It’s official: this has been the coldest February that Toronto has experienced since 1875. That’s, um, 140 years ago, right?
I wrote a while back about heading out to work in the darkness, around 7am one morning, when the temperature was – well, pretty freakin’ cold. I took a couple of photos, to prove my point: here is our back lane, and Davenport Road, where I waited for my bus, just to prove I was
The U.S. government’s stupid tax war on expatriates – MarketWatch. I’m glad to see someone is calling this mean, nasty, discriminatory crap from the US government exactly what it is: extortion of ordinary, law-abiding people who hold US citizenship but may have lived abroad (and paid their local taxes) since forever, while the (in)famous
I have spoken rather lightly, more than a few times, about the temperatures here, over the course of this winter: more with a sense of curiosity and interest than anything else. After all, this is not exactly what I am used to. In fact, this kind of cold is not exactly what Rob has been
If you’re in Toronto, or anywhere along the Eastern seaboard of the US or Canada, you’ll know that temperatures (and in many places, but not here, snowfalls) have been brutal: -25 here yesterday morning, and well into the minus thirties with the wind-chill. Needless to say, Rob and I stayed put, and we have stayed
One of the things we had wanted to do when in Cape Town – on the bucket list, if you like – was try out the new ‘boomslang’ walkway in the Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens. A boomslang, as you may know, is a green tree-snake, shy but venomous: this ‘boomslang’ however is a sinuous marvel of
The first, long pass as you ascend towards the Cederberg is the Piekenierskloof Pass. It winds lazily upward, tips, and winds more steeply down again, towards the little town of Citrusdal. Just below the tipping point is Hebron, our idyllic B&B, with views to sigh over and food – my god, roast lamb shoulder, duck
It is -22 today; minus 32 with the wind chill. The coldest day of the winter so far, so the CBC tells us. Only an idiot would be heading out in this weather, for work or any other purpose. That idiot would be me.
The road to Cederberg Winery runs through the Algeria forest, in the Cederberg, and up, up, up through and over the treacherous, untarred washboard of the Uitkyk Pass: by the time you get to the top, let me tell you, you need more than a glasie wyn to put you to rights again. Not that
Just in case (Mark!) you thought the elephants we were watching were all cuddly and anthropomorphic, consider this bruiser, marching down the highway toward us. Will be moving on, in future posts, to our other South African adventures…though, who knows, I might still want to drop in the odd wild animal or two. I took