Life in the very fast lane...: So long, farewell 2012.The year is drawing to a ...

Life in the very fast lane...: So long, farewell 2012.

The year is drawing to a ...: So long, farewell 2012. The year is drawing to a close, and with it comes mixed feelings as to whether this is a good or a bad thing....

So long, farewell 2012.

The year is drawing to a close, and with it comes mixed feelings as to whether this is a good or a bad thing.  For many, 2012 has been a very tough year, and I am afraid I am no exception to this.  I got caught in the fishing net of trouble at various times throughout the year, but, as they say in the classics, you just can’t keep a good woman down.  This implies I am good, but I am afraid I will take the Fifth Amendment on that one.

We all seem to have faced an inordinate number of challenges this year, but we are still here to tell the tale.  The world didn’t end yesterday, which was a huge relief; the Mayan calendar may have drawn to a close, but clearly this is just an opportunity to make a new one.

When I look back on the year, I have few regrets, many memories, and a massive feeling of positivity about what lies ahead.

I have turned forty, I have celebrated, I have sampled the wine, and I have taken the Panado’s.

I am writing this from the sea side, which in itself is a massive treat, and creativity seems to flow in with the tides.  The weather is perfect, the shells on the beach prolific, the sea gulls enthusiastic in their flight, the oysters fresh and chilled.

And so, to the New Year.  May it be a good one for us all.

Rest in peace 2012 – forever remembered, fondly forgotten.

Life in the very fast lane...: This morning I was traveling through the morning t...

Life in the very fast lane...: This morning I was traveling through the morning t...: This morning I was traveling through the morning traffic at a snail’s pace.   Oddly enough, traffic has never messed with my “chi” too muc...

This morning I was traveling through the morning traffic at a snail’s pace.  Oddly enough, traffic has never messed with my “chi” too much as I see it as a time to either listen to the radio, or to listen to some of my favourite tunes at an extremely high volume, which I am sure have partly damaged my ears over the past four decades.

The radio was my choice today, and I was listening to 94.7, to “The Christmas Wish List” – about a single mother with a child who has special needs, and whose Christmas wish was granted through the kindness and generosity of not only the radio station, but the people whom they reach out to who are able to give back.  It immediately struck me as to how lucky I am, as are most of those around me.  I may think I have had a tough year, or that the driver in front of me paid for his license with expired beer, or that my car windows are dirty, or that I am slightly tired, or that I miss the waist line I used to have… the list is endless really.  But the reality is a shorter, sharper list.

I am lucky to not have certain challenges that face others; challenges where you wonder how on earth women such as these gather the strength they need on a daily basis to deal with the trials they need to deal with.  Suddenly, I felt like my life was put into perspective, and reminded myself to be grateful the next time I felt like I was even somewhat hard done by.

I thought too that it was only 7.30 a.m., and already I had found my lesson for the day, so I could now carry on, and think about other things.  How wrong I was.

A little while later, there was a competition on air, which was won by a lovely sounding lady – R2500.00 in grocery store vouchers.  At this time of year, this is a great competition to win (Sauvignon Blanc purchases spike by up to 33% in December – I know this for a fact – but will not be divulging how I know this), and the lovely lady was delighted.  Whilst the DJ was talking to her about her winnings, she asked if half of her prize could be donated to the recipient of the Christmas wish, for toys for the child with special needs.

My skin went mad with goose flesh. 

How incredibly kind and generous of the competition winner to halve her gift in favour of someone more needy than herself.  It showed me immediately, that even when you think you may have been witness to the indescribable trials of another, through the generosity of others, your awareness can be further raised to new heights.

I am the first to acknowledge that 2012 has brought a great deal of suffering to a huge number of people on a global scale – natural disasters, death, war and destruction, not to mention the US election! However, events like this morning somehow manage to put a huge silver lining on any potentially dark cloud, and can, in the space of thirty on air minutes, renew one’s faith in not only the triumph of the human spirit, but also, the kindness and inherent goodness that can and does exist in so many members of the race we call human.

And so the moral:  When one feels that your own road is pot-holed, and trials seem to outweigh tribulations, remember others who are stuck in the middle of one of those life lesson pot-holes; but remember too, above all else, to be kind, and giving to others, whether they are known to us or not.

Life in the very fast lane...: ‘Tis the season to be merry…One of the many things...

Life in the very fast lane...: ‘Tis the season to be merry…One of the many things...: ‘Tis the season to be merry… One of the many things I have always loved about the festive season is the carols that come with it.   I ...

‘Tis the season to be merry…

One of the many things I have always loved about the festive season is the carols that come with it.  I have no doubt many people would want me publicly burnt at the stake for having this adoration, but I am prepared to take my chances.

I have spent my life loving singing, in fact, as a child, an obsession with Olivia Newton-John led to many a home concert, where a teaspoon was my microphone, and my outfit was 100% lycra.  When I got to junior school, all pupils were in the choir, regardless of talent, and not realizing as yet that I was not gifted in this department, I definitely still fancied myself as quite the singer, and felt sure that my future lay in the music world. 

Sadly reality dawned when I got to high school, and was thrown out in round number one of the choir auditions, never to return again.  The most upsetting part about this was not that I had not been allowed to be part of the choir, but now, I had to find another talent I thought I had… needless to say, twenty six years later, I am still searching for that answer!

But I digress.

It is Carols by Candlelight next week and I am already counting the sleeps.  I have started practicing my lines and remembering the lyrics… one would almost think I was part of the performance, when in fact, I am a mere mortal dragging my mother and daughter to something I want to attend.

What I love though about these events is not only the singing, which is obviously a huge part of it; but I love that these functions see families gathering together; I love that the audience and the performers are there because they want to celebrate a special time of year; I love that you see raging joy in children’s faces, and what I suspect I will love most this year, is that there will be a collective sigh of relief that we have all somehow made it through the past twelve months, and we still have much to look forward to.

Of course, the fact that we can take our own picnics, and wine  - well, that is just the angel on the top of the Christmas Carol Tree for me!

And so the moral:  It is the season, it is time to be merry, and it is time to celebrate.  It is time to have fun, it is time to see joy in our children’s eyes, it is time to sing, and quite possibly, it is time for the return of the teaspoon, and the lycra cat suit!

Life in the very fast lane...: Reflecting uponthis yearIt is almost December, a...

Life in the very fast lane...: Reflecting uponthis year

It is almost December, a...: Reflecting upon this year It is almost December, and yet it feels to me like it should be almost January, or more aptly put, the end ...

Reflecting upon this year

It is almost December, and yet it feels to me like it should be almost January, or more aptly put, the end of a particularly tricky year.

This year seems to have brought so many challenges to so many people.  There seem to have been more tales of woe than I have ever known, and more shocks to the system than most have been able to cope with.

From a personal stand point, 2012 has seen me shed more tears than I have shed collectively in my thirty nine years before this one; more sleepless nights (for all the wrong reasons); more moments of anxiety, and more moments of deep, deep despair than any other year. 

However, as I am not one for negativity (despite the paragraph above), one must focus on the good that comes out of years like this.  It is apparently always darkest before the dawn, and if that is true, it means 2013 is going to be nothing short of absolutely FABULOUS.

All is not lost in terms of the year that was, and is for a little more, 2012. 

