tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88337806848064659132024-03-05T18:04:51.824+02:00ohfortheloveofblog- blog like nobody's reading -Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09678300547613778858noreply@blogger.comBlogger799125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8833780684806465913.post-71481252139162361962023-08-30T15:20:00.002+02:002023-08-30T15:20:37.151+02:00you wouldn't believe me if I told you...The radical change of pace which this surgery recovery month has afforded me has finally given me time to mull.<div><br /><div>I've long thought, and been told, that I should write down some of the weird (truly fukken weird) things I've experienced in the last 20 (TWENTY!) years of freelance events work.</div><div>Did I ever tell you about the time an actual princess grabbed my boob for example? Or when a sex worker soiled themselves in the foyer at a black tie event? Have I shared about throwing an over-flowing dustbin over the front desk of a fancy hotel in front of senior reps from the World Health Organisation? Have I told you about the time we lost a billionaire? Or about the missing elderly Mozambican man with no English as Cape Town went into lock-down for the opening of Parliament? About the time I pulled a woman from the car of her ex-husband against whom she had a restraining order who had ambushed her at a dinner in Johannesburg? </div><div>Good times...</div><div><br /></div><div>Earlier this year I worked on a huge and multi-layered event in Johannesburg for international clients. It was an amazing project, I was collaborating with my eventing soulmate, met some incredible people, huge budget, really stimulating work and holy shit, did some strange stuff go down...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Zqz4fSznXTJk1PsXDMjGcdVwKt26SBvBygulZrbofx_35IKoNQZyeMrtpxu_RMNYJyWgAAA4nAvcYqU6I5vy7IhFQqAdq7_-M71psOKO6002VTdgBd1LU66E91BjVyrPTRwwx1zJkothmbESZra0m-oxPKKRHL_7YBpFQF65En8k5G2QmvHuUkgSmbY/s924/Joburg%20Madness.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="924" data-original-width="924" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Zqz4fSznXTJk1PsXDMjGcdVwKt26SBvBygulZrbofx_35IKoNQZyeMrtpxu_RMNYJyWgAAA4nAvcYqU6I5vy7IhFQqAdq7_-M71psOKO6002VTdgBd1LU66E91BjVyrPTRwwx1zJkothmbESZra0m-oxPKKRHL_7YBpFQF65En8k5G2QmvHuUkgSmbY/w640-h640/Joburg%20Madness.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>In no particular order, and with some details changed to protect the innocent...</div><div><br /></div><div>Welcoming guests to the Closing Party at a swanky venue in the Joburg business district, and finding a baby bunny lost in the parking lot. This was a fun photo to drop on the group chat... the wabbit was set up in a side room with water and some salad from catering, later that evening the sound guy's mother came to take it home and try and find the owner...</div><div><br /></div><div>At the beginning of the week, ER at midnight (still not sure why they had us in a pediatric room?) with a virtual stranger (now good mate of course) who had her tampon string break just before boarding at her departure airport and flew halfway round the world trying to extricate the stubborn thing only to have to request assistance within a few hours of meeting me the poor woman. Luckily sisterhood holds no international boundaries.</div><div><br /></div><div>The fools in matching outfits was a good one. Believe it or not they were our professional security detail, hired to escort us to the bank to collect an inordinately large amount of cash (this was Johannesburg y'all). I was so excited about this, picturing sharp suits and dark shades and imperceptible radio comms, these two in (literal) matching plaid shirts were a huge let down. They were attempting to 'look casual' and their game plan was for us to walk through the shopping centre 'as if we were friends'.</div><div>I was frankly insulted.</div><div><br /></div><div>And then the hotel safe which was housing all that cash failed, and I had the great pleasure of watching this guy, in no protective gear, cut it open with a flame cutter in the dank underbelly of our luxury hotel, setting his own pants on fire as he did it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Just a short list of some of the unexpected highlights of a week which had us hosting 100 people over 6 or 7 venues, biking in Soweto, art walking through Maboneng, crying at Constitution Hill, and at the Apartheid Museum and at our emotional debrief after a long week of working so hard together. We hung out with celebrities and war heroes, we ate so many different kinds of local cuisine, we did theatre and art therapy and drumming and ad lib. We did this in 4 different languages and with a transport schedule like a battle plan, with too many cooks in the kitchen and the best team of foot soldiers on the ground.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was a career highlight for sure (and this even before I went to Brazil for the next one!), and some weird stuff went down, but not the weirdest I've ever experienced, and - hopefully - not the weirdest I ever will.</div></div>Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09678300547613778858noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8833780684806465913.post-73744188810616122242023-08-25T13:06:00.002+02:002023-08-25T13:06:46.469+02:00adornment<p>Oh look, another post all about me.</p><p>I had ankle surgery 3 weeks ago (yes, <a href="https://ohfortheloveofblog.blogspot.com/2019/04/easter-in-elands.html" target="_blank">again</a>, this time the other foot - what the actual....?), and the evening before I took off all my jewelry and marveled at the amount of hardware I carry around on a daily basis.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiztCJEosp6PxAOzAeqVu42ckQcmwE6u0bnckBZstZ3mZvvyC8Mi9mYgK9XShO47czpSDEK_3sVtgrCCAKEKK_SJBBiHqi8bWrgAIUFRjsI3YxCLC9qJgnLbE90SXmpLFQ6g_fQqooRnniAyI3n0TscHEp14gL18GeqhBulIJMQWTdS3BVSPmpN-zliidA/s4624/20230801_141049.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4624" data-original-width="3468" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiztCJEosp6PxAOzAeqVu42ckQcmwE6u0bnckBZstZ3mZvvyC8Mi9mYgK9XShO47czpSDEK_3sVtgrCCAKEKK_SJBBiHqi8bWrgAIUFRjsI3YxCLC9qJgnLbE90SXmpLFQ6g_fQqooRnniAyI3n0TscHEp14gL18GeqhBulIJMQWTdS3BVSPmpN-zliidA/w480-h640/20230801_141049.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bangles (all on my right arm), earrings, finger rings, toe rings.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />The toe rings I've been wearing since 1998 and in all that time they've only come off for surgeries and late pregnancies.<div>And I have one solid silver bangle I've been wearing for decades which won't come off. I left it on with instructions to cut it off me if necessary.</div><div><br /></div><div>The point is, I like to decorate myself. And in recent years that has extended to tattoos.</div><div><br /></div><div>Have I been teased about having a midlife crisis, just like if a man my age brought a vintage red convertible sports car? Yes, yes I have. </div><div>And you know what, while an overly dramatic term (a 'crisis' for gods sake), the concept is pretty sound. Yes, one hits a stage in one's life when one realises that if there are things you want to do you should actually do them now. Because yes, life is short and you never know what's around the next corner (so burn the fancy candle, use the good dishes, eat the imported chocolate etc etc), but also because the longer I stay on board this earthly ship the more I realise that what's important are very, very few things - love, family, friendship, happiness - and what's not important is really just for fun.</div><div>Painting a picture on my calf is for fun.</div><div><br /></div><div>Which leads me to my next point. </div><div><br /></div><div>I have so many marks upon this 48 year old body that I have not chosen. Scars from childhood, child birth and more recently TWO (seriously, what the actual....) ankle surgeries. Eczema, acne, weird moles, insect bites, cat claws, that one time the nail which scratched me was rusty... let's not even talk about wrinkles.</div><div>Choosing some art to live alongside these feels like quite an empowering thing to do.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTBlXR8hrZcHZEET3SsVRSiIt1NZ-zLTHwyav__67p-dA_rtNGraqyKw3FmrHaVH6hOzliFYr1-2B78o1PEFfa_lrT8wMuJUaK96bsoDoCZs5drAerJS40JqCMXBlaYdhJy_ZrnChOFYiB92jt8lM9EKxHjbs1gW6GGR7JaoxHZffgKBgsghJgsnaXp7U/s4624/20230713_161603.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4624" data-original-width="3468" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTBlXR8hrZcHZEET3SsVRSiIt1NZ-zLTHwyav__67p-dA_rtNGraqyKw3FmrHaVH6hOzliFYr1-2B78o1PEFfa_lrT8wMuJUaK96bsoDoCZs5drAerJS40JqCMXBlaYdhJy_ZrnChOFYiB92jt8lM9EKxHjbs1gW6GGR7JaoxHZffgKBgsghJgsnaXp7U/w480-h640/20230713_161603.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div>This is my modernist take on the <i><a href="https://www.google.com/search?sca_esv=559959589&rlz=1C1CHBF_enZA1034ZA1034&sxsrf=AB5stBi1v7ljg-CCdGThkR0JlrJYedAcvQ:1692960970801&q=fynbos&tbm=isch&source=lnms&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjNsaGK0_eAAxXKC-wKHfFiB1QQ0pQJegQIChAB&biw=1536&bih=739&dpr=1.25" target="_blank">fynbos</a></i> I have lived amongst my whole life. A homage in part to the delicate ink dot cartography I watched my father do by hand when I was a child. A <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=jean+miro&tbm=isch&ved=2ahUKEwixsa6T0_eAAxVKrycCHfvjCXQQ2-cCegQIABAA&oq=jean+miro&gs_lcp=CgNpbWcQAzIFCAAQgAQyBQgAEIAEMgYIABAIEB4yBAgAEB4yBggAEAUQHjIGCAAQBRAeMgYIABAFEB4yBggAEAgQHjIGCAAQCBAeMgYIABAIEB46CggAEIoFELEDEEM6BAgjECc6CAgAELEDEIMBOggIABCABBCxAzoLCAAQgAQQsQMQgwFQugdY8RJg_xVoAHAAeACAAcoDiAHyGpIBBzItMi42LjKYAQCgAQGqAQtnd3Mtd2l6LWltZ8ABAQ&sclient=img&ei=3YjoZPHONcrensEP-8enoAc&bih=739&biw=1536&rlz=1C1CHBF_enZA1034ZA1034" target="_blank">Miro</a> inspired floral bouquet with a small nod to Orla Kiely.</div><div><p>This is my leg and this is the art I have chosen to adorn it with in this, my mid life.</p></div>Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09678300547613778858noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8833780684806465913.post-42451396009144561272023-06-06T16:25:00.002+02:002023-06-06T16:25:18.904+02:00when I grow up I want to be an old woman<p>There was a woman I followed on IG for quite a long while. A white American woman about my age, she is an illustrator with a big brain and often posted really insightful things.</p><p>She had very good posts in 2020 about George Floyd and the BLM movement, about allyship. She went to the Ukrainian border when the invasion happened and worked on the ground to assist fleeing Ukrainian refugees. I have a lot of respect for her. In most things.</p><p>I also followed her for her hair journey. She had, as I have, decided to stop colouring her hair and <i>embrace the crone</i> (my phrase which I employ more often and with less humour with every passing year). She has fairly wild hair like mine, hair with a mind of its own which requires a LOT of work if one has any interest in keeping it 'presentable' and a fairly tough skin if one doesn't care for social norms of presentability.</p><p>I have spent my whole life vacillating between the two. (The caring and the not caring, the work I've never really stuck with. I just ... can't.) </p><p>Anyhoo. Emily and I were growing out years of hair colour and going grey together and feeling empowered and strong, she would post updates after hair dresser visits about <i>not</i> colouring her hair and how the grey was growing through and generally overshared in a way quite common to Americans and very gratifying to those of us more filtered but deeply curious.</p><p>And then one day, Emily appeared in a new headshot. With a bouncy head of styled curls, meticulously high-lighted and low-lighted in strands of multiple shades, woven together in a delicate and pleasing dance, and declared that she had decided to go back to colour because she 'didn't want to be seen to be <i>giving up'.</i></p><p><i>Giving. Up.</i></p><p>Well fuck you Emily.</p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjXe3bjo0-a1UZCb3aHFUcurAgOLetPSrAo7eNhohoU4OiOsFJtJDW2r1Pg7zvbdwO16oNqbh8Ixaowp40YgGFAL3TFbpElkjdyp-MtVeUulPxx7eD5sUeYl58wt6eFwRAKhly-5yk6aKsh5RRlIivUPJsH88W8-jg5PWqZemOiYuOnJ8xgaPdNqbm2" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="860" data-original-width="639" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjXe3bjo0-a1UZCb3aHFUcurAgOLetPSrAo7eNhohoU4OiOsFJtJDW2r1Pg7zvbdwO16oNqbh8Ixaowp40YgGFAL3TFbpElkjdyp-MtVeUulPxx7eD5sUeYl58wt6eFwRAKhly-5yk6aKsh5RRlIivUPJsH88W8-jg5PWqZemOiYuOnJ8xgaPdNqbm2=w475-h640" width="475" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The irony of a B&W photo does not allude me. I went looking for a picture and found this one from exactly 1 year ago - 6 June 2022.<br />That felt like a synchronicity I couldn't ignore.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br />I no longer follow Emily, but I am still enjoying going grey. And every time I find a new silvery streak I sing Michelle Shocked to myself and think maybe, just maybe, if I give it enough time, my hair will come into its own in a full head of enviable silver locks. Maybe this is the glory it's been waiting for these last 48 years...</p><p>My grey hair, and this song lyric, is my daily reminder that aging is a privilege. One not afforded to everyone as I well know.</p><p>When I grow up, I want to be an old woman.</p>Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09678300547613778858noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8833780684806465913.post-62437230230669436732023-05-15T11:30:00.004+02:002023-05-15T11:30:41.329+02:00a brazillion miles away<p> I remember a friend, back in the thick of hard lockdown, saying something like <i>I don't know when this will end, or what that will look like, but I'm pretty sure we'll come out of it running.</i></p><p>To be honest it's taken a long time for those words to ring true, but boy have they been clanging around my head these last 6 months. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9HJ8BPQ21cnJ9xWlyHdBVu6dYhgk3qavetfmthFi5qODplDxKxrBRDT-riFJ83DNQBQIgmWGRz6J20PHFkuflWzXpWgb3LBhRziY-NBBrynmfIDy22A9cNhn-LiyOjLG3wYDUiDqXekEUWyzJa1kEVM6yAy6AJg1nP8OSMKKQHTB_NCJXwD92zVgG/s1440/IMG_20230430_152435_306.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9HJ8BPQ21cnJ9xWlyHdBVu6dYhgk3qavetfmthFi5qODplDxKxrBRDT-riFJ83DNQBQIgmWGRz6J20PHFkuflWzXpWgb3LBhRziY-NBBrynmfIDy22A9cNhn-LiyOjLG3wYDUiDqXekEUWyzJa1kEVM6yAy6AJg1nP8OSMKKQHTB_NCJXwD92zVgG/w640-h640/IMG_20230430_152435_306.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>A couple of weeks back I was in Rio. Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. That's how far, and fast, I've been running.</p><p>Working with my oldest client (we've been doing projects together for 20 years!), putting together the logistics for an international meeting of climate and health justice activists.</p><p>From moments during the pandemic when I genuinely thought I'd never do events work, or travel, ever again, to an event on the other side of the world. Life is weird and unpredictable and beautiful, none of this is news and yet it catches me every time.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhmLTEuxK6wb-Yx9BExTDeHc_fP0u2t-vSXH-PN85AQ1NaioZmphSIxmc9rD4TCvU8rFnDLmHZEnN4KEjJPqGrrSvF8MFqvKErnIR32kdkwWVz_ZqfhdXona0Q-Y-EyMxy6tB-fB9xnr-1gQ9dJnWjdTGtbg263frLPHfaLRHqVYSxveQgeY6fhx2q/s1440/IMG_20230429_063037_456.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhmLTEuxK6wb-Yx9BExTDeHc_fP0u2t-vSXH-PN85AQ1NaioZmphSIxmc9rD4TCvU8rFnDLmHZEnN4KEjJPqGrrSvF8MFqvKErnIR32kdkwWVz_ZqfhdXona0Q-Y-EyMxy6tB-fB9xnr-1gQ9dJnWjdTGtbg263frLPHfaLRHqVYSxveQgeY6fhx2q/w640-h640/IMG_20230429_063037_456.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Rio was magnificent. A little grungy, grimey, crimey. A little stinky and crumbly, you had to watch your step and your back. <div>But I know these vibes right? And I know that a city like that also has layers and textures and immeasurable beauty if you know where to look for it.</div><div>People's faces, aging architectural beauties, innovation in the face of adversity and everywhere nature - holding her own and claiming her place.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5UVk-jdg1pqWy_IJtbFbVLJykbOWZ4Nf7hgBKZ7FcyplqXllXVX3mGJcy1QWUQHRUSNq2kxS71WkeMgKxYKovZYXIn4eTBwBsh7xROwC1yjJ2m9143pErxHhpGLJrrIV-0yaBAQqaGR_bpG_SLHNfpbKbTVBmIX2RXCQlHsg8IQMZ9z8PxoKWw7XT/s1800/IMG_20230422_150113_837.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5UVk-jdg1pqWy_IJtbFbVLJykbOWZ4Nf7hgBKZ7FcyplqXllXVX3mGJcy1QWUQHRUSNq2kxS71WkeMgKxYKovZYXIn4eTBwBsh7xROwC1yjJ2m9143pErxHhpGLJrrIV-0yaBAQqaGR_bpG_SLHNfpbKbTVBmIX2RXCQlHsg8IQMZ9z8PxoKWw7XT/w512-h640/IMG_20230422_150113_837.jpg" width="512" /></a></div> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgICJe6Fp8SM94h_hhTo3P38LyMNaJair3XjX7pPL2-gkYDT2b9bUqk8q8sLQ30K25wzR1m46noYFPt5pSPNKM2kcUGd72b7lAoerwBw2y0srqdzemlCCY99Pdn1IcIVzR_d9vm99YqV5jfVqCLWxSBA1OCKaoCdoQQOPpfjM4eRZ5luXKA_CGbASYp/s4624/20230421_115355.