I’ve just been to see a HIFA show at the 7 Arts theatre. Not bad at all, though not my usual cup of tea/jug of beer.
Apparently those of us who live in Avondale stay in the Wrongdale, cos from what I saw on Friday night, life in Borrowdale is good.
Liverpool lost to Chelsea in the Premiership. Big deal. France lost to Scotland. Bloody hell. So I thought my weekend was crap, until I went down to 2nd Street Extension to grab a pizza.
Caught some jazz at the Mannenberg on sat. Victor Kunonga and his band, Peace. Holy crap, this dude, actually knows what he’s doing…I’ve been missing out.
Went down the Scud last night and had a few beers with me mates. Somewhere around the 7th dorp, someone passed me an invite to La Dolce Vita (yes, the restaurant at Avondale). Now, I haven’t had much time for the place, but I went along to have a look-see.
Yes, it rained – sort of. Light showers, as you call them, not enough to green up Matabeleland but a top effort nonetheless. You know that irritating light sprinkling in your hair and on your shoulders. Peeps were traipsing into the pub like there was free hairspray samples at the door.
It takes only one drink to get me drunk. The trouble is, I can’t remember if it’s the thirteenth or the fourteenth. (George Burns)
So I’m sitting here chained to my desk listening to Buju singing Batty Rider. Awesome tune, and it’s got me thinking: where in Harare can you listen to sweet old tunes, not necessarily by genre but just feel-good, memory-invoking, foot-tapping massive tunes?
Bloody Liverpool couldn’t beat Spurs, fekin Cisse couldn’t be bothered to have a go, and shyting cricket was on the blink. Jaysus. Then of course I went down the (Irish) pub and had a bit of a time – all you fellas out there know Tipperary’s on Fife is the joint.