Yes, there were moments of darkness – pitch – to be exact; but there were also moments of elation, moments of relief, there was laughter, there were hugs, there was wine.  Lots of wine in fact.

My true friendships were confirmed; my not so true friendships flowed away gracefully, which is fine; my family were, and remain, my personal Rock of Gibraltar; some new friendships turned out to be stronger than I could have ever have dreamt they would be; some old friendships weaker than expected.  There were dinners and drinks, play dates and family “braais”, lunches and teas, and above all, some highly, highly amusing conversations with the most fabulous taxi driver ever, Minute, who now knows everything there is to know about me, and likes me despite this knowledge.

I have frequented certain restaurants, and severed ties with others (it is all about the ice – if there is not enough ice to keep the wine cool – I simply move on); I have remained fiercely loyal to my favourite poison, Sauvignon Blanc, and loyal too, to my second favourite poison, Merlot.

I have started and completed a “Creative Writing” course (can you tell?), I have traveled as much as my magic carpet would allow, I have seen many movies, sometimes on my own, I have sent more BBM’s than the average American, and received some too.

So you see, it has not been all bad.

When I look back on it, and reflect as objectively as I am able to:  I am grateful for this year.  I am grateful for the hardships, because it has taught me to be stronger; I am grateful for the tears, because my eyes are now very clean; I am grateful that my true friends have remained true, and steadfast, and honest and loving; I am grateful for the dawn, and for the end of the darkness.

May 2013 bring only good news, fewer moments of sadness, more moments of happiness, continued friendships; and to the now famous French manufacturer, La Bouchage Mecanique, who invented the screw top for wine bottles, I hope they know, that I will eternally remain in awe of their company…

Life in the very fast lane...: As I have been boarding at my mum's house for almo...

Life in the very fast lane...: As I have been boarding at my mum's house for almo...: As I have been boarding at my mum's house for almost six months, I thought it would perhaps be time to look at spreading my wings, and emerg...

As I have been boarding at my mum's house for almost six months, I thought it would perhaps be time to look at spreading my wings, and emerging from the lovely cotton wool for the soul that I have been living in. 

And so, I decided to start looking around at apartments close to my daughter's school and see what there was on offer.

As I was a child who grew up in the '80's, imagine my delight when I found a lovely looking apartment block next to the school called "Melrose Place".  I could suddenly picture in my head that I would immediately start looking like one of those lovely characters from the show I had truly adored, and perhaps, there would even be a resident "Jake" - a good looking chap who I could call upon when the lights tripped or the front door jammed (all of which I would have orchestrated of course).

So, after getting in touch with the estate agent, I was taken on a tour of the establishment, and to look at the one apartment that was available.  The agent, a lovely lass, warned me that the residents were not as young as I clearly thought they would be.

What an understatement that was!  In the fifteen minutes I was there, I saw several of the "locals", who all clearly felt compelled to come out and have a squizz at me and see if I would be suitable enough to live there.  I am trying to be polite, so let me put it this way - their average age: 82.5; average hair colour: purple, with the occasional hint of blue.

The apartment was delightful, but knowing I have a feisty six year old, I could just see trouble brewing when the Disney Channel would compete for the neighbour's high volume episode of "The Antique Roadshow", and I didn't think there was any way I would be able to get anyone to help with a door jam, nor would I want to.  I could see the potential for a lot of "meals of wheels", and this thought did not fill me with a lust for all things Melrose Place.

Needless to say, the hunt continues.

And so the moral:  This is no longer the late '80's, I will likely never look like one of those lovely dames, and Jake... well, he certainly does not live at Melrose Arch Johannesburg!

Life in the very fast lane...: Now that I am living my own personal "Sex and the ...

Life in the very fast lane...: Now that I am living my own personal "Sex and the ...: Now that I am living my own personal "Sex and the City" - I am finding I am experiencing a lot of city, and very little of the first word. ...

Now that I am living my own personal "Sex and the City" - I am finding I am experiencing a lot of city, and very little of the first word.

When one is single, I feel you tend to do a lot more soul searching and spending time in deep thought on relationships.

I am often locked in thought about past relationships and what mistakes were made by myself and how I could have or should have done things differently (the benefit of hind sight); and then some time dreaming about the possibility of a new one, or a future one, and romanticising about the possible knight in shining armour who you are sure, must be arriving imminently.

But as time ticks on, and my single days roll into weeks, and now months, I find that I am enjoying my single life more and more.  I love the freedom I have to go where I want to, when I want to; the freedom to accept the dinner dates I would like to attend, and decline the ones I don't really feel like; the freedom of not having to be home by a promised time (I am generally not good at this as I just love a party too much and tend to lose the ability to clock watch after my third glass of wine); the freedom to plan holidays with my daughter when it suits me, not having to wait for anyone else, and the freedom to make whatever decisions I want to - however, whenever.

Last evening I went out with a fabulous female friend, to a fabulous restaurant, in a fabulous neighbourhood.  There were couples there, families there, big groups, small groups, and other girlfriends meeting like we were.  At no time did I feel I was a lesser being for arriving at the trendy spot on my own, or indeed, leaving on my own.  I loved the intelligent, interesting discussions I had with my friend, and I loved the freedom I had to flirt outrageously with the waiter so that he ensured our wine glasses were always filled almost to the brim.

People keep asking me how I am feeling "now that I am single" and I keep my reply standard - "I am loving it so much, it is a little worrying how much I am enjoying it".  Never a truer statement was uttered from my lips.  I also keep being warned that at some stage, loneliness will settle in and I will pine and long for that knight in shining armour (or at my age, probably a grey haired knight with false teeth and a pot belly with possible yellowed toe nails) - but as yet, I have not even had one nano-second of this feeling of loneliness.  Elation, yes, freedom, yes, feeling in control of my life, absolutley yes.

And so the moral as I fast approach forty years of age:  I may be nearly forty, but I still feel fabulous, and my own personal "long walk to freedom" has been worth each and every step...

Life in the very fast lane...: After a clanger of a bachelorette for my bride cou...

Life in the very fast lane...: After a clanger of a bachelorette for my bride cou...: After a clanger of a bachelorette for my bride cousin in September, the wedding took place this past Saturday and I fear it may take me ...

After a clanger of a bachelorette for my bride cousin in September, the wedding took place this past Saturday and I fear it may take me months to recover.

The whole event, from family and friends arriving a few days before, to the post wedding hangover breakfast, was wonderful, superb, happy, and all other positive adjectives that can be found in the Oxford Dictionary.

There are so many things to love about the venue of the wedding - a beach resort my family has been frequenting since the time of commute by ox wagon – I am not joking!  The vows took place under a secluded collection of Milk wood trees known as “The Cathedral” – an apt name for the occasion.  It was a sandy trip down the aisle, and the bridesmaids and I were terrified as to how our stilettos would fare, and more than that, how we would fare without landing flat on our freshly made up faces in front of a large congregation.  There was only one thing to do – have a few glasses of Champagne to ensure any wobbles would be eradicated, and post those precious bubbles, our walking abilities were sure to be dead accurate.  Mission accomplished, we all made it, the bride included, without a loss of balance, face or dignity.