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4624" data-original-width="3468" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgICJe6Fp8SM94h_hhTo3P38LyMNaJair3XjX7pPL2-gkYDT2b9bUqk8q8sLQ30K25wzR1m46noYFPt5pSPNKM2kcUGd72b7lAoerwBw2y0srqdzemlCCY99Pdn1IcIVzR_d9vm99YqV5jfVqCLWxSBA1OCKaoCdoQQOPpfjM4eRZ5luXKA_CGbASYp/w480-h640/20230421_115355.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><p>This lushness in the city... I loved the iconic beaches of course, and the classic monadnock mountains like Sugarloaf, the islands in the bay etc ... but the narrow city streets bursting with greenery really captivated me. Tropical trees jostling with apartment blocks and claiming space on narrow sidewalks, the subtleties of the dusky, cool, quiet side streets in comparison to the bright, colourful, hot beaches and open spaces. I could have walked their shady silence for days - and I did!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwA_XY_znZoBiblSArOwssy-H-mak9jSRmuuVxnoIQ7wKBZInPoiByA4aiQAh6rRdei_NpM5-eSBoZ--qLTIFeOsgXRB5PFGETAMihgVXDM6FpiWQQvxItfUB0BP6igllF1SZ9qNwN5GjHFdhjao3_qD3TTPfM7axXbrz6nj7LQsPQc_rX6HLtt4eU/s1920/IMG_20230501_181821_303.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwA_XY_znZoBiblSArOwssy-H-mak9jSRmuuVxnoIQ7wKBZInPoiByA4aiQAh6rRdei_NpM5-eSBoZ--qLTIFeOsgXRB5PFGETAMihgVXDM6FpiWQQvxItfUB0BP6igllF1SZ9qNwN5GjHFdhjao3_qD3TTPfM7axXbrz6nj7LQsPQc_rX6HLtt4eU/w360-h640/IMG_20230501_181821_303.jpg" width="360" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRRMQ3rkyGG_pwjFWebvUD0qof6onVoquvoyC9zz_ygwR7r6IZxTtq44pTneqFvoz-r4cZbrrArDAYt-hB3BSrt_SJjljgw5k3OHNdJyPV5kXO9yuxL6HjLOPsTumosrcAu-S10T8WLH5Ca0Xa9qQeM8OyiRW8dimZF-DLOEveWc2-MrUWV_glmMtW/s1920/IMG_20230501_181825_755.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRRMQ3rkyGG_pwjFWebvUD0qof6onVoquvoyC9zz_ygwR7r6IZxTtq44pTneqFvoz-r4cZbrrArDAYt-hB3BSrt_SJjljgw5k3OHNdJyPV5kXO9yuxL6HjLOPsTumosrcAu-S10T8WLH5Ca0Xa9qQeM8OyiRW8dimZF-DLOEveWc2-MrUWV_glmMtW/w360-h640/IMG_20230501_181825_755.jpg" width="360" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I walked and walked and looked and looked and really just loved every minute. The Brazilians are lovely - completely friendly in a totally disinterested and unengaged manner. No one goes out their way to greet you (unless trying to sell you something), no speaks English, no one seems to notice you at all, but the vibe is peaceful and welcoming and if you make contact it's always warmly reciprocated.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When this job was confirmed last year I started studying Brazilian Portuguese on Duolingo (subtly different to European Portuguese which I had not known), putting in my daily practice with bizarre sentences like <i>I am not a turtle</i> and <i>Horses love us</i>, really not knowing how if at all this was going to help me. But it did! My very limited, very poor grasp of the language helped immeasurably - on my second night there I ordered salad from a salad bar, and could ask for onion, tomato, cheese, tuna, seed sprinkle and dressing - I could ask for a fork and establish whether I could drink beer in store - ask for the bill and a bag for my other purchases - but more than that it eased all my interactions with Brazilians - just being able to explain apologetically that I only speak a little bit of Portuguese immediately made people more patient and helpful, more open.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV9y8ABVivKxaHIo2X4SnOaeZfnya1EnWwVCpsjvn2O2w8IP-syA6G2qpG-tU6pC_Z6pz4ITIaovbLqyk_tcsrHM2ti25zRUi7fCgTpQSlLOV60fVmbEMtbzEgUuBZCjiP_6LN5GJoHQO58ueYozHmGXF3BbsscLffPDmeT0LKf4wMR6eyqOsPxvlW/s1409/IMG_20230430_152435_210.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1409" data-original-width="1409" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV9y8ABVivKxaHIo2X4SnOaeZfnya1EnWwVCpsjvn2O2w8IP-syA6G2qpG-tU6pC_Z6pz4ITIaovbLqyk_tcsrHM2ti25zRUi7fCgTpQSlLOV60fVmbEMtbzEgUuBZCjiP_6LN5GJoHQO58ueYozHmGXF3BbsscLffPDmeT0LKf4wMR6eyqOsPxvlW/w640-h640/IMG_20230430_152435_210.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYRUy7KBgcc7NC5DRplSmhUXGUABwPdLcPkeNzynUTD7KXmV3tDMvfFBJfktXQd7A_YjYY4xewoCy7zFzieUCIQgk3TQAzdvFVbBNfyCHYGbfIahzik2U2KeMMPW4Cxr65fM11qhfTn9USM3LTXP9ks6svHHNuHZXA1KyqOFsaLH8MaYMFfTB5kKSy/s4624/20230430_131746.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3468" data-original-width="4624" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYRUy7KBgcc7NC5DRplSmhUXGUABwPdLcPkeNzynUTD7KXmV3tDMvfFBJfktXQd7A_YjYY4xewoCy7zFzieUCIQgk3TQAzdvFVbBNfyCHYGbfIahzik2U2KeMMPW4Cxr65fM11qhfTn9USM3LTXP9ks6svHHNuHZXA1KyqOFsaLH8MaYMFfTB5kKSy/w640-h480/20230430_131746.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And despite my preference for the dark shady streets, it has to be said the beaches are magnificent. I had one proper beach day, walking 15km in total between Ipanema and Copacabana, having an acai ice here, a beer there, sitting and watching and walking and looking. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYyvU7UHRjNZL4QOXQ9u8cw_AmPXiT3mjawZ_tMe4YEsgz4FKa2nJtr_LojDa0yt3FWXljiIB0XRNsL3JjoP2BPqmqrjSsK9DqfMJVXNHncLBw5wwtw33QPA08dzWt3C-WsJPS-hn1mez1kbiOgW-o-mqTcaEa_VacWDDxpzvDGZCAy5j-8xdvb4c_/s4624/20230430_122554.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4624" data-original-width="3468" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYyvU7UHRjNZL4QOXQ9u8cw_AmPXiT3mjawZ_tMe4YEsgz4FKa2nJtr_LojDa0yt3FWXljiIB0XRNsL3JjoP2BPqmqrjSsK9DqfMJVXNHncLBw5wwtw33QPA08dzWt3C-WsJPS-hn1mez1kbiOgW-o-mqTcaEa_VacWDDxpzvDGZCAy5j-8xdvb4c_/w480-h640/20230430_122554.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">All the quintessential Rio things - people promenading, biking, skating, flags on the beach, fresh coconuts and cocktails, lots of flesh on display, hawkers and surfers.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I had a deep, long, warm swim and watched the sunset from the Arpoador rocks - a Rio tradition where everyone claps as the sun disappears. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqHAUIsEK--NdNQh4C52rTNS6S1SY5LBkdI9HJxjad2uPtHRne4LcGkBWmxz4UTWbPoWjBJlwVn7pFRWFXqQIaVH_W2cVRwOzse8WkLe2lZERRkThqUX4rIM7_HhPIGNaaxoc_cJHOyu3KPhu_qrWZ-IbV6xJnpvv0CKrgK6fR7d21i3Ig0JpWG3vZ/s4624/20230430_170247.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4624" data-original-width="3468" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqHAUIsEK--NdNQh4C52rTNS6S1SY5LBkdI9HJxjad2uPtHRne4LcGkBWmxz4UTWbPoWjBJlwVn7pFRWFXqQIaVH_W2cVRwOzse8WkLe2lZERRkThqUX4rIM7_HhPIGNaaxoc_cJHOyu3KPhu_qrWZ-IbV6xJnpvv0CKrgK6fR7d21i3Ig0JpWG3vZ/w480-h640/20230430_170247.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Two weeks flew by in a blur of work and sights and sounds and smells, but I soaked it all up and still have so much Rio floating around my head and heart to mull over.</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div>Who would ever have thought back in miserable 2021?Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09678300547613778858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8833780684806465913.post-68746431525653828112022-12-26T21:24:00.002+02:002022-12-26T21:43:33.777+02:00my year of bike<p>One evening in January I was on my second (maybe third, it was January) glass of wine when Husband saw a notice for a 'Small Bike Ride' the next day. Bikes under 250CC only.</p><p><i>That's perfect for the Madass</i> he mused...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB4JGhA06pmIR6LkDkEznwIl7Mp71B7pfvcVrHsrdQZkfxuoFJYoasxWYr8wpXY8Ph3jzpSVIDqldrxQKkeedikun-mSVUQsQJ402cYX5nqqcAYJnrbF_EP18gaOpocmpT56vMv-WjhWJAV1n_bE7RCjFQyZlpngOgqTtYeQt_aaZeEO3AGeMPptwV/s4000/IMG_20220108_110934.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB4JGhA06pmIR6LkDkEznwIl7Mp71B7pfvcVrHsrdQZkfxuoFJYoasxWYr8wpXY8Ph3jzpSVIDqldrxQKkeedikun-mSVUQsQJ402cYX5nqqcAYJnrbF_EP18gaOpocmpT56vMv-WjhWJAV1n_bE7RCjFQyZlpngOgqTtYeQt_aaZeEO3AGeMPptwV/w480-h640/IMG_20220108_110934.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I messaged the organisers and signed up for the ride, woke the next morning feeling queasy and silly with apprehension and then got on the road and met a team of scooters heading south for coffee.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was weird and nerve-wracking and I spent most of it feeling like a little old lady, but by later that day I'd had lots of compliments on my weird little Sachs Madass 125, met a bunch of fun people, and was on a whatsapp group of women riders.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHu3J_7OkRxue5dc_Plm2nSt-TjF2-c2wXSptU9eUjLJ5xbVQeJSKdqshivdNNszVxeBvkI6wYC7JZ2FKs9zqlFAsu3-FsJZZh6e9tAU7amZcNq-Nr_dEF5C2-_Cty8zmlHg9RKpeMNgKvQey7s3oT9tB7Sngd0jvV3v5_5nIXL0GDrUC5eAc1VEAi/s4224/IMG_20220122_192309.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4224" data-original-width="3136" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHu3J_7OkRxue5dc_Plm2nSt-TjF2-c2wXSptU9eUjLJ5xbVQeJSKdqshivdNNszVxeBvkI6wYC7JZ2FKs9zqlFAsu3-FsJZZh6e9tAU7amZcNq-Nr_dEF5C2-_Cty8zmlHg9RKpeMNgKvQey7s3oT9tB7Sngd0jvV3v5_5nIXL0GDrUC5eAc1VEAi/w298-h400/IMG_20220122_192309.jpg" width="298" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFQaf6R_fr9M6Om_9JEnhSdAfjfLU15sdwSYuweWT0_rnJByE5xX-TQzT1LsYY1Y5TuczzCg5ao_4WQPwm5wDhfclokKk4OqXX_4Yo7cJeO0P_faBxWXYrbiJOUNlmC483hWi-2u5OxYAXK8rm6C5Vh7aAoCNQZkobWzCqTTUAftFunk06pWctXqUk/s1600/SAVE_20220215_204837.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFQaf6R_fr9M6Om_9JEnhSdAfjfLU15sdwSYuweWT0_rnJByE5xX-TQzT1LsYY1Y5TuczzCg5ao_4WQPwm5wDhfclokKk4OqXX_4Yo7cJeO0P_faBxWXYrbiJOUNlmC483hWi-2u5OxYAXK8rm6C5Vh7aAoCNQZkobWzCqTTUAftFunk06pWctXqUk/w225-h400/SAVE_20220215_204837.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">For the next couple of months I joined them on the occasional Tuesday for a glorious ride after work, in the late summer evenings.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtbyNPtoCBj2IwtH5_mxORApLGM1wVLLCcvbezjSpZxB2AwHJZbHSDCjrRwt7X8gxx38hugcfP8vin1SWkTg1hcHjkimrSWAdqXKW8gW0w0cqXxKiNN-0EtTfEQU4G2F3_q4kuTSS9lARAnN6gYoKgxqHfEkcZcTL5xWW-tyvQuRP8MSHol_5bkRqI/s4000/IMG_20220222_190250.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtbyNPtoCBj2IwtH5_mxORApLGM1wVLLCcvbezjSpZxB2AwHJZbHSDCjrRwt7X8gxx38hugcfP8vin1SWkTg1hcHjkimrSWAdqXKW8gW0w0cqXxKiNN-0EtTfEQU4G2F3_q4kuTSS9lARAnN6gYoKgxqHfEkcZcTL5xWW-tyvQuRP8MSHol_5bkRqI/w480-h640/IMG_20220222_190250.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">One of the most memorable taking us to Hout Bay harbour where we met this tame seal and the dude who wrangled him to pose with tourists or in this case, bikes.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Ynkdk1ULXgYae_wJoA_oo6NjY1-GXzpR9d8cqJ6Bf0uxY2WndNi-JkkQGqwOXVlECDnVJCmeXwptXQZxsk3dVaPraIon3Sm4lBvMv6gxlcXUVR_Z2QIpy5QciWe0q2HXxZ1jTBfPVnrEewwzzn9IewWu3bMmuB9buXe0hi1NPjVWcHUXxX-3zV34/s4000/IMG_20220319_174016.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Ynkdk1ULXgYae_wJoA_oo6NjY1-GXzpR9d8cqJ6Bf0uxY2WndNi-JkkQGqwOXVlECDnVJCmeXwptXQZxsk3dVaPraIon3Sm4lBvMv6gxlcXUVR_Z2QIpy5QciWe0q2HXxZ1jTBfPVnrEewwzzn9IewWu3bMmuB9buXe0hi1NPjVWcHUXxX-3zV34/w640-h480/IMG_20220319_174016.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In March, a bike weekend away! 150kms out of Cape Town - all tar - and with our friends meeting us there by car so they ferried our luggage - a cheat by real biker standards.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmLnwHYJX0JzVuUApw8rbWcjXV4dn1cRUn0a-aq6CwwSnikreB5XP0rscfBcRzVjjqCeqbsEDJxWFjUIlhagkiqDME8oDfbt0GzvGmS-SGR3LuIN7OS-Eqch2HD658SdEYIqw3MEpXOXKd_Xyjk9cdgNIGCQbk0te3U348USHEiborO9FhaE1AJNBJ/s4000/IMG_20220811_124830.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmLnwHYJX0JzVuUApw8rbWcjXV4dn1cRUn0a-aq6CwwSnikreB5XP0rscfBcRzVjjqCeqbsEDJxWFjUIlhagkiqDME8oDfbt0GzvGmS-SGR3LuIN7OS-Eqch2HD658SdEYIqw3MEpXOXKd_Xyjk9cdgNIGCQbk0te3U348USHEiborO9FhaE1AJNBJ/w300-h400/IMG_20220811_124830.jpg" width="300" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm3loOG3NS24UGYdosBnEzt4LOBHWq39BFRndpeU1lBXwnsBvTjZi8Ova3CZjJrqXmcLEKT15pjiaknIkKCYZHWEWVVVlEkyodBA3oLmaLzfbVEkzCxZyi8x74s6AdQ5uFNqcpOC-wbhDWwZX6493oEBdAVDook0eIkCImiFdevbvkg9DnyGtApb-s/s4000/IMG_20220822_112022.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm3loOG3NS24UGYdosBnEzt4LOBHWq39BFRndpeU1lBXwnsBvTjZi8Ova3CZjJrqXmcLEKT15pjiaknIkKCYZHWEWVVVlEkyodBA3oLmaLzfbVEkzCxZyi8x74s6AdQ5uFNqcpOC-wbhDWwZX6493oEBdAVDook0eIkCImiFdevbvkg9DnyGtApb-s/w300-h400/IMG_20220822_112022.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNT9c_A1EPAWdwDI2JI3__3ah0Kel5L0ZdzTAZpab1wVjJRChtF20rQvdfv6DHwMWQeP6A_Y29ouu5IT7kas_AIGD9OzPVoZbJF1_CQOklcfn_Fts6JNDDI33XzoeJ7EHur4O4ajiGeeCSS6GliH50l1XbBnOGMyoMXK2eMm5qWMEJS9diNHShOFjp/s4000/IMG_20221101_133049.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNT9c_A1EPAWdwDI2JI3__3ah0Kel5L0ZdzTAZpab1wVjJRChtF20rQvdfv6DHwMWQeP6A_Y29ouu5IT7kas_AIGD9OzPVoZbJF1_CQOklcfn_Fts6JNDDI33XzoeJ7EHur4O4ajiGeeCSS6GliH50l1XbBnOGMyoMXK2eMm5qWMEJS9diNHShOFjp/w480-h640/IMG_20221101_133049.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Getting more confident every day I more consciously started working bikes into my errands and meetings schedules - looking for those gaps where I could take a bike - a magical trifecta of no kids, no groceries, no wine...</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBncQb65XS_ShfPwC8Jy0mGI5F4TC6b3pIamSO7wBM7mAFeDZFHZsZhbJwrf4Xc_nZfl5-B5szSjZTsyAqAJ3cicecfqthoHjbkBO02IuH1yS8li5ChoWttWSzzvRQaFYotiMQlw6RncP4l_QONSUiFb4_y5WF6nCn-Q1Ds1SFB-k7Ytw9wvIHHI1z/s4000/IMG_20220903_115654.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBncQb65XS_ShfPwC8Jy0mGI5F4TC6b3pIamSO7wBM7mAFeDZFHZsZhbJwrf4Xc_nZfl5-B5szSjZTsyAqAJ3cicecfqthoHjbkBO02IuH1yS8li5ChoWttWSzzvRQaFYotiMQlw6RncP4l_QONSUiFb4_y5WF6nCn-Q1Ds1SFB-k7Ytw9wvIHHI1z/w480-h640/IMG_20220903_115654.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I even, in a desire to improve my confidence off-road, got talked into buying a mid-size, lighter scrambler... turns out it's much too tall for me - even after adjustments - but weirdly it's still in our stable, being ridden by Husband and loaned to friends - and giving our eldest ideas...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj135ic4wd7aadh24i1VNdSA8CY3j8xUHZHgzXksDrOL-QaHwv1rMM0tdstwjw0ARHo07T92B8cv7Zp8aeJ2EfOa9R_-79JZ-T2xoi8hFFa2Cplo5sxF2TJjesFSe6JKXs5mQTzkHJFvTovNcJ5CsKnrcdj27GegDz7HksHDkc25_hGI3lt7vFQd-MR/s4000/IMG_20221003_133417.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj135ic4wd7aadh24i1VNdSA8CY3j8xUHZHgzXksDrOL-QaHwv1rMM0tdstwjw0ARHo07T92B8cv7Zp8aeJ2EfOa9R_-79JZ-T2xoi8hFFa2Cplo5sxF2TJjesFSe6JKXs5mQTzkHJFvTovNcJ5CsKnrcdj27GegDz7HksHDkc25_hGI3lt7vFQd-MR/w300-h400/IMG_20221003_133417.jpg" width="300" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4xhFMxsIHydS3qz4hZQbSwIfM83mUAHCsSk9heOGTJsJDZhsu6cRieFIWhQriJ3ACaiIvR-_h_i30712_JXRbNRD7Whp5hEG2iWtDHmSIukHdjZRvuc6d6Gnt68nL3bjc4047fQZZ_EPv9a4HjLxjbrwijFAKMHRw558FDVw0eCmErrsO8LDkV0D3/s4000/IMG_20221002_111555.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4xhFMxsIHydS3qz4hZQbSwIfM83mUAHCsSk9heOGTJsJDZhsu6cRieFIWhQriJ3ACaiIvR-_h_i30712_JXRbNRD7Whp5hEG2iWtDHmSIukHdjZRvuc6d6Gnt68nL3bjc4047fQZZ_EPv9a4HjLxjbrwijFAKMHRw558FDVw0eCmErrsO8LDkV0D3/w300-h400/IMG_20221002_111555.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Later in the year we took the Triumphs all the way (by trailer) to a friend's Karoo farm and I had some fun practising offroad and bashing around on the farm.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn00bQIfR6jfZwm3JQD2vwXvNk5Dd4s4QQFpCGHaGkp1bXIfyXL7SZsnlroPgcvdp4y6Kr5obT3ge8izX-7_gsbGuThS9y0fJ5ljijV-V4kVVIPtzfUSwpfo9mCrIqFPgJbZezja5on_IRv4pUTFkjrqh_8_pbjmd0WVXjFpyKScdbkRqXgcT7VtzE/s1156/SAVE_20221005_194013.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="521" data-original-width="1156" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn00bQIfR6jfZwm3JQD2vwXvNk5Dd4s4QQFpCGHaGkp1bXIfyXL7SZsnlroPgcvdp4y6Kr5obT3ge8izX-7_gsbGuThS9y0fJ5ljijV-V4kVVIPtzfUSwpfo9mCrIqFPgJbZezja5on_IRv4pUTFkjrqh_8_pbjmd0WVXjFpyKScdbkRqXgcT7VtzE/w640-h288/SAVE_20221005_194013.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The best (bike) fun was on our return though. We had car trouble (not fun) and limped into town until about 15km from home, where we decided we couldn't push it anymore and pulled over to call for tow truck support before it got dark.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But we did have two motorbikes.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Leaving Husband with the girls I got my bike off the trailer and tore home through the traffic, to collect our other car to tow the trailer in and ferry girls and luggage home.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Mummy hero!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And then the best ride of them all...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9v9nGcWK52CmbyXDY1jeIpA4cPbe0UJ1NuXh9fUkPYgyd9tmER5eGwQEj7h4EgNtZR-geNYmzQeKeoDOipkGyyBXsWz2op9kQYIdX_ZfKPXplis-h2VzEkAQnP8q4ebxMb72aWJdLtrPiYKi9f-s9lRWUy869-CojYtePxLUDNo-gq8q8DkP7dl2v/s4000/IMG_20221118_161953.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9v9nGcWK52CmbyXDY1jeIpA4cPbe0UJ1NuXh9fUkPYgyd9tmER5eGwQEj7h4EgNtZR-geNYmzQeKeoDOipkGyyBXsWz2op9kQYIdX_ZfKPXplis-h2VzEkAQnP8q4ebxMb72aWJdLtrPiYKi9f-s9lRWUy869-CojYtePxLUDNo-gq8q8DkP7dl2v/w480-h640/IMG_20221118_161953.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Clarence Drive is biker heaven. A beautifully built, winding coastal road with a smooth surface and perfect design.