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Archive for November, 2008

The Harbour

November 22nd, 2008 Daniel No comments

Hello,

I wrote this piece at school for some coursework, about a day spent in a harbour incorporating certain English language rules, metaphors and similies.

The fisherman return from another night of cold, hard labour, tired like the very harbour into which they arrive. Their weary bodies cold as their catch laying bleary eyed in the refrigerated compartment in the boat. Small waves break on the weathered harbour wall, similar to the rhythmic chug of the old fishing boat. The sun just managing to creep up over the horizon from the deep slumber that was night. Upon their arrival on the beach, within only a few minutes the fishermen have counted and sorted the fish and washed down their boats of the diesel spills, oil and fish remains.

Only a few hours pass before the sun starts to blossom in the sky like a flower in bloom, the rays of light fanning out like the petals. The early-morning light reflecting off the glistening ocean. Builders have already been busy for a couple of hours, sweating under the relentless African sun. The sound of the bricks being slapped onto fresh cement at odds with the melodic sound of the waves as they arrive and recede on the beach.
Like every other day, from mid-morning this popular piece of real estate gets lost under the mob of food sellers, tourists and the few locals that venture out after the fishermen have sold their earlier catch. The fisherman’s fresh catch mostly now sold and beautifully prepared, adorns the plates within many of the restaurants along the most popular stretch of boulevard.

The fishermen who sold their catch for just a few Rands only hours ago, have now retired to their modest backstreet homes. The same fish now selling for hundreds in the most lavish hotels. The old, inexpensive fishermen homes worn down by the great many that have walked in each others footsteps.
A distinctive new aroma emerges from the bustling harbour. The smell of oil and fish from the fishing boats which are now being prepared for their early start the next day, drifts along the beach. As the morning matures into afternoon, the sound of people’s chatter, cars and boats making their way up and down the coastline adds to the commotion.

Now the hottest part of the day, people retreat to the cool of the white stone sea-side villas. or the local swimming pools. Only those who are sunbathing or the children who are at their happiest playing on the sand, remain out. Others retire for a brief siesta allowing the sun to fall and cool.  Others splash around in the shallow, warm water of the Indian ocean. The builders carry on regardless, their exposed raw skin resembling leather in the ferocious heat.
As the sun gives way to evening, couples wander through the small town there souls a vigorous fire, the centre of which has now all but emptied and joined the crowds collecting on the seafront.  The tourist shops have long since closed and the informal sellers now setting up outside the same shops. Their baskets of wares and African artifacts overflowing with the beaded jewellery glinting in the last few rays of sunlight. A calm descends the town, like the cloak of cloud over the mountain just a few miles away.
The quietness drifts through the town with only the occasional cry of a child, adult laughter or squawking gull to disturb the evening. The builders have put down their tools, their hardhats placed at the spot where they earlier worked and dissipated through the quiet town to later rendezvous in a bar. There the relentless precision work is forgotten and replaced with something much more entertaining.
By late evening, the blazing red light of the sun sits on the horizon before disappearing behind the mountain. The day turns into night but not before creating a beautiful sunset, by way of fanfare prior to departure. It’s not long before the fishermen trudge their way back to the boats and go in search of their quarry, to supply to the restaurants to feed their gluttonous customers. The lighthouse guides them out into the blackness of the sea and once past Cape Point where the two oceans meet, the water becomes cooler and and the fish can be found.
Thanks for reading and if you’ve got any commemnts, thoughts or suggestions tell us!
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The LHC Rap

November 15th, 2008 Daniel No comments

Hello,

This is probably old news now but I found it pretty cool.
A worker at CERN offered to explain how the LHC works by producing a rapp song about it.  Her name is “Kate McAlpine” (her rapper name “alpinekat”).  Aged 24 she wrote the lyrics whilst on her 40 minute bus commute from Geneva to the CERN site.

Personally I think it’s amazing.  Here it is.

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