The guests were varied and fascinating – we were all from all over the world, from all walks of life, young, old, happy and happier.  The M.C., my cousin, was so hysterically funny that I think I developed a wrinkle immediately, otherwise known as a laughter line.  My uncle’s speech about his daughter the bride was without question the most sincere wedding speech I have ever heard – touching, emotional, honest, and to be remembered fondly forever.  My aunt, the mother of the bride, looked like she had just stepped out of an advert in the September issue of American Vogue – I will be forever envious.

And then the party started. 

The Eastern Cape-ers are not known for holding back at a party, and this, combined with my already wild family, led to an evening of gigantic proportion.  I have always been proud of the fact that I do not drink shooters of any description, preferring instead yet another glass of wine.  However, I seemed to lose track of my shooter brake on this evening, and was last seen finishing off a bottle of coffee tequila with more enthusiasm than a teenager heading off to her first school social.  The effects on my body were both devastating and intoxicating.  The first effect is that I truly believed I was on the set of “Dancing with the Stars” – where I was the “star” and whoever dared to swing me around, well, they were definitely the non-star.  Of course, my choice of dance partners were all most certainly more talented on the floor than I was, but I would never have believed that at the time.

The bride and groom oozed happiness, and festive moods swept over them too.  It is fantastic to see a bride with such a huge zest for life, and having an evening she will never forget.  My family jumped in with both feet, and we certainly did not let each other down, at the bar, or otherwise.

The wedding cake got thrown (don’t ask), the garter and bouquet were caught (luckily not by me), and the band played on…  the farmers partied with great gusto, the drinks flowed like water, the dance floor got pounded, the laughter was catchy, the friendships were re-cemented and new friendships were made.  In terms of weddings attended, this was an excellent one.

And so the moral of this story:  Hold onto your childhood friendships and nurture them; be open to new friendships and nurture those too; enjoy your family and trust in their integrity and their love of you and vice versa; support your loved ones when they take a leap into marriage, and don’t, whatever you do, finish the coffee tequila…

Life in the very fast lane...: I finally think I have found the greatest afflicti...

Life in the very fast lane...: I finally think I have found the greatest afflicti...: I finally think I have found the greatest affliction of current times - it is not global warming, it is not terrorism, it is not drugs, or a...

I finally think I have found the greatest affliction of current times - it is not global warming, it is not terrorism, it is not drugs, or alcohol, or rock 'n roll, it is the single woman.

It is completely staggering how, if you are single, you are an automatic worldwide threat. 

There are marriages all over Southern Africa who fear us single girls; and, having quite a few friends in the same category as I am, we are a collective force to be reckoned with.

If you are single, you are definitely looking to destroy or run interference in another's marriage; if you are seen out and about with a good friend who happens to be male, you are definitely involved with him and most certainly you are spending time together way into the wee small hours of the morning.  If you are seen out on the town with women on their own, then your sexuality is suddenly questioned, but worst of all, if you are seen out in a large crowd of men and women then there is complete mayhem, and utter confusion.  And don't get me started on if you are a single mother... you must most certainly then be looking for the future father of your future children, whether you want more off-spring or not.

I am talking of course about society, and about how we are judged according to pure perception.  It seems incomprehensible that you may be friends with a couple, without wanting to create a love triangle within their lives; it seems even more impossible that you are able to have male friends without there being anything sinister going on; and heaven forbid you are discovered home on a Friday night - you must certainly have snuck in a secret lover, 007 style.  Move over Daniel Craig.

And so this has been not only my conclusion, but that of all my single friends, most of whom are single out of choice, and quite frankly prefer the simple life i.e. to not be in a relationship at present, for various reasons.  We are not ruling out relationships forever, but certainly for now.

I have decided there is only one thing to do - I must be seen out with different people all of the time, and therefore, create such massive confusion out there that no-one knows if I am single, married, divorced, engaged, or lesbian.  I think it sounds like a challenge worth pursuing, and one that I, and all my unattached friends, are looking forward to.

The moral:  If at first you don't succeed in creating an accurate picture of what is really going on in your life, don't worry, because someone out there will be making up your story for you...

Life in the very fast lane...: I recently watched the movie "The Help" which had ...

Life in the very fast lane...: I recently watched the movie "The Help" which had ...: I recently watched the movie "The Help" which had me in fits of laughter at times, and at other times, I had tears literally streaming down ...

I recently watched the movie "The Help" which had me in fits of laughter at times, and at other times, I had tears literally streaming down my face at the raw emotion of it.

I was horrified in so many ways at how the helpers were treated by their employers.  My heart almost broke when a little girl cried her eyes out when her nanny left her parent's employment, forever.  It was a scene that was just too close to home.

My family has had our helper for more than twenty years now.  When I had my baby, six and half years ago now, Rosie became my daughter's nanny.  My daughter has always known Rosie as someone who is always around, a constant companion, loving, giving, and with an acute sense of humour.

Rosie, over time, has progressed in my life to that of close friend and confidante.  She knows all the ins and outs of my life; knows my friends, and comes on holiday with me and my daughter.  Rosie has more friends at the family beach resort we love than I do, and when we are there, her social life is far more prolific than mine is.

Watching the movie got me to thinking about how different my life would be if she were not around.  Rosie always loves my new boyfriends (don't get me wrong, this hasn't happened for QUITE SOME TIME), and calls whoever it may be "a good man" when they first arrive on the scene, and once they leave, of their own accord or by mutual consent, or due to a decision I have made, then suddenly the sentence is different - "oh, the men, they are ALL the same!"  Of course, at this stage of the courtship, I can only agree.

Rosie has a collection of wigs that would put Marilyn Monroe and Dolly Parton to shame.  She is always brilliantly turned out, with a huge smile on her face and a story of sorts to tell. 

In this changing and fast-paced world, it does seem so important to have that one constant in one's life.  A non-judgemental person within your home, who just helps, chats, uplifts, and most importantly believes in you.

Don't get me wrong, we have had one fight, but Rosie's response to me was so unexpected, I have never fought with her again.  The details of the argument are too boring to repeat, but, I was in the wrong, however, in the throes of my tantrum, she just looked at me and said very calmly "madam, you are CRAZY!"  I started to laugh so hard, I forgave Rosie instantly, and the matter was behind us, forever.

And so, the moral:  Be thankful for those angels in our homes who are friends, confidantes, who take care of our children, who are a constant support - both physically and from a friendship perspective.  Post seeing that movie, I will never take Rosie for granted again, and I hope above all, that I will never give her cause to call me crazy, ever again.

Life in the very fast lane...: As most “wannabe” writers will find, they need to ...

Life in the very fast lane...: As most “wannabe” writers will find, they need to ...: As most “wannabe” writers will find, they need to “read and review” their handy work from time to time.   I re-read my latest blogs and al...

As most “wannabe” writers will find, they need to “read and review” their handy work from time to time.  I re-read my latest blogs and although they are all truly authentic, and from the heart, they are all jolly serious.  The truth be told, in the words of one of my favourite authors, Elizabeth Lessor, my soul has been “broken open” by pain in recent times, and whilst this is part of life (let’s face it, at one time or another, we have ALL had our hearts broken by various events and circumstances), it has also been a huge learning curve for me, as pain often is, and the growth has been staggering, and mainly, in hindsight, positive.

So, enough of that – I tried, “it” failed, I need to move on, and move away from the pain.

And now on to the still authentic, but far more humorous… my cousin’s bachelorette this last weekend in the Eastern Cape.

