Buckets and kelp that shall not be moved

We live on Signal Hill.

We recently decided that we don’t need fibre as well as our wifi router (I’m not sure if that terminology is correct, maybe fibre also needs a router – whatever). We had both because the fibre doesn’t reach our spare room and we inherited it from Jess’ practice (she now practices from home) and it worked for us for a while.

We got back from holiday and our fibre had been disconnected due to an admin error and we decided to make it permanent and cut costs.

We regret that now. Apparently the wifi takes a hit from loadshedding that fibre shrugs off.

I’ve tried. I’ve turned it on and off, and ive hotspotted. I’ve come downstairs to sit next to the router and the heat of my laptop on my legs is turning a sweltering evening up a notch or 5.

I’ve resigned to post this in the morning then. I’ll work on doing my writing and taking my photograph in the morning, too. Yesterday I managed to do it at around 7pm (progress) and then tonight I’ve backslid … so let’s see. Slowly does it.

For now, in the darkness and with regard to my cooking thighs, I’m going to call it a night.

Today’s piece wasn’t meant to be about fibre or wifi, it was meant to be about the beach and how Kit found a big mussel shell and hung onto it, even through the waves. She watched it float and she carried it to her bucket and, watching how enamoured she was by it, I thought for a while that I would have to break my shell rule, just this once, because this was Kit’s first real possession. Something she chose and found and kept. The shell rule is the same as the rock rule: Shells belong where the salt water rushes over them. Shells belong under the sea and on the shore, with each other, in wild places, and NOT collecting dust on a bookshelf. That NOT seemed aggressive. Not.

For Kit though, oh for Kit, I considered breaking this rule. She could be the shells keeper. I had decided, she could bring it home in her bucket. But Kit, Kit had by then moved on to other things: Buckets and spades; a young man wearing a bucket hat; kelp buried so deep in the sand that she couldn’t pull it out – infuriating!

P.S The power came on five minutes after I shut my laptop and put it away.

P.S.S Jess promised me that no one would zoom in on my legs to see if they were smooth. Don’t.

Photograph of the day: The sand, Kit and I. Camps Bay Beach. Look at those toes!