The 4 P’s of love

Rox wrote a lovely post about needful things of two thousand and wine.  I am totally stealing her concept to do something frivolous for a change:

A few of my favourite things: (strangely enough they all start with P)

Pearls: Something about a little black dress, a tan and pearls. Classy, elegant, timeless. One of Brazens sponsors have this darling necklace. Isnt she lovely?:

Plum Jellies: I should hopefully be receiving a pair of these delicious sandals in the mail soon – I cannot wait. They look like the perfect beach wear this summer!  I also happen to know their Marketing manager writes the most touching and entertaining newsletters.

Pink: From 30 Years of avoiding the colour pink like the plague – like all good Goths should. This year I have a bright pink iPod, bright pink bikini, pink glittery sundress, pink lip gloss and pink MCC.

Purple yoga mat: As much as I love to jump up and down, laugh, clap and scream – I think yoga has provided me with the peace I need to stay mentally healthy and physically fit. I haven’t ever really been one to believe in things like chakra’s and aura’s  - but I definitely feel as though it realigns me – helps me shrug off the bullshit that sometimes finds its way between my shoulder blades.

And yoga is where I am headed this afternoon…to declutter and realign…

Along the lines of beauty stuff, I found a very interesting place for gals to visit: Best Beauty Buys ( I am such a sucker for these articles – shame on me!)

Up and down

My friends tears break my heart. Behind most smiles, there is a hurt, an uncertainty. A quickness to doubt ones one own worth. My friend called me at midnight, she was in Camps Bay angry  broken-hearted, hurt and I can’t quite describe the relief I felt when finally, after running around like a mad woman, I found her. Small. Defeated. The man immediately becomes a tyrant in my eyes and I am reminded how crucial it is to have respect, to respect what you might not necessarily agree with or understand in another person. It’s The things we hold close and true to ourselves and more often than, It’s what is used against us – getting hurt by those we love.

It’s terrible what two people can do to each other – but I suppose the flip side of the same coin is the happiness you can share with someone who has earned your trust and love. Anyway I try hard  to not offer advice, every person is different and I cannot assume to know what goes on behind closed doors.

There was one romantic love story this weekend. Chris’s proposal to Fiona on iMod. Very sweet, very romantic. A thousand congratulations!

It was a really busy weekend, a weekend raging with excitement. The Champagne festival this year far exceeded all my expectations. This year there was the addition of a dance floor and mirror balls and many new MCC’s to taste. There was one problem however – not one, but three women were wearing the same dress as I, needless to say I made three new friends:  gals with excellent taste.

Then there was dinner in the winelands with old friends and my favourite wine maker, followed by what I can only refer to as Long Street mayhem.  Sunday was a day on the beach, followed by Goldfish at La Med. The energy was awesome, hot sweaty, incredible music…

What comes up must come down as I face another Monday. The sky is grey which kind of suits my mood, it provides a nice calmness to the city, especially after such a super charged weekend. I just wish it didn’t have to come down quite so fast, it would be good to get a chance to exhale…

La Med on a Sunday - SOLD

Cars, Planes and cigarettes

I had a fast trip to Joburg. We spent more time in the airport drinking Gin and Tonics than anything else. (Delayed flights, being too early.) An interesting thing about travelling with work colleagues, is how the dynamics change. Inevitably I turn into part clown / part Mother type person leading the way, carrying the tickets and making insane suggestions. The hardest bit – I was the only non-smoker. Every smoke break, every bar, at the end of every trip, I stood by and watched them light up. It killed me – it was the ultimate test. I survived. I don’t think I am going to struggle again. Not after that.

The weather was beautifully fine. The speeches were long. IT people should never do presentations about IT. It is simply not a good idea. The IT presentation made my eyeballs hurt from trying to look alert. I wasn’t the only one, throughout the auditorium heads were bobbing and jerking, creative attempts were made to stretch ones legs under the seat in front, in a space only generous enough to fit ones foot sideways. The IT presenter was thoroughly in his speech, was one with his speech and remained blissfully ignorant of the resounding sounds of yawns and fidgeting and blind to the enviable audacity of those who left the room for sudden bathroom emergencies.