To paint the picture – eleven young, nubile, very pretty girls out for a party, and then there was me.  The oldest by more than a decade, it was my task to take care of this lot, and let me tell you, this was not a very easy job at all.  In fact, there were times I envied Obama, as his job at the moment, including his running for the presidency, is just dead easy compared to what my task at hand was.

We had dressed up my cousin in a bridesmaid dress of a very good friend of ours, whose wedding was in the ‘80’s.  There were spills and frills, and a list of “to do’s” which included proposing to two strangers (not necessarily at the same time), getting the phone number of a married man (which happened, in front of his very understanding wife – he was also about 101, so was very excited), having her wedding song played by a DJ still to be found, getting a stranger to take off his shirt and flex his muscles… and on we go.

We were VERY responsible and got a party bus, which was fabulous, except for the poor bus driver.  Within a minute, he had been proposed to, and asked to take off his shirt and flex his muscles.  He declined.  We were horrified.

My cousin eventually found an unsuspecting chap to remove his shirt, and I have to admit that this was the most focused I had seen the group of girls for the entire evening.  The same said chap was asked “what part of Ireland are you from?” and his reply “the Free State”.  Enough said.  Paddy the Irishman was sitting with a chap who told me he was an artist, and when I enquired as to what he did in the art line, he told me he designed stained glass windows.  I tried to move on quickly, but not before he attempted to ask me out on a date.  I think not.

Things got more and more eventful as the night wore on, and performing the head count as we moved from bar to bar became more and more difficult for me as the wine took hold of my counting abilities.  Eleven is a very large number after all, and involves more than two hands.  At one stage, I was three chicks down, and a wave of panic hit me.  I have no idea why I was worried though, as there they were, in one of the main roads of Port Alfred, my cousin, the bride, inside a shopping trolley, being pushed by two of the nubiles, while the local police man drove slowly by… needless to say, we did have a run-in with the same said police man a little later in the evening, but that is another story.

Apart from all the fun, and the reminders of how I used to party in my twenties, I also learnt a new term, called a “T.C.” – a “technical chunder”.  Whilst I am very proud to admit I did not partake of this, those that did felt a whole lot better on Sunday morning than I did, so I feel there may be something in this T.C. thing.  I feel, however, that the less I say about this party term, perhaps the better.

And to end, we need a moral of the story:  whether you are young, or tapping on the door that is 40 like I am, it is possible to let one’s hair down, have good, clean fun, see a few clenched muscles and the odd chest hair, and come home in one piece, via the shopping trolley.  I do have to admit though, that if that was the practice run for the wedding, we are all in for a large ride in six weeks’ time… watch the local newspaper headlines for details.

Life in the very fast lane...: While I am at a stage in my life when I am looking...

Life in the very fast lane...: While I am at a stage in my life when I am looking...: While I am at a stage in my life when I am looking at the “why” and the “how” of events that take place, the past week has been nothing s...

While I am at a stage in my life when I am looking at the “why” and the “how” of events that take place, the past week has been nothing short of content for this chapter.

A week ago I was dealing with an attempted armed robbery at a friend’s house, in which the domestic worker was assaulted, and fairly badly beaten, but most of all, traumatised; five days later, I was at a bachelorette party in the Eastern Cape in which I spent most of the evening doubled over I was laughing so much at what was going on around me.  Talk about a 180 degree turn.

The week has been such a reminder to me, that life is a continuous yin and yang.  There is lightness and there is darkness, there is laughter, and there is terror, there are friends, and there are foes.  Such is the nature of the life we lead today.
 
I have also been witness to the strength of an individual, the same said domestic worker, who has risen above the situation; been thankful that she was not more seriously harmed, and grateful for her job, and for her salary.  So too, have I seen the immense joy that one can have with like-minded individuals who are genuinely happy for another’s happiness and who want to “go out and celebrate” the fact that jubilation in the form of a good union of individuals is around, and soon to acuminate in a wedding.
 
When one is faced with the possibility of a fatal gun wound, you realise life is short; when one is faced with a lifetime of commitment to another person, you realise life can be long, and you need to do whatever you can to make that union as happy as possible “until death you do part”.
 
One needs to tread carefully, however, in both situations.  My view is that the lesson is a simple one:  take care of yourself and protect yourself as best you can from harm, and from strangers who are on a mission of destruction; and when the shoe is on the other foot, it is time to go out of your way to protect another from harm, and from any strangers on a mission of destruction.

The more my days progress, the more I realise that the road of life can indeed be long, make the most of the minutes and miles in which one is doubled over in laughter mode – whether you are laughing at yourself, or with someone else.

Life in the very fast lane...: There definitely seem to be times in one’s life wh...

Life in the very fast lane...: There definitely seem to be times in one’s life wh...: There definitely seem to be times in one’s life when you learn more than at other times.   It is common knowledge that my learning curve h...

There definitely seem to be times in one’s life when you learn more than at other times.  It is common knowledge that my learning curve has been at ninety degrees in the last 365 days, and this is apparently continuing for now.

At the moment my lesson is “authenticity”.  I am faced almost daily with either people or circumstances in which I am forced to question authenticity.  I recall reading years ago about people who come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime.  I am fortunate to be on exceptional terms with my family members, so they go into the lifetime pot, whether they like it or not.  I am also in a fortunate position with a handful of long term close and very dear friends, so they too go into the lifetime category.  And then there are those who are part of a reason, and mostly, I understand the “why” either at the time, or if not, certainly afterwards (most of these are men I have dated – and probably their lives will never be the same again!!), and then… the clanger… the season.

One wonders why it is that we are “sent” people to feature in our lives, who are there for a period of time, and who you then choose to move on from once their true colours are either revealed, or yours are, and they don’t like what they find.  It is a two way highway for sure.

These individuals come into your sphere, become part of it, and then… they aren’t.  What I am finding is that I am becoming choosy.  Whether it is as a result of age, and therefore the ability to discern between those who have your best interests at heart, and those who don’t; or, it is just as a result of the “universe” sending you people who are not authentic, to test your ability to filter the good from the not so good.  If it is the latter, it does feel rather like being hit by a wet newspaper.
One must say however, that just because one chooses not to continue a friendship with someone who one feels is not authentic, does not mean that this person is not authentic to someone different, it just means they are not authentic in your life.  And that is perfectly okay.

And so, rather like a legavaan/rock monitor on the side of the road, that sheds its skin, so am I going through a process of “shedding”.  I am the first to acknowledge that I am being particularly particular at present, and I think that understandable in terms of a year of loss and now, a period of “rebuild”; however, I am also, for arguably the first time in my entire existence, being authentic to myself.  If I know, or discover, that someone does not absolutely have my very best interests at heart, then, with grace, it is time to move away.  No fights, no harsh words, dignity intact, but, to protect myself, a slow and steady move away, to what I know will be whiter waves and greener pastures.

The lesson therefore is an easy one:  value oneself, above all, and no matter how heart-wrenching it may be, remain true to yourself, and sieve out the sand from the gold.  Life just seems way too long to have anyone around who does not value you, appreciate you, and who wants only the very best for you.

Okay universe, lesson learnt.

Life in the very fast lane...: I love the adage “healthybody, healthy mind”. I h...

Life in the very fast lane...: I love the adage “healthybody, healthy mind”.  I h...: I love the adage “healthy body, healthy mind”.   I have spent a lot of time and energy in the last three months getting to a point of “he...

