This somewhat meandering blog began in Paternoster, a small former fishing village on the Cape West Coast. My contribution to grandparenting is limited at this stage, so I decided to head for South Africa for a spell. As people who read this regularly know, I avoid Durban from January to April/May; it is just too hot and humid, so this was the last chance to visit for a while.

Tim, my colleague from the Health Economics and HIV and AIDS Research Division days in Durban, and I, decided to continue our annual road trip tradition. My journey began with the usual 6am flight from Norwich to Amsterdam, connecting on to Cape Town a few hours later. I was fortunate, the middle seat of the row of three was empty, so there was room to stretch.

As well as drinking sufficient wine I watched two films. The first, Penguin Lessons, starred Steve Coogan, and was set in Argentina in 1976, at the time of the military junta’s clamp down on democracy and liberty. Coogan portrays a weary English teacher at an elite boys’ school who rescues an oil-soaked penguin. This story does not really work as comedy, as the backdrop was a brutal military regime that made many people ‘disappear’. I found, given that knowledge, it jarred.

The second, The Alto Knights, is set in the 1950s. It is a 2025 American biographical crime drama starring Robert de Niro as a weary mafia boss, Frank Costello. He is trying to leave the crime family he heads, while protecting his and his wife’s lives. Apparently, it bombed at the box office, but I thought it was well told and interesting. I found both entertaining, and they were based on true stories. They took just under half the flying time to Cape Town and provided welcome distraction.

I got to my brother’s home in Hout Bay at about ten in the evening and spent three nights with him and Lynn. They were hospitable and entertained me far beyond my expectations. On Wednesday Derek and I went to the winelands, to the Kannon Kop estate, tasted their wines, bought a few bottles and had lunch there. The estate has an excellent red blend, and I like their wines enough to buy them in the local supermarket.

One of the views at Cape Point

Tim and Alan, the road trip begins

On Thursday we drove to Cape Point. Derek and I walked up to the lighthouse. It was the South African Heritage Day public holiday, and so was very busy, no doubt helped by yet another stunning, sunny day. Interestingly, entrance was free for everyone. Some enterprising minibus drivers saw an opportunity and ferried busloads of people from the poorer areas of Cape Town. It felt very inclusive, but I was sorry for some of the more generously built women. They had to take frequent pauses on the climb. Lynn sensibly sat in the shade.

Mouille Point lighthouse

It was a wonderful sunny day, fortunately not too hot and the sun was not too strong. This was just as well, as leaving my hat behind was a mistake. The view across the ocean, down a couple of hundred metres to the crashing waves and then out toward the Antarctic and South America, was breathtaking. Sadly, we did not spot any whales, although they migrate up the coast at this time of the year. I may do a whale watching trip in Durban.

From there it was a short drive to the Imhof Estate for a light lunch, and then back to Hout Bay via Chapman’s Peak Drive. The road is extremely windy and steep. Halfway down there is a recent and poignant memorial to a cyclist who was killed racing down the hill, in the past few months. This is in the form of a floral racing bike and is eye-catching and sobering. According to a cyclist I was chatting to, the average speed of the cyclists going down on this stretch of road is 70kph. Coming off will result in serious grazing and bruising, but if a body hits the curb, or, in this case, a vehicle pulling out, it can be deadly.

In addition to daytime activities, we went to two shows at The Baxter Theatre. Both had only one person on stage, and the common theme was being gay in the tumultuous South Africa of the 1970s and 1980s. The first, Moffie, an unpleasant colloquial name of the time for a gay man, told the story of a young man conscripted into the South African army in 1981. All white men were expected to serve for at least one year, although this increased as the situation deteriorated. This was a major reason for my going to university in the UK rather than South Africa. If we had been in South Africa, Derek and I would have been expected to register with the Defense Force and could have been subject to call up. Many conscripts were sent to South West Africa (now Namibia) from where they made frequent incursions into the southern regions of newly independent Angola. Moffie was made into a film in 2019, but this was the ‘live’ version.

Mark Lottering, the stand-up comic, star, and only actor in the second show, would never have been conscripted. He was the wrong race, but growing up gay in a working class coloured neighbourhood on the Cape flats brought its own challenges. Effectively this was a ninety-minute monologue of him sharing parts of his life story. It was sad in parts, but generally very funny.

Tim picked me up on Friday. He drives a tiny car: an Atos, made by Hyundai, but we managed. We began by driving through seemingly endless suburbs and light industrial areas to get out of Cape Town. Eventually we made it and stopped in Bloubergstrand to take the iconic picture of Cape Town and Table Mountain in the distance. Once clear of Cape Town it was straight forward, and we reached the destination at about six in the evening.

Tim had booked two nights in an amazing little fishing village called Paternoster. We extended this to three nights almost as soon as we arrived! The accommodation was a huge flat with two ensuite bedrooms, a kitchen and a vast living area. All but one of the houses in the village are whitewashed and gleaming, the exception is a reddish coloured restaurant on the beach, The Strandlooper.

The landlords were exceptionally nice, and, when they failed to get the DSTV reception to work, invited us to watch the South Africa versus Argentina rugby match with them. It was extraordinarily exciting, and South Africa won convincingly in the second half. The key try scorer goes by the wonderful name of Sacha Feinburg – Mngomezulu. This combines his Russian, Jewish and Zulu ancestry. He was astonishingly fast on the field and able to duck and dive with great skill.

Tim has some serious back and leg problems, so I walked the beach by myself. No one was in the water but there were numerous dog walkers. This led to an unexpected little interchange. One dog was ranging ahead of its owners and proceeded to crap just above the high-water mark. To give them the benefit of the doubt I don’t think they saw, but I did, so pointed the little yellow mound out to them. They were carrying doggy bags and dealt with it immediately. I continued and was startled when a chap walking behind me put his hand on my shoulder and thanked me for taking action.

One of the main problems with previous road trips has been driving too much. On the first full day we drove over to the Cederburg, an imposing mountain range and had lunch at Padstaal (literally a road stall), an excellent fried egg, bacon and cheese sandwich and wended our way back to Paternoster. The second day we did very little driving, but what we did was disappointing. Langabaan, a lagoon and nature reserve, is supposed to be spectacular. Unfortunately, it is terribly built up with mile upon mile of the whitewashed houses common to this part of the coast. I remember going there with Ailsa and my Aunt Pat more than 40 years ago when it was wild and untamed. I suppose this is progress of a sort.

We left on Monday and headed for Cape Town, which is where I was for a few days. I had a lot of family time scheduled, which will be good because I need ‘key informant’ interviews for the memoir, although I am afraid, despite being sent it in advance, not many have read it yet! One big achievement on this trip was to meet the freelance editor who is working with me. Early next year is the deadline, please hold me to it.