muscular, hairy men

[freckles_and_doubt]

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.

Comments

[nimnod.livejournal.com]

Oh, watch it, go on. I shall be compromising my pseudo intellectual integrity to yell "Moer hulle ouens!" while wearing this green and gold shirt (yes, I know) and clutching a black label, and it would provide some little solace to know I was not the only such caver.

[extemporanea.livejournal.com]

It occurs to me I might bring my pile of marking into the lounge and annotate Terry Pratchett and Dickens essays with one eye on the screen. If nothing else, the resulting cultural confusion should be entertaining.

[strawberryfrog.livejournal.com]

Aaargh, Rugby fever.
We have moved from the Southfields end of Wimbledon (referred to in today's paper as Little Joburg) to Golders Green North London, a Jewish enclave where the two flats upstairs contain six boys, all of them Jewish and all of the South African; who are prone to loud roaring and stamping during rugby matches. And last week they sang "Die Stem". Philistines.

So we have escaped to Scotland, where it appears that all the locals are ... rooting wildly for SA, on the stated grounds that they "aren't England". Aargh. Oh well, at least well, be out tonight in Edinburgh and will miss it.

[extemporanea.livejournal.com]

You're probably OK if you avoid pubs at all costs. I plan not to leave the house, as the city will be unspeakable if we lose, and completely unspeakable if we win. Thank heavens that in this corner of suburbia we don't have rugby-supporting elephants on our ceiling.

[strawberryfrog.livejournal.com]

Ok, so a night out in Edinburgh is good then?

[extemporanea.livejournal.com]

I dunno... was it" ;>

[strawberryfrog.livejournal.com]

Yes. It turned out to be hosted in a gay bar. But most of the men weren't gay. Most of the women weren't straight.

[(Anonymous)]

Even in Seattle, it cannot be escaped. Well, we could escape it, but instead we're going round to other SA friends to watch the game on pay-per-view. I think I shall have to make a melktert this morning :>

Oh, and thanks for heads up on Slinky Malinkie, it's on Christmas list for kids.

everymoment.

Percy ftw!

[first-fallen.livejournal.com]

I'm not really a rugby fan, I prefer cricket, but I'm patriotic no matter what the sport is. That said, I couldn't contain the exclamations of "Percy, you beauty!" Phleep was a bit bewildered by the origins of this phrase. The closest explanation I could give was: it's what my dad always used to say, kinda the English equivalent of "Percy, jou doring". Funnily enough, as soon as I said it the camera at the game focused on a supporter in the stands with a poster reading "Percy, you beauty". It's not just me.

ps: also, Percy's really pretty, for a rugby player, and he does a little ballerina-like pirouette when he kicks :)