Sung to the tune of yesteryear's hit, "Spin spin sugar"
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I lay next to the pool from 2 o clock yesterday. By 4 o clock I was feeling the summer feeling. The feeling that just makes you want to play Jay-Z's 'HOVE' (H to the izzo) and pretend we're right back where we were last summer. I decided to go for a swim. I got into my car and headed down the road to Camps Bay.

Oh my shattered nerves.

The first sensation was joining a queue of cars into Camps Bay - starting at Glen Beach. I didn't mind it. Little angels in their cars with wet hair. Waves of memories mounted my body. Waves of pleasure, even. Rolling into Camps Bay produced one of the better Camps Bay Strip parking places. That little spot outside Sand Bar which looks like its a driveway, but it's not. Look further than the lowered pavement stones, people, there are tables and chairs on the 'driveway'. The combination of the sun, the queue, the packed beach and my 'door spot' parking place brought me close to euphoria. Euphoria was only reached once I felt the sand between my toes and submerged myself into the Atlantic Ocean. The classic "Sorry, can you look after my towel" approach ensured a chat with a little angel before I re-emerged, glistening from the salt water. I looked down at my body and, although there isn't any major change since last season, I am happy with it.

Thank God the renovations at Caprice have finished. Good job, kids. It's looking good. I settled in after my swim and a couple of us had dinner.

BYOH - Bring your own helmet

Aaah yes, all the usual suspects were present. Some people clearly couldn't contain their excitement. There were some interesting scenarios. One fellow arrived in full police/security guard gear - with a helmet on. Including a 2-way radio (been dying to say that for years), 9mm pistol, handcuffs and torch. He approached a table near us where he was given four high-fives from the table and then downed two tequila's. Now, I'm a pretty liberal, non-conservative guy, but if you ask me, I think downing alcohol with a pistol on your hip is a little risque. We decided, judging my the gentleman's jaw line and stubble length - he was almost certainly a stripper who was en route to a 'gig'.

We're still on the same topic but I had to start another paragraph. It was getting cluttered. So the guy in the police outfit removed his helmet and handed it to his friend who was EASILY the most excited guy at Caprice. He was bouncing of the walls long before cop-stripper guy arrived. His hair hair long and Fabio-like and he wore shades long after the sun set. He hurtled inside at high speeds - with the helmet on. That was when I noticed the shiny silver writing at the top of the back of his vest (you knew it was a vest, didn't you?) - it read, "Fuck You". At the top of the back of the vest. "Fuck You". In shiny silver writing. Are you with me? It said "Fuck You". In shiny silver.

Hmmm.

Ok.

Good.

Good.

Nice one.

I have to wrap it up there, team. I'm calling it for the day. Mink party tonight.

Seth Rotherham
Editor
2oceansvibe.com
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