Thursday, September 30, 2004

The kids are hip 

Surfing does not do it for me. Growing up in the Midlands (British, not Natal), I didn’t get much opportunity, but the whole surfer dude thing just gets on my nerves. Love the Beach Boys, just can’t stand to hear grown men wibbling on about great waves. Part of the problem is that I used to work with a couple of guys who spent every spare hour in the surf, and wound me up in so many other ways that surfing became associated with them in my mind. The other part of the problem is that it’s something I think I’d probably enjoy if I had the time, so the feeling that I may be missing out bothers me.

This seems to be becoming a theme, but the feeling of missing out stems from childhood. If you’re not part of what’s happening then you’re nobody. You don’t get the joke. You don’t know what’s going on. The urge to know, to be part of it, is now burned into my character, and manifests itself in all sorts of ways. I hate catching the end of a conversation. I will watch an evening’s crap TV just in case there’s something good on and I miss it. There are positive aspects too: I want to try everything. Except incest, morris dancing and surfing obviously.

The reason I thought of the surfing thing is the story on the front of this morning’s Cape Times. There is a surfer who lost a leg to a shark (the prevalence of Great Whites off SA’s coast being another good reason for not getting in the water) a few months ago. Yesterday he was back on a board for the first time. Inspiring stuff, especially since a beach a few miles away was closed due to the circling sharks. More of the Cape wildlife that I’m happy to avoid, thanks very much.

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