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was incredible riding it. Miraculously we had no traffic going our way. No cars to come up behind or anyone breathing down my back to get moving. I took every corner just the way I wanted to - fast or slow - and could really settle into the moment in all it's scenic glory. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I feel like it was a moment I'll remember forever.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitkuF3CptMxL9Fd-A1MS9gRigSbNluKJv3v4WIVr4VdoCDbvQ2LCBKR-bRCq2zUM9LJqhWa0dk9TQuoXTfioLWQGh-XWbqx5VytvPNoG8sgpy-fxQSBNp3of7WPzKwAvD5PiVRO-_oSM7uuuob6E94E4ncEdhL11EWK6JGQIp10SqzYpKL-rsGH9ZP/s4000/IMG_20221118_193525.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitkuF3CptMxL9Fd-A1MS9gRigSbNluKJv3v4WIVr4VdoCDbvQ2LCBKR-bRCq2zUM9LJqhWa0dk9TQuoXTfioLWQGh-XWbqx5VytvPNoG8sgpy-fxQSBNp3of7WPzKwAvD5PiVRO-_oSM7uuuob6E94E4ncEdhL11EWK6JGQIp10SqzYpKL-rsGH9ZP/w480-h640/IMG_20221118_193525.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><p>That ride was on the way to our raffle-ticket-win weekend away. 180km this time, a mix of fast, busy national road, beautiful coastal riding, through small towns and across bridges, and down a steep gravel section - me paddling down it at one stage, yelling at Husband <i>why am I such a pussy??! </i>while he giggled gently through our helmet comms and murmured encouraging words from the bottom of the hill.</p><p>We had luggage this time. Packed the bare minimum from home and stopped twice - once for a massive steak and then in the last closest town for necessities like milk, chocolate, beer and mince pies, before riding the last stretch through sunset weighed down with goodies, heading to our lux cabin in the fynbos for two days of bliss - all the cliched free as a bird biker tropes playing with the breeze through my helmet.</p><p>I've had my license since 2018, but just this year I feel like I got my wings.</p>Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09678300547613778858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8833780684806465913.post-8919245144066373112022-10-22T23:49:00.001+02:002022-10-22T23:49:49.933+02:00lucky draw<p>My Dad turned 76 today.</p><p>My brother is 44 next weekend.</p><p>We made them a half carrot, half chocolate cake to celebrate their 120 years of combined magnificence. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJeRwaNJq1oeynd8VpJQoBHNm1GTnpQ1RXrHB4jHfVkggfnPR4J-WX4uOzty8QbCTvDlfCBpoE-xtHYUbQGsvFS6nG4NENi9I7nLO0Ebje76UMbMeKpVcBJS4QBIA2TZVhIeAp_pcf1W0ZqdNdh3p7K_Oin8FGG0oAI9Vh4YWwCYpyuWb2FSWCay6Z/s4000/IMG_20221022_140554.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJeRwaNJq1oeynd8VpJQoBHNm1GTnpQ1RXrHB4jHfVkggfnPR4J-WX4uOzty8QbCTvDlfCBpoE-xtHYUbQGsvFS6nG4NENi9I7nLO0Ebje76UMbMeKpVcBJS4QBIA2TZVhIeAp_pcf1W0ZqdNdh3p7K_Oin8FGG0oAI9Vh4YWwCYpyuWb2FSWCay6Z/w480-h640/IMG_20221022_140554.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Meat, potatoes, salads and wine. Cake.<div>Family.</div><div>These things that can be grounding, pedestrian, reliable, bask in the realm of miracles and wonder when you get old enough to understand how damn lucky you are to have them, to be here now.</div><div><p>Here. </p><p>31 years down the line with my man.</p><p>He turned 50 in July, we've been married for 19 years this month, together for 12 before that. So many numbers, just numbers, but translated into years and months and days together? I mean, talk about miracles.<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRawLjktboeLusrxrxw4M0clW1LkTgJIjyMEKPDlrq8ZhHEmIrYsEMevr5QxZKYWjxzfs_cTnL98TtH-lykgF6Ql1sCbesBWzCpQ3IA7cur4YZz-JzswlnetE-f7yMRo8K3VxrqeFX6bVPu_9yyNL13181c8GfwSEXmUg-tMgax4yrFjr4p5-sGqk6/s4000/IMG_20221003_182044.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRawLjktboeLusrxrxw4M0clW1LkTgJIjyMEKPDlrq8ZhHEmIrYsEMevr5QxZKYWjxzfs_cTnL98TtH-lykgF6Ql1sCbesBWzCpQ3IA7cur4YZz-JzswlnetE-f7yMRo8K3VxrqeFX6bVPu_9yyNL13181c8GfwSEXmUg-tMgax4yrFjr4p5-sGqk6/w480-h640/IMG_20221003_182044.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Keeps the home fires burning, makes it home wherever he is.</div><div><br /></div><div>On the subject of numbers...</div><div><br /></div><div>Two weeks ago I bought a raffle ticket at a local fair. Standing in the queue to fill in my details on the sheet I overheard two ladies behind me. One was very concerned that someone else would take her lucky number before she got to claim it on the form.</div><div>This got me thinking about what number I would choose - I don't really have a 'lucky' one.</div><div>I was handed the sheet open in the 40's. I'll take 47 I thought, it's my age this year so why not.</div><div>Then I heard the whispering behind me again and I turned to the worried woman: What's your number? I asked, so I don't take it accidentally.</div><div>47, she said.</div><div>You know that moment when the world just slows a little? This is so weird I thought. <i>So</i> weird!</div><div>Then I filled in number 48 and we joked about her winning and I went about my day.</div><div><br /></div><div>This afternoon I got a phone call. 48 drew for the main prize.</div><div>It's a romantic weekend away in an amazing location.</div><div>I mean, what benevolent karmic gods of glorious fuck did I awaken with that one??</div>Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09678300547613778858noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8833780684806465913.post-15775523790954674642022-07-31T20:45:00.000+02:002022-07-31T20:45:15.801+02:00winter layers<p> Winter layers - as in vest, shirt, jersey, scarf, coat you ask?</p><p>Nope.</p><p>Well, a little bit coats. If you mean multiple coats (and so many hoodies) laying draped all over the place as the temperature fluctuates and different weather systems require different weights on different days. Add to that an assortment of beanies, but also caps because the winter sun can still be hot and biting, so low on the horizon.</p><p>Shoes also, in abundance at every junction of the house. We can't pretend that this is seasonal, but in winter these shoes are heftier. 6 pairs of discarded flip-flops in mid-summer don't hold the same sway.</p><p>Sports gear - also bulkier. Winter bike jackets collapse out the hall cupboard, too hefty to remain on their slim hangers. Two different weight riding gloves in circulation, naturally always pairing with an incompatible partner, like some of those friends one had at varsity.</p><p>Winter is hockey, which is shin pads and different sticks, used too regularly to be put away properly - apparently. Even the smaller accoutrements - gum guards, long socks - clutter about the place adding to a smaller but no less insidious layer. </p><p>Hand creams play a big role on the hall table. Lip balm also. Our skin is dry. One half-hearted bottle of sanitiser remains there, jumbled amidst half-empty (half-full?) water bottles, notes from school, discarded rings, spare keys, a motorbike glove (a 5th one, how is this possible?), ancient post to Return To Sender and, like a cruel joke, some pretty knick-knack which was supposed to look elegant and nonchalantly curated, alone on that surface. </p><p>Let's move on.</p><p>Winter is a time for Projects. Ongoing projects. Projects for which nothing can be thrown away.</p><p>There is macrame, 3D scanning, tail-light rebuilding, cardboard construction, Lego, puzzle-building, clay sculpturing and collaging all going on in our living area RIGHT NOW. Of course no is actually doing any of these things in there <i>right now</i> (15:20 on a wintery Sunday afternoon, what better time one asks oneself) but apparently they are all Very Important and Vital Projects which must remain active.</p><p>I think you can imagine that layer.</p><p>Let's talk pets. Pets need thicker blankets, and more of them, at this time of year. Dogs ask to be covered in said blankets but then 5 minutes later burst from their nest to bark (generally at nothing) and leave their blankets strewn across the floor. We've tried to train them to drag them back to their beds but those of you who know our dogs will know how ridiculous this notion is.</p><p>Also shedding. Winter is all about shedding. We have FOUR pets currently shedding.</p><p>And that's not even LOAD shedding, just fur shedding. <a href="http://ohfortheloveofblog.blogspot.com/2014/12/love-and-no-light.html" target="_blank">Load-shedding </a>requires its own fair supply of crap. Rechargeable solar jars must be put out for the sun during the day, but g(l)o off (see what I did there?) to far corners of the house with various members when the lights go out, to seek their fortune in new layers of clutter upstairs. Boxes of matches, burnt and otherwise, adorn the place. Saggy candles abound. The fireplace has its requisite crate of wood dropping bark and twiglets around and about, the tongs are always active, firelighters in a tin inexplicably on the other side of the room.</p><p>In winter our cave gets layered-up to pull through the cold. Three weeks of school holidays spent largely at home, 4 busy people, 4 crazy pets. The 8 beings, trundling through their layers of clutter and crap and lots and lots of love.</p>Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09678300547613778858noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8833780684806465913.post-40260507788373542022022-05-20T11:02:00.002+02:002022-05-20T11:02:14.076+02:00what I've been up to lately<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Pretty much everything Lyndsay Rush lists here...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhxmg6oEUTIap6-8i0NndIkJBVqswYWjk7xOqeRwxcqLWMkjP226gc8Gk8765H-q0efHt3nqGXH-7LE0QRiW0u29axjSbZYpP1hC1WDUWkIwY9_r-8u2DBFXD6XYKmIQWcnDTCbnxi96KHVUtgovJqiUYl-S4OMMd92ugXXYv-dgjYqmJZMq62NqH33" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1075" data-original-width="1080" height="637" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhxmg6oEUTIap6-8i0NndIkJBVqswYWjk7xOqeRwxcqLWMkjP226gc8Gk8765H-q0efHt3nqGXH-7LE0QRiW0u29axjSbZYpP1hC1WDUWkIwY9_r-8u2DBFXD6XYKmIQWcnDTCbnxi96KHVUtgovJqiUYl-S4OMMd92ugXXYv-dgjYqmJZMq62NqH33=w640-h637" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: right;"> ... her IG handle is @maryoliversdrunkcousin and she's the best thing on there right now.</div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I honestly couldn't love this list more. I'd get it tattooed down my forearm to read every day (if my friend Janine hadn't wisely declared NO WORDS as rule no. 1 for tattooing). </div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Just making a fool of myself.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">Instead I have it stuck up at my desk.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Making it happen.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It's my 47th birthday today and I have Covid. Well, my youngest tested positive on Tuesday and I've not been feeling very well so I'm going with I have it too.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Making a big deal.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">47 weirdly feels quite seriously grown up! Not just as in the year sounding grown up, but I actually feel it a bit. It's hard to describe but I feel... capable of making big decisions. Is that the definition of a grown up?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Making it up as I go.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">We've booked a weekend away, a cabin in the mountains with just us 4 and the dogs. I booked it months ago and I couldn't be more grateful, now that we're isolating and unable to see anyone else anyway.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>...making a break for it</i>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The last few months have been fairly two steps forward, one step back. I should know by now that when I do a big optimistic beginning of the year post the universe is gonna have something to say about that.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Making a mess of things.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">After my triumphant return to CrossFit I managed to slip a disc (old-fashioned term but a good description none-the-less) HANGING UP LAUNDRY. Way to feel like an old lady...</div><div style="text-align: left;">Booked off CrossFit for a long while, lots and lots of physio, lots of lame-ass walking for exercise.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Making a face.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRLwm4XOeODCX_x4WwwhWCbySxZWwlKggH61kFBiwiCux3KnMAzmG2RjGmDVGYtAP0GZF24gjtiYqwsoeIhFcsPop7sCW9oTxACcUztAaXJnYbbDIIRbk7zLe8fTsruzLZBLyQONIKBOsc_7QvjWWsuG8dIGYvLsSi-iyPQWrxQQRwjxBQLjitt7J4/s4000/IMG_20220508_155437.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRLwm4XOeODCX_x4WwwhWCbySxZWwlKggH61kFBiwiCux3KnMAzmG2RjGmDVGYtAP0GZF24gjtiYqwsoeIhFcsPop7sCW9oTxACcUztAaXJnYbbDIIRbk7zLe8fTsruzLZBLyQONIKBOsc_7QvjWWsuG8dIGYvLsSi-iyPQWrxQQRwjxBQLjitt7J4/w480-h640/IMG_20220508_155437.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But I did take advantage of the downtime to get a new tattoo. A paper airplane looping off my ankle surgery scar to show lightness and agility after that long time of infirmity. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The irony of getting it now when I am once again somewhat infirm is not lost on me.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>I've actually gotten really good at making a mountain out of a molehill.</i></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLDCOuiOHTD822UJZPOUU_OS0bCeJLT2RtI0niN2wgTKVJIJkmsWHjLvyBZrP59Omkbnro8Am3wXwaBBLDnnPl_AUHWj0noOiR3IhaaKeClp0Jv7CjHBB7JCKxJkSWg0Rn6Fwwv9rUbZy12css0fS-GQsqtzpjr_AyoUUDzgJz5P3eD0RyXZBuxviu/s4000/IMG_20220504_131047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLDCOuiOHTD822UJZPOUU_OS0bCeJLT2RtI0niN2wgTKVJIJkmsWHjLvyBZrP59Omkbnro8Am3wXwaBBLDnnPl_AUHWj0noOiR3IhaaKeClp0Jv7CjHBB7JCKxJkSWg0Rn6Fwwv9rUbZy12css0fS-GQsqtzpjr_AyoUUDzgJz5P3eD0RyXZBuxviu/w480-h640/IMG_20220504_131047.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Lots and lots of lame ass walking. Lame in comparison to rowing like a beast and busting out burpees and lifting huge weights that is. I've nothing against walking itself, I quite like it. And I do have some magnificent places to walk around here.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>Making the best of things.</i></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6SJ167E4VjYs-uihy2MZnkS73hIs-m0Kn-M_k7v3r_2RlmVS2f37N4QycZ7MmsrkyI1soPhTPRt_3Gh0juLVgYqnnAyJBzAqUw_S_GPCxYrzROTots0zSHA2b8lB9bGx25QgAF2hZoRsk6mgFOj4ajeivblNpLsm4P6EF1MYP0lp4PsynKfi5_sAC/s4000/IMG_20220426_162052.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6SJ167E4VjYs-uihy2MZnkS73hIs-m0Kn-M_k7v3r_2RlmVS2f37N4QycZ7MmsrkyI1soPhTPRt_3Gh0juLVgYqnnAyJBzAqUw_S_GPCxYrzROTots0zSHA2b8lB9bGx25QgAF2hZoRsk6mgFOj4ajeivblNpLsm4P6EF1MYP0lp4PsynKfi5_sAC/w640-h480/IMG_20220426_162052.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And after the walking, the resting. For a long while flat on my back was the only really comfortable way to be so there was quite a lot of that. Much to the joy of this floof.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>Making my bed every morning.</i></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjydxDDYl39ML-sM1oxZtlWQv7liAqi_A4CsQBJPi23fCKOO_ZgyvdfPu2Cvv9XYGCR_RzYQ8rqi9uyOt5BC-vkJ3a2Kjj1nQl2s_NADMjMIWNQXmYNI0Hu-sdr0GGwRUJXn4z5WpDCKiPkUirWKJx-Eiu85DtL77yOeXRAMGWYbuJwDX87-7WYYFRw/s4000/IMG_20220426_100444.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjydxDDYl39ML-sM1oxZtlWQv7liAqi_A4CsQBJPi23fCKOO_ZgyvdfPu2Cvv9XYGCR_RzYQ8rqi9uyOt5BC-vkJ3a2Kjj1nQl2s_NADMjMIWNQXmYNI0Hu-sdr0GGwRUJXn4z5WpDCKiPkUirWKJx-Eiu85DtL77yOeXRAMGWYbuJwDX87-7WYYFRw/w480-h640/IMG_20220426_100444.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We got away on a week long mini-break! It was delicious and affirming and super fun, it deserves it's own post. But it also allowed me to add a nice big thigh bruise to my list of ailments, after getting kicked by a cute but savage miniature horse.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>I've really been trying to prioritize making a scene.</i></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBe9mYFco_GEEX5t1HvQ7pfZPDUsGxkHut9-ngYgLEpwLx4JexFdITsKkK2mOxibwzBX78MZA3kZ5740-ur9uMAiXLLZQ1eNSCIBOFhyxEkTvC0jh4PVgajorZ1VHZAAlMQsMrLowCedmyV6QEA-bFA5R0c9SURzEDpdkagygwRtNpxkE0xB8ptaYi/s4000/IMG_20220502_143602.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBe9mYFco_GEEX5t1HvQ7pfZPDUsGxkHut9-ngYgLEpwLx4JexFdITsKkK2mOxibwzBX78MZA3kZ5740-ur9uMAiXLLZQ1eNSCIBOFhyxEkTvC0jh4PVgajorZ1VHZAAlMQsMrLowCedmyV6QEA-bFA5R0c9SURzEDpdkagygwRtNpxkE0xB8ptaYi/w240-h320/IMG_20220502_143602.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSlYTOa8Q0R5q5FqqhsIvBdH_W-Sxa5c9gH-ke6aYFd0K5dazPIiVppyo2Uwn7sYvJ_OLViQeSfrfqaA79qHQ5bfUu7G9vs2cMbSLQxotd8lHjlov7cEsFmE7mGMwKYyWK5LatENsF6_FzdOZ2x_jha6HZ4nGTlMWyVPWIkJXzrzIJ959wp2KDkOHB/s4000/IMG_20220502_134907.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSlYTOa8Q0R5q5FqqhsIvBdH_W-Sxa5c9gH-ke6aYFd0K5dazPIiVppyo2Uwn7sYvJ_OLViQeSfrfqaA79qHQ5bfUu7G9vs2cMbSLQxotd8lHjlov7cEsFmE7mGMwKYyWK5LatENsF6_FzdOZ2x_jha6HZ4nGTlMWyVPWIkJXzrzIJ959wp2KDkOHB/w240-h320/IMG_20220502_134907.