There was one of those motivational speaker type people. Those that tell funny stories and in-between the jokes spew the work propaganda – work hard, actions speak louder than words, pick yourself up when down – then more jokes. Subliminal messages seeping into our heads while we laugh I suppose…but then came his last part. The story of a young boy going with his father to a shebeen in KwaThema, it was his Gran’s birthday and they ran out of beers. He described the shebeen as a dark room with metal bars covering every window, an old hunched up lady with her head covered. Inexplicably he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, he squeezed his Dad’s hand and begged him to leave. He told us that his Dad yelled at him and said he must be a man. soon after, men he described as animals,  walked in behind them. One man put a knife into his Fathers  neck, he said his Dad was a large man, strong and tough, so  he watched as his father fought him until he was on the ground, but then there were more, and they had guns. He was shot once and his Dad died after the 9th bullet hit him.

I don’t know about anyone else in the room – but I was just finished with tears running down my face! I could see it like it was happening in front of me. I used to hear township stories daily, one of my dearest friends was married in Soweto. She was loud, smoked, wore tight jeans and a different hairstyle every other week. She would tell me stories. We would sit in the sun, drink savannahs – two girls from two completely different worlds, born only a couple of days apart, and she would tell me stories, stories I will never forget.

She was 25 when she died. I arrived at work and they told me it was suicide, I knew otherwise. Her husband fell in love with her because she was sexy, confident, cheeky and outspoken. His approval vanished the day she became his bride. A young girl at 25 – how little we knew.

Memories flooding back, back to my trips to Soweto, the Hector Pieterson museum, then the Regina Mundi Church. I saw the bullet holes in the walls and tried to hold back the tears as they sang and wailed at my friends funeral. The Cemetery. Buses and buses of mourners, the heat, the dust. My colleagues in their suits shovelling sand onto her grave. Her Mom, on her knees wailing, thumping her breast.

 

I found a bit of writing. I was in quite a state of shock after she died, but I am glad I wrote something at that time.

 

I loved to be in your presence, sitting beside you was enough.

When you were cold you would put your hand up my sleeve and rest your head on my shoulder

You had me convinced the world is great, colourful and exciting.

Coming from a township girl, how could I not believe you.

Two girls from two different worlds.

My nemesis, my partner in crime and fabulous conversations.

Two women from two different worlds.

The world needs to come to a stop for this untamed beauty and my friend is no longer here.

 

Joie de vivre

One of the first things I noticed when I stopped smoking was how cigarettes punctuated time. They define the beginning or the start of something and then mark the end.  Pieces of time neatly compartmentalised, the beginning, middle and end of a timeline. The slow lethargic morning smoke, a capital letter starting the day and the contemplative smoke at the end of the evening. The full stop. Nothing says Friday quite like that first drag with a drink in hand, facing the ocean. It marks the moment. Not that I still miss it – now I mark the moment by ordering something even more indulgent and take tremendous pleasure in the return of my senses and the smell of the sea.

Of course the most significant markers of time is ones birthday. Another year, like lines on the bark of a tree. Are your roots stronger? Have you managed to free your branches, are they growing towards the sky and swaying in the wind or becoming more and more entangled with others, only just hovering above ground, moss covered and in the damp shadows?

Birthdays – I can’t say I always enjoyed them – I always had great expectations and was inevitably disappointed. Spoilt? Yes most definitely. With the family I have, I am and have always been the luckiest girl alive – so yes – undeniably spoilt!  Last year turning 30, the truth of the world suddenly thrust its full weight on me. Empowering is when you realise you have choices and confidence blossoms when you throw the bullshit fear off your back, in between there are bound to be moments when you gasp for air. I think it is just part of the process.

My birthday week and weekend was filled to the brim with much hustle and bustle. Not one moment passed , when I didn’t fully acknowledge how truly lucky and blessed I am to have the friends I have. I received the most amazing thoughtful gifts and felt surrounded by awesomeness the entire time. The fact that I use awesome and Yay a thousand times a day…well let’s just say – DT in her 20’s probably wouldn’t approve. I had cake, flowers, wine, tequila, books, perfume, music, belly dancing, humus, dancefloors, rooftops, camera’s, movies, pizza for breakfast, jewellery, laughter, the most amazing friends, lotions and potions and birthday cards adorned with heart warming words. The blessing: All but one were not in my life 12 months before. A second chapter – more like a different book.

It is a newfound lightness of spirit I will wear into my next year – I am wholly proud of my branches swaying in the wind and I am honestly excited and intrigued to see what else is round the corner.

