It's Friday evening, and I only wheelspin into the Woollies just as they closed their doors. Was maybe 5 and a half seconds too late. To get some wine for Friday evening. Closed.
So I instead trottered along to the Parker’s Grill restaurant next door – on Jan Smuts – in Rosebank - because this is important:
‘Hi can I buy one of your house wines to go please?’
Thick German accent; his attitude stinks.
‘And why not? The Greek place in Illovo sells me wine.’
‘Because it’s against the law.’
‘What? No it’s not.’
‘Yess it is.’
All the patrons are staring now, because he’s raising his voice and he sounds like Goebbels.
‘You’re not living in Chairmany anymore you know. C U Next Tuesday.’
I’ve had my first wrong-side-of-the-red-tape German experience.
Not in Germany; in Johannesburg. And I was furious. I have waxed lyrical about how structured and efficient and perfectly perfect the Germans are, I’ve gone on and on and on about frankfurters and stuff, and now this? THIS?
During this moment suddenly understood what people mean by ‘pedantic’ and ‘irritatingly law-abiding’ they are.
I came crashing down.
‘You’re being very stubborn. And I’ll NEVER come to eat here. Ever’
‘FINE BY ME!’ he roars, in front of all of his customers; poor sods who were eating under flourescent lighting under the watchful eye of Herr Hell over here.
It’s against the law Arrrgh.
And he didn’t have to fucking yelp at me in front of dining couplings, for heavens sake. So I went home, bitched about this to my German friend on the phone, [who agreed with my frustration FYI] and drank tea. Bugger you German man, bugger you.
Went to Albertsville Saturday and found myself some fucken fabulous furniture.
I turned my Beetle into a bakkie and loaded her up with this art deco stuff.
As one friend said, I’m missing the lamp with the ‘Afrikaans Tartan’ on it. Oh but I’m not – I’m collecting one with brown and orange woven shit all over it next week.
Aren’t they just the right balance between hideous and beautiful?Table with obligatory artefactsNaughty chair
Contraption with lots of glass and curly things
Went to watch the rugga at a braai this weekend and got suitably cockled up on red wine. In between obligatory conversation about masturbation.
As people do when they get drunk. And it’s half time.