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A beautiful autumnal visit to one of my favourite <a href="https://babylonstoren.com/" target="_blank">places </a>with some of my favourite people.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>Making it count.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1-qlhWiCkRNJaXUg3W4ME4PqTsTSkdLK2wkjf1Rt5XhFFFZhT3XykNgZYuQt1kstd1-HMR428xQLGxST_EMqwSWBLFOp3ZxRcr_ON9CRWw8gA_lto7m6d_xkaHFjQB-ScL6mqSDPpvO7Q3haYtk_L0pKeiUPMR5ms8es2QJpgljCKOOKh77_TeQMV/s4000/IMG_20220430_122233.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1-qlhWiCkRNJaXUg3W4ME4PqTsTSkdLK2wkjf1Rt5XhFFFZhT3XykNgZYuQt1kstd1-HMR428xQLGxST_EMqwSWBLFOp3ZxRcr_ON9CRWw8gA_lto7m6d_xkaHFjQB-ScL6mqSDPpvO7Q3haYtk_L0pKeiUPMR5ms8es2QJpgljCKOOKh77_TeQMV/w480-h640/IMG_20220430_122233.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And lots and lots and lots of lovely, rewarding, exhausting, hilarious parenting of these two prides and joy.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>Making tiny, beautiful things I'll be proud to leave behind.</i></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9zlRMeEyGfX9iz7-CP3xz3amebj916A8vghv3QJ4eM7IoEQT7lm9_gDNk_w560jqkvlD2QJhXy19T0roCDHWPZB_28v1CMo5IkqI0Lw8vpxQS2x8NrST7xwi4hJyrWgRwbEMID1toOcZ0FGkTtN0gxQu5jrS8f5AHuGadQ7GZri4A69oRhSjmAib8/s4000/IMG_20220519_204455.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9zlRMeEyGfX9iz7-CP3xz3amebj916A8vghv3QJ4eM7IoEQT7lm9_gDNk_w560jqkvlD2QJhXy19T0roCDHWPZB_28v1CMo5IkqI0Lw8vpxQS2x8NrST7xwi4hJyrWgRwbEMID1toOcZ0FGkTtN0gxQu5jrS8f5AHuGadQ7GZri4A69oRhSjmAib8/w480-h640/IMG_20220519_204455.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Let the birthday weekend begin!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>Making my own luck.</i></div></div><p></p>Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09678300547613778858noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8833780684806465913.post-872755865895765102022-03-27T16:16:00.000+02:002022-03-27T16:16:35.965+02:00growth<p>Have you also spent this last month looking at your kids, your pets, your home, your things and thinking <i>what the actual fuck would I do with all of these if we had to flee</i>?</p><p>Then doom-scrolling some more about the devastation in the Ukraine, making a comment about Zelenskyy being the hottest short guy in the world right now and going back to living your hyper-blessed life in your own deeply problematic and damaged country on this here burning planet?</p><p>What a time to be alive.</p><p>Because we are. We are alive and the wheel turns in the same ways it always has - the tide ebbs and flows.</p><p>Stella turned 12!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdCHZS1Sal7_0tyZJ1uBiGGyAOknqFCab-BzkpZBy8ZjaBEAqd2G-7hUq4Za_QoXytY1mFZSxHlad-UBzO-5iVVOvUYi99iFkUU62D17qOxa7kv0B-uNAoS65WV8fScMZDXRsEjBchp3Xa1ZJ9BrOyv9XrWB4u9a9dRAJtYGxnpUh_-gWHcEPgP-Bj/s4000/IMG_20220311_174450.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdCHZS1Sal7_0tyZJ1uBiGGyAOknqFCab-BzkpZBy8ZjaBEAqd2G-7hUq4Za_QoXytY1mFZSxHlad-UBzO-5iVVOvUYi99iFkUU62D17qOxa7kv0B-uNAoS65WV8fScMZDXRsEjBchp3Xa1ZJ9BrOyv9XrWB4u9a9dRAJtYGxnpUh_-gWHcEPgP-Bj/w480-h640/IMG_20220311_174450.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div>She planned her celebration down to the last detail, the group and the activities and the timings. We went to an indoor trampoline park - and took this 'album cover' photo on the way out - and then home to ours for pizza and movies and cake and a sleepover. <div>I realised halfway through the evening that she wasn't doing great but she fiercely batted away all my queries, only the next day having a big sob about how she'd missed us at her party (us who were there throughout but just in the background making pizza and beds in the lounge) and wished it had just been the family at home and felt sad about one day living without us.</div><div>12 is hard y'all, that bridge between childhood and teen-dom is shaky and unknown and excitement for the future still so tightly bound to nostalgia for something which is not yet even really in the past. This photo was more prophetic than we'd realised.</div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Frieda - further along that bridge - went to her first big proper outdoor party recently, with DJ's and multiple dance-floors and cashless food trucks and (temporary) tattoo vendors. </div><div style="text-align: left;">It was 13 - 18 year olds only, obviously no booze etc and heavily monitored (these parties are big business these days), but her first time alone in a big crowd with just her mates, her wits and (hopefully) her mother's voice in her ears ... 'trust your gut', 'stick with your friends', 'call me if you need to' and 'most importantly have fun'.</div></div><div style="text-align: left;">We were being very cool about it all, but as I drove away from dropping her off at a friend's to get ready I was surprised at how emotional I felt, and later - much later - when I'd fetched them from the party at midnight - hoarse, filthy and shiningly happy - and we were back home for tea and toast before bed she confessed to also feeling a small wobble as I'd driven away that afternoon.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The umbilical cord stretches, stretches very very far, but never breaks.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We rode off on our motorbikes last weekend for a grown ups trip up the coast.</div><div style="text-align: left;">As we packed the girls off to friends and grandparents for the weekend they both, separately, sincerely, and with no prompting, told us to have a really good time, to have fun, to enjoy the ride and the time away.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Is there any greater confirmation of parenting goals than your kids being lovely people - to you, their friends or themselves? I don't think so.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPAW4NNh_WI7y8LBDzo_Hz9g8t2MuBkKqjxHGke4RByjX7wHkTNHi1D3BvzUrgnguHHsQPFplGdsT9zqHhtywu8o59zjMpKznCBFjKbgqjBOQlsafcQnVrkkarrklXrveaR88fbAdRx6PJt-Fv_RapMEQGCmWeVmpISdCXrj_su380NrwZxN4ZExBt/s4000/IMG_20220319_174013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPAW4NNh_WI7y8LBDzo_Hz9g8t2MuBkKqjxHGke4RByjX7wHkTNHi1D3BvzUrgnguHHsQPFplGdsT9zqHhtywu8o59zjMpKznCBFjKbgqjBOQlsafcQnVrkkarrklXrveaR88fbAdRx6PJt-Fv_RapMEQGCmWeVmpISdCXrj_su380NrwZxN4ZExBt/w640-h480/IMG_20220319_174013.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFrtvRbAX5lS5JttVnObALKwllNNgq-rsH22S5byjRA6AvmIiNENmqt3yl9e-OKFzqGHn6li4Vq-LfCeA3NtpxvIgJxz9dih39ik9LOrOKWJuZIuF1MitjCwmF36ix7XiJTSpthC6nZEaSIRHkb1lcqO3_fCMX5lfSLClZPt-rFI8DHytOauPiHvoO/s4000/IMG_20220319_180239.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFrtvRbAX5lS5JttVnObALKwllNNgq-rsH22S5byjRA6AvmIiNENmqt3yl9e-OKFzqGHn6li4Vq-LfCeA3NtpxvIgJxz9dih39ik9LOrOKWJuZIuF1MitjCwmF36ix7XiJTSpthC6nZEaSIRHkb1lcqO3_fCMX5lfSLClZPt-rFI8DHytOauPiHvoO/w640-h480/IMG_20220319_180239.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpgXXvHCexaW6Or2ngdJCerpFQpzeEC-_1C4MI6Zir-S6hQWTG3UG0mF_vhkY0GyFdrZ7Y5RkwT7EQ9WoP-1tjUjW9GX9zu6wae3jJY1CGofvSPlt6a4IyTJWpsRakT1DXdKe8V0R7KCr0KlSmiRz8hZ0KbrvKNROe9bcORlHkKnxyIV5GvfXDOsTK/s4000/IMG_20220319_184942.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpgXXvHCexaW6Or2ngdJCerpFQpzeEC-_1C4MI6Zir-S6hQWTG3UG0mF_vhkY0GyFdrZ7Y5RkwT7EQ9WoP-1tjUjW9GX9zu6wae3jJY1CGofvSPlt6a4IyTJWpsRakT1DXdKe8V0R7KCr0KlSmiRz8hZ0KbrvKNROe9bcORlHkKnxyIV5GvfXDOsTK/w300-h400/IMG_20220319_184942.jpg" width="300" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib6DUtlFFbEQzulM40zaa4uhkZmTpEggbWWxPfoBnyMWhrDdzOHCfNjA7hRNYf_65e8uCMpNrdferUg34WJJciM9RHKzJjZma_Ka0ahN8kD3MbQGQSFnYVLaF28Ba4vcRuhq9LjN2oyzyhMSCIpb3bm5WxROnK04GZHEGiepPjexQq6fwjbGYGCfQz/s4000/IMG_20220320_081618.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib6DUtlFFbEQzulM40zaa4uhkZmTpEggbWWxPfoBnyMWhrDdzOHCfNjA7hRNYf_65e8uCMpNrdferUg34WJJciM9RHKzJjZma_Ka0ahN8kD3MbQGQSFnYVLaF28Ba4vcRuhq9LjN2oyzyhMSCIpb3bm5WxROnK04GZHEGiepPjexQq6fwjbGYGCfQz/w300-h400/IMG_20220320_081618.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">We spent the weekend at the edge of the ocean - reveling in the quiet and unstructured quality of time spent without any dependents, wondering at the luck of living in a place where even average middle-class folk such as ourselves can access places of such exclusive beauty, knowing that for the accident of birth us, and our children, could be leading totally different lives.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Watching the full moon Solstice tide ebb and flow, ebb and flow.. feeling tiny amongst the enormity of it all.</div>Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09678300547613778858noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8833780684806465913.post-47167171090038045022022-02-16T15:06:00.000+02:002022-02-16T15:06:40.305+02:00galentines<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It's become a February tradition. Pick a day, inform all the partners and children that we'll be off, pack swim things and cold beer, get on the road.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Same gang, same route, same plan.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Same destination, same seafood platter for lunch, same wine.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Same ice cream, same beach.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Because we did everything SO PERFECTLY the first time that we can just redo it endlessly now. Until the end of time, or we all perish together in a tragic boating incident as we sometimes muse about.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We're a pretty irreverent bunch.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This time however, we did one thing differently.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi9DAKBd8YPjbYXWwSPvLmp0Jd1lauuhrP_WCVvsjIKuop3DVc_CuPDt4jf8m78xQ8BJFEaqj9QBCU6IA9eLm7EcOWXPM6EEQpZc6PgMXvpgGv1XFReEt3dal7bjmmQMdsnvnFHpjxCrFrk9O4MRqlHylE99BYkzMrJSVskhDmIaIXwRmIa7gQdtUge=s4000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi9DAKBd8YPjbYXWwSPvLmp0Jd1lauuhrP_WCVvsjIKuop3DVc_CuPDt4jf8m78xQ8BJFEaqj9QBCU6IA9eLm7EcOWXPM6EEQpZc6PgMXvpgGv1XFReEt3dal7bjmmQMdsnvnFHpjxCrFrk9O4MRqlHylE99BYkzMrJSVskhDmIaIXwRmIa7gQdtUge=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We added a stop at this river for our pre-lunch swim, and it was sublime.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We're not opposed to adding new things, as long as they are EXCELLENT. This was.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjIskHtFCiELxiAcgaGbhPjFM7plspSZT2Yzragb6rMeoJXL1oe9a8wB-Nv4wiMqqOEYNO6wYz9Rob8Vcm-wD-wsnHR_OHYV8jkQRC_yg7bEJJXfjxxujI3C34TfU9T8Q5U_3g9_t5aosx4NVEVX-r3JghwAU0PHWeINzGvB1pO_Mz0Hi16QHIvieNu=s4000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjIskHtFCiELxiAcgaGbhPjFM7plspSZT2Yzragb6rMeoJXL1oe9a8wB-Nv4wiMqqOEYNO6wYz9Rob8Vcm-wD-wsnHR_OHYV8jkQRC_yg7bEJJXfjxxujI3C34TfU9T8Q5U_3g9_t5aosx4NVEVX-r3JghwAU0PHWeINzGvB1pO_Mz0Hi16QHIvieNu=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As we relished our lunch - fresh fish, prawns, calamari, mussels, salad and the most excellent white wine with this view from our table, our friend told us about her prepan holiday in Italy in 2019.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The beaches and the views and the food and the wine. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>But you know </i>she said, <i>look at us here - we're in a tiny village an hour or so out of Cape Town, eating the best food, drinking internationally-acclaimed wine, swimming in wild rivers, off to sandy beaches with no access fee and hardly any people...Italy is magnificent, but this right here is GOLD.</i></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEimZt3EBxbxayW8hRVlfRc1HNwhj8Oo5PfczThGqH2-4ymLTSUm7RtfAm3OzbaEqGpsR-eX2aGjyqQJ8HAJ-GxoYO10tVeIn7JxF_GPVAPWZHJGJyj2U6kt_V-dF6lZZXxQEEhXmfMyjC2f0hNw9t0oiFC9RQuIHLvssQkjsdEU2YnnvYNUlXyHaine=s4000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEimZt3EBxbxayW8hRVlfRc1HNwhj8Oo5PfczThGqH2-4ymLTSUm7RtfAm3OzbaEqGpsR-eX2aGjyqQJ8HAJ-GxoYO10tVeIn7JxF_GPVAPWZHJGJyj2U6kt_V-dF6lZZXxQEEhXmfMyjC2f0hNw9t0oiFC9RQuIHLvssQkjsdEU2YnnvYNUlXyHaine=w240-h320" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijbSc5MNc7UpDPiMUDH01ZqrPPcQURt8Bz4k029sMkbZJN3i3FC57oRpcDvYD5peYhYv4MyyV8OI0-ixq6ZDy5dnZ1mJXn3S2XnsRswDWOceIOG01u4_bCB0Nqyhb5ZJakxvYjScvjyogj88Hu5Yrt_ZJU8S4q25C1t8DuxSRkm_9Pzc9zW9oPmgX7=s4000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijbSc5MNc7UpDPiMUDH01ZqrPPcQURt8Bz4k029sMkbZJN3i3FC57oRpcDvYD5peYhYv4MyyV8OI0-ixq6ZDy5dnZ1mJXn3S2XnsRswDWOceIOG01u4_bCB0Nqyhb5ZJakxvYjScvjyogj88Hu5Yrt_ZJU8S4q25C1t8DuxSRkm_9Pzc9zW9oPmgX7=s320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And better than all this astounding natural beauty and the food and the wine and the silky summer air?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This bunch of girls and the aching abdominal muscles we have after a day of endlessly laughing together.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'd love to visit Italy one day, but if it never happens I think I'll still die happy, be it in a tragic boating incident or not.</div>Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09678300547613778858noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8833780684806465913.post-29401515528883041572022-02-05T22:11:00.005+02:002022-02-05T22:11:26.467+02:00we can do hard things<p> ...but jeez, we will generally go to huge lengths not to.</p><p>Well, I do at least. When I have a choice, I'm all about that path of least resistance, min effort for max gain, keeping it simple, keeping it fun, taking the shortest way round. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEis9XXDjHVfOYRRNDHsPTqQV1VYfGbNPaQrVsNjgAKGPgqxwBjZlQSZZf7ccyTFLgfcycdoTUBc7jr5HZgXQD8aHd50jq7wr_SBgIIL1Fa_JhkTcL5daaLownRO_3qJcj8RBRHP8OgL3GyycxB3VxWGr9o3Qp0d-tYsUwEm0evcRMHQBDsmqQxrlv7G=s4000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEis9XXDjHVfOYRRNDHsPTqQV1VYfGbNPaQrVsNjgAKGPgqxwBjZlQSZZf7ccyTFLgfcycdoTUBc7jr5HZgXQD8aHd50jq7wr_SBgIIL1Fa_JhkTcL5daaLownRO_3qJcj8RBRHP8OgL3GyycxB3VxWGr9o3Qp0d-tYsUwEm0evcRMHQBDsmqQxrlv7G=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p>But already in these first few weeks of 2022 I've done some hard things - and it's felt really good.</p><p>I've gone on two group motorbike rides with total strangers. </p><p>The first just me with a bunch of cool kids, but on my small bike on a route that I know well. The second with Charl, but on my big bike, a totally unknown route and at least 25 other proficient riders. Shooweee, my nerves!</p><p>Motorbike riders are cool right? And ballsy, and mostly all they want to talk about are bikes. This crowd is quite a bit younger than me, with hipper gear and better stories and way more experience. But I kept my nerve and un-wedgied my big girl panties and tried earnestly to remember my bike's specs for the coffee chat and not fall too far behind on the ride and to not forget to put on my gloves before my helmet like a newbie.</p><p>So rad.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjmZplfcWCPpz-4uADkEkWs1ZXjaIrAv0WxFEP6HXdq3zAqFCj73_yCBjaQtiu7pOGXGHBLgRUDWdqvN4pStanaesceTrw2jrHfPQ6aZ_8iqsFe625wtnYcZEFGxmz5f6U6p8Ahn82WVNlm6qv7ADksvU4JQmOk20AXXXy9vaSxg-EqqgbzH_pNS_Vt=s4000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjmZplfcWCPpz-4uADkEkWs1ZXjaIrAv0WxFEP6HXdq3zAqFCj73_yCBjaQtiu7pOGXGHBLgRUDWdqvN4pStanaesceTrw2jrHfPQ6aZ_8iqsFe625wtnYcZEFGxmz5f6U6p8Ahn82WVNlm6qv7ADksvU4JQmOk20AXXXy9vaSxg-EqqgbzH_pNS_Vt=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">How cute is my bike though?</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p>I've gone back to CrossFit.</p><p>Six weeks short of two years later, I walked back in to a CrossFit box. With my atrophied muscles and my pandemic weight gain and my complete lack of fitness I've signed up to a box where I know no one. That first class I was a bundle of nerves, but I walked (staggered) out of there feeling like a champ and have been back and have signed up for more. What. A. Vibe.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhtD61IihtvaBgcqP1WwemXjvZc6U5SYbBTvVNDhLFJw-WYDZW2DDeGARJSmClr_a11mwZ4AW2FLqL2meNElB3AMaeX6iXlnRmJElRHT2WVqaAgDreAP7giIwDV-Xxu0zzhjPxG5zzhsS3sZTVBh6zYaRBGo4Hg3PAWICj6vNNX8WtUvknM7Aqq4aWM=s4000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhtD61IihtvaBgcqP1WwemXjvZc6U5SYbBTvVNDhLFJw-WYDZW2DDeGARJSmClr_a11mwZ4AW2FLqL2meNElB3AMaeX6iXlnRmJElRHT2WVqaAgDreAP7giIwDV-Xxu0zzhjPxG5zzhsS3sZTVBh6zYaRBGo4Hg3PAWICj6vNNX8WtUvknM7Aqq4aWM=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">How cute are my shoes though?</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p>And then just today, another hard thing.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjc-cE7y0rTNK6WR9RovcpE9_mPKDNzy9Qnxj6bfHW6RNSgMDNSNhLuiBwsnb0uOt0gW6x93Yy0pQAF7Y8dr-zFUjwYvjLY3oezujUZe0KYxJsKmXNKK36-d2_O0gyfo0DkbByKsZQPVKPSyUVUth2O_4kSrBloQcopXfn7XMTtFDOIy4d2krkM1vnv=s4000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjc-cE7y0rTNK6WR9RovcpE9_mPKDNzy9Qnxj6bfHW6RNSgMDNSNhLuiBwsnb0uOt0gW6x93Yy0pQAF7Y8dr-zFUjwYvjLY3oezujUZe0KYxJsKmXNKK36-d2_O0gyfo0DkbByKsZQPVKPSyUVUth2O_4kSrBloQcopXfn7XMTtFDOIy4d2krkM1vnv=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">How cute is this though?