Rapturous, Delicious and delirious – Friday on a hot summers day

My brother will be in the city tonight – and no doubt a big Joburg crowd will gather, tomorrow I plan on taking my first trip to Kirstenbosch Gardens to celebrate a lovely lady’s birthday and the evening another Charismatic Scorpio celebrates his birthday. I really do love November!

My Joburg boy

I met him when I was 23 on my first official office job. The years before I had spent travelling and then working as a sales rep for a liquor company. The nine to Five stint was going to take some getting used to. He was a fast talker. Afrikaans, dressed incredibly smart for his age. Everything about his look suggested a serious young man, brought up adhering to strict standards and ready to conquer the banking world – but his eyes, they were full of delightful mischief. He took me under his wing, despite being a couple of years younger than I, and showed me the ropes. Before long we were willingly working the night shift, out night after night partying up a storm until the early hours of the morning. A fellow Scorpio, a fellow creature of the night, always wanting more, extremism to the highest point of exaltation. As our careers developed, our friendship developed into a flirty,  fun relationship, which everyone in the office witnessed and envied. We would have our cigarette breaks together and just sit and laugh at the most inane things. He made my work day fun. A thousand phone calls, he always had an idea in his head and I loved his impulsiveness. He wouldn’t just talk – he would act and act bravely – diving in head first. I always hoped that this courage would rub off eventually. We had a similar work ethic at that time, when I wanted to burn the midnight oil working on a project I loved, he was right there. Sometimes invading my PC , all applications closed except for notepad and ‘HELLO’ written in Bold.

Suddenly through sheer hard work, he became brilliant in his field and left to conquer the world. I will never forget how my heart sank when he walked out the building. It had been the most special work relationship I had ever had.

We have stayed in touch and I am not surprised to get a phone call from him, saying he is in CT for a couple of hours , inevitably I drop everything to see him, even if it is a fast coffee down the road.

Last week it was different, he was here for a night and a day – I knew this was going to be trouble! My friend has grown into a sexy, successful man. He still rages, is impulsive and has endless woman problems. I love him to bits.

I felt that same sadness, like the day he left work, on the way to the air port. He had a bottle of Fairview Cab in one hand, cigarette burning in the other. Trance music loudly paying in the car – Telling me about the party he went to in Amsterdam. Conversations flying, ideas, thoughts, plans, travel arrangements a thousand things happening at once. A typical Joburg ride. My heart sank saying goodbye to man who beats me in energy, enthusiasm and sheer craziness.

I didn’t sleep at all last night. Not even for a minute. It was a combination of the super resilience of the most persistent mosquitoes that ever lived, a busy mind and an utterly exhausted body. I think the party may just be catching up to me. I have a Doctor’s note booking me off for the rest of the week – but I also have some crazy deadlines at work and an exam to study for and write. I wish I could have a dose of that mosquitoes’ super powers.

 

Today I was also given permission to be a queen bitch, I am apparently too soft and accommodating. Why now…why when I am at my weakest?

 

God my writing sucks at the moment – I wish this constant desire to talk to myself would stop for a while…

Self reprimand

First thing I saw this morning was my white bikini lying on the floor, it was like my uniform this weekend! Shucks going to work was a hard thing to do, seeing my pool was worse. Summer totally kills any desire for a honest days work!

Sense: “So crazy lady,  I hope you stayed in and had a calm weekend like you promised yourself you would?”

Madness: “Well…”

Sense:  “You are going to get your ass into so much trouble one day!”

Madness:”I had reasons to celebrate – a lovely Lebanese dinner, very efficiently sorted out my birthday arrangements… I have lost weight – which is totally bizarre! I don’t really know how it happened – next thing I knew; I was in the city having a whale of a time! I think I can blame Vit B injection…”

Sense:  “Then you had a hangover the whole Saturday no doubt – rendering you useless.”

Madness: “Which wasn’t actually such a bad thing – I couldn’t go shopping, so I saved a fortune – and lay by the pool all day getting a marvelous tan.”

Sense:  “Then probably arrived three hours late for your evening with Rox and the Twitter ladies? Crazy, mad irresponsible cow – I don’t know how people put up with you sometimes…”

Madness: “It was such a lovely night towards the end and I met a cute Viking…”

Sense:  “Whose name you can’t remember…”

Madness: “I know it started with R, he called at a really bad time yesterday.”

Sense:  “What -  between the sixth or seventh glass of bubbly at JC Le Roux?”