I love the adage “healthy body, healthy mind”.  I have spent a lot of time and energy in the last three months getting to a point of “healthy mind” after my latest life changing experience, so the mind is there… but the body… not so much!

According to Kate Moss, "nothing tastes as good as skinny feels". I think it is arguably the best quote I have ever heard.  At the moment, I find myself repeating it in my head, like my own personal mantra, at least one hundred times a day.

I am afraid the return to home cooking in Johannesburg has been detrimental to my waistline - or should I say - where there was once a waistline, there is now just, what they call a “muffin top”.

This is NOT a good look for someone newly single.

I am approaching the fabulous 40’s at a very fast rate, and while I can try and justify the “Botticelli body” in my mind, the reality is that the jeans are currently rather tight, and actually, it looks like I have jumped off the Empire State Building to get into them.  All this has crept up on me, but two weeks ago, I decided that enough was enough, and it was time to reel myself in.

And so, “diet 101” has been going on for eight long days now.  No carbs, no eating in between meals, not too much wine (this is the hardest part by a long way), not too much of anything really other than a lot of healthy food and positive affirmations on how I will look and how it will make me feel.

I traded in wine for water and bread for lettuce.  I think my body went into massive shock for the first seventy two hours, and it is still not completely sure whether to relax or not.  The answer is sadly, not.

Whilst I don’t have a huge fortune to lose, it is the difference between Botticelli and Heidi Klum, and potentially the difference between being out on the town on a Friday night, or staying in watching my phone for activity with as much energy as I spend on watching Downton Abbey every Sunday evening. 

Personally, the former option is more appealing.

And so it is back to the life of the salad.  I never knew until last week just how many different varieties of salad there are in this world, and I have arguably tried all of them of late.  I pretend I am űber excited to see that can of tuna and that tub of fat free cottage cheese, but the reality is that a bottle of wine, a fresh baguette and a hunk of brie would suit me far better.

I have decided to stay indoors socially until “diet 101” is complete.  Once the goal has been met, I plan to re-emerge with style, grace, and in my skinny jeans, and hope that most people almost faint from disbelief at just how slim I have become.

Boring?  Yes.  Worth it?  Absolutely.

Life in the very fast lane...: This morning it was “Mum’s muffin morning” at my d...

Life in the very fast lane...: This morning it was “Mum’s muffin morning” at my d...: This morning it was “Mum’s muffin morning” at my daughter’s school.   As a mother, ask me to do a puzzle, no problem, hide-and-seek, oka...

This morning it was “Mum’s muffin morning” at my daughter’s school.  As a mother, ask me to do a puzzle, no problem, hide-and-seek, okay, but bake… well, the involvement of anything that includes eggs, sugar and in particular, flour, turns my blood stone cold.  However, I am a mother, and as such, I have responsibilities, which every now and then include looking very enthusiastic about muffins.

The hour passed fairly quickly, and I survived it without looking at my watch once (this was hard for me, but I managed).  My daughter was delighted I was there, and that made me feel that today, I have done something good in the world.

But it got me to thinking about being needed.  I started work this week, and I am loving it.  You never appreciate how wonderful work is until you don’t have it and you would like it.  On both the motherhood front, and the work front, this week, I was needed and wanted.  For the first time in approximately 289 days, I have used my brain avidly on the work front; and for the first time in thirty nine and a half years, I used my creativity to make muffins.  I have to say, work is much easier for me than baking.  There are many people who I fear may attest to this.

I have come to the conclusion that not feeling needed is actually catastrophic to humans.  What is the point of getting up in the morning if no-one needs you or notices you are not there?  This is what leads to depression, binge eating or drinking (no comment), and too many hours of watching The Bold and the Beautiful and wishing you were Brook, with or without Ridge.

So this week, I have been so needed – on the work front, I think I have made a difference to someone, and that fills me with glee, and on the personal front, I know that this morning made a difference to my one and only child, and isn’t that a fabulous thing?

I feel that by starting in small ways – a part-time job and a muffin morning – you can build things up and be needed by others.  Being needed motivates one (me for sure) to be needed by more people, to widen one’s circle, to increase how much you give out, and to wake up every single morning knowing that there are many individuals out there waiting for you, needing you, and appreciating whatever it is you are able to give them that day – whether it is time, brain power, or simply, your presence in their lives.

Happy Friday everyone.  Enjoy every nano-second.

Life in the very fast lane...: I wasn’t a particularly academic student at school...

Life in the very fast lane...: I wasn’t a particularly academic student at school...: I wasn’t a particularly academic student at school, but one of the (very few) things I do remember, is reading our set work in English, ...

I wasn’t a particularly academic student at school, but one of the (very few) things I do remember, is reading our set work in English, Richard the Third, by Shakespeare, and I remember Richard’s famous line “now is the winter of our discontent”.  Well, I have to say, that winter 2012 has been my personal winter of severe discontent. 

However, in life, which is a great relief, things change and turn – like the seasons.  This morning, I saw the first signs of blossom on our apricot trees – there are no words to explain my excitement at this sighting.  You would have thought someone had just walked in and handed me a cheque for R10 million, or, that a delicious man had just walked in and asked me out on a date – both of these scenarios are pretty unlikely at the moment.

But back to the seasons – spring has almost sprung, and I am hoping that this means that things are changing, that there is new life, new growth, renewal, and most of all new life opportunities.

When I look back on winter 2012, I do think my discontent hit an all-time high one evening recently when I was sitting down and “budgeting”.  This is something I am not fond of, but have had to become accustomed to until I claw my way back to financial abundance.  I realized that there was more output than input, and I realized that I was indeed very stressed.

I thought of a quick solution – go to Woolies and buy a bottle of their “house wine”.  It seemed like my best laid plan.  So off I went, only to discover that the notes in my wallet would only allow for a (small) box of Longmarket Sauvignon Blanc, and the notes did not extend to a full bottle.  Now I was in a dilemma.  I have to admit, I have always looked down my powdered nose at boxes of wine – sayings like “I would never dream of drinking that!” or when I go to a restaurant, and ask for a glass of wine, and ask what wine it is, if the answer is “I am not sure, it is out of the box at the front desk” I look horrified and change my order to a gin and tonic immediately!  And so here I was – do I walk away, go home empty handed with no chance of that precious glass, or do I wind my non-wrinkled neck in, buy the box and celebrate the day?  I have to say, in terms of “the money or the box”, the box won.  Hands down.

That box has done me very well, I have to say, and coupled with a lot of ice and a dash of soda, it is not too bad at all, and does get better as it matures through the evening. 

Today, I had two startling realisations, both of them very good indeed.  Firstly, spring is on its way, and no-one is more delighted than I am, and secondly, after starting a very lovely part-time job yesterday, I realized that for the first time in one year, yesterday, my financial input was greater than my output instead of the other way around.  This is a fabulous feeling, and so, I have decided a further two things – firstly I will hold onto that box of wine to always remind me of those days and how far I have come and, secondly, tonight, I am off to the bottle store to buy a BOTTLE of wine!

Life in the very fast lane...: I am sure many of us have been glued to the Olympi...

Life in the very fast lane...: I am sure many of us have been glued to the Olympi...: I am sure many of us have been glued to the Olympics over the past few weeks.   What I have found so staggering, above all else, is the at...

