Eastbourne - Braai

Tonight I experienced my first braai... finally!

Robyn and Madelein are from South Africa and I've heard them talk about having braais, I've seen photos on Facebook, and I've heard others talk about this ritual of having a braai on a sunny evening. (A braai is essentially a barbeque, it's just a more exotic name for it, but don't tell them I said that.) Today was a beautiful day and the girls had a couple of South African friends in town so they invited a few more friends, stopped by Richard's butcher shop for chops and sausage... and then tried to light the coals on the barbeque. Robyn had just finished telling me that the only good thing about British barbequing are the self-lighting bags of charcoal. She and her friend told me how the English are crazy because they barbeque vegetable kebabs and hamburgers (seems normal to me) and the only good thing to braai is meat. I asked them why hamburgers don't qualify as "meat" and they scoffed at the idea, saying that hamburger patties should be baked or fried. Vegetables should apparently never be placed over charcoal as far as they're concerned. Anyway, the charcoal wouldn't light. The husband of their friend couldn't even get it going. The three of us were standing around the barbeque and they kept going on about how there must be something wrong with the charcoal. Being the well-trained, outdoor-loving Canadian that I am, I found some dry twigs and said, "Okay, we need to build a teepee."

The charcoal was burning in a matter of seconds. It was definitely a small yet proud moment. Thanks, Dad.

Liz relaxing in the hammock before supper.

The delicious spread of food.

The braai was great - food always tastes better cooked over a fire. I pulled out Ula's apple pancakes that I'd brought back from Poland and we heated them over the fire, topping them with dollops of sour cream and strawberry jam, and giving each person a pancake to try. They were quite good, even as left-overs, and people seemed to find the sour cream and jam combination oddly tasty, though better if the flavours are mixed a bit as a mouthful of sour cream and pancake just isn't very appetizing.

Robyn pulled out a swingball game and we set it up in the backyard. I gave it a try but it was pretty comical - I've never been good at anything involving a ball flying at my head at a high rate of speed. The first time my dad tried taking me to a raquetball court, he hit the ball and I laughed as I said, "You've got to be kidding! There's no way I can play this!" He made me try hitting it a few times but quickly realized I was right. I think it stems from being hit in the head at a couple of softball games when I was a kid. Or maybe I have an issue with depth perception. Whatever the reason, I'm much happier with a laid-back game of frisbee on a beach. I may not be good at that either, but at least I don't flinch every time the frisbee comes near me.

Liz and Katie having a game of swingball.

Henry recently decided to add a few pigs on the farm. He set up a pen behind the cottage where he, Robyn and Madelein live. Although he tried to stop them, the girls had soon named each piglet, well-knowing they'll be heading to the butcher in a few months.

Pork Chop, Rasher, Emily (the name was chosen by Henry's niece, Jess), Hank (the girls graciously let Henry name one of his pigs... all are females), and Uggo (the name was chosen by Liz), are now happily rooting around in their pen and providing Robyn and Madelein with plenty of entertainment from their kitchen window.


Pigs are one of the few animals that can make me laugh out loud without really doing anything funny. If they stop and stare at me I can hear "Pigs in Spaaaace!" in my mind and that makes me laugh even harder.

Pigs. Funny without trying.