Jaynee J had a luxury courtesy suite at Centurion Park cricket ground and she invited us to watch a game. The Springboks / Proteas were playing someone in an international test match. 2001, so Sri Lanka, maybe.
Jayne called it her ‘champagne suite’ and – as always – she had laid in enough stock for a siege. Or a rainy day. And that day Centurion Park was not like this:
It was more like this, puddle-jumping with Jess behind the stadium:
I had great fun watching the people. Especially a guy in the next-door Telkom box, scanning the crowd with powerful binoculars, looking for girls. Whenever he saw someone watching him he’d say “I’m looking for my sister”.
We had to take two year-old Jessica along and it wasn’t really her thing. It rained off and on, so we were indoors with guest barman Johnno, who was intent on quality control and sampling. Aitch and I took turns amusing Jess and keeping her out of the adults’ hair.
After a while (cricket matches carry on and on and when you think they MUST be finished, surely? – they stop for tea) I had to feed and change Jess and decided to take her back to Jayne’s home. Change of scenery and a break for the adults.
On the way back to the stadium, freshly-fed and -wiped Jessie strapped in the car seat behind me, I missed the freeway off-ramp to the stadium. Didn’t have a clue how I’d get back to the stadium now, so I was kinda tense and focused and fuming. What if I missed Jayne’s famous lunch? Finally I figured it out and managed a tricky u-turn after the next off-ramp and got back on track. Finally I could relax.
“Pete?” came a little voice from behind me. Yes my love?
“FUCK FUCK FUCK!!”
Oh, boy . . . . .