It must have been almost impossible for the producers of Ultimate Braai Master to edit hours and hours of footage of the first stage down to the mere 40 minutes, or so, that were finally screened on Thursday night.

I was amused by Roger’s disparaging comment about experimenting with “soggy biscuits” on the banks of the Orange River. Those biscuits were a key component of the dessert that kept our team out of the elimination, to which Roger’s under-cooked smoked chicken had almost certainly destined us. My partner in the making of those biscuits was Roxy, who is an absolute star. She has a passion for all things culinary, she works like a Trojan, and really does deserve an opportunity in the industry.

The cameras picked up the niggle between team leader Greg and Tinus, who ended up getting eliminated the following day. The origin of that ‘beef’ (as Roger would put it) was that Tinus and his braai buddy Leki had split up on the river, for the purpose of them each paddling a canoe with a member of the Chi Town team (Frank and Claire were taking a bit of strain). When Leki eventually started struggling himself, Tinus asked Greg if he could help out. The team leader’s response left no doubt of his views on the matter. Even if this was the team he was leading, it seems, it was up to the weakest links to paddle their own canoe.

The best parts of Ultimate Braai Master happened when there weren’t any cameras around. One example was our arrival at the campsite for the second stage, where we didn’t have much protection from the cold front, toilets were more than 100m from the tents, and showers were a fantasy.

After the official, filmed greeting by Justin Bonello, and a bollocking from the judges for producing such bad food on the Orange River, we were left in the dark with some potatoes, lettuce, chops, boerewors and a few boxes of random ingredients that didn’t include any kind of flavouring.

I fetched some NoMU Rubs from my braai box, Warwick raided his braai box for basil-infused olive oil, and Seb got busy with a lemon curd pudding that had a white bread ‘pastry’. Of course, Roxy got involved wherever she could, and we let Roger loose on braaing the boerewors (it’s better for everyone around him when he’s busy!).

The following night, we arrived back after 7.30, and were issued with frozen, sliced mutton shanks that needed at least two hours of cooking – once they’d been defrosted. The rest of us were too exhausted to even think about cooking, but the fabulous Elaine got stuck into making us a curry, after she and I had raided our braai boxes for the necessary spices (no-one better than her to be making a curry, I have to tell you). The one thing we did have in abundance was Castle Draught, which led me to observe that this was like the braai version of Jersey or Geordie Shore. It was a good – and long – night.

None of us would have chosen the adversities that were put in our way, but they were generally met with good spirit and a level of improvisation that was worthy of people challenging for the title of Ultimate Braai Master. I don’t know if the sense of community that arose amongst the competing teams will come through for viewers, but it was there, and it was a key reason why this was an extraordinary experience for us all.

Nearly three weeks have passed (since my surgery), and I can report some improvement in my voice. It is now less wheeze and more whisper (aren’t those two words wonderfully onomatopoeic?).

Nevertheless, telephones remain useless to me; communication in restaurants is only possible with the person who happens to be sitting next to me (put it this way, I assume that the communication is working because the person nods and smiles at the appropriate points).

With the Paralympics on at the moment, disabilities are very much top of mind. In my case, I would have to believe that I could qualify as a disabled cox for a rowing team.

I’ve had several meetings in boardrooms, which have been conducted with total seriousness, but by virtue of me whispering while my clients listen intently, have to count as some of the most ridiculous experiences of my life. During one meeting I suggested that they might as well leave the door open, because I could barely be heard across the table, let alone outside in the passage.

I’m all for this thing of making lemonade when life gives you lemons. In the spirit of turning adversity into opportunity, I think there’s a new career waiting for me as The Boardroom Whisperer.

Fly with me, as my friend Bruce would say. As a result of my reduced verbal communication I spend more time observing and thinking than I spend babbling. I’m the living embodiment of that old idiom that we should watch and listen more than we speak, because we have two eyes and two ears, but just one mouth.

Think about it, there are horse whisperers and dog whisperers, but all those people can talk. They just turn on the whispers temporarily. I walk the talk (in a manner of speaking, of course). I’m the real deal. I whisper.

In preparation for Ultimate Braai Master, I thought I should add to my repertoire, particularly in the dessert department. Here are some of my experiments, which sadly were never replicated during the show.

I shot these soufflés as they’d finished cooking, so they’re still looking quite puffed-up. It took a while for them to collapse; my plan was to do something along the lines of a twice-baked soufflé.

