Some more train stories

During my recent trip to SA my son and I took a trip on the Simon's Town line of the Metro rail, surely one of the most scenic railways in the world.

Travelling all along the edge of the sea from Muizenberg all the way to Simon's Town, it is a wonderful way to catch all the glimpses and views that False Bay has to offer. However, we ran into one of the problems that beset this line - breakdowns. It is the line that has the most cable theft in my opinion, because whenever I travel on it, there is some kind of problem.

This time, we had to de-train at Fishhoek, then cram ourselves into a bus for the remainder of the journey, which kind of defeated the whole purpose of the trip.

This made me think nostalgically of the steam trains of my youth. Yes, I know they were pollution factories, covering the lines on either side with soot and ash, belching steam and smoke into the atmosphere, but they only broke down when the stoker did, and a steam whistle has a much nicer sound than the electric siren does.

Also, the engines had personality - they came in classes, had names, and were marvels of brass tubing and paint.

Alas, they are now, sadly, relegated to museums and the occasional historic society run, when horde of photographers snap them coming, going and standing still. How I wish the Simon's Town run would trot them out now and then, as a special tourist treat!

Seasons

For those of you who also read my e-mail journal, much of what I have have to say here you may have read before.

For the rest of you, what I'd like to muse about today is winter, snow and ice, and the fact that really, when you think about it, the world has only two seasons - winter and summer, which both seem to last and last and then suddenly switch places. We think of the switch as spring and autumn, but really, they last a fraction of the time that either the heat or the cold is getting you down.

I used to think, and proclaim, myself a winter person. I prefered cold to heat, but I now realise what I liked was the temperate, mild season we call winter in Africa. The season when a sweater and some jeans and heavy socks would see you through the day, and at night you could burrow under a duvet and some blankets to construct a cosy nest warmed by your body heat, and if you are lucky enough to have one, your partner's.

Now that I've had three Korean winters below my belt, and particularly this last and still present one, I am no longer so sure of my love of winter. Especially when it contains the amount of snow that this one did. It's not that I object to snow - it is very pretty, it serves the purpose of watering the ground for summer - I object to the fact that walking becomes a problem.

When you are young, slipping on the snow is fun and, since you are closer to the ground with elastic bones, not as dangerous as when you are fifty plus and conscious of all the past broken bones, and hence averse to breaking any more.

Also, as the snow is trodden into ice, or melts and freezes into it, it becomes even more of a problem.

Luckily the present apartment does not present me with quite the problem of overcoming the cold that the last one did, but leaving the cosiness of heated floors for the outdoors is always daunting.

So I have to amend my preference - a temperate, mild 22 degrees Celsius all year round, please!

All quiet...

What with a trip to South Africa, moving house and getting visa extended I've been very quiet on the blogging front.

To make matters worse, the internet connection in my office has decided not to connect me to anything, even though it shows the wireless network is running, and my computer space at home is not conducive to long stretches of sitting and typing.

So, just to set minds at rest (not that it seems as if I was missed), yes, I am still here and still musing away...