</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p>From motor-biking to CrossFit to puzzles which require reading glasses - 2022 has had some challenges already. But I'll take these over drought, death and disease - some of the challenges of the last few years - any day.</p><p>My wish for this year is to have agency. To not just be reactive to the shit life throws at us, but proactive in doing things which make me feel stronger and better and more in control. </p><p>We can do hard things, and not all hard things have to suck.</p>Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09678300547613778858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8833780684806465913.post-78289424825431599962022-02-02T12:48:00.003+02:002022-02-02T12:48:55.837+02:002 Feb 1990<p>Facebook just gave me this - the memory of something I wrote on 2 Feb 2015.</p><p>I'm reposting it here because I'd like to preserve it, and because I can still remember that hot, hot afternoon and the miraculous events which played out from then.</p><p><br /></p><div class="kvgmc6g5 cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 14px; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: arial;">25 years ago today I was sitting in the school bus, in the sweltering heat of Napier on a February afternoon.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: arial;">It was a Friday, and I was to spend the night at a friends house. The only reason I was in that school bus was that I, and the teacher who'd driven us there, were waiting for my friend and the rest of the school tennis team to finish an Inter-School match so that the weekend could begin.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: arial;">The radio was on and suddenly programming was interrupted for a special announcement from Parliament.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: arial;">Then-President FW de Klerk came on and addressed the nation, announced the imminent release of Nelson Mandela and the unbanning of the ANC.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: arial;">I was privileged to have been brought up in a politically aware household and despite being a flighty 16 year old, I knew immediately what a massive, MASSIVE, moment this was for South Africa.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: arial;">I had no one to share it with.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: arial;">The teacher I was with - a total doos* - rested his head on the steering wheel and said nothing.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: arial;">The small conservative village of Napier buzzed in the heat around us.</span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: arial;">The tennis balls knocked back and forth on the courts.</span></div></div><div class="cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql o9v6fnle ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I wanted nothing more than to speak to my Dad, and sat there with tears of excitement rolling down my cheeks as I pictured his face, his joy, and wished I was with him.</span></div><div dir="auto" style="font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Dad said afterwards he'd never thought it would happen in his lifetime. </span></div><div dir="auto" style="font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I will always be grateful for having witnessed a real life miracle, and will never forget that hot sweaty afternoon when the world changed forever.</span></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px;"><br /></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px;"><br /></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: inherit;">*dickhead, but I think you got that.</span></div></div>Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09678300547613778858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8833780684806465913.post-33013372160331565692022-01-24T22:11:00.006+02:002022-01-24T22:11:49.211+02:00the hottest place on earth<p>Well, so it was predicted on Friday, a day when we couldn't really even comprehend of how hot it would get. </p><p>It got incredibly hot.</p><p>This last weekend Cape Town surpassed its own hottest recorded temperature ever by 3 degrees Celsius and clocked in a whopping 45.2C on Saturday.</p><p>It's been confirmed that we were the hottest place in southern Africa and you know, we'll take it. No need to go into direct competition with mid Australia ffs - Saturday and Sunday were hot enough and scary enough, we don't need any more accolade than that.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhaLx1F7kykfVDLQ_2AfTEc7ExYLqPomzcXgOVsjLhrYWl4yeZkU_RnBvyCfQPVru8D7EdDfzvoQsI1VXPDVcKUuIZGOeFVb5bTkRLoEGBbIJGzlrb2-Hd6bnG0ON_Evki58RWHW2yIJ42ljGH9eTv9tI9aKJ8eK_e02OkcdjwEk12Fyh_QSUYYSmtZ=s4000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhaLx1F7kykfVDLQ_2AfTEc7ExYLqPomzcXgOVsjLhrYWl4yeZkU_RnBvyCfQPVru8D7EdDfzvoQsI1VXPDVcKUuIZGOeFVb5bTkRLoEGBbIJGzlrb2-Hd6bnG0ON_Evki58RWHW2yIJ42ljGH9eTv9tI9aKJ8eK_e02OkcdjwEk12Fyh_QSUYYSmtZ=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><p>It was a weekend for lying down and avoiding really. And that's mostly what we did. </p><p>Lying down and napping with the blinds closed. Drinking litres of water and moving slowly and mainly trying not to think about climate change.</p><p><i>Our children might never live on the same planet as polar bears</i> Frieda tells her sister over dinner.</p><p><i>Yeah but, people told us that when we were younger too </i>I say,<i> and you do. </i></p><p><i>Now recycle that container and don't use too much water rinsing it out.</i></p><p>Balancing the messaging is hard.</p><p>Then on Sunday we received a clip from family in the UK, a short capture from The Green Planet - Sir David Attenborough's latest series on BBC. It features an interview with my little brother.</p><p>My <i>little brother</i> as a whole ass PHD on ecology change being featured in an Attenborough series. Five year old Frieda would have EXPLODED with wonderment and joy. Fourteen year old Frieda was pretty damn excited. As were we all.</p><p>The clip was on fire (our fynbos needs it) and particularly the fire lilies which lie dormant for years (and years) waiting for fire and then blooming within days of one - making themselves the only source of nectar for miles and guaranteeing pollination (seems rather dramatic but then, nature). The takeaway was that fires are getting more frequent, hotter, faster and fragile ecosystems like this are in real danger.</p><p>Sobering stuff. And yet also, miraculous.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj3J4gtMIK5JXW4mOHc1ABNA4Iw5MS0n7-Smp_Oin1nh_sq8Wiyya34YMy_vYOApLpIc_QwbO2QEt4HbEG-RHxktoa9btbxAkN-6UcndNOXc4Octsnx4eolkclfMP31tigXLvxyEftFFEDjpmae8fpwiKw_tJbqwQc0-0tH15A8-VxAztrG-C8OUoJM=s4000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj3J4gtMIK5JXW4mOHc1ABNA4Iw5MS0n7-Smp_Oin1nh_sq8Wiyya34YMy_vYOApLpIc_QwbO2QEt4HbEG-RHxktoa9btbxAkN-6UcndNOXc4Octsnx4eolkclfMP31tigXLvxyEftFFEDjpmae8fpwiKw_tJbqwQc0-0tH15A8-VxAztrG-C8OUoJM=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><p>As is life.</p><p>PS, while writing this post I came across <a href="https://ohfortheloveofblog.blogspot.com/2018/01/the-great-thirst.html" target="_blank">this one</a>, and it seemed an apt reminder that we've been at the brink of societal collapse before... and also, jeez we've weathered a LOT in recent years.</p>Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09678300547613778858noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8833780684806465913.post-14285762905200002732022-01-10T16:45:00.002+02:002022-01-10T16:45:26.717+02:00weathering it...<p>I cannot explain how much better the first week of January feels this year in comparison to last.</p><p>Last year there was so little light coming down the tunnel, so little reason to feel optimistic. And I'm not even talking about Tr*mp and the storming of the Capitol, just about Cape Town and lockdown and how we never thought we'd get vaxxed or back to any semblance of proper life ever again. We'd never started a year so glum and uninspired.</p><p>But here we are. Things are easier. And whatever fuckening might be waiting just down the road, I'm having a moment of deep gratitude for how far we've come and how much easier and lighter things have been this holiday season.</p><p>We spent two 4-day stints on either side of Christmas in our favourite Onrus with some of our oldest friends.</p><p>And Christmas, Christmas was glorious.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjSLZFJjQa-hhafOioFTsuWDpWYoXhT_XWRZdqfP-KCsvHGXvDONzuy938CNcNE6RceFNaf-8aLK1m0zIG7qhIRFGcFe-F4GIKQeUveGqOGmsTiQxZOwDkg8-T3rJZ35zIdOIyFM-0fXICFJ-dm5CR3Wfp1cFgz3Q9BQlwwlJlPs3E_eMgmI5EWtcaX=s4000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjSLZFJjQa-hhafOioFTsuWDpWYoXhT_XWRZdqfP-KCsvHGXvDONzuy938CNcNE6RceFNaf-8aLK1m0zIG7qhIRFGcFe-F4GIKQeUveGqOGmsTiQxZOwDkg8-T3rJZ35zIdOIyFM-0fXICFJ-dm5CR3Wfp1cFgz3Q9BQlwwlJlPs3E_eMgmI5EWtcaX=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEim43D5zTvSMsqLvtqKoP-qpiHbZYglk8SDXuhZNRHBkvyjUTjDaQFBUS93hcGdGd95Ucj2s_nVG87nuzjjasyBjNtcyRyNzD_zfuNWcSYuP_CKHvXZbMidy6E3PwPTdvxFn8yoKdeBKFIsBGwjpK_huPNk1CrAvKnc6M4WzvZViEpd0LIb-aVoHZ6N=s4000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEim43D5zTvSMsqLvtqKoP-qpiHbZYglk8SDXuhZNRHBkvyjUTjDaQFBUS93hcGdGd95Ucj2s_nVG87nuzjjasyBjNtcyRyNzD_zfuNWcSYuP_CKHvXZbMidy6E3PwPTdvxFn8yoKdeBKFIsBGwjpK_huPNk1CrAvKnc6M4WzvZViEpd0LIb-aVoHZ6N=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiJ7xRsYCNKmHYEq4T-VkEgtoLT80RO-kzt_UecAB18v96DIlJg5WZJYT7opFTef1LUvBJ9Vzqoz56zPgrGrDtTWsjaMu00Ysh2TwnemzjbSLSi9vYGnVAtgnx5G6cRFT2tDt0PVafrGkQ_fgKpoLcSOs9_gBn7sz9CoQEeD_6PdUtyi5OGnStsWkWm=s4000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiJ7xRsYCNKmHYEq4T-VkEgtoLT80RO-kzt_UecAB18v96DIlJg5WZJYT7opFTef1LUvBJ9Vzqoz56zPgrGrDtTWsjaMu00Ysh2TwnemzjbSLSi9vYGnVAtgnx5G6cRFT2tDt0PVafrGkQ_fgKpoLcSOs9_gBn7sz9CoQEeD_6PdUtyi5OGnStsWkWm=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgOSrM4yXPIxjPbAv0yYwV2zROsZk1R96sJVxp4hP_8qN4iyFKozzCW1YJi3SNs0MCafrS0I0hJvYzUKWeaGlWL0mgbyiA3alcUPMwACX6kN5I3Hx_Nv7OyH874RW-G2hw7CQUWkcX5L2lBUFyGG6c9r6Dt0oCX56sZmGR2maPK8eYZPpHC7-avYWGg=s4000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgOSrM4yXPIxjPbAv0yYwV2zROsZk1R96sJVxp4hP_8qN4iyFKozzCW1YJi3SNs0MCafrS0I0hJvYzUKWeaGlWL0mgbyiA3alcUPMwACX6kN5I3Hx_Nv7OyH874RW-G2hw7CQUWkcX5L2lBUFyGG6c9r6Dt0oCX56sZmGR2maPK8eYZPpHC7-avYWGg=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjVV19s0WLJYvpZIVQYBajzVHVwAANk73OMM1OgPVH5W_huMvU26bd2OLNOxdc5lKk8wBMdZOJVj2gTcz_fb7Xqxcx0krih8CfH7sudaVLOBzB1q4VcPUd20jDEqE8HXDOqhBAmaOQ_M7xU0ANDMndWtfzFjcUgUfd6NDqmuOHmuCUMXk95LGMyyfSW=s4000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjVV19s0WLJYvpZIVQYBajzVHVwAANk73OMM1OgPVH5W_huMvU26bd2OLNOxdc5lKk8wBMdZOJVj2gTcz_fb7Xqxcx0krih8CfH7sudaVLOBzB1q4VcPUd20jDEqE8HXDOqhBAmaOQ_M7xU0ANDMndWtfzFjcUgUfd6NDqmuOHmuCUMXk95LGMyyfSW=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh2b801CTdYrxIzNUe5EftNdjye4eKSQGSwNCyK3hihIKGwMBcw9dpujFikhB97V_bQCejNFEvmghIy0QZpbFgr2wFLYLQdW91M5-5lpeQT8p133DG1KSedg9pjQpI7rVLha9tHnpLZsb2TcjbFWbKYNhVseBfQaFm6vz-ctesJyshWBMNLrbwWwlx_=s4000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh2b801CTdYrxIzNUe5EftNdjye4eKSQGSwNCyK3hihIKGwMBcw9dpujFikhB97V_bQCejNFEvmghIy0QZpbFgr2wFLYLQdW91M5-5lpeQT8p133DG1KSedg9pjQpI7rVLha9tHnpLZsb2TcjbFWbKYNhVseBfQaFm6vz-ctesJyshWBMNLrbwWwlx_=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjWZLY1naLGx-IAEY652-aEQqPqK-45vCCE5XEtgPbnN3MMuHq37ENjRdjPZr8miFlOBA-bhW9KEyAsdBS7pzqzmEU40AN23YNRNQH1MzgWE5422t686I2rkGpL5X6eU4rK45kGVeSqGd3KESMp67o-ObLx-hHDEuDf8hm59J-VYsjO2VQy5ZDXyx0U=s4000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjWZLY1naLGx-IAEY652-aEQqPqK-45vCCE5XEtgPbnN3MMuHq37ENjRdjPZr8miFlOBA-bhW9KEyAsdBS7pzqzmEU40AN23YNRNQH1MzgWE5422t686I2rkGpL5X6eU4rK45kGVeSqGd3KESMp67o-ObLx-hHDEuDf8hm59J-VYsjO2VQy5ZDXyx0U=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjidqLnivwONTR01ksjt_HfNhOjxEZqoOfYrRwGi2jDnxZUbNQehCi84M44aunwyQkoC8vqPXp5HBEZ_5by4x6lTKMUtvoDLS_mlSTMRM0P74IClg5PZIyVllRMV4bCVbpduzAEJAZbDIO9IjqR8ZCQ95w4BMM0AnqJzT0PMN6AiEm76vSeiNm9UwFx=s4000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjidqLnivwONTR01ksjt_HfNhOjxEZqoOfYrRwGi2jDnxZUbNQehCi84M44aunwyQkoC8vqPXp5HBEZ_5by4x6lTKMUtvoDLS_mlSTMRM0P74IClg5PZIyVllRMV4bCVbpduzAEJAZbDIO9IjqR8ZCQ95w4BMM0AnqJzT0PMN6AiEm76vSeiNm9UwFx=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><p>All the sweeter for having spent last Christmas all apart, for being our first time hosting, for everyone being well and relaxed and happy. Magic.</p><p>We've weathered this storm alright, all things considered. As have many of my dearest friends, who for a time there looked like they'd never come out the other side.</p><p>A friend who got retrenched back in April 2020 has found a new, rewarding, fulfilling, bill-paying job after nearly two years of hustle and high stress.</p><p>Another who was facing a failing relationship back then, exacerbated by lockdowns and general weirdness, is happily blissed out with a new partner, after a long time of heartache and self-doubt and pain.</p><p>Friends who very nearly lost their home are clawing their way back up the credit-rating ladder, finally able to relax their jaws slightly and step back a bit from the daily anxiety of trying to keep their lives together.</p><p>The girls are back to full class, full time, in person school in a couple of weeks. Our curfew, the last of the Covid restrictions, was lifted on 31 Dec. Our National State of Disaster, 666 days old today, is most likely to be lifted soon.</p><p>Cautiously, cautiously, optimistic.</p>Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09678300547613778858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8833780684806465913.post-64562747011619060172021-11-30T17:23:00.001+02:002021-11-30T17:23:58.185+02:00in the African night<p>On Sunday evening I did a most beautiful thing with a dearest friend. </p><p>Another outdoor movie. This time on a picnic blanket in the magnificent Kirstenbosch Gardens, still one of my <a href="https://ohfortheloveofblog.blogspot.com/2010/06/in-her-head.html" target="_blank">favourite places</a> in the world. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mHwqWtoBgQY/YaY3wMrb41I/AAAAAAABASE/fwmw1h4cnXQZIPNJH9Ua2assbFtTHZXHACPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20211128_191705.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mHwqWtoBgQY/YaY3wMrb41I/AAAAAAABASE/fwmw1h4cnXQZIPNJH9Ua2assbFtTHZXHACPcBGAsYHg/w480-h640/IMG_20211128_191705.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><p style="text-align: right;"></p><p>This time Out of Africa, possibly one of my most watched films of all time. But not for years.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Out of Africa is so precious that I'd trust few people to watch it with me. I will not tolerate any eye-rolling, sighing at its length or critical analysis of its historical facts. You must be invested, all in, to share this cinematic experience with me and as the opening credits rolled and we both snuggled down on our blanket with instantly dewy eyes, there was no other place in the world I would rather have been.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-L_vKIMRfzNE/YaY3wB40q9I/AAAAAAABASE/YUHs6X0T2cIWzA-zt0vqPuJAMELoddbfACPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20211128_202233.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-L_vKIMRfzNE/YaY3wB40q9I/AAAAAAABASE/YUHs6X0T2cIWzA-zt0vqPuJAMELoddbfACPcBGAsYHg/w480-h640/IMG_20211128_202233.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The dreaded South Easter wind had been <i>howling</i> in Cape Town for 10 solid days. The end of year pressure of school and work and Xmas madness mounting. The 4th wave, Omicron, travel bans looming. Friends in distress and friends in despair. Loss and betrayal. It had been a really tough week.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But the wind dropped that evening. The velvety-darkness fell as that haunting opening music rolled across the lawn towards us. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And as I watched, past versions of myself crept out from between the scenes bringing with them memories - of outfits I constructed in my childhood bedroom to dress like Karen Blixen (the white cotton blouse, buttoned at the neck and pinned with a brooch, the striped African print scarf tied over one shoulder, the khaki skirt I rolled at the waist to get just the right length on my shin), of standing on the dewy lawn in Swaziland in 1994 looking out at the mist lying in the valleys and channeling Meryl Streep, of years and years and years of yelling 'Hello the house!' when arriving at my bestie's (she who lay next to me watching this now). The way that music had always made me feel, the yearning for adventure and the happiness of thinking that even if I wasn't living her life, I lived in <i>Africa</i> already and that was a good start. