Hot Tub Time Machine
Posted by Vicki Scholtz | 1 Jun, 2010And so, it being a glorious spring day, the Cow's mind turned to more familiar pursuits - to wit, the braai. "We still have some boerie," she reminded Gramsci. "And there is some blesbok casserole too..."
Gramsci brightened. "Let's invite the other SEffrican exile!" he suggested cheerfully. "And we can haul out the SEffrican wine, and play the new Parlotones CD..."
...which they duly did. Which was how they all came to be sitting in a hot tub in the garden of the exile, sipping white wine before the braai. And talking about the an old friend who would be visiting soon.
The exile dropped his glass in shock. It made a quiet "plop" before sinking slowly to the bottom of the hot tub, delicate swirls of honeywhite dancing their way to the surface. "Surely not..." he spluttered, "...Mr Timberland?"
"You know Mr Timberland?" Gramsci squeaked.
The Cow stared in amazement. "Of course," she gasped. "He must have taught you, back in.... the 80s??"
And suddenly, sucked into a vortex of nostalgia, the stories all poured out. Cape Town in the 80s. The best and the worst of life. Mr Timberland, fondly remembered.
The Cow looked up at the Yorkshire sky, powder blue and gentle. It was a long way, and a long time, from those Cape Town summers spent marching, picketing, protesting, painting, drinking, partying, shagging and believing, beyond all limits of hope, that we could change the world. And looking down as her hoofs slowly started wrinkling in the warm water, she realised - we had!
I wear Timberland...B-( And WHITE wine?? Come, come!
Posted by retroid 28 Jun 2010, 21:48