I am sure many of us have been glued to the Olympics over the past few weeks.  What I have found so staggering, above all else, is the attitude of the medal winners.  When they have been interviewed post their win, they have all had a common link in their response.   When asked what the secret has been of their success, they have ALL replied, “I knew I could do it, I believed in myself, and I did it”.

So much of life is about apparently about attitude.  In the past year, I have become nothing short of a self-help encyclopedia.  I have a list of self-help books in my possession, I have a self-help CD I listen to in my car, and I walk around like a resident Deepak Chopra turning all “poverty thinking” into “prosperity thinking”.  All this being said, I am currently living at home (again), I am avidly re-networking and building up my business (again), I am very single and not accepting any date invitations (this is my line and I am sticking to it, the fact that are no invitations to turn down is of course irrelevant), and I spend my time working out how many days I have left to support my budget for the month.  So in essence, in the last year at least, I have gone shooting in one direction – reverse, instead of first, second, third, fourth or fifth gear FORWARD.

So how did this happen?  How did Ms. Positivity land up at the bottom of the proverbial barrel?  If it is “all about attitude” how did I land up back on my mum’s couch – not unlike evenings out at university when I used to come home and opt for the couch, as my bedroom, just twenty five meters away, was just too far to walk?

Let’s look at the positive side of things – from where I am now, the ONLY WAY IS UP!!

I have read, in one of my books, that most millionaires make money, then lose it, then make it again.  It is all because they think wealth, then they worry about losing everything, so they do, and then they think about making it all again, so they do that too.  This cycle has been known to repeat itself over and over again in just one individual.  I am not happy about this fact.

I am prepared to accept that I have made some astonishing mistakes; I am prepared to accept that I am taking steps to rectify these mistakes, and that it will take time to get back to my former glory (for want of a better saying, of course), but I am absolutely not prepared to accept that I may find myself back on the couch in eleven years from now (at age FIFTY, and hopefully fabulous).  If I make the same mistakes again, I am afraid I will have to accept that my intellect must be similar to that of a gold fish.

So now I have a challenge ahead of me.  How do I ensure I don’t go through this tough life lesson again?  It must be about attitude, naturally.  In the future, if I think I am going to temporarily shut down my business and all will be fine, it won’t be, this is a bad idea; in the future, if I attempt to rent out or sell the house I live in and think this is a good idea, it won’t be – another bad idea; and if in the future, I travel half way across this country, or any other country in fact in the vain pursuit of happiness, again, this is not a clever idea. 

Through all the hardships I have endured in the last year, and there are many, the one thing I have learnt from both the self-help network I have running through my head, as well as raw experience gained, is that the only person who can make me happy, is me; the only person who can make me rich, is me (I know this for a fact as I do not have any multi-billionaires running around waiting to throw me money once they have moved on to greener pastures), and the only person who needs to learn the lessons from these hard knocks, is ME.

And so I leave you with this thought:  In eleven years from now, when I am fifty (and fabulous?), will I be back on the couch reading about how to “think and grow rich”, or will I be choosing which couch I want to buy for my beach house in Martha’s Vineyard from the brand new Ralph Lauren catalogue?  Let’s hope the lesson has been learnt, and the latter is true…

Life in the very fast lane...: This week I was reminded of a wonderful Dutch sayi...

Life in the very fast lane...: This week I was reminded of a wonderful Dutch sayi...: This week I was reminded of a wonderful Dutch saying my God-father taught me, which is “the tallest trees catch the most wind”.   My God-f...

This week I was reminded of a wonderful Dutch saying my God-father taught me, which is “the tallest trees catch the most wind”.  My God-father is also my uncle and one of my most favourite, favourite people in the world.  He is also jolly clever and valued for his business brain.  As a result of this cleverness, he was working on a project in Holland years ago, and we spent a weekend together there, with my aunt too.  I will somehow never forget this particular conversation, and this week, I was happy about that.

The three of us were sitting on a canal boat drinking tea in Delft, Holland at the height of summer.  My uncle, Dominic, and I were chatting about business matters (one of the things I love to talk about – pretending of course that I know what it is I am talking about), and I was telling him how much criticism a high profile businessman was receiving at the time in Johannesburg, and how I didn’t understand it.  Although my uncle has lived outside of Africa for decades, he knew this chap and was listening with interest as I was defending an individual who I felt was being unfairly burnt at the business stake.  He said very casually, “well my darling, there is a saying here in Holland that is ‘The tallest trees catch the most wind’ and that is what is happening here”.  I asked him to explain to me what he meant, and he did.  Dominic said, quite simply, that when an individual achieves great things, makes a difference or indeed, “stands out and above” the rest, like the proverbial tallest tree, they “catch the most wind” i.e. they are the most challenged, the most criticized, the most judged.  He agreed with me that it is not fair, but he told me that whether I like it or not, it is human nature.

We hear that people criticise us to bring us down, or judge us because of their own “stuff” and I guess this was true of this individual years ago, and at some time in all of our lives, it will be true for us too.  We will be knocked down, we will be caught by the wind that is criticism, and unkindness, and disapproval. 

What was also explained to me that day is that it takes a lot for those tall trees to be uprooted.  They may sway and twist in the wind, but they remain rooted where they are and remain true to their nature – their leaves fall when they are supposed to and new growth arrives on time too – wind or not. 

Dominic said to me that even when the time comes when I catch the winds of criticism, no matter what happens, I must remain rooted, I must remain true to myself and realise a wonderful thing has happened, because “only the tallest trees catch the most wind”.

Life in the very fast lane...: My friends always laugh with (or at) me when telli...

Life in the very fast lane...: My friends always laugh with (or at) me when telli...: My friends always laugh with (or at) me when telling me how quickly my life changes.   Events occur in my life with such rapidity; I put t...

My friends always laugh with (or at) me when telling me how quickly my life changes.  Events occur in my life with such rapidity; I put the speed of light to shame.

And so it seems this is the case with the amount and frequency of relationship advice I seem to have received recently.  I don’t mind receiving the advice at all – heaven knows I clearly need it – but it is the origin of the advice that amuses me the most.

First of all we had Lenny the gate man, who not only asked me out on a date, but gave me huge pointers here and there, most of which, I have to admit were sound.  Yesterday I summoned my old faithful TV repair man to come and help at home for a big problem I currently have:  a willful six year old and an even more willful thirty nine year old who oddly enough don’t like watching the same television channel at “TV time” – from five to seven every evening.  I am so over Hannah Montana it is scary, even though I love her song “The Climb”, but even more of a problem is that my six year old has absolutely NO patience for my favourite soapy The Bold and the Beautiful and she is tired of seeing who Ridge will marry next – Taylor or Brooke – the same love triangle that has been going on since the very early 80’s.  To me, this is nothing short of fascinating, but not to my daughter.  Clearly two televisions are needed.

Anyhow, I digress.

Along comes Steve, the ever faithful TV man.  Of course I get the questions – “what the hell happened down there?” followed by a statement that I wasn’t sure was a compliment – “but HELL, you are such a BELTER, he was mad to let you go!”  Belter???  I have Googled this and I keep getting told to refine my search criteria.

