“The Summer Wind…”

7 11 2009

“…came blowin’ in”, la dee dah dah daaaah… Frank Sinatra stuck in my head early in the morning. How lovely. But here in the Cape of Storms, what has been called cabo tormentoso, the wind is never really friendly. You’d expect the summer wind to be friendly, a nice breeze to caress and cool off your sun-kissed skin. Not here, though. Not here…

First off, although they say it is supposed to be Spring here in South Africa, the weatherman seems to have gotten things a bit mixed up. Or perhaps we should blame Mother Nature – she seems to be having irregular PMS. Hot flushes, sudden chills, and stormy emotions (as seen in the whiplashing wind). I suppose one could even go so far as to blame global warming; that would certainly explain why we’ve had Winter for such a long time over here. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for cold weather, as I have mentioned in a previous blog posting. Yet I know that a lot of my fellow South Africans (and Capetonians, to make it more local) are not happy little campers at the moment.

If, according to the seasons, it is supposed to be Spring over here, then where is the heat? Where is the sunshine? Where is the gung-ho optimism and ice-cream smeared kiddies and clad-in-what-could-almost-pass-as-a-bikini-and-slathered-in-suntan-lotion young ones with their ideals of ‘summer love’ (because it’s termed as such)? It seems like the wind around here spoils a great deal of that. Because the wind is cold. The wind is relentless. The wind is out to get you – slapping you left and right, tugging at your hair and biting at your skin. Ruthless.

I know that my Significant Other is no big fan of the wind. Especially when he’s in his car. Now, his car has seen better days. He’s had to pay quite a large sum of money for maintenance work lately, and that thing guzzles oil like a mad bastard. Plus it has a mind of its own, not something you would hope for in a vehicle that is supposed to get you from point A to B, but there you go. It would seem that his car and the wind are in cahoots with one another. No matter how much effort my Significant Other puts into it when he has to try to keep the car in the lane he is driving when the wind is plucking it from side to side, the car doesn’t appear to mind – it just goes along for the ride, as it were (haha).

Oh, and sand. You know how annoying it is when the wind is blowing and it pelts sand in your direction, assaulting your face and stinging your eyes? Yes, that’s another reason to dislike the wind. And you cannot have the window open in the car, because then all kinds of debris can come in to say hello to your face (and nostrils)… Plus it just blows everything around crazily; not the best thing to happen around me, because I have such long hair – then my hair lashes out at everything, as if riled up and angry at the wind for toying with it. This means that, if we are going to have the window open, I have to keep my hair in check, otherwise it tends to blow – or float, I like the word float more, because that’s how it looks sometimes, really airy and wispy – in the general direction of my Significant Other’s face. And he can’t very much have my hair in his face when he has to keep his eye on the road and attempt to win the battle between himself (as the driver) and the wind (plus the car, as I suspect…)

There’s a store here close to my house where we usually do our grocery shopping, ‘we’ being my parents and I, when I am here at home. Now, this lovely store, known as the Bellville branch of Pick ‘n Pay, gives the impression that it stands at the very centre of the wind’s extraordinary power, the hub/core of its evil activity, if you will. The wind always blows there, always, no matter how warm or how cold the temperature is outside. Thus we have dubbed it the Wind Tunnel – because that’s truly how it feels when you get there, as if you are stuck in a vortex of wild windiness that has been set up in order to test your stamina and perseverance. But perhaps I’m exaggerating just the teensiest of bits (although I must say this is highly unlikely).

Enough of that, though. My Significant Other has just stepped out of the shower, and I can already see a look of grim determination on his face. It’s him, the wind, and the car again. I’ll just strap my seatbelt on tightly.

And tie my hair back, of course.

The Car




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