Baking has never been my strong suit, largely because I’m not much of a dessert person. Thanks to Stacey, the pastry chef at Dish Food & Social, I picked up a couple of foolproof dishes.

‘Whisper mode’ is generally pitched as a product benefit. When it relates to air conditioners, or vacuum cleaners, you can see how that can be a good thing. Since a surgical procedure to my vocal chords a week ago I, too, am in whisper mode. While some would view this as an improvement, I’m not buying into it as a long-term benefit.

Not being able to speak has its advantages, though. For starters, there’s no need for me to answer the phone. Do you have any idea how liberating it is completely ignore a ringing phone, without even the vaguest trace of guilt?

It’s also kind of funny sometimes, because people talk back to me in whispers. If you’re ever having a ‘down day’, go around talking in whispers. I know it’s silly, but sometimes it’s good not to be one’s totally serious self.

Mostly though, it’s frustrating and – occasionally – a little depressing. In a sense, it’s like erectile dysfunction. Imagine the scenario, you’ve got the all-clear, you really want to do this thing, but your body isn’t coming to the party. Actually it’s worse. It arrives, does something sphincter-crunchingly embarrassing, and then leaves.

Spare a thought for Andrea, my wife, who generally phones me about a dozen times a day. Can you imagine how frustrating it is for her to have all these one-sided conversations?

Whisper mode, of course, hasn’t affected my ability to whistle or clap, which are currently the loudest sounds I’m capable of producing. However, given that I whistle and clap for our dogs, I can’t see these going down well as methods of marital communication.

On balance, there are worse things that can happen to me. And, there are people for whom losing their voice would be disastrous; imagine if I was a singer or a DJ or a motivational speaker (however, there are some ‘voice professionals’ for whom whisper mode would be both a benefit and an improvement).

(I’m not expecting whisper mode to be permanent. Vocal chords are sensitive bits of equipment. Mine were already scarred from previous surgeries six-and-a-half years ago, and there could be substantial inflammation from last week’s procedure.)

If you’re struggling to fight your way through a call centre, or a bureaucracy with constipated workflow, get onto social media. I know this can be construed as being inappropriately aggressive, but hey, if they haven’t listened to you via other channels – and you’re getting frustrated – it may be a necessary step.

I have written about the inept way in which many corporates make use of social media. However poor they may be at it, the one thing many of them have done is to put a person – or team – onto the job. There is a reasonable degree of probability that the social media department is able to connect to anyone they want to, right across the organization, without going through the usual protocols.

The South African Post Office (SAPO) frustrates me a lot, which has spurred me into writing several blog posts. Last week, while on the SAPO website (yet another futile attempt to make use of their online track and trace facility), I noticed a link to their Facebook page. Interesting, I thought, and clicked through.

I can’t say I was surprised that the number of ‘likes’ was less than 200. In fact, if there was the opportunity to make a selection for ‘dislike’, or even stronger, I’m sure that number would have been in the thousands. I left a comment on the timeline, to which they responded soon after.

Emails were exchanged. Within 24 hours I had received a phone call from Noluvo Dlulane, the Western Cape’s Regional Manager for Retail, suggesting that we meet. She made notes of all the problem areas I highlighted, along with solutions that I proposed. She then gave me an explanation of how the Post Office works, with its various business divisions, as well as the work that’s being done to optimise systems and procedures.

Yes, you can imagine that each division does its own sweet thing, and when one division doesn’t do what it’s supposed to, it has a knock-on effect throughout the organisation. Layer this on top of public service attitude absent of profit mentality or customer focus, and it turns into the dysfunctional mess that has frustrated me so much.

But, as Noluvo so carefully explained to me, there is a plan. Far from being defensive about the problems, she acknowledged them, and was more than happy to talk about them. She remained charming throughout our 90-minute meeting, even when I may have given her cause not to.

It didn’t end there. The following day I had a call from the Area Manager, Basil Tobias, who was at my local branch, in the process of investigating my issues. Over the next 24 hours I had regular update calls, either from him, or from people he had put onto the queries.

They have sorted out my biggest – and longest-standing – query. The SAPO is still the same beast, but I’m very grateful to the combined efforts of the social media team, Noluvo Dlulane and Basil Tobias in putting out the worst of the fires.