The TV man did manage to help me in one way, with the actual TV issue I have – this is extremely good news; he also sat down with me over some tea (I am clearly kind to men in the trade and feel obliged to serve them tea) and said quite calmly, “Philippa, it is time to get back on the bike – you need to start dating again”.  My response “Steve I can’t, I am not ready”.  Steve’s response, very directly, “bloody nonsense, of course you are ready”.

I sent Steve on his way, but did spend the day thinking about what he had said.  Am I ready?  What am I afraid of?  In terms of getting “back on the bike” – it just doesn’t seem that easy to me – not only do I now know that a fall off the bike is not only likely, but most likely inevitable; I am also all too familiar with the bruises, scrapes and cuts that come with that fall, and I am just not sure I feel like that.

But the cherry on top was still to be had yesterday.  Returning from a dinner with my favourite taxi driver, Minute (yes, that is his name), I got the twenty questions again, “so Philly, no boyfriend yet?”  My reply, “no, Minute, no boyfriend yet”.  “But why not?” Minute asked.  “Because I am scared Minute”.  Minute then launched into a statement that I found profoundly amusing – “so you want to spend the rest of your life alone, like a dog?”  Suddenly this struck home – like a dog???  I am not sure that dogs are to be classified as beasts that are alone, but it made me somehow feel that perhaps being compared to a dog is not an analogy I am altogether happy with.

And so the moral of the story:  If one chooses to listen to men in the trade, most of which have known me well for a long time, and whom I am inherently honest with – does one follow their advice?  Is it finally time to get onto the bike and out of the kennel?

My friends always laugh with (or at) me when telling me how quickly my life changes.  Events occur in my life with such rapidity; I put the speed of light to shame.

And so it seems this is the case with the amount and frequency of relationship advice I seem to have received recently.  I don’t mind receiving the advice at all – heaven knows I clearly need it – but it is the origin of the advice that amuses me the most.

First of all we had Lenny the gate man, who not only asked me out on a date, but gave me huge pointers here and there, most of which, I have to admit were sound.  Yesterday I summoned my old faithful TV repair man to come and help at home for a big problem I currently have:  a willful six year old and an even more willful thirty nine year old who oddly enough don’t like watching the same television channel at “TV time” – from five to seven every evening.  I am so over Hannah Montana it is scary, even though I love her song “The Climb”, but even more of a problem is that my six year old has absolutely NO patience for my favourite soapy The Bold and the Beautiful and she is tired of seeing who Ridge will marry next – Taylor or Brooke – the same love triangle that has been going on since the very early 80’s.  To me, this is nothing short of fascinating, but not to my daughter.  Clearly two televisions are needed.

Anyhow, I digress.

Along comes Steve, the ever faithful TV man.  Of course I get the questions – “what the hell happened down there?” followed by a statement that I wasn’t sure was a compliment – “but HELL, you are such a BELTER, he was mad to let you go!”  Belter???  I have Googled this and I keep getting told to refine my search criteria.

The TV man did manage to help me in one way, with the actual TV issue I have – this is extremely good news; he also sat down with me over some tea (I am clearly kind to men in the trade and feel obliged to serve them tea) and said quite calmly, “Philippa, it is time to get back on the bike – you need to start dating again”.  My response “Steve I can’t, I am not ready”.  Steve’s response, very directly, “bloody nonsense, of course you are ready”.

I sent Steve on his way, but did spend the day thinking about what he had said.  Am I ready?  What am I afraid of?  In terms of getting “back on the bike” – it just doesn’t seem that easy to me – not only do I now know that a fall off the bike is not only likely, but most likely inevitable; I am also all too familiar with the bruises, scrapes and cuts that come with that fall, and I am just not sure I feel like that.

But the cherry on top was still to be had yesterday.  Returning from a dinner with my favourite taxi driver, Minute (yes, that is his name), I got the twenty questions again, “so Philly, no boyfriend yet?”  My reply, “no, Minute, no boyfriend yet”.  “But why not?” Minute asked.  “Because I am scared Minute”.  Minute then launched into a statement that I found profoundly amusing – “so you want to spend the rest of your life alone, like a dog?”  Suddenly this struck home – like a dog???  I am not sure that dogs are to be classified as beasts that are alone, but it made me somehow feel that perhaps being compared to a dog is not an analogy I am altogether happy with.

And so the moral of the story:  If one chooses to listen to men in the trade, most of which have known me well for a long time, and whom I am inherently honest with – does one follow their advice?  Is it finally time to get onto the bike and out of the kennel?

Life in the very fast lane...: When my mum turned fifty, some years ago now, I ma...

Life in the very fast lane...: When my mum turned fifty, some years ago now, I ma...: When my mum turned fifty, some years ago now, I made her birthday speech for her.   Being chosen to stand up and speak on my mum’s behalf ...

When my mum turned fifty, some years ago now, I made her birthday speech for her.  Being chosen to stand up and speak on my mum’s behalf was not something to be flattered by, it was really because I am an only child, my parents are divorced, and there was no one else to do it!  My closing quote was - “happiness is not having what you want, but wanting what you have.”  It is still my most favourite quote.

The past week has been nothing short of extraordinary in terms of news I have heard and events that have occurred.  There have been incidents of external violence and shock news of illness of one of my dearest girlfriends, who will be absolutely fine, but is going through hell in a hospital in Natal and becoming understandably grumpier by the minute.  This girlfriend is undoubtedly THE most positive person I have ever met, and the fact that she has had transfusions and tests leaves me bewildered, almost as much as it does her.  I have been shocked by potential rumours I have heard about myself, which, although it made me absolutely livid at the time, made me wake up and realise that not everyone is always on your side, not everyone will always like you, and above all, one needs to protect oneself at times from the toxicity of some individuals.

In a roundabout way, the above paragraphs bring me to a realization we all too often say, but seldom put into finite practice: live each day as though it were your last.

In my youth I lived every day as though it were my last day ever to exist on this planet.  How my parents did not land up in a mental institution with a case of severe nervous tension, I will never know.  When I lived overseas, the best days of my life, I lived as if I had nine lives and lived with a belief that I could and would outwit the devil.  My cousin and I were once invited to a James Bond party in PARIS one weekend, and we decided to go.  We had very little money, but what we did have we spent on the train to Gare du Nord and a small hotel – talk about priorities.  There was not much money for food or drinks, so we saved our pennies for the cheapest food we could find – McDonald’s, and with the remaining disposable income, we bought French Champagne.  Again, talk about priorities!

Shortness of money for food did not perturb us in the least - we had a great time, and that James Bond party was a party I will forever remember.  My cousin was Pussy Galore and I was Money Penny – now work that one out!

Last Saturday I had lunch with a wonderful friend of mine who told me I must attend his house warming party in September – in Paris!  Coming back from my sabbatical in Frontier Country, at the moment a trip to Paris would have to be made via one very fast magic carpet, but it does make one realise that there is a whole big wide world out there, and that opportunities, when presented, should often be taken.  A great pity I guess that I am not dating an international airline pilot.

The past week has brought to the forefront of my mind that life is fragile and can be easily broken; that none of us know what, or who, is around the next corner – whoever it is may be a friend, but could also be a foe.  There is a wonderful saying by John Varty, whom I admire greatly in so many ways, but that is a story for another day.  He says, quite simply, “tread lightly on the earth” – and he is completely right.

