I enjoy watching people. It's a major hobby whenever I am out and about. So at Himself's work function on Wednesday night, I had ample opportunity to people watch. Until I found someone who is English, lives in Cape Town and was super easy to talk to. They are such rare creatures in Pretoria.
Until that point, I was sort of enjoying myself. I'd had a glass of good wine and the pre dinner snacks were really tasty (By Word of Mouth - awesome caterers!). I had more in common with the wait staff than the work staff but hey, beggers can't be choosers right? Except maybe on occasions like this.
Topics of conversation amongst the women revolved around what's the latest cosmetic surgery going, what the maid at home is doing tonight (looking after my kids doll! And I didn't even have to pay her extra!), to everyday mundane things like how do you cope with the school traffic, most of which really didn't appeal to me. My wine, which had nothing to say, was more interesting.
The highlight of the night, meeting a certain famous rugby player who scored that magnificent drop kick that assured South Africa of the win in that world cup. I remember him for other reasons though. I remember him trotting out on the Newlands fields on many occasions playing for Western Province.
Himself and I staggered home at 1am, not because we'd had loads to drink. Oh no, it was more a case of when you are over 40, you should really be getting to bed at 9pm and not staying out past your bedtime. Thursday was a killer. Friday I am starting to recover.