When the temperature rises, the village gently loses its mind.
Summer has arrived, and logic has left the building with Elvis. It’s a warm few days, and suddenly everyone’s outside behaving like they’ve been trapped indoors since 1997.
Lawnmowers roar. Hedge trimmers are out en masse (thanks, neighbours). Men with caps backwards are surreptitiously washing cars, and some middle-aged early retiree Joburg crypto bro is shirtless and sanding the deck in the sun on his new-build house, even though that deck is immaculate.
It’s contagious. I saw it all, got antsy and tried to tidy the garage, but luckily found my blue beach chair (you know the one) halfway through and sat down to “plan the next phase.” That phase never came. Ten minutes later, I was drinking something cold, refreshing, watching everyone else’s productivity collapse in real time.
Got a lot done
Because that’s what happens. The town bursts into solemn activity, burns out before lunch, and we all end up at the beach around a braai by 2 p.m., explaining to anyone who’ll listen that they “got a lot done.” Dogs wander between the smoke clouds, kids are sunburned, and someone’s lost their car keys, or their wife.
The conversations are all the same.
“How hot is it?”
“Eish, hectic.”
“Can’t complain.”
“Beer me please.”
Then we all complain anyway, just to keep it balanced.
By Sunday evening, the lawns are half-mown, the tools are abandoned, and the beer fridge has taken a pounding. But it’s fine. This is how we do summer, with enthusiasm, zero follow-through, zero guilt and just enough chaos to feel alive.
We’ll start projects strong again next weekend. Or maybe we won’t. It depends on how early the wind comes up.
Because this is St Francis Bay: half action movie, half afternoon nap.
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Further reading: Watch: Loki, the God of Mischief, made her way to the water last week – Nexus Yachts/Balance Catamarans
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