NOTES FROM MUD ISLAND PART 6

Thursday 9th September

Well today was our first day trawling around a city, Bristol City to be precise and I just love saying those words Bristol City - probably one of the first naughty rhyming slang expressions I ever learned from my old man - whoah hey - she's got a nice pair of Bristols...it was all downhill from there I can tell you.
And en-route along the country roads I couldn't help but notice the stark difference in approach to things here compared with South Africa. Here, they aim to take people out of the equation at roadworks where a traffic lane is blocked. Whereas we have the workers (?) in the middle and one person at either side of the detour playing with flags and rotating STOP/GO signs, the English have a fully synchronised automated set of mini traffic lights set up so that one bloke can do the entire gig.
Just think how much more crime there would be in SA if we automated all those sad flag waving twats out of work as well...
We stopped off in Leigh Woods en-route to Bristol and partook of a casual stroll around the place.
It's what's so nice about the English countryside - no matter where you are, there's a forest close by or a place to walk and enjoy nature.
Although this must've been a South African forest as there were very big oaks everywhere dressed in green...(sorry - lame I know but it was funny this morning...)
Then on to Bristol where we crossed over Brunel's suspension bridge spanning the Avon Gorge, the first one ever built I'm reliably told, however, my in-laws clearly know nothing about the cross-dimensional construction of the Giza pyramids by Thoth, the Atlantean who I'm sure could have manifested a suspension bridge in a matter of nanoseconds. I felt it unwise to embark on this particular line of speculation at the time as it would have killed the moment and detracted from the godlike status Isambard Kingdom Brunel (that was his name, I kid you not) enjoys in these parts. And he was a singular fellow by all accounts which is odd as most civil engineers that I've worked with are just boring bastards with all the wit and panache of a salted slug.
The bridge was impressive though - even if short by modern standards and the way people behave on the roads here is also quite startling - us Seffrican anarchists are constantly taken aback by the decorum and consideration shown by local motorists - it's just not normal.
Bristol seems like a nice (love the vagueness of that word) city which is neat, clean and populated by lots of bouncy students, looking even bouncier thanks to the wonderful sunshine that is following us through this trip.
We lunched at an unpretentious little cafe called Rocatello's where Karen and I experienced "curly" fries for the very first time and man you gotta love the good old British potato in any manner or form. Curly fries are a wonderful invention and make chip eating so much more interesting than anything the Americans could come up with. (If anyone tells me that the yanks invented curly fries, I think I'll vomit in my mouth right now!)
On to the Bristol Museum & Art Gallery which, surprisingly, didn't feature nearly enough of Banksy's work if you ask me but Karen did spot a few of his graffiti in and around the place as we strolled after lunch down to the harbourside area.
A ferry trip to a quaint little pub where we supped on beer/cider etc. while watching the locals and listening to them saying arrrrrr and stuff like that. I think the place was called The Bumcombe Inn as Karen made an inappropriate remark about buttock hair which we all found totally distasteful - or perhaps on reflection it may have been me...
Another splendid, peaceful and relaxed day in the south western environs of Mud Island - a jolly good time was had by all.
And tomorrow on to Devon...ah well.
Goo goo ga joob...