It always feels like too many, and until now it's been pretty hard to pin down an exact figure. That is, until Facebook came along and neatly organised our social lives for us.

Using an application and some manual data entry, I unleashed the inner geek and finally put an exact number to a question that has been nagging at me for a while: am I being left alone while everyone I know is partying up a storm in London?

Kite SpiderThere are some amazing things to see in the Kloof Gorge! Here are some pics of spiders and a dung beetle that I took on a recent hike around the reserve.

Every South African should visit Mozambique at least once. The people, culture and lifestyle have the amazing effect of rejuvenating your perspective on life, while at the same time it's a great tropical paradise in which to kick back and chill for a couple of weeks.

We did the trip for a second time over New Year's and learnt a few new lessons about Tofo. And re-learnt some of the old ones. Here are a few fragmented pointers for when you're planning your adventure.

Here's some interesting videos produced by Umthombo, an organisation that helps street children.

It's narrated by kids from the UK who talk about their experiences of meeting Durban street children their own age, about sniffing glue, abuse, HIV and poverty from their perspective. Nothing too groundbreaking, but interesting nonetheless.

Down at the beachfront on Saturday afternoon, and my brother locks his keys in his car. A major inconvenience? Cause for swearing and a hefty locksmith bill? Not at all. This is Africa, after all, and there was no reason to worry or even make a single phonecall.

My bro casually sauntered up to the carguard, and explained the situation in less than a sentence. With a broad grin and a skip in his step, the carguard darted behind a tree and fetched his jimmy.

One minute later the door was open. We thanked and tipped the grateful man, and moved on.

They slouch, they pose like they’re in the Libertines, and they effect a nonchalance which projects an air of ‘I’ve just had a hit of brown in the toilets and you lot are about as interesting as watching the lawn grow’. And they all – every last motherfuckin’ one of ‘em (thanks for that, Quentin) - wear that ubiquitous indicator of pseudo-übercool, the skinny jean pant.

They are the new generation of indie music wannabes and by god, but my grandmother would give them a run for their money. With a cooler-than-thou attitude and a carefully cultivated air of importance, they’re the result of a good clean upbringing and the desperate need to project a bit of cred. The only thing is, they’re about as authentic as the twenty-buck Oakleys I bought off that Congolese carguard at North Beach last week. Ladies and gents, I give you... drumroll... the Indie Winkie Brigade!

Once upon a time a bunch of Durbanite nutjobs lived in a madhouse on Peckham Rye, South London. Innit? As with many sons and daughters of the African diaspora, they relished the idea of being a zillion miles away from mom, dad and home. When they went to bed at night their misty memories of Johnnies roti’s, ten-rand bankies and regular ass-over-kettle baptisms in the shorebreaks of their hometown were slowly slipping away.

London is an easy place for bright-eyed and bushy-tailed lighties to lose themselves, something that’s all the easier to accomplish when there are copious amounts of top-quality drugs. As with many Durbanians, some of them just couldn’t stay outta trouble / jail / nightclubs and eventually made their way back home to the land of kiff, my bru and hundreds, my china once their luck / money / visa’s / sentences ran out. The rest stayed on, grafted like slaves and bought pozzi’s on Camden Lock.

Just as Durban Scouts aims to bring readers a certain perspective on life in this city, so too does the website of Abahlali baseMjondolo (www.abahlali.org). The similarities are striking: both sites use the Drupal system to create content, they have similar layout, and both present users with dated entries and the ability to comment, much like a blog.

However, the story these two websites tell of life in Durban could not be more polarised. On Abahlali, it would be common to find an article detailing the deaths of tens of people in a raging shack fire; whereas on Durban Scouts you're more likely to find a review of the latest in local music happenings. Two tales that seem worlds apart, but are ultimately bound by a common future in this city.

Chrisso sent in this highly amusing flyer that he picked up at the beach and scanned for our enjoyment. For R20, it seems, Dr Mama and Dr Muwanga can do just about anything!

* Removal of misunderstandings with anybody
* Men's penis which cannot erect powerfully
* Women who cannot produce
* Gonorrhea
* To be liked at work
* Diabetes
* Education
* Court Cases
* Tuberculosis

Now, we're all familiar with the 'Save The Earth' rah-rah, and if you're not, welcome back, terribly sorry you were locked up in isolation for all those years in Outer Mongolia, but here's the lowdown, just to bring you up to speed - we're fucked.

In the world of myth, the gullible give swift carriage. Urban myths are rendered humorous when their true origins are revealed and the miscommunication of the ‘broken telephone’ system is obvious. Myths in their original from served to provide a vehicle for moral and practical messages, but when they morph into nothing more than another reason to fear your fellow man and the world outside your door, they become sinister.

This last weekend was a "get outta town" one, that had me on the road at 4:45am on route to the Northern Berg for a hike and overnight in Xeni Cave, in the Cathedral Peak area.

So what lies beyond the boundaries of good ol' 'Thekweni? This trip in particular sampled some spectacular views and amazing natural wonders!

Ladies, there's a special treat in store for you today. In our quest to strengthen ties between the sexes, I'm going to let you in on a little guy secret that may seem slightly... er, strange; but that brings great pleasure to every warm blooded male on this planet.

Well, well, well. What have we here.

If the buzzing insects of Lucifer are still sucking your blood every night, causing discomfort and loss of sleep, you should ask yourself this question: "Am I an idiot?" After years of denial, this summer I have finally accepted the affirmative truth and set about to cure myself of the loathsome East Coast pest: The Mosquito.