"Martin Dowery: Sexy." If only we could all sign our names so confidently ... Aside from the chuckle this little gem elicited (and yes, I know, he was the secretary, and probably not sexy at all), yesterday was the sort of archive day I had been anticipating. Lots of trawling through card catalogues, reams of reference numbers for items that I'm slowly working through with little to show for it so far. Still, four more days to hope for a Eureka! moment.
In other news, I now have a hire car to get me between my B&B in Port Alfred, and Rhodes University at Grahamstown. It's quite fun pootling along, catching up with all the essential sports news on Radio 2000 and marvelling at the large cactuses and brightly coloured birds at the sides of the road. What's less enjoyable is having to drive past scores of people trying to hitch lifts, feeling unconscionably privileged and rude as I whizz by with four empty seats. I will follow all the advice I've been given and not stop, but that doesn't mean I like it.
On a lighter note, I stopped for my dinner last night at the Pig & Whistle pub in Bathurst, conveniently situated between Grahamstown and Port Alfred. It's an old settler village, and the pub itself dates from about 1820, with the honour of being the oldest continuously licensed pub in South Africa, apparently. It happened to be steak night, which involved selecting a cut from a trestle table piled up with chunks of cow, cooked in front of you and supplemented with side orders of chips, sauces & accompaniments. My sirloin steak and sides, with a drink, set me back about R56. This didn't seem quite right, but a quick check on the currency converter app confirmed that the meal had cost me £2.91. I wonder what's on the menu tonight!