Madness:” Yesterday was Hectic! Saw the ex, went to wine farms, had a swim in a big fake rock pool.”

Sense:  “And blew your fortune previously saved on cases of wine. Cases?”

Madness: “Well my birthday is coming up…”

Sense:  “CASES???”

Sense:  “You did one good thing.”

Breakfast at Tiffany’s at the Grand Daddy – Popcorn, popping candy, sherbet with a straw, a glass of red, blankets – intermission and the loveliest people.

Yes that was quite marvellous – a virtuous way indeed to end the weekend!

No half measures here

Throughout the day, my mind kept slipping. In a direction I wish it hadn’t. I struggle enough with Sundays – this train of thought would never end at a joyful destination. Eight years, eight years…surely he remembers. It was this time last year that the unthinkable starting to form shape in my mind. In beginning, it was a bit of a fantasy – leaving him and I won’t lie, up to the very day I left, there was something in me that believed he would stop me – despite this kind of confrontation being so outside his character – it would be laughable. Still I believed…like I still do…in this allusive love thing – love like Fanta – As Po put it –in her quirky synopsis of unrequited love.

Sometimes I worry I will be hit with a sudden realisation that I have made a terrible mistake – that the world is cruel and hateful and mean – and when one finds a companion strong enough to deal with you,  you should really just hold on with your life. Luckily I have met enough people to show me otherwise. I have met the most interesting men – my God from all walks of life – I had no idea men could be so different, with such an array of quirks and attributes. The two most dominant males in my life are of course my Dad and my Brother. These are strong, intelligent men – men who are simply men – my ex was very similar – in behaviour but perhaps not with the same generosity and family minded sincerity – he was more of a lone thinker, a non conformer who worked on his own – for himself. Him and him alone. (Hindsight, like a broken light bulb).

It’s been seven months now – gave up my home, gave up my man, and gave up smoking. There is a price I pay for having courage of my convictions. The nights when I am alone with my thoughts, the space in my mind where there are no half measures. No one around to give me that look – that says – get serious asshole! It’s quite a perk having a boyfriend that kind of has to pretend to listen to you moan about stuff – even a deaf ear has to be better than talking to yourself – or having those thoughts dance in your head, thoughts colliding with ideas, ideas spinning around self doubt, uncertainty bashing into corrective platitudes – all resulting in quite an exhausting symphony of chaos…

Then I miss the friends I don’t make by not smoking, the flirting, and the gossiping that can only happen around an ashtray standing in the sun – as gorgeous as that sounds!

Halloween – pumpkin time.  This also means my birthday is round the corner.  My favourite month is about to begin. The month of the Scorpio – the sexiest star sign! (I am happy to report that Google has also confirmed what I have known all along!)

No bias there.

Someone at work just gave me the sweetest compliment – I was caught so unaware I am currently three shades of pink…

Its all in the YAY and TGIF

Mmmn that itchy feeling. Time to get into the sun. Beach, MCC, sushi – summer.

I didn’t start the day well – not at all, but now I have an increase letter to celebrate, a lovely friend to meet, a social experiment and a bruise on my backside from my third Vit B injection!

I have made peace with lady that makes me feel short – I think it is because it is Friday after all and I am feeling the love, for all and sunder…

It’s been a frivolous week outside of work – now to just top it up, end it right! Time to go LARGE!

May the adventures never end…

It has been another really bad day at the office. I am getting somewhat defiant in my attitude which I know isn’t helping. I just hate being apologetic – especially when it is for things out of my hands. Luckily my boss is cool and allows me to scream at him behind closed doors – letting him know how much working with women is slowly killing me dead. His solution for me is to do more yoga.

On the bright side of life, I am dinning at the Twelve Apostles this evening. It is becoming somewhat of a ritual to have dinner with these people over from Joburg – I do believe they enjoy my company, especially after a couple of glasses of wine. Last year it was Salt – which was truly spectacular – but I haven’t eaten at the Twelve apostles yet and I am sure the view is going to accompany a glass of Chardonnay exceptionally well.

Last night’s dinner was awesome. HQ fillets and Caveau’s beautiful courtyard and brilliant service from my favourite blond waitress. The HQ salad of lettuce, shavings of parmesan, oil and pine nuts – is so surprising awesome for such a simple dish – Cafe de Paris sauce and steak fillets cooked to perfection! A wine I never thought much of before, was actually a great fit for the meat dishes – Terra del Capo; Pinot Grigio. Not expensive, crisp with low acidity. Not too shabby at all! (I think my standards may have slipped, I also found myself drinking fanta orange and vodka last weekend…but that is a whole other story!)