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As the film rolled on the sky got darker and more dramatic, and I found myself gazing away from the screen to take in the enormity and beauty of it, and have one of those lucid moments of perfect clarity one occasionally has, where you can stop within an experience, to realise that this is one of the best things you'll do in your life.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2Fc8u0prgsk/YaY3wE7h2_I/AAAAAAABASE/wI0oSXOP3wM6ZzNtlTn02BbuCWwffQpEwCPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20211128_214605.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2Fc8u0prgsk/YaY3wE7h2_I/AAAAAAABASE/wI0oSXOP3wM6ZzNtlTn02BbuCWwffQpEwCPcBGAsYHg/w640-h480/IMG_20211128_214605.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>Time slowed and exhaled, we wept and laughed. On screen the sound of crickets chirping filled the African night, as around us in the gardens the sounds of crickets chirping, filled the African night.</p><p>Bliss.</p>Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09678300547613778858noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8833780684806465913.post-68040817725002206832021-09-30T14:10:00.000+02:002021-09-30T14:10:01.206+02:00in the middle of the middle?<p>But when it comes to time, where is the middle?</p><p>My friends and I, as we have our second round of pandemic birthdays and are still, each year, amazed to discover that apparently we are 'grown-ups' now, have been pondering the particular complexities of reaching middle-age in the middle of a pandemic.</p><p>It stands to reason that every age will feel the effects of lockdown etc in relation to the age they are during this, and no one can really claim their experience to be worse than any other's (except maybe that poor 20-30 crew, I do really feel for those guys), but I think us of the middle-age are having a particularly interesting time of it for a couple of reasons.</p><p>Growing acceptance of one's own mortality and the inevitable death of your parents and loved ones?</p><p>BOOM - global flu pandemic to just really drive that home and place the risk of it literally around every corner.</p><p>Growing realisation that you might run out of time to visit all those far-flung destinations on your 'bucket list' (horrible term)?</p><p>BOOM - travel restrictions starting from your front gate to extending to most other parts of the world.</p><p>Growing unease at whether you've made enough provision for retirement / your children's future / the medical costs of growing older?</p><p>BOOM - total loss of career and all prospects of it ever picking up again PLUS flooding of the dwindling jobs market with thousands of younger and more relevant jobless candidates.</p><p>Growing independence from your children and freedom to plan around them and return to a bit of your own life?</p><p>BOOM - homeschooling, a thing you SWORE you'd never do, becomes your reality, school days shorten in the absence of extra-murals, kids are at home <i>all the time</i>.</p><p>Growing determination to get healthier and stronger and counteract the aging effects of weakening bones and muscle degeneration?</p><p>BOOM - all gyms and exercise classes close, or remain open and become cesspools of contamination.</p><p>So no, I'm not saying we're having it worse off than anyone else. I'm just saying we're not having it any easier. No one is having it easy.</p><p>It just feels like it would all be more manageable if we knew where we were in these things... are we in the middle? Of life? Of the pandemic?</p><p>Maybe the advantage of living through this in middle-age is the acceptance we've come to that we'll never know what's coming next. We've seen friends die unexpectedly, we've seen towers fall and countries burn, we've seen fax machines come and go... maybe we've got a better handle than some on the truly unpredictable nature of life.</p><p>Maybe we should know better than to overthink this.</p>Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09678300547613778858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8833780684806465913.post-52623872162762095042021-08-31T20:34:00.006+02:002021-08-31T20:34:56.526+02:00august things<p></p><div>It's an odd month, August.</div><div>Never a favourite of mine I'll admit. It's kind of neither here or there really, winter grinds on... we hit term 3 running (even faster this year as the winter holidays were extended due to our 3rd Covid wave) ... the year is halfway gone, one ponders what one's done with it.</div><div>Little bit of midyear crisis perhaps?</div><div>Though honestly, crisis sounds far too exciting for August really.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-71ZQsHjMTUw/YS5le5XAF2I/AAAAAAAA93M/9PCf1VxIsjoe2bjHlOTqrPVfsPbZVPYkwCPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210806_103832.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-71ZQsHjMTUw/YS5le5XAF2I/AAAAAAAA93M/9PCf1VxIsjoe2bjHlOTqrPVfsPbZVPYkwCPcBGAsYHg/w480-h640/IMG_20210806_103832.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I've been riding my bike. With an eye to possibly returning to gym soon(ish) and a desire to not be entirely pathetic when I do, I thought I'd better put some effort in.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">What August does have going for it is the stillness - between winter storms that is - and when the bitter South Easter starts blowing again it'll not be nearly as fun out there on a bicycle.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I've been riding my other bike too. I had a fall last November, two actually, on a day out doing off-road motorbike training. Some bruising and a snapped front brake handle were the only two immediate casualties, but my pride was much more badly wounded, and my confidence. It's taken me a while to get back in the literal saddle, but I've ridden 3 different types of motorbike in the last month and that felt good.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZxQJo-3SdVY/YS5le7vQR3I/AAAAAAAA93M/qtD_jhjIkRUqMNo0Ux_bNXOg_vJta_DKwCPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210807_181351.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZxQJo-3SdVY/YS5le7vQR3I/AAAAAAAA93M/qtD_jhjIkRUqMNo0Ux_bNXOg_vJta_DKwCPcBGAsYHg/w480-h640/IMG_20210807_181351.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We've spent a lot of time with Layla, Zahida's daughter. She and Stella are still thick as thieves, and despite having seen so very little of each other in the last 18 months they just pick straight back up again every time - there is no other friend Stella can spend as much time with, as easily, as her.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Layla and family are moving to the UK soon. Zahida's husband Sam has done so incredibly, wonderfully well these last few years, but he needs a change - and this is the one they've chosen. We're trying hard to be encouraging and excited, but we are sad, for us.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eb2eEh7g8V0/YS5le5P4-HI/AAAAAAAA93M/wzSwD0EjzSYe9GazBwZHzZg_f_xP_1_wACPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210808_132022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eb2eEh7g8V0/YS5le5P4-HI/AAAAAAAA93M/wzSwD0EjzSYe9GazBwZHzZg_f_xP_1_wACPcBGAsYHg/w480-h640/IMG_20210808_132022.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">These two punks turned one on 20 August and my god we love them. They live almost exclusively upstairs when in the house, with their own secret routes down to the garden (ours and the absent neighbour's) to avoid the dogs.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Minnow (although Frieda insists she's Mino) is the house cat, always on a bed, always up for a nap with a human. She fishes hairbands out of a basket on my dresser (which naturally we keep stocked up just for her) and chases them around the rooms, she vocalises a lot, likes to drink from a tap, is soft and malleable.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IAoiJcRk2NI/YS5le0KHI8I/AAAAAAAA93M/So2zDOafFWMT8g7GLhGV1mrU6Y-k78u0ACPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210808_131803.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IAoiJcRk2NI/YS5le0KHI8I/AAAAAAAA93M/So2zDOafFWMT8g7GLhGV1mrU6Y-k78u0ACPcBGAsYHg/w480-h640/IMG_20210808_131803.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Prince is 100% dude. Playful, curious, often out on an adventure, a total clown, straight-forward and uncomplicated. Not super affectionate - until he is, purring and bumping you and rolling and drooling - Prince spends his days collecting litter from the gardens and often the lake, bringing in 5-8 pieces a day sometimes, some dripping wet, some tiny, some big. Saving the planet is his important work.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AAOhVJP8nPs/YS5le7atluI/AAAAAAAA93M/01K8EzurJVsfsW-CJBWsT-0fHCxtDSyEACPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210818_130501.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AAOhVJP8nPs/YS5le7atluI/AAAAAAAA93M/01K8EzurJVsfsW-CJBWsT-0fHCxtDSyEACPcBGAsYHg/w480-h640/IMG_20210818_130501.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">August is dramatic skies. The acacia trees are coming back to life after winter and the sun on those green shoots against a brooding sky is one of my favourite things to see.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ojxggwlwaa4/YS5lezOePbI/AAAAAAAA93M/IwkSWgGXMZYVX0J0JvlD9V5pS7mjyUbHgCPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210826_100829.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ojxggwlwaa4/YS5lezOePbI/AAAAAAAA93M/IwkSWgGXMZYVX0J0JvlD9V5pS7mjyUbHgCPcBGAsYHg/w480-h640/IMG_20210826_100829.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I have two friends who wrote novels during lockdown. Others who've picked up impressive new habits such as committed cold-water swimming, or weight-lifting.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Part of my midyear crisis was a small what-have-I-done-with-lockdown moment, until I reminded myself that I started a whole new job!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Events are dead (although I am also currently working with clients who are desperately trying to do one - March 2022 maybe...) so I am managing sales and marketing for a family business, a business I've grown up around and had extremely little to do with before, but I'm really enjoying being part of.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yMHNYXh5Rtw/YS5le7mIgqI/AAAAAAAA93M/W93LDfratz4pbSO0SfAHr9feiRzc8HLkwCPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210828_183604.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yMHNYXh5Rtw/YS5le7mIgqI/AAAAAAAA93M/W93LDfratz4pbSO0SfAHr9feiRzc8HLkwCPcBGAsYHg/w640-h480/IMG_20210828_183604.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">To be fair, August has allowed us some magnificent weather for outdoor socialising, which in the global scheme of things for mid-winter mid-pandemic, is pretty generous.</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We have been for walks, and outdoor lunches and a couple of dinners - working around people's exposure and the national curfew - and lots of garden/beachside/roadside chats. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Then last Saturday, a drive-in screening of The Witches, with cuddly car-beds and popcorn and candy-floss for the children and sneaky wine and hilarity for the grown-ups. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was <i>bloody</i> cold, snow on the mountains and frost-bitten toes, but the company warmed our bodies and our hearts and it was a good send-off for the month.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I will always be grateful for having so many loved ones so close during this shitshow.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And tomorrow is the first day of Spring, so there's that, but more excitingly - my second Pfizer shot, and that is a real turn towards the light.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">See ya August, let's move on.</div>Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09678300547613778858noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8833780684806465913.post-12913922545593558722021-07-29T15:52:00.001+02:002021-07-29T15:52:05.461+02:00take the cake<p> I read something recently, a meme or motivational quote thingie, which said it takes bravery to be silly and play in times of great upheaval or distress*.</p><p>It was so good to read. Too often we let ourselves feel frivolous for taking time out to be silly, and too often we neglect to play.</p><p>Among my many blessings is being surrounded by people who don't let me forget this, and last week we had a good game.</p><p>It was a <a href="https://ohfortheloveofblog.blogspot.com/2015/07/the-very-best-of-friends-vol5.html" target="_blank">darling friend</a>'s birthday - 6 years since I wrote that last post about her and still every word 100% true - and she wanted to go for a cycle.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A25SfquUDto/YQFvV3Ag3fI/AAAAAAAA8pA/ozBSvh0cDJswuNWB9v5LpzBFRcvb-7DZQCPcBGAsYHg/s1600/WhatsApp%2BImage%2B2021-07-22%2Bat%2B20.57.28.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A25SfquUDto/YQFvV3Ag3fI/AAAAAAAA8pA/ozBSvh0cDJswuNWB9v5LpzBFRcvb-7DZQCPcBGAsYHg/w640-h480/WhatsApp%2BImage%2B2021-07-22%2Bat%2B20.57.28.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rEdC57n1XHA/YQFvaLtn3TI/AAAAAAAA8pE/WjHprit9meg_NrSgPlcUVRiSzdmrNjnHgCPcBGAsYHg/s1599/WhatsApp%2BImage%2B2021-07-22%2Bat%2B20.44.42.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1599" data-original-width="1599" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rEdC57n1XHA/YQFvaLtn3TI/AAAAAAAA8pE/WjHprit9meg_NrSgPlcUVRiSzdmrNjnHgCPcBGAsYHg/w640-h640/WhatsApp%2BImage%2B2021-07-22%2Bat%2B20.44.42.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A cycle in pristine and tranquil <a href="https://capepoint.co.za/" target="_blank">Cape Point</a>, past fields of bright yellow leucodendrons glowing against moody winter skies, the tinkle of a hundred winter streams all filled with singing froggies, ostrich beady-eying us as we raced past, herds of eland and bontebok, a porcupine in full quill bustling off into the undergrowth - nature brought her A game.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jESdt_0FKpo/YQKgSAZwOlI/AAAAAAAA8qw/GOABk5Co5q4WgL0m2CELzGRAZZxUrMrbgCPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210722_142012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jESdt_0FKpo/YQKgSAZwOlI/AAAAAAAA8qw/GOABk5Co5q4WgL0m2CELzGRAZZxUrMrbgCPcBGAsYHg/w480-h640/IMG_20210722_142012.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lk0OcJfBMGQ/YQKge0W0ofI/AAAAAAAA8q0/oIjQfo5uktwMl2YWRwImo5nQQPXxhL4LACPcBGAsYHg/s1599/WhatsApp%2BImage%2B2021-07-22%2Bat%2B21.19.34.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1599" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lk0OcJfBMGQ/YQKge0W0ofI/AAAAAAAA8q0/oIjQfo5uktwMl2YWRwImo5nQQPXxhL4LACPcBGAsYHg/w640-h480/WhatsApp%2BImage%2B2021-07-22%2Bat%2B21.19.34.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The human company was spectacular too. Our friend Sally is an accomplished cyclist and entertained us all by standing up on her crossbar while whizzing along, another friend joined late and steamed up behind us on his bike shouting 'Comin' in HOT', the kids were great - all old enough to be on their own bikes, full of chat and hilarity.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was a Thursday and (besides the kids who were still on holiday) we all should probably have been doing more adult things. Some had officially taken leave, but most of us work for ourselves and had signed our own permission slip. It wasn't raining, it was a birthday, it was a chance to get outdoors, a chance to play - why the hell not?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My joy, as I flew along relishing all the endorphins, was compounded by the slight tenderness in my left arm - I'd gotten my first Pfizer jab the day before and it was such a shot of optimism and hope for the future. For a moment all things felt possible again.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div>Our ride ended with a picnic at the sea. Homemade guacamole and hummus, nacho chips and a (highly illegal - cackle - bottle of wine). And of course - because tradition - a homemade masterpiece of a cake for the birthday girl. Baked before and assembled on site.<div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pDyPnUpBDZI/YQKpxvB776I/AAAAAAAA8rA/kIKt_Rf1A-kIjPKepWcbiZJImJ_V6h0lgCPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210722_144040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pDyPnUpBDZI/YQKpxvB776I/AAAAAAAA8rA/kIKt_Rf1A-kIjPKepWcbiZJImJ_V6h0lgCPcBGAsYHg/w640-h480/IMG_20210722_144040.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-shBhuA65pDY/YQKpxlO_apI/AAAAAAAA8rA/6Ep9OgqPJT0Vckyl2NwEdoA_1vvs6QQ-gCPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210722_144721.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-shBhuA65pDY/YQKpxlO_apI/AAAAAAAA8rA/6Ep9OgqPJT0Vckyl2NwEdoA_1vvs6QQ-gCPcBGAsYHg/w480-h640/IMG_20210722_144721.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div>How gorgeous?<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div>A bet it tasted amazing.