Well I definitely got the distraction I needed, thanks everyone for their stories and advice. The five fleeting days on the Vaal River were nothing short of fabulous. Moogs was the best host ever. He really is the brother I never had. We laughed solidly at one point for 8 hours. (We counted.) That’s a whole lot of laughing right there.
Peas’ fail proof recipe for a good weekend away:
Fill the days with boozy afternoon lazing in the sun, boat rides, competitive card games. Small Bum won poker 17 games in a row. In retrospect we should’ve strapped him to a chair at Emerald Casino and made him our little money making machine.
Take the piss all the time. As a group of mates, we really do talk the biggest load of shit. All the time.
Make sure someone gets lost on the way to the destination, simply for story value.
Poor Rose. While Dockers and Forbsie got wasted in the back seat, she got lost driving there. She’s American, and is therefore unfamiliar with our Deep South. Bless her little cotton socks. It took them 4 hours to get there, going through the Vaal Plaza not once, but twice, stopping just before Bloem. When they finally arrive, go to a dodgy ravey nightclub together in WherethefuckVereeniging.
Staying in close proximity with two out of the four people in the world you have had sex with can be difficult. Get along with the ex. Better still if your ex and current get on. Ex R and Small Bum got on like mates. So did Ex R and I. Phew.
Surround yourself with members of the opposite sex.
Need I elaborate? We were surrounded by boys the entire weekend. 17 boys to be precise. Pure heaven, as I happen to prefer male company at the best of times. Not only are they less admin and have less hang-ups, boys are cards.
Run out of petrol at night on the boat when drunk. Just for shits.
We went for a long boat ride to Stonehaven, a pub on the banks of the river about 10 kilometres upstream one night. And ran out of petrol on the way back. Ex R and Small Bum (bless their little cotton doondies) rowed to the nearest house using water skis, with us singing Michael Row Your Boat Ashore [really loudly] for morale. Only to arrive there having interrupted a fucking wedding. Bride ran out to see what all the noise was about. Felt like real punanis after that. The boys got some petrol, after getting the bar lady to drive them to town.
Fires The kind in a fireplace. When you’re freezing your ovaries off, sit in front of one and drink red wine. (It works with cane and coke as well, if you’re out of the classy stuff.)
Have a sinful amount of sex. Put Hugh Hefner to shame. Make Jenna Jameson blush Do it in the morning, do it at night, do it in the afternoon when everyone’s having an afternoon doodoo.
Find a new favourite word that everyone uses all the time. The whole weekend. Pun/poen/ (n) ‘poon’: Short for punani. Can be used as a term of endearment or a term of not-so-much endearment. “Hi Poen.” “You’re my little Poen.” “Don’t be such a Poen.” “Poen Breath” (this, as you might’ve gathered, is an insult.)
My father arrives tonight. Crisis.