanwhile dinner was served, platters of confit duck legs and pan fried duck breast with Asian salad for both of us, which, accompanied by a bottle of Vergenoegd Merlot, were pronounced delicious.
Think of it as a gift from Nora, our friend in Vancouver, who had generously sent Rob some money – going to the trouble of sending the cheque in Rands, nogal.
On a completely unrelated topic, here are some photos from Kalk Bay, the quaint little fishing village that hugs the coast on the railway line from Cape Town to Simonstown.
Don’t ask what’s the connection – there isn’t one. In South Africa these days – think Cabinet reshuffles, the musical chairs that a rogue President plays with his minions – there’s no rhyme or reason for anything. Might as well get on with photography.
Ahead of schedule, here is the weekend post – another half-dozen images of young Thomas Tjasink.
Family pics, to be sure – but I was trying, also, to show there is something both monumental, and tender, about being a parent, and about being an infant – a moment that is both infinite, and open-ended, yet concrete and immediate.
The new Zeitz Museum of Contemporary Art Africa – Zeitz-MOCAA – is an instant architural landmark, both global and local, and an extraordinary addition to Cape Town’s cultural scene and to the V&A Waterfront.
Rob and I were lucky enough to get in on the opening weekend (there were 1 ½ hour line-ups, but we bought memberships, and skipped the queue) but the place was way too crowded to enjoy the artworks, and in any case the architecture itself was a thing of wonder.
So we wandered around, gazing up into the cathedral-like concrete flutes that rose towards the skylights, looking down the spiralling iron staircase and into the well of the cathedral, and I took a few photographs.
The structure itself is light-filled and airy, a honey-comb or corn cob, but the lines are so strong and dramatic, the architecture so bold, that I have chosen to adopt a more dramatic treatment.
My new photo blog is still under construction, so here are the images. Some or all of them are likely to be repeated, when the new blog is up. I hope you enjoy them here meanwhile.