Okay time to get my ass out of here – to yoga, then the sea…

Office trash

It is so much easier waking up in the morning to sunlight. It’s almost like I forgot I had a view. The only crime about days like today; warm, still, dazzling and clear is having to sit in the office all day. This new chicken has started working in my team. She is enormously tall,  with this scratchy accent that ruins my day. Then she is always wearing these strappy sandals with a miserable excuse of a heel. Every morning: Click clack click clack – buy new shoes woman!!!!  Then there is this attitude, this awful attitude that some woman develop in a world they would like to dominate and haven’t realised yet that it will never happen. It is an inability to read people, an undeniable ignorance and short-sightedness that angers me to the highest degree! She read me all wrong. Oh dear, landed herself in a pile of thorns, which I have no interest in clearing just yet – I am not here to make friends! She has also befriended my other colleague and there is a large volume of gossip and  chit chat occurring in each other’s laps – Arg, such sophomoric behaviour just pisses me off – to be quite frank! We communicate through emails – polite words with underlying spitting contempt. When I greet her in the morning – I fear my face cracking under the pressure of having to smile. I know its indignation – a female on my turf. To make matter worse she’s  little miss freaking organisation. Sending us her project plan guidelines and scheduling weekly update meetings – which I have not and simply will not attend – just yet… For some reason she has decided she needs to remind me about my own deadlines…my blood boils…

I am starting to wonder if I am simply not a team player – I really would rather work on my own.. This pettiness is energy sapping.

Good thing is I have a very busy week ahead. I have dinner with the Greeks tonight…every night is happily accounted for – so as I leave this place of horrid little girls I can be quickly distracted!!

Home heart and bricks

I think the best part of the day was swinging a pick axe and actually breaking rock. There is something sublimely honest and satisfying working with raw materials, using your own strength and watching bricks and mortar start to resemble a home. Mixing cement is a BITCH! My God I had no idea it was such hard work, then the wind – cement powder flying everywhere, off cuts from the roof falling on my head, a wheelbarrow full of sand landed on my legs. As much as I loathed my illuminous yellow hardhat, as a fashion accessory – that piece of equipment saved my life on many occasions. It was fascinating and gruelling and no there was no distinction made between the type of jobs the males and females were issued – I have to admit, after passing what seemed like the hundredth tile to the guy on the roof – I almost wanted to cry out – For GodSakes man I am a woman – I am not cut out for this – but of course with my pride I wouldn’t dare. In the end I managed. After a bath I was then off to Bantry Bay to see the Greek side of my family! Well from a township and shacks to one of the most palatial, opulent homes I have ever been in – it was quite an amazing experience! From Dust to Mother of Pearl in the space of a couple of hours. My Aunts bedroom was bigger than the entire home we built!

It’s the weekend – I am shocked to the very core that I am still at work! The night awaits!

Hello

Monday morning. I am wearing glasses, there just isn’t time or coordination available to put in contacts. Mornings like this only black and white will do – I am looking a bit like a psychotic, over worked secretary with really big hair. Of course it is the morning that my gorgeous *Marlboro man of a neighbour steps into the lift with me.

It took us nine months of living side by side, exchanging cursory greetings and mindless chats about the weather – for us to finally exchange names. (This of course happened when I was in the lift late at night after a salsa class and he too had a bit of an intoxicating twinkle in his eyes.) This man absolutely fascinates me – he always looks fresh, yet rugged at the same time– always appears to be on his way to climb a mountain – his faithful beautiful sheepdog at his side. I envy his freshness, energy, and this easy lazy sexiness. But I also know, beyond all doubt, I would probably never make a suitable Marlboro man companion.

No – not me who missed most of the daylight hours in a dreamy haze of laziness and then making up for it in the evenings. God I had fun though. Terrible wicked, sexy fun. I needed it!

Work had been gruelling and nasty. The type of stress that makes you just want to drown yourself in a bottle of vodka. I wanted to walk out at least three times a day. Instead of attending yoga, a friend and I went to my new favourite spot in the City – The Bascule. I don’t know if it is the sights of the boats on the harbour, or that they stock the best collection of whisky I have ever seen, or maybe it is that you walk through the most amazing wine cellar en route to the bathroom – but the place just exudes opulence, indulgence. A marvellous little den of inequity.

