Perhaps it is the trauma of realising what I did that has delayed me from typing up this blog post, or perhaps it’s just because I actually have some semblance of a career and I’m busy packing up home readying to move at the end of the month, but whatever, it’s finally up.
Clarens Craft Beer festival was held last weekend and it’s an event that I would seriously recommend for beer gourmands and guzzlers alike. Organised superbly and a great way to spend an afternoon in this Free State tourist-y town.
Of around 30 micro-brewers, with about three haute-beer varieties each, I tried about 27 different beers. Favourites included the different kinds of Honey Weiss, the Chilli Beer made in KwaZulu-Natal and the Pear Cider (OK, not really a beer, but still delish).
After spending an entire day in the sun, replenishing fluids with hops and barley-infused water, let’s just say I was feeling a little silly. Because my appearance in Clarens was only a 48-our one, I had to maximise the time I was there for and of course we went out to the only option in Clarens, Friends.
Now if you’ve ever spent any time in a small town, you’ll know that locals will party the pants off any visitors. My tequila-drinking skills had nothing on these guys.
Halfway through the evening, I tripped on the cobblestones (don’t ask) and broke my slop. As a girl who freaks out at dirty feet, you can imagine the ordeal this causes in my life. We had walked into town (about 1km), and there was no way I was walking back barefoot.
But that’s when it struck me, being in the Free State was actually going to be an advantage that night! Free State = big, burly farmers right? Surely a big, burly farmer, a real man if you will, would be able to fix my slop? Surely the meagre existence of my fake plastic footwear was no match for a real-life MacGyver? Surely?
No. I was wrong.
Not a single man could sort out what was going on with the silly slop and some just thought it was a very creative pick-up line. As if.
I then got awfully distraught about what exactly I was going to do about the poor little slop and my now very manky foot that wasn’t enjoying jolling around kaal in Clarens.
That’s when my knight in bright red (his shirt and his nose), kindly offered me his sock to put over the slop. Obviously this made perfect sense in my senseless state and I graciously accepted his offering. After all, he was willing to sacrifice his sock to the relentless dirt roads of the town for my poor foot.
He even handed me the other sock and said through his brandy-induced haze: “Take the other one too, or my wife is going to get upset”.
What a champion!
Yes, I was wearing some random man’s sock, no I’m not going to comment any further on the issue.
And thanks to the awesome group of people that tagged along on this adventure. It wouldn’t of been the same without you!