Three things that annoy me

1. Mim and Pim's Internet is very slow and temperamental. Also, I can't use the HTML edit function when writing my blog cos of some strange setting on both their laptops that we haven't been able to fix, despite recourse to blogger help groups. I can't access the Internet on my own laptop, as no one can find the password for setting this up. If anyone knows how to solve any of these grave problems, please give me a shout!

2. Pim is constantly listening to talk radio. Talk, talk, talk. It is driving me crazy. What's wrong with a good, old-fashioned melody?

3. Even though our ground-floor apartment is north-facing, it still receives little sun, due to a wall, a tree, and the fact that Jozi is having unaccountably rainy weather for winter.

On the wrong side of the (smoking) law

When I was in the UK, I wanted to see as many friends as possible. "Come to Brighton," suggested KR, so I came. After a suitably decadent Friday night, KR was up brighton early (sorry!) to go to work, and I was at the train station. With a lamentably heavy "overnight" bag. (My packing problems are documented here, and here). In the rain.

I was only due back in London that evening but, despite my heavy load and the shite weather, I was tempted to spend the day exploring Brighton. First up, I asked a policeman at the station if there was anywhere to leave my bag. Now, KR had already informed me that there wasn´t, but I figured there was no harm in a second opinion. The policeman dispelled any lurking doubts with a brusque retort: "We don´t have lockers. Terrorists are likely to put a bomb in them."

I was tempted to reply: "And Eid Mubarak to you to sir," for it was indeed Eid, but figured that wouldn´t go down too well.

I decided to have a cigarette while I pondered my plans for the day. I went and stood outside the station, but under the shelter, due to the rain. At which point the policeman chased after me, to inform me that the station was a no-smoking area. Apparently, you can´t just be outside the actual building to smoke, you have to walk a few metres to outside the station gates, because what I took to be outside is still technically part of the station.

Pernickety fucking Brits. In Zurich, you can smoke in the train station itself. However, I duly had my cigarette outside in the rain, as I am scared to death of the British police. Gone is the image of the friendly bobby from my childhood; instead I live in fear that one of the paranoid freaks will randomly gun me down just because.

The altercation had put me in a defiant mood. "Damn my packing skills, and the bloody weather," I reasoned: "When am I ever likely to be in Brighton again?" So I set off for the pier weighed down by my bag, but buoyed up by an intrepid spirit.

Schlössle TV

I am missing hanging out with the Cape Town literati, but there's a theatre right next to my house, so I went to check it out.

Was tickled by Liechtenstein's premier comedian, Mathias Ospelt, and friends. Their latest project is "Schlössle TV" - a mixture of British Comedy and Candid Camera that features two hosts - with a dress sense worthy of Corné & Twakkie - presenting video clips.

Although it was in German - and dialect at that - I still found the show hilarious. My favourite clip was of an actor strutting around Vaduz city centre. He was accompanied by a princely bodyguard, who protected his royal personage, not with a weapon, but with an umbrella. (The weather is the biggest danger in Liechtenstein).

The clueless tourists all thought he was the real prince, and duly kissed his hand in obeisance. The more adventurous ones even had their picture taken with him. A princely addition to the family album indeed!