One glass turned into eight and thus began my week. Stress, reports, presentations, deadlines and hangovers. Too little sleep, no yoga and a ship wrecked house! So yes I needed this weekend badly.

I am building a house tomorrow, for humanity, then heading through to Bantry Bay for Supper – and yup I probably wouldn’t give up this life for anything!

*I wish the personification of a manly man / outdoors hero wasn’t so well used and perfected by tobacco companies – I have tried all morning to replace him – but the best I could come up with as an alternative is a Bar One Man – I dunno: a gooey caramel like chocolate slab – just doesn’t work for me!

Long Street

Good old Haarties

*

My parents own a beautiful house in hartebeespoort dam. When I still lived in Joburg I would spend loads of time there. Having parties, or with my family but mostly on my own. I loved the tranquillity of the place. It offers a great haven to people living in the buzzing city. I know it is merely a dam, but it is a very special place to me. This time of year it is at its best! An Oasis in the desert.

Yes I am still a little bit home sick…

Dust to wind, my roots revisited

Neglected little blog. Leaving one world behind to explore others. It has been an emotional couple of weeks. Somewhere, somehow I lost my feet, my foundation started feeling a bit shaky. Strange little incidents had me searching for meaning. Questioning all of my decisions, God it became exhausting. Then I had the paranoid notion that maybe I had let my guard down, wore my heart on my sleeve, perhaps in the wrong company. It is so easy to climb aboard a slippery slide, the increase in momentum as you go hurtling faster and faster down a ride of uncertainty, regret, self doubt. Going home for a wedding couldn’t have come at a better time! Let’s face it I needed my Mother!

I landed in a dusty brown Joburg. Miles and Miles of ground upturned and flattened, soon to become more frustrated, steamy concrete highways. The pilot joked and welcomed us to Zimbabwe. I don’t know if it was the starkness of the Highveld that prompted her – but the blonde in front turned to her boyfriend quite alarmed that they had taken the wrong plane. I was dazzled by the light and the heat. The sun stung my skin within minutes. It was wonderful being with my loud, lovely and characterful family. Everywhere I went the air was heavy with the smell of Jasmine and yesterday, today and tomorrow.

I still can’t believe my little cousin is a married woman. The wedding was emotional for the entire family. Aunts, Uncles, cousins – we were all choked up, everyone with a similar look on their faces. This was going to be a very different family gathering and nothing would be taken for granted. With her Father by her side in spirit only, my beautiful cousin walked down the aisle to the sound of Bittersweet Symphony – by the Verve. It was so perfect, I still don’t know how I managed to stifle the sobs and wails that stuck like glue in my throat, me… the stoic one of the family. I was completely moved. Standing next to my Dad in his kilt my Mom in her diamonds and black sequined dress.

As kids the four of us grew up together; the bride and her sister, my brother and I. We were practically inseparable. Went away together, camping trips or a rented house in Durban. We planned great theatrical plays, complete with grand costumes and furniture rearrangement, the end goal was to charm our parents so much that they would have to yes when we asked for a sleep over! We made up songs and dances and played adventure games in the forest (aka Gran’s garden)

The wedding happened at The Cradle. It was hot, dry, African Bush at its best. Everyone in colour looked quite dazzling against the backdrop of thorny, acacia trees, wild tall grass and dirt roads. Especially the Mother of the Bride in emerald green and black. We were told there were wild animals to be seen, but with a Pimms and ginger ale in everyone’s hand and the sheer scale of the event, I think some of the giraffe and buck went unnoticed.

People in Joburg live large. Fast cars, big houses, lush gardens. I suppose it is a choice you make and to be honest I do miss it. My family is larger than ever. Still close. Loud, rich, powerful. As a group we fascinate the outsiders. Often I am cornered in bathrooms by inquisitive woman asking me a host of questions about where I fit in? Which one is my Mother? How many Aunts and Uncles are there? I always feel a great surge of pride when I am with them.

I am back at work now. Trying hard to adjust to the Cape’s Icy winds and tackling one email, one project at a time. Two weeks work getting done in one. There is something seriously wrong with this leave process. Surely it was designed and enforced so that people can maintain a level of productivity and not burn out. Yet when all is said and done, you kill yourself to get everything done before you leave, then have to catch up with mountains upon your return.

I have much more to write about Joburg…