...get any worse?
Surely after three signs that you shouldn't get on a plane, you shouldn't get on a plane?
1) Dick left his wallet in the office (with our bike collection tabs, his credit card, his ID, his whole fudging life basically)
2) We were late and nearly missed our boarding time;
3) His uncle left his cellphone in the car, which he had to go back and get
4) Then we lost one of our boarding passes once through.
The fact we didn't drop an engine into the Atlantic on circling Cape Town to land, and then dying in a raging inferno of plane detritus, is rather surprising.
Then we couldn't find our bikes. And henceforth, in some off-airport warehouse, had to sift through about 8 000 bicycles to find ours. Eventually.
Get to Kalk Bay where we're staying at Dick's parents place. A beautiful split level place, overlooking Kalk Bay Harbour and seabeds of kelp, on the mountain. The setting fit for a queen.
That is, until Dick's ex girlfriend rocks up.
I kid you not. There I was, sipping on an Elgin vintage, the day's stress oozing from my body with each gulp, and suddenly, his ex - who lives down the road - it was a long distance relationship - stops by willy-nilly with her father.
The father knows his uncle, but of all the crap! Flung so far out of my comfort zone, I escaped downstairs through a basement window to puff sulkily on a cigarette.
In Dick's defence, he had no idea that she was just going to pop in - and hid out with me until she left, after a brief hello and goodbye.
Still felt crap though. I'm pre-menstrual, pre-Argus, pre-cry.
I had a large wail in the bathroom this morning whilst brushing my teeth. Then pulled myself together and met my dad for lunch on Fish Hoek beach.