Last Thursday saw Chantelle and myself meet up in Bellville after work in order to join Dean and Zania for a braai – after all, someone had to eat those crayfish and that Geelbek that his colleague had gifted him! Of course on arrival Chantelle immediately got to work at wrestling the adorable little Zandea from Zania’s arms (as Terrance puts it, every time he sees a photo of us with the Stapelbergs its seems as if Chantelle has stolen the baby!), while Dean and I set up camp outside around the weber on what could only be described as the perfect summer’s evening.
Photographic evidence of Chantelle once again stealing little Zandea and smiling to the world as if she thinks none of us are on to her devious little plan!
We were spoiled for starters with a chilled crayfish little dish that Chantelle thoroughly enjoyed, but as for me, it was definitely the main course of tasty Geelbek that did the trick – a fish that I don’t particularly remember having eaten before. Despite clinging to the grid for all that it was worth after being removed off the coals, we eventually coaxed it off without dropping it and with that done it was time to drop the manners and tuck in – and tuck in we did! (Leaving of course some space for dessert. C’mon, what did you think?)
Delicious.
Having lost the will to live a long time ago, the best this Geelbek could do was then offer up its flesh to us. On a grid. Over coals. (It was good.)
Anyway, outside of the scrumptious food being served on the night, the other story to come out of this particular dinner meeting was of course Dean’s CampMaster outdoor chair which decided to look me straight in the eye and take me on – a decision it would later come to regret.
Despite the fact that before I even sat down, I had already voiced my concerns over those dubious little thin pipes making up the chair, but on Dean’s assurance I gave in and sat down, and sure enough, it was a pretty comfy seat – until I shifted weight to stand up again.
With a loud ‘twang’ there broke one of the plastic catches holding the legs in place and with a great sigh, the chair kind of half folded in on its self.
Of course, there was much profuse apologizing following the incident for at least the next half hour, but damn it, now I feel as guilty as hell. So if anyone knows where I can find a replacement chair like the one in the picture below, please, please give me a shout so that I can ease my conscious and in doing so, prod Dean into one day inviting us back for supper.
You know, because he’d have two chairs then…
The CampMaster chair in happier times. You'll spot it if you manage to take your eyes off Dean's girly shirt for a moment... (note those small cross pipes in relation to the size of my thighs. Now was that not looking for trouble?)