One of my concerns was that the staff at my local branch would end up taking the flak, but these were quickly dismissed when I arrived at the branch yesterday. The manager couldn’t have been more grateful for me raising the alarm, because he is now empowered to take actions that enable him to service his customers better. The first example is that he is permitted to order more than 10 Easipost boxes at a time (I know, it seems crazy to restrict the stockholding of an item that sells in much greater quantities every month).

Noluvo told me how she started her career at the SAPO as a teller. In 2011, the Western Cape received the SAPO award for the best region. Based upon the way she handled my complaints, that won’t be the last award she receives, and she’s sure to be promoted beyond her current Regional Manager status.

The fact remains that she shouldn’t have been put in the position of having to put out these fires, so let’s see what changes the SAPO implements. Until then, the social media channels could be busy.

Just a few days remain before I (temporarily) hand over control of my life to the producers of Ultimate Braai Master. The way they decide to edit the material will also shape the perceptions that people will have of us; it is one of the requirements of gripping reality television that the audience is able to identify with the contestants. The producers can’t fabricate what isn’t there, but sure as eggs, if there’s the tiniest hint of something they think could be interesting, they’ll be onto it like a shot.

The reputational issues are not ones that I thought about until yesterday – and they generally don’t worry me – but this thing of handing over control has been much harder.

My work schedule is the fullest it’s been all year. Fortunately, most of it can be done remotely, as long as I can connect to the internet, and have cell phone signal. With 13 challenges over 52 days (assuming we don’t get eliminated before the end), there should be plenty of time for doing that work. I didn’t finally commit until I had established this.

However, one of my projects is to taste wine for a new wine and artisanal food deal site, 5ounces, which entails me tasting the products and then writing a background story of 400 to 500 words about each one. All these things need to be couriered to me, but I can’t know the routing. So, I have had to make special arrangements for the boxes to be delivered to the producers’ courier company, who will then forward them to where they need to be.

This immediately flags me as High Maintenance, and probably labels me as someone to be eliminated early in the competition. I then made it worse, when I casually checked whether our vehicle (sponsored by Renault) for the 8000km road trip would have a tow bar, which could be used for holding my bike rack.

Apart from the enjoyment I get from riding my mountain bike a few times a week, it’s the way I remain fit – and pre-empting the likelihood of us travelling to South Africa’s most scenic parts – it’s also a great way of experiencing the great outdoors. I didn’t point out to them that I could also be provided with a GoPro camera, which could be used to obtain ancillary material of the terrain surrounding our trip.

The response was a short, sharp, “No”, which immediately caused me to respond emotionally (and at length). I got an even more terse refusal, which made me yet more emotional. Eventually, a different person made an effort to enable me to understand why I couldn’t take my bike. I remain grumpy about it, but it’s just one of those things I’m going to have to live with.

I have now removed any doubt of the High Maintenance label.

As far as clothing is concerned, we’ve been advised to pack for both very hot and very cold conditions, with the likelihood of laundry being done just once a week. We also pack a ‘braai box’ (dimensions: 49 x 41 x 27cm) with extra kit we think can be useful. We expect that the basic cooking utensils and ingredients will be provided. We’ve largely selected on the basis of things that enable us to have a little more control over the culinary challenges that we have to overcome.

The most important thing we take on this trip is our attitude, about which Viktor Frankl said: “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing; the last of the human freedoms – to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”

And that, really, is what it all comes down to, because the producers can control everything except our attitude, and a bad attitude cannot create great food.

(You can follow team Hout Cuisine on our Facebook page)

My renewed interest in horse racing is partly the product of a project I’m involved in at the moment. Charles Faull, with whom I worked 20 years ago, has been building what will end up being the most comprehensive and detailed record of South Africa’s top races. Top international races will be added, once the website is operational.

I’ve been called in to work on the user experience; essentially to take this wealth of information and present it in a way that people will want to engage with it.

The users we’re most concerned with are the ones that are new to the sport. As part of my preparatory thinking I knocked together this little ‘doodle’ presentation on Prezi:

I’m working on a mobile app that will be aimed at the 2013 L’Ormarins Queen’s Plate. The challenge is to create something with which ‘newbies’ will want to engage, at the same time as conveying some of the basic science behind the result of the race.

Racecourses are jam-packed on big race days. If racing is to have any chance of staving off stagnation it desperately needs to convert some of these once-a-year-there-for-the-party visitors into fans.