muscular, hairy men

Rugby world cup fever has hit South Africa, which is over-reacting with a sort of incredulous delight to the Boks actually making the final. This is causing me endless amusement: yesterday's Cape Times billboard ("KLAP THEM, OUS!"¹) made me giggle for ten minutes, and this morning's shopping trip was enlivened by watching a pedestrian almost lose an eye to a giant South African flag waved out of a passing car by a small boy. Buying birthday presents for my niece, I was held up at the till for five minutes while the harassed father ahead of me expounded the psychology of national sport to the shop owner².

In fact, national sport is ridiculously emotional, even for me, since large numbers of people united in a common cause is one of the approximately three million things that makes me cry like a girly girl. (That bloody ad with the rugby supporters pushing the continents together gets me every time. And it's for beer. I'm doomed.)

Am resisting the impulse to watch the final this evening, thus revisiting my schooldays (Zim government schools, obligatory to watch the first team games, which is possibly why I have a sneaking fondness for the sport). Now if I was knitting already...

In other news, apparently the new Pratchett is in South African bookstores. Sorry, schedule5!

Last Night I Dreamed: I was living in a quaint little old-fashioned town, all narrow, twisty streets and cobblestones, on an island off the coast of Britain. librsa's band was playing (in masks) in the attic of a house on the main street, and I spent considerable time melting down the gold to pay him untraceably, before deciding "stuff it" and simply doing an internet transfer. (All the gold scraps and melting equipment were stored in our old toy cupboard, which was in the next room). Later I ended up chatting to Terry Pratchett, who was working in the house across the street.

¹ For Our International Readers: "klap" means hit, slap; "ous" means guys, but with a connotation of cameraderie and macho bonding. (Actual speakers of Afrikaans should feel free to correct my spelling/interpretation here). Both words are transfers from Afrikaans into lower-class South African English. I love the headline because of its possessiveness, the way it positions the newspaper, and by extension the readers, in proprietorial support within an extremely strong and culturally specific notion of community.

² I have to say: Dem's? wonderful shop! Have acquired the necessary Slinky Malinky tome for further indoctrination of Da Niece, plus orange plastic proto-recorder which I confidently expect will enable Da Niece to drive her parents crazy in short order. Insert auntly "heh!" here.