Cars+ us = curse. Leaving Rustenberg along the motorway, we hear a thunk as the other one overtakes and a big dumper lorry passes us going in the other direction. Peering at the windscreen we see nothing and figure it whatever it was must have landed on the roof. Parking at the hotel we look again and right behind the rear view mirror is a crack the size of a two pence piece (or one rupee!). Great. For once, I thank the other one’s 10 rand a day decision to take extra insurance for tyres and windscreen - YES insurance does have a point! We still though have another ten days of driving to do and don’t want it to get worse. We call the car hire place and find out that they have no ... read more

no the glasses hadn't been full... After the bracing dip, there was just about enough left of the afternoon for a little wine tasting. With the clock against us I put aside Rustenberg winery for the next day and we randomly chose a place signposted on the motorway. With my usual customary notice of ‘quick turn right, no left here’ followed by bluster and grumble from the other one, we turned into Delaires and were waved on way up the flower bedecked driveway by security. view from the entrance looking out Stepping out of the car was like stepping into an episode of Brothers & Sisters. A grand terrace was abuzz with lunchtime diners eating under oversized shades, while statues lined the entrance to the minimalist lobby whose massive bronze doors yielded a vision of monochrome ... read more

the indian ocean it was not Stellenbosch, in the heart of the wine lands was our next stop and the site of our most fancy accommodation, De Kraal Lodge (see reviews also). Set among botanical gardens, our room was massive with bijou living area and a welcome bottle of wine and the place had a pool too. Hot from our non air con car, I was well up for a dip, until I wagered a toe in the water and shrieked like a big girl’s blouse. It was the coldest water ever. I tried again to knee deep and ran back out, the other one thinking it hilarious. I was determined though and third time lucky I flung myself in, flailed like an out of control Octopus, screamed, gasped, tried to act casual, gave up and ... read more

Before adventure though, here’s a wildlife fact. Ever heard of a Dassie? I hadn’t. This is what it looks like. It’s formal name is a Rock Hyrax. On closer inspection a bit rodenty for my liking It lives on Table Mountain and across Africa and the Middle East and is closely related to an elephant apparently. Go figure.... read more

Just one of the world cup stadiums (or is that stadia?) Relieved, I leave the restaurant, toilets and gift shop compound to find the other one and we wander about around the immediate area, skirting the edges of the mountain, marvelling at the pristine views of the sea and coast. Peering over one of the ledges, I spy the top of a head but know not to panic, I’ve seen the signs. This is not the madness of a man driven to the brink about to throw it all away but the madness of a man who runs abseiling trips down the rock face. Crazies. The other one can’t bring himself to look. Hmmm just how crazy am I? Rocky paths pick their way through the fynbos strewn across the mountainous range amd into the ... read more

Clear skies and a later start than intended but we rocked and rolled off towards Table Mountain before any sulky grey cloud could decide otherwise. Cars lined the vertiginous approach forcing us to park quite far from the entrance, but, having already booked our tickets online we smugly passed the lengthy queue, huddled under the large umbrellas thoughtfully provided. Joining the queue for cable cars I had to navigate a puddle of vomit causing me to gag and wonder just how bad this ride was going to be. An hour later, I was about to get my answer. Up up and away... The doors of the rotating, Swiss engineered car slid open and everyone piled in, racing to get o a window. As it started up I felt a lurch in my belly and grabbed the ... read more

longer evening ahead of us then planned, we hit Long Street early. First stop, Daddy Cool at hotel Granddaddy’s, and it’s a quick one. We look in and leave. Maybe we were too early or it was cool once, now it just seemed clichéd, all disco ball and velvet, home to a suited crowd who’d just finished work. Undeterred, I venture back up the stair as I’d heard whisper of another place on the roof. I was on to something as the carpet turned to Astroturf and we found ourselves on the roof flanked by Airstream caravans among which were scattered sofas and tables. Again, it was dead but we left making a mental note to check it out on our return to Cape Town. we can all play at mcdreamy now... Back on Long ... read more

As Table Mountain is on our way back and the cloud has lifted we ‘nip in’ to see what’s doing. The approach could be billed Little Chapman if you ask me as we climb steadily and eventually park just feet away from the mountain’s edge. Optimistic though we were, we should have thought about the wind. The cable car is closed, not even Swiss engineering can defeat the elements. A few pictures and home James then.... read more

But squid steak is. I order it because it’s cheap and I’m curious (reasoning responsible for so many mistakes culinary or otherwise!).It arrives looking very like fried strip steak though pale and creamy in colour and tender to bite, I like. It's a hoot! (see what I did there?) We’re sat in the Mariner’s Wharf, a tourist beacon in Hout Bay, it being a massive building right on the beach. Inside its dark timber recesses and matching tables and chairs scream traditional English pub and it’s festooned with all manner of nautical tat whose theme I have to report sadly includes the staff. Sporting stripy nautical jumpers, I expect them to break out into a jaunty hornpipe at any time. Really, it’s not that bad though and if the Pirate’s Arms even came close to this ... read more

My main concern was whether to eat before or after Chapman’s Peak as I have a very demanding belly but as we couldn’t find the place I’d earmarked to grant with our presence, I had to delay gratification. Spotting toll signs we guessed we were approaching Chapman’s Peak, billed as a thrilling coastal drive and I made like Grace Kelly in that film with Cary Grant when they’re racing around the hills somewhere - or was it Audrey Hepburn? Anyway, the other one’s Cary Grant impression, worse than Tony Curtis’ in Some Like It Hot and our crude approximation of an open topped car, having the windows wound down resulting in my hair whipping me about the face (missing as I was the key accessory for dangerous cliff drives, the chic headscarf) meant the fantasy ended ... read more