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sadly we'll never know...</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hEqZ2KuV7xs/YQKubM7Zg8I/AAAAAAAA8rM/TWp9OT1S4ZEhNnxCgiIQ19tggtYHOzcIwCPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210722_151259.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hEqZ2KuV7xs/YQKubM7Zg8I/AAAAAAAA8rM/TWp9OT1S4ZEhNnxCgiIQ19tggtYHOzcIwCPcBGAsYHg/w480-h640/IMG_20210722_151259.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div>But he seemed to enjoy it a lot.</div><div><br /></div><div>Raiding baboons are notorious at Cape Point. They have no fear of humans, no shame at chasing you off your picnic, no qualms about taking the cake.</div><div><br /></div><div>I tried to stand fast for a bit - but as he hurtled towards me, hairy shoulders rolling, teeth bared, snarling and barking, I released that beautiful cake in a slow-mo arc across the grass, even in that moment having a small internal acknowledgement (enjoyment?) that when would I ever again just <i>toss </i>a complete, beautifully iced cake to the ground?</div><div><br /></div><div>God we laughed and laughed and laughed. We love cake, but even more than that we love a good story. And most of all we love to be playful, to find the funny side, to have adventures together, to seize the day, to take the cake.</div><div><br /></div><div>Last Thursday we were reminded of all of that - and in the light of the last month, my last post, it was a very well timed nudge.<p>*Also privilege right? I am aware of this, always.</p></div>Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09678300547613778858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8833780684806465913.post-70603817733206449882021-07-01T16:02:00.000+02:002021-07-01T16:02:27.047+02:00in the bleak midwinter<p>It's day 4 of a 7 day storm, and we're back in lockdown.</p><p>The girls just finished school 10 days earlier than planned, booze sales are prohibited again, no gatherings (like, none), no restaurants, no galleries, no museums, 9pm curfew. They kept the beaches open this time, but in this weather this is only really good news for those restaurant owners who can go for a surf to distract themselves from the crippling debt and human cost of having to close their doors. Again.</p><p>Ostensibly this lockdown is for 14 days but I mean, we've all heard that one before.</p><p>So we're back at home. Except this time I'm also working. Or am I?</p><p>I spent yesterday compiling a document which might mean a pause to my current contract, and although it would be pretty shit to lose the distraction, satisfaction and paycheck that comes with actual work - it's also madness to try and put together an in-person event in this ridiculously unpredictable time.</p><p>I realised recently that I've possibly reached peak apathy. I just don't really care that much anymore.</p><p>I can't think about the future without waves of absolute gloom breaking over me so I just don't. And by future I mean everything from will I ever travel internationally to what options will my children have in this new world to how, with 67% youth unemployment, our country is surely heading down the tubes. See why it's better to just not think of it?</p><p>I have never been this apathetic in my life. I'm not even despondent because that would require too much feeling. I just ... have the biggest case of the whatevers ever.</p><p>Also an excellent time to have a midlife crisis. I turned 46 in May and it was hard. The actual birthday was lovely - I have the best friends and family - but in the weeks that followed I hit a real wall. But even that is ruined by the fukken pandemic.</p><p>As I texted a friend recently: <i>what we've all got is the constant second guessing of all our feelings - do I hate my life or just the pandemic, do I want a divorce or just a vaccine, is this Covid or a normal midlife crisis?</i></p><p>It's all extremely boring actually.</p><p>BUT, there are rays of light and my god we need them...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qKE5Mx1i-B4/YN3BJY3jg1I/AAAAAAAA70k/0bVaaKLJUlEHEWSTH6nUsEY10i2xEqPHACPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210619_221053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qKE5Mx1i-B4/YN3BJY3jg1I/AAAAAAAA70k/0bVaaKLJUlEHEWSTH6nUsEY10i2xEqPHACPcBGAsYHg/s320/IMG_20210619_221053.jpg" /></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-883J7mjFONs/YN3BJcXX8vI/AAAAAAAA70k/mQSEeNy626M8mZVlTrVWIpGTaKMU60-bgCPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210619_132923.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-883J7mjFONs/YN3BJcXX8vI/AAAAAAAA70k/mQSEeNy626M8mZVlTrVWIpGTaKMU60-bgCPcBGAsYHg/s320/IMG_20210619_132923.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2MIr3MZuyLQ/YN3BJUEpy0I/AAAAAAAA70k/nKsVqMeLnIsKP5R37PHm_SBcvY7DJtuWQCPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210619_165811.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2MIr3MZuyLQ/YN3BJUEpy0I/AAAAAAAA70k/nKsVqMeLnIsKP5R37PHm_SBcvY7DJtuWQCPcBGAsYHg/s320/IMG_20210619_165811.jpg" /></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NfoSuezR2p4/YN3BJS6j9pI/AAAAAAAA70k/6DIjFLJIYxsLSRtu-HGdhSXinBW2qee5ACPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210621_080527.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NfoSuezR2p4/YN3BJS6j9pI/AAAAAAAA70k/6DIjFLJIYxsLSRtu-HGdhSXinBW2qee5ACPcBGAsYHg/s320/IMG_20210621_080527.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b99R7VF1F3E/YN3BJW4ZzwI/AAAAAAAA70k/zgJ-TxsS3qocObMgcq-t-E2xaxa1vf1YQCPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210629_111456.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-b99R7VF1F3E/YN3BJW4ZzwI/AAAAAAAA70k/zgJ-TxsS3qocObMgcq-t-E2xaxa1vf1YQCPcBGAsYHg/s320/IMG_20210629_111456.jpg" /></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x1jG3S6uBTw/YN3BJYx16aI/AAAAAAAA70k/5oA2e8ha4SoyCPOGy6lemYOKDym3AuN5ACPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210614_090430.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x1jG3S6uBTw/YN3BJYx16aI/AAAAAAAA70k/5oA2e8ha4SoyCPOGy6lemYOKDym3AuN5ACPcBGAsYHg/s320/IMG_20210614_090430.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GuXgRaEUtr8/YN3BJaL942I/AAAAAAAA70k/fG6ts3ERkLIjYUj23c_Jw5Qu8Mp5ftxGwCPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210514_175626.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GuXgRaEUtr8/YN3BJaL942I/AAAAAAAA70k/fG6ts3ERkLIjYUj23c_Jw5Qu8Mp5ftxGwCPcBGAsYHg/s320/IMG_20210514_175626.jpg" /></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pvwRIV3VOu4/YN3BJeZcMUI/AAAAAAAA70k/mqlx99kA1WAfXjrisnkFsvMhkvlstPmPgCPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210528_154524.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pvwRIV3VOu4/YN3BJeZcMUI/AAAAAAAA70k/mqlx99kA1WAfXjrisnkFsvMhkvlstPmPgCPcBGAsYHg/s320/IMG_20210528_154524.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ni4SNn6KELY/YN3Eup7-SlI/AAAAAAAA704/qpQEjiBmnVEE7zfFLMlerhV1j0ufeglLwCPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210514_192953.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ni4SNn6KELY/YN3Eup7-SlI/AAAAAAAA704/qpQEjiBmnVEE7zfFLMlerhV1j0ufeglLwCPcBGAsYHg/s320/IMG_20210514_192953.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKX_7P1XYvh0CDcsVSzy38zCCDhIEB91CfWt_pwo0LiqVsxguVbc4VGTpXLt4peRzTQZfX86MrR8mTiHtNYOtP4R5aMio-ixImVbRh08cWFbpJEfx-bTGd_3nU6uAZ4yL845gwzxZ2DEk/s4000/IMG_20210513_204124.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKX_7P1XYvh0CDcsVSzy38zCCDhIEB91CfWt_pwo0LiqVsxguVbc4VGTpXLt4peRzTQZfX86MrR8mTiHtNYOtP4R5aMio-ixImVbRh08cWFbpJEfx-bTGd_3nU6uAZ4yL845gwzxZ2DEk/s320/IMG_20210513_204124.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7TweuZbIRgQ/YN3GiYZuUdI/AAAAAAAA71E/XPzwWPw9-h4b7bPxyzETvptL8UrxD2UEACPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210618_221523.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7TweuZbIRgQ/YN3GiYZuUdI/AAAAAAAA71E/XPzwWPw9-h4b7bPxyzETvptL8UrxD2UEACPcBGAsYHg/s320/IMG_20210618_221523.jpg" /></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cFO9J-T50aw/YN3IHOxzvKI/AAAAAAAA71Q/3uXsulFQaTYcrTSJRUmcHGxi8JNzJjnkwCPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210625_172424.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cFO9J-T50aw/YN3IHOxzvKI/AAAAAAAA71Q/3uXsulFQaTYcrTSJRUmcHGxi8JNzJjnkwCPcBGAsYHg/s320/IMG_20210625_172424.jpg" /></a></div></div><p>Our big girl turned 14 last month and scored (as she always does) a beaut of a still, warm, winters day to have lunch out with her besties and cupcakes on our deck. After her tiny 13th celebration last year this was a big win, especially in light of our current restrictions.</p><p>The sun comes up every day (not much evidence of this the last few days tbh but ja, still she rises) and reminds us that we live in a beautiful place.</p><p>We have the most ridiculously lovely and infuriating collection of pets to comfort and entertain us.</p><p>In our home there is art, and beauty, and kindness, and love, and delicious food - and this, in the end, is the thing which must be enough for now. </p><p>Just un-wedgie your big girl panties and get on with it girl.</p>Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09678300547613778858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8833780684806465913.post-58293763822016196322021-04-29T10:18:00.002+02:002021-04-29T10:18:34.900+02:00a month of cheese platters<p>If you follow (or stalk) me on Instagram you'll have picked up that we've been away A LOT in the last few weeks. Sickening really. Sorry.</p><p>This is almost entirely thanks to lovely friends who cleverly booked weekends away with a foresight for fun which we've struggled with the last few months, and also in part to bookings made in 2019, in The Before, which have only now been fulfilled. </p><p>What follows is a small review of some weekends in paradise, and the well-timed cheese platters which accompanied us.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-75huIlnq4L4/YIkRttGuIOI/AAAAAAAA6Z4/elgpHJKLQlsNaHdLZctJWyZSFxCQljEpgCPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210320_151557.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-75huIlnq4L4/YIkRttGuIOI/AAAAAAAA6Z4/elgpHJKLQlsNaHdLZctJWyZSFxCQljEpgCPcBGAsYHg/w480-h640/IMG_20210320_151557.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A long weekend camp at <i>Altyd Water</i> (always water - a big claim for an end-of-summer campsite in the Cape - turns out they weren't wrong) kicked off the festivities and reignited a will to live. Amazing river water (no crocodiles!*), perfect kiddie dynamics, croquet on the lawn, a live snake capture, tequila cocktails and the cheese platter which saved us.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Packing up the tent on the last day we were already planning the next one...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-q_k7hbn1NNk/YIkdF_hNlRI/AAAAAAAA6aI/uFeS3c7euyAhtFdpnhy4D976r6COQ06oQCPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210327_135503.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-q_k7hbn1NNk/YIkdF_hNlRI/AAAAAAAA6aI/uFeS3c7euyAhtFdpnhy4D976r6COQ06oQCPcBGAsYHg/w480-h640/IMG_20210327_135503.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But first, this. Not technically a cheese platter but just a hint of the luxury sampled on a freebie weekend at the <a href="https://www.steenbergfarm.com/" target="_blank">Steenberg Hotel & Spa</a> with my bestie. This was an amazingly generous gift from a friend in cold Berlin who was unable to make use of the booking she'd made pre-pandemic.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We slept, and ate, and lolled at the best poolside I've ever hang out at - feeling our shoulders actually relax, our souls unfurl and the utter peace which only comes with not having to do one single thing you don't want to do. Not one.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zBqLRuTO-Aw/YIkdF2SXsZI/AAAAAAAA6aI/m1bExI-W1zcgTnsa_4UENfgFDVCIXiyFwCPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210403_175637.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zBqLRuTO-Aw/YIkdF2SXsZI/AAAAAAAA6aI/m1bExI-W1zcgTnsa_4UENfgFDVCIXiyFwCPcBGAsYHg/w480-h640/IMG_20210403_175637.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And then the big one. 5 days deep in the Groot Karoo on a friends farm.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And this cheese platter - the most humble of them all, but the most special. A hunk of Camembert hacked to pieces with a pocket knife, a sleeve of very standard crackers. Gin cocktails with pink peppercorns foraged from the tree we would sleep around that night - out under the stars in a sheep paddock on the farm. Mattresses on the ground, a big bonfire, the best lamb chops of my life, endless stars, a creaking windpump, snuffling children bundled up in the night with just their noses peeking out, a faithful doggie who kept watch and the gentlest dawn. Magic.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5nCITtjy0zY/YIkdF9528qI/AAAAAAAA6aI/gOZ1IxdVvWAELW0L8W7731IYokmhspP7wCPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210404_124521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5nCITtjy0zY/YIkdF9528qI/AAAAAAAA6aI/gOZ1IxdVvWAELW0L8W7731IYokmhspP7wCPcBGAsYHg/w480-h640/IMG_20210404_124521.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Later the following day, after an icy pool dip to rinse the dust from my sinuses, and a work call taken in the old farm office - still in a damp cozzie, kids yelling to each other outside, a faded sheep deworming schedule up on the wall - the beginning of a conversation which has culminated in an actual work contract for an actual in-person event (just when I thought it would never happen) - this was the snack board I made to celebrate - served on the verandah with ice cold wine and some self-congratulation.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z8yZTM7lrC8/YIkdud6v_BI/AAAAAAAA6aY/Oj9JX6zJ0Twj7yqLIFPWA3Ghwjrc2wt6wCPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210204_175435.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z8yZTM7lrC8/YIkdud6v_BI/AAAAAAAA6aY/Oj9JX6zJ0Twj7yqLIFPWA3Ghwjrc2wt6wCPcBGAsYHg/w480-h640/IMG_20210204_175435.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I don't have a photo of the food, or anything much, from the quick trip to Onrus we squeezed in after the only weekend in 6 that we spent at home. A quick 24h of diving, swimming, crayfish cooked and eaten on the beach, a Japanese Wagyu fillet which was indescribably magnificent and an emergency vet run for one of our stinkers. (Honestly, the only weekend away they joined us and someone ate something weird and had to go to the vet. For shame.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But not all platters are created to be shared - and the above was for a small girl on a warm afternoon. Summer fruit, cheese, yoghurt and honey for dipping.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-buJ_-I_BI5I/YIkdX_VbwrI/AAAAAAAA6aQ/9j-Te49cmBc9YhWOIKBLiWyo1MrPZwqyQCPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210424_145858.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-buJ_-I_BI5I/YIkdX_VbwrI/AAAAAAAA6aQ/9j-Te49cmBc9YhWOIKBLiWyo1MrPZwqyQCPcBGAsYHg/w480-h640/IMG_20210424_145858.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And to round it all off - another camp. Another river (still no crocs!*), another cheese platter, more cold but incredible swims, more kids having the best time while the adults followed suit, more friends, more laughter and more reminders that: we can hang out safely and largely outdoors, we can move beyond these homes we spend so much time in, we are, as always, incredibly lucky, we will always, always, have a cheese platter.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Thank you March/April - we needed this so bad. And now, <i>actual work</i>. My god I wonder if I can remember how to do this?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">*at the beginning of the year the news broke of a crocodile farm (a tourist attraction back when there were tourists) which lost its fence in a flood and subsequently, over 100 crocodiles into the waterways of the Western Cape... Not being sure how many crocs escaped in the first place, it's impossible to tell whether they've all been recovered. Adds a certain <i>frisson </i>to weekends away on rivers at the moment.</div>Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09678300547613778858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8833780684806465913.post-62171563873548033102021-03-31T09:56:00.002+02:002021-04-06T11:35:11.413+02:0011 on the 11th<p>Before we say goodbye to March - a quick tribute to the belle of the March ball...</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XoMHO74TpBw/YGQjBGOs8qI/AAAAAAAA5iE/GcIekEsM3d8dfAgTxlzv1fZHyq_OEda6QCPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210320_184450.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XoMHO74TpBw/YGQjBGOs8qI/AAAAAAAA5iE/GcIekEsM3d8dfAgTxlzv1fZHyq_OEda6QCPcBGAsYHg/w480-h640/IMG_20210320_184450.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Post swim hair, hot chocolate and croquet on recent camping trip.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>This girl turned 11 on the 11th.