Boycotting the restaurant again, we go down to the pub for breakfast, at last wearing a change of clothes. Victoria and I order smoked salmon and scrambled eggs but what arrives is an omelette covered in cheese. When I query it, the waiter is surprised that I want to send it back. He tells me that the ingredients are the same as it’s a smoked salmon omelette and seems confused that I don’t think that a) cheese with smoked salmon is inappropriate and that b) I am unhappy about having something that I haven’t ordered. Mike tucks into his full breakfast and when ours comes back, it is tiny. That’s what you get for complaining I suppose. We watch as the staff happily tuck into our rejected omelettes.
We have a long drive back to Knysna as we are going on the scenic inland drive today but first we have to attempt to get two bags of luggage into the smallest area that I have ever seen which is called the boot of the car. Having only just got our bag in, getting Victoria’s in too is a struggle but with a bit of judicious juggling, squashing and rearranging, we manage it although the shelf over the boot are is now at a somewhat strange angle.
We start off in the direction of Worcester, a little strange as that’s where we now live when we are in England. The scenery is at first one of vineyards then very mountainous. In between the mountain ranges are yet more vineyards, huge distilleries towering up from them.
Over the next 8 hours, we wind our way along Route 62, the scenery seemingly changing every time we turn a corner. We go from mountains to semi desert, to mountains of white granite, to those covered in fir trees and others of a yellow coloured rock. And all the way they are interspersed with vineyards – and ostrich farms!
Apparently there are lots of things you can do with ostriches. Eat them, make leather goods out of their speckled skins, turn their egg shells into lamps or paint them and use them as ornaments, make mops and dusters out of their plumage, wear their plumage and race them. Yes, ride them and race them. We do actually pass an ostrich racetrack of all things.
We stop at one of the little towns and buy ourselves some local delicacies – biltong, dried fruit and some little twisted pieces of pastry that have been deep fried then plunged into ice cold sugar syrup and left to drain – disgustingly lovely and of course, not fattening at all.
It’s nearly 6.30 pm when we eventually arrive back at Knysna and Mike is shattered. Victoria has the guided tour and loves the house, especially the view over The Heads from the deck. We order in a takeaway Thai meal which is delicious. I am convinced that after stuffing ourselves in the car, us three won’t be able to eat much but embarrassingly it all disappears. One day my diet will start!
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