hey Well, first up - Beefcake Justin made it to Sverige in one piece. One living piece at that, so that's good. Went to see him off at the airport the other night - the flight was delayed by an hour, for some reason. He got there muy early because he was waaaaaaaaaaay overweight with his luggage, but he just batted his eyes at the "very, very gay" check-in attendant and they didn't huck or charge him extra or anything. By the time I got there, he and some others were getting pissed in the airport bar and watching them wheel his plane from the hangar to the terminal - one almighty British Airways B747-400 called, for some odd reason, Chatham Historic Port. If that isn't a peculiar name for a jumbo jet, I don't know what is. South African Airways planes tend to get Afrikaans or Xhosa or Zulu names (3 of our 11 official languages) like Tshosholoza (ironically, the old name for the Harare-Johannesburg express train back in the 1920s or something) or Olifant (it means elephant in Afrikaans. Ironically, it's a 737-400, which only like a 100-seater for short flights and not a jumbo) or Helderberg (well - not anymore; The Helderberg was an SAA 747-200 which fell out of the sky near Mauritius over the Indian Ocean in 1987 and killed all its passengers and crew. Some say mysterious crash, some say unofficially shot down because it was carrying smuggled chemical weapons. Black box never found, of course). Still, my point is, what kind of weirdo name is Chatham Historic Port? I mean, be serious! Nevertheless, they were loading food and fuelling the plane at 5pm for a 7:30 takeoff and apparently it only got out of here at around 9 - not quite sure what happened there. Still, looked pretty majestic - a BA and 2 SAA 747s parked next to an array of old 737-400s and shiny new 737-800s and even a big old Tristar. I have a bit of a thing for planes, you can probably guess. Unfortunately, got there about 4 minutes after our large swanky shiny new Airbus A340-600 had taken off for Atlanta, so I still haven't seen that one up close yet. Apart from that, I popped my remaining ankle at Hell Night last night. 4 stations into the proceedings and I was down and out. It's still fuckin' sore, too - the last one took 3 years to heal up completely, and even so is only about 80% efficient. So that's really really shitty... But not as shitty as the large pile of cowdung manure which they have dumped into the hospital gardens. It was 4 large piles, but the gardeners have been carting it away daily to the various flowerbeds and whatever and now it's just one large pile left. Stinks like a dead person after a few days in the summer sun, too - cow-shit to match the human excrement which for some reason our charming patients and their charming friends/relatives seem to think they should deposit all over the inside of every stairwell at this hopsital. Presumably thinking "well, it's a state hospital; since it's my taxes which pay for the place, might as well piss on their walls and behind doors and wherever I bloody-well feel like it!" Utterly abhorrent, I tell you. And let's not mention the spitters... Okay, enough bitching. Have nice weekends, everyone out there. We are having buckets of rain here in Cape Town. cheers ************* PS: I am, in addition to saving the world from malaria, filling Justin's size 9 shoes as the un/official network guy. This morning I had to raid his former desk to find a Windows install CD and found the programme/catalogue from the Erotica Museum in Copenhagen in Denmark stashed there at the back, all 30 x-rated, pronographic and dog-eared pages of it. How much of a bonus is that on a scale of 1 to 10? PPS: In order to accurately rate it from 1-10, you need to know that it even has she-males in it in glorious boob-and-dick-having technicolour.