There'll be blue sky contrasting with the beautiful golden rock of the cliffside and clouds drifting over the mountain tops.
There will be no jackhammers, no drills, no grinders sending clouds of red dust into the air, no black plastic sheets all over the carpets. No blobs of concrete and mud or endless jugs of iced water for the workers to combat the heat. I won't have to shout above the cacophony, spend time on the phone arranging deliveries or lose my temper during the numerous road traffic lane closures as our freeways are upgraded for the Soccer World Cup in June.
This weekend the only sounds will be the crashing of waves, the plaintive call of the gulls, perhaps the bell like calls of a pair of oystercatcher birds and the sound of the wind through the grass. Instead of the smell of dust and mortar there'll be the salt tang of the ocean and fragrance of the fynbos. Perhaps the crackle of a log fire, as the evenings are starting to cool down now.
Best of all, there'll be lots of sleep and plenty of photography.