</p><p>We went in to lockdown with a freshly minted 10 yr old - getting tweeny, but still very much a child - but in a year we've developed a tall, leggy, adventurous, <i>hilarious</i>, mature and even funnier big girl and I'm here for it.</p><p>She had a small party at the beginning of the month. Our lockdown has been so hugely eased and our numbers so very low at the moment, that it felt like a golden moment to seize - and so we did. 5 best friends, watermelon, cake and the neighbours pool - it made her so happy and also a wee bit nostalgic (<i>'Remember when swimming with 5 friends wasn't a birthday treat Mum, when it could just be a normal Saturday?'</i>)</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hNEwRcQngWs/YGQj5ke-tYI/AAAAAAAA5iM/T8arKLk5pe8g7sQJvoOB20CeFK_uyQWHQCPcBGAsYHg/s3843/IMG_20210306_161011.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3843" data-original-width="2882" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hNEwRcQngWs/YGQj5ke-tYI/AAAAAAAA5iM/T8arKLk5pe8g7sQJvoOB20CeFK_uyQWHQCPcBGAsYHg/w480-h640/IMG_20210306_161011.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crown Cake for a Crown Birthday<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br />This child - with her hilarious comedic timing which has us all in stiches, her growing interest in food and trying new things, her beautiful singing voice, her deep love for her little cousins, her persecution complex that we favour her sister (we've taken to playing an imaginary tiny violin every time she mentions it - to her credit she thinks it's hilarious), her ability to still occasionally cause a massive scene about very little, her still-favoured panda bear stuffy that she sleeps with every night, her growing interest in the world and deep (sometimes difficult) questions about race, crime, sex and world events.<div><br /></div><div>She's a keeper, our little <a href="http://ohfortheloveofblog.blogspot.com/2010/03/twinkle-twinkle-little.html" target="_blank">star</a>. </div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TxHISUNrl04/YGQqNwHnHeI/AAAAAAAA5iY/gl00kwoR-og1QruBU30va_GQNhAr6V0PgCPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210319_140418.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TxHISUNrl04/YGQqNwHnHeI/AAAAAAAA5iY/gl00kwoR-og1QruBU30va_GQNhAr6V0PgCPcBGAsYHg/w300-h400/IMG_20210319_140418.jpg" width="300" /></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P7qkd17oRos/YGQqN1kDkDI/AAAAAAAA5iY/DDuXDujxsUMWCoQvOvQRPCzAjvbs4RVswCPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210314_084444.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P7qkd17oRos/YGQqN1kDkDI/AAAAAAAA5iY/DDuXDujxsUMWCoQvOvQRPCzAjvbs4RVswCPcBGAsYHg/w300-h400/IMG_20210314_084444.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KdF1SXB0_QE/YGQqN3cM49I/AAAAAAAA5iY/loFcLBUUQQAAVyO_7Gb_WfLoaz8qkAOsgCPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210311_074640.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KdF1SXB0_QE/YGQqN3cM49I/AAAAAAAA5iY/loFcLBUUQQAAVyO_7Gb_WfLoaz8qkAOsgCPcBGAsYHg/w300-h400/IMG_20210311_074640.jpg" width="300" /></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fUoVwvxvCOA/YGQqvxeCqHI/AAAAAAAA5ik/rq5gDS-N0FoZ4o_11O8xwQUFBiPQcAaowCPcBGAsYHg/s4000/IMG_20210313_094657.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fUoVwvxvCOA/YGQqvxeCqHI/AAAAAAAA5ik/rq5gDS-N0FoZ4o_11O8xwQUFBiPQcAaowCPcBGAsYHg/w300-h400/IMG_20210313_094657.jpg" width="300" /></a><br /><br /></div></div>Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09678300547613778858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8833780684806465913.post-10434565805772625412021-03-26T09:38:00.008+02:002021-03-26T09:48:46.450+02:00pandeversary<p><i>Thurs 25 March</i></p><p>It's warm, hot actually, and perfectly still outside. Not a ripple on the lake save those from the departing tail feathers of a lazy water bird.</p><p>It's Lockdown Weather (I think we might always call it that), and it feels uneasy.</p><p>Is it okay to claim PTSD if nothing really, really bad happened to you? Or is living through a lockdown, a pandemic, bad enough?</p><p>For like some kind of PTSD this feeling the last few weeks has been one of caution. Lightly skim over the emotions from This Time Last Year and they're manageable, weird but controllable - linger on them and you realise there's some black dogs lurking there.</p><p>A few weeks back it was the anniversary of the last day I did my job properly. The last day I spent in a venue with a group of people from various parts of the world, meeting and working together to advance a mechanism to tackle social injustice.</p><p>It was as the wave was breaking and things were changing every day. Some of the delegates pulled out at the last minute, opting not to travel. Some wore masks on their flights - the only ones in a packed airplane. The Sierra Leoneans joked that a few years back they were <i>persona non grata</i> (Ebola) and this time it was the Italians. We sanitized the pen in between registrations. The day after the event the WHO declared Covid-19 a global pandemic and the world started closing down. It felt like we'd slid through just as the gate slammed shut behind us.</p><p>The anniversary of that day was hard. I deeply miss my work. Yes, the income, obviously - there are few feelings as good as a whack of hard-earned FOREX landing in your account - but more than that, the purpose, the identity.</p><p>Similar to when a person dies, or leaves, there's a version of you which goes with them. That Molly has been missing for a year now, and I'm not sure whether we'll ever see her again.</p><p>I did a yoga class that pandeversary morning, tears leaking out the corners of my eyes, I came home and prepped for an important birthday the next day. I chuckled remembering how last year I got stuck in my car, full of helium balloons, on the way home from that event, on the other side of town waiting for the power to come back on so I could fill up with fuel and get home - I remembered how I thought that was hard, and frustrating, how trapped I felt then. I had no idea.</p><p><i>Fri 26 March</i></p><p>Every day these last few weeks has been a 'do you remember', a 'this day last year' - the whole world's been doing it. Every emotion is shared, yet also deeply personal.</p><p>This day last year we were going into hard lockdown. Today was the last day we could move unrestricted and from midnight tonight we were in what one of my friends recently referred to as Le Grande Slowdown.</p><p>Then this was deeply weird and cut through with the strangest mix of adrenalin and uselessness. This year, with some small glimmer of light on the horizon, this is deeply weird and cut through with a mix of grief and optimism. </p><p>Realistically I think my career path has changed forever, and the loss there cuts deep. Idealistically in some ways we are facing a brave new world, and that's exciting. But for now, as we shadow-walk beside the versions of ourselves from a year ago, the emotions are big ones - and we should acknowledge them.</p><p>And as always, there's a meme for this...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vv37RHV0ZYU/YF2RwXniJEI/AAAAAAAA5YE/NSB0wShWsv42oE5n_2AKQlZ7Uo4EkKH6wCLcBGAsYHQ/s750/165155444_10158022805322036_4672883039173830847_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="500" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vv37RHV0ZYU/YF2RwXniJEI/AAAAAAAA5YE/NSB0wShWsv42oE5n_2AKQlZ7Uo4EkKH6wCLcBGAsYHQ/w426-h640/165155444_10158022805322036_4672883039173830847_n.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><p><br /></p>Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09678300547613778858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8833780684806465913.post-86322644409283699652021-02-25T11:32:00.000+02:002021-02-25T11:32:33.711+02:00flu, but not THAT flu<p>Honestly, what kind of loser gets a <i>different </i>flu during a flu pandemic?</p><p>Me.</p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><p>The beaches finally opened, earlier than expected on the 2nd of Feb. And as if the gods had decided to finally cut us some slack it was the most magnificent summers day. We swam twice!</p><p>And twice more that week - long luxurious swims in which the ocean embraced us like a long-lost lover and we couldn't bring ourselves to leave (you say goodbye first, no <i>you</i> say goodbye first) until we finally returned to land with shriveled toes and water-logged ears.</p><p>That Saturday we spent at one of our favourite places on earth - swimming and picnicking with my parents (all outdoors) and friends. It was a magical summery day and one of those rare moments in which everything felt peaceful and okay, just for a minute.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N1Z09CnnoC0/YDUeN2QOVaI/AAAAAAAA4pA/tP8EettHJe01LDFnW43jjR1sscEHiglQQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_20210206_134659%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N1Z09CnnoC0/YDUeN2QOVaI/AAAAAAAA4pA/tP8EettHJe01LDFnW43jjR1sscEHiglQQCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h480/IMG_20210206_134659%255B1%255D.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>And then the next morning - sick.</p><p>Fever, chills, body ache, headaches. Restless sweaty nights and fevered dreams, concerns about having infected my parents and the girls not being able to start long-awaited school. The dreaded nasal swab, the wait, a negative Covid test. Wtf?</p><p>Help from friends to get the last minute school prep done, infinite patience and care from my lovely husband, long horrible disjointed nights and tedious days moving from bed to couch to bed.</p><p>A full week of fevers, another full week of recovery, a gradual return to functionality... I still need an afternoon lie-down, I still can't fathom exercising, or drinking wine, I still get dizzy standing up too fast. Vit B jabs in the butt ('You don't have any extra vaccines lying around do you?' ha ha joke to the clinic sister who's probably heard it many times already). </p><p>That one magical week of summer has gained almost fantasy status in my memory. The weather is icky now and the sea rough and cold. But the summer is not over, good weather and more swims lie ahead.</p><p>I just... really can't believe that wasn't Covid? Antibody testing in a couple of weeks I think...</p>Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09678300547613778858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8833780684806465913.post-69005931414716727022021-01-27T23:28:00.001+02:002021-01-27T23:39:28.584+02:00a swim in the seaOf all the incredible things happening in our lives at the moment - curfew, alcohol ban, academic year delays, mandatory masks (all currently extended until mid February) - the most incredulous must be that a swim, in the sea, in mid summer, is illegal - and a blog-worthy event.<div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PzrF719yxcE/YBHRXt7M_HI/AAAAAAAA4Fo/Ldo_5X_Zwnk_n75zdw23QV9zyWF1PEL6gCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/a%2Bsea%2Bswim.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PzrF719yxcE/YBHRXt7M_HI/AAAAAAAA4Fo/Ldo_5X_Zwnk_n75zdw23QV9zyWF1PEL6gCLcBGAsYHQ/w480-h640/a%2Bsea%2Bswim.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div>The conditions weren't optimum. In 'normal' times we might have reconsidered.</div><div>Foamy, cold, big swell out to sea pushing the current vigorously in and out. A little overcast, a brisk breeze, rumours of blue bottles.</div><div><br /></div><div>But having walked in, down sandy paths worn in by abalone poachers through high dune brush - quietly past the house of the man renown for calling the cops, quickly past the place where snakes have been frequently spotted - down a long dune, through a hole in the barb-wire fence, finally out on to the beautiful coast path, finally out of sight of the town.</div><div>Having walked in, and longed for this for so many weeks, we didn't hesitate.</div><div><br /></div><div>Gasping at the cold, shoo'ing the foam ahead of us to try and look out for rocks, shrieking at unseen kelp brushing up against our legs, and then we were in.</div><div><br /></div><div>And it was...profound.</div><div><br /></div><div>And for all the reasons listed above, I think it was the best swim of my life.</div>Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09678300547613778858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8833780684806465913.post-51449184769167749032020-12-31T18:01:00.001+02:002021-07-01T16:12:11.353+02:00careful what you wish for<p> I will not let this year turn without a final word here. But where to start?</p><p>I don't feel I've done enough to document it - as in, historically. So fundamental an experience will no doubt require much reflection, stories for the rest of our lives. I'd really like to have a timeline of events to reference back to. Time itself has had such a weird quality - no real benchmarks or junctures, just the Long Weirdness ...</p><p>There were important dates - the WHO declared Covid-19 a global pandemic on Stella's 10th birthday.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cOz_m3O9_zE/X-3zP2Fhe4I/AAAAAAAA3XQ/XsuInY12Azg9kG_u5TVUn3ueWjGqR08XwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_20200311_172121.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cOz_m3O9_zE/X-3zP2Fhe4I/AAAAAAAA3XQ/XsuInY12Azg9kG_u5TVUn3ueWjGqR08XwCLcBGAsYHQ/w480-h640/IMG_20200311_172121.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><p>Frieda was the first grade back at school, 1 June. She was also the first of us (and to date, the only) to have a Covid test, in mid November - negative.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--XAJgmcMs1U/X-3zfG0zDYI/AAAAAAAA3XU/bOWA4DtcXfIvz-G84xUAcbStOcVoN3TxgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_20200602_075714.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--XAJgmcMs1U/X-3zfG0zDYI/AAAAAAAA3XU/bOWA4DtcXfIvz-G84xUAcbStOcVoN3TxgCLcBGAsYHQ/w480-h640/IMG_20200602_075714.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><p>Stella went back 6 weeks later, on Charl's birthday. in July. We joked that a morning home with no kids was the best gift ever ha ha.</p><p>Who can remember the day we got 'released' from hard lockdown and allowed to exercise outside the home, for a mere 3 hours from 6am (still in total darkness) to 9am, the streets around our house packed with grumpy and nervous people, no one making eye contact.</p><p>Our first legal walk at the beach in the middle of the day (still unclear if we were allowed ON the sand).</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K6yRs0s0TWg/X-3zsyfyMjI/AAAAAAAA3Xc/fOwrK_3RmcgkStzkaKK59JOzaB6m3zTQgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_20200601_170003.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1521" data-original-width="2048" height="476" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K6yRs0s0TWg/X-3zsyfyMjI/AAAAAAAA3Xc/fOwrK_3RmcgkStzkaKK59JOzaB6m3zTQgCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h476/IMG_20200601_170003.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>My birthday 'party' of 4, sitting on camp stools far apart in our driveway, drinking revolting black market wine and getting a big fright when we thought we'd missed the 8pm curfew - we hadn't.</p><p>Distributing rolling tobacco illegally for a friend, one of her customers a hairdresser, working under cover. Smuggling wine wrapped up in our overnight bags all the way to Calitzdorp when we were allowed to travel again, but booze was still verboten.</p><p>That disastrous 'girls weekend' in Calitzdorp which we thought would be our salvation and was instead a comic tragedy.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yiil4Eun_Yo/X-3z7PdKmdI/AAAAAAAA3Xk/_rEUKZwx68wN6cIhO1PrujYrhhNFrB2bgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_20200815_122008.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1646" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yiil4Eun_Yo/X-3z7PdKmdI/AAAAAAAA3Xk/_rEUKZwx68wN6cIhO1PrujYrhhNFrB2bgCLcBGAsYHQ/w514-h640/IMG_20200815_122008.jpg" width="514" /></a></div><p>A weekend in the Cederberg with my parents which literally saved our souls, and our relationship with one another.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_UdKqUK3jt8/X-30GEWXeaI/AAAAAAAA3Xs/7u4JkmYXNr8JGZgxK8USSrYGoFUI_d0MACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_20200918_182241.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_UdKqUK3jt8/X-30GEWXeaI/AAAAAAAA3Xs/7u4JkmYXNr8JGZgxK8USSrYGoFUI_d0MACLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h480/IMG_20200918_182241.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>And inspired by that newfound feeling of adventuring together, a sneaky spontaneous 8 day holiday through some beautiful country, to visit with elephants and find all the inspiration, optimism and peaceful transience we'd been missing for so many months.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hyXF-Niz4Xo/X-30lnbZ3NI/AAAAAAAA3X4/2gbOisJHeG0VSoEbnpeCIV9hhIZIEcntQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2000/IMG_20201103_120857.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="2000" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hyXF-Niz4Xo/X-30lnbZ3NI/AