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Last weekend we visited Mr & Mrs Smith. No, not Brangelina, the real Smiths*. What a night it turned out to be! (* Not the band either!)
We headed up to Doreen early so that we could catch the first Super 14 rugby match between the Force and the Chiefs before lighting up the BBQ. The first beers were cracked open at 5pm, as the game kicked off. The women entertained the kids while the men (all two of us) moved outside to start cooking while watching the rugby through the window. Fortunately, Mr Smith has quite a large television. The beer flowed, as did the rugby. The kids were fed after the first round of cooking. The men continued to cook and drink. And watch rugby through the window. Five or six beers later, the meat was ready, the game was over (Force won by 1 point) and we moved inside to have dinner. We discovered that Mrs Smith had been on the grog too - LARGE BACARDIS! With dinner being a sit-down affair with red meat and veg, we decided to have a glass of red wine to accompany it. Mrs Smith declined, so Mr Smith and I hit the bottle. Dinner was good as was the company. By now "ye olde Foto album" had come out and we were laughing at the pictures from our University days in Stellenbosch (did I really have a mullet?!? And what's with those glasses Mr Mac?). Most of the photos had some form of alcohol in them - no wonder Uni was a blur! By the time the Twenty20 cricket was over and the next rugby match had started, Mr Smith and I had finished the red wine. Did I forget to mention that it was a magnum (1.5 litres)? It now apparently went to vote as to whether a call to the USA was a good idea or not. No idea what the result of the vote was, but the call was made to Mr & Mrs C from our Varsity daze. Again, the phone call was all a blur - I remember speaking to people, but not the conversation. By midnight Mr Smith and I had almost finished another bottle of red, the Bulls were beating the Tahs and the apple pie was in the oven. After dessert, Mr Smith disappeared to the toilet and never came back again. We sent out a search party consisting of Mrs Smith and her rubber gloves, but she came back empty-handed. Mr Smith had given up the fight. The women went off to bed, but I hung around to watch the end of the rugby (Bulls won!) and finish off the apple pie and the bottle of red. (Couldn't waste that last glass of good wine!) Sunday morning's fry-up and strong coffee was a blessing!
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