And so to end with the lesson for this chapter:  Go to the James Bond party; save on food in order to go big on French Champagne; try hard not to bad mouth others as you know how much it hurts when you hear things about yourself that are unkind and untrue; appreciate all you are able to, and be happy to want all it is that you have, even if that is not necessarily having all it is that you want.

Life in the very fast lane...: There are so many things I love about Johannesburg...

Life in the very fast lane...: There are so many things I love about Johannesburg...: There are so many things I love about Johannesburg – the New York City of Southern Africa.   I have spent the last eight and half weeks “r...

There are so many things I love about Johannesburg – the New York City of Southern Africa.  I have spent the last eight and half weeks “re-establishing” myself – my friendships, my family connections, and very importantly, my relationships with the shopping malls, restaurants and cocktail bars I lost touch with whilst away from “the Highveld”.

I thought I had truly missed the restaurants and bars, but it seems they have perhaps missed me more than I had thought.  Whilst walking through a shopping center last week, past what is still one of my favourite bars, one of the waiters popped out and said loudly – “oh hi, you are back!”  I was beyond flattered at his unbelievably good memory – astounding.  Later the same day, I met some girlfriends for dinner at what used to be my favourite restaurant, and still is, and the manager came out and said hello like my long lost friend.  Less than 48 hours later, I was out for a working lunch and two waiters came up to the table to say hello.  Now the question is – are these people all extraordinarily friendly, or, am I a too familiar face to them?  I fear the latter may be true.

At what point do you decide to venture out of your comfort zone of restaurants and bars, and in to “unknown territory” and possible enemy fire and an unknown menu?  Is it a good thing you are recognized and greeted in a licensed establishment, or is it a sign that you need to spend more time at home watching Desperate Housewives?  Being in the hospitality industry myself, surely it is a very good thing to show my support of the hospitality establishments that exist out there that I love so much – surely this is what one could term “good hospitality karma”?

As if that was not enough – I frequent a delightful Café in a delightful center – I have my favourite table (“the star table” – what else? Nothing like delusions of grandeur) and I have my favourite meal.  After what was a tough day in the office, I went to the Café to reward myself with my favourite favourite.  I sat down and in front of me arrived my freshly squeezed orange juice (my attempt at fruit consumption other than grapes in wine) and my best – chicken salad with Parmesan slices.  I looked at the waitress in astonishment and said “how did you guess?” – her reply – “Philippa, you never have anything else” – wow, she even knew my NAME!!  I was delighted!

The question of course, remains – given new beginnings and putting the past to rest – is now a good time to break free of old moulds, to try out new menus and establishments, or, is it best to remain where you feel comforted, where you are known on some level, where you have your favourite table, meal, drink of choice, and where there is a familiar face who greets you by name?  In this ridiculously fast-paced world, should we not extend our friendships to those who dote on us with frequency – in restaurants, bars and similar establishments?  Surely the circle of camaraderie can be widened to include these special individuals who take care of us in their own way?

My view, after much thought on the subject, is a simple one.  There should be no limit to the number of good people one allows into one’s life; so for now, and into the foreseeable future, I will continue to enjoy my favourite table, my favourite fruit juice, and my most favourite salad.

Life in the very fast lane...: It really is funny how children only ever seem to ...

Life in the very fast lane...: It really is funny how children only ever seem to ...: It really is funny how children only ever seem to get ill on a Friday evening, cars only ever break down in the middle lane, and all thing...

It really is funny how children only ever seem to get ill on a Friday evening, cars only ever break down in the middle lane, and all things electrical seem to wait until it is the dead of night to fail and falter.

Our ever necessary electric gate developed a life of its own at exactly midnight last night, and opened of its own accord.  It then closed half way across the driveway, and stopped, dead in its tracks.  For some reason (rather lucky in this instance) I woke up to the sound of the gate, and realized there was something rotten in the suburb of Kensington “B”.  Deciding to take matters into my own hands, I headed out into what felt like the Arctic, clothed in what must have looked extremely interesting – sheep skin slippers that are too big for me; purple leggings, and my favourite grey New York Yankees t-shirt (is my fashion victim sleeping attire the real reason I am single???).  My now long hair looked like a block of two minute noodles, post the two minutes.  And there it was, a gate half open, and a property asking to be entered.  Understanding that it would be unlikely I was able to fix this in the dead of night (or ever), I put the gate on its manual setting, closed it safely, padlocked it, and returned to my warm as melting butter bed.

This morning (rather early) I called my most favourite Mr. Fixit, Lenny, who speaks perfect gate motor language.  He is as reliable as one would wish ones boyfriend to be.  He says he will be at your home at a certain time, and hey presto, he ACTUALLY ARRIVES AT THAT TIME, and all this before 8a.m.!  I hadn’t seen him since my return from Frontier Country, so decided to take a few minutes out of my day and find out what was happening in his life. 

Our catch up chat turned into one of the most fascinating lessons on life, love and not much else that I think I have ever had.  Of course, he wanted to know what had happened in my life, which I skirted around, but said that I was happy to be back in Johannesburg, and was enjoying my family and my friends, and all things social.  Naturally, the conversation progressed onto the subject which at the moment is like the elephant in the room for me… marriage.  Lenny proudly proclaimed, “You know, I have been married in my life for twenty two years!”  My reply - “wow Lenny, but that is good!”, and his reply “yes, four marriages, four divorces – totaling twenty two years!” I could not contain myself.  I laughed to the pit of my stomach, but Lenny was most perplexed – why on earth was I laughing?  I apologised, and told him that I am clearly challenged in the matter of all things grey that sit between the ears, and Lenny seemed to unwind a bit.  The conversation went on to cover how very happy he is now with his live-in girlfriend, and how “all married men” (apparently) want to leave home at least once a week, but then they realise that the grass is not really greener in the other pasture, and if they leave they would have no one to cook for them, and what about the children, and who will put the beers in the fridge?  I explained that this was only outlining to me why I am, in fact, not married. 

Thinking that would be the end of it, Lenny then stated, quite unashamedly, that he would definitely have dated me, but he thinks that I would not want to date a gate repair man.  He looked at me expectantly, clearly waiting for me to say “no Lenny, of course, I would love to date you, even though you are living with your girlfriend”.  I stared at him blankly, begging the word angels to send me a line.  After a pregnant pause suitable for triplets, I replied “well Lenny, I don’t date men who are involved, sorry”.   Lenny looked at me and responded with something not even Nostradamus could have predicted – “Philippa, it’s a spider”.  I was now completely confused.  “It’s a spider luvvy, that’s what messed up your gate”.  I walked over to Lenny and the gate motherboard, and there, on the same said board, was a small spider, fried, and stuck to one of the fuses.  Clearly, in the middle of the night, the spider was looking for somewhere warm to sleep, and accidently stumbled across the fuse box and electrocuted itself.  In so doing, he (or she) also electrocuted our gate.

Trying to change the subject, I said to Lenny that I am quite sure that the spider had a very quick and painless death.  Again, that perplexed look.  Oh dear.

The lesson:  In life, there is good news, and there is not such good news.  In the case of our gate, Lenny, and the spider – the spider had a bad night, Lenny was turned down by a middle aged pseudo spinster (me, in case you are wondering), and I have so far had a great very early morning – not only did I get the gate fixed in record time, but I also learnt that should I ever get truly depressed and think that no one cares if I were to live or die, somewhere, there is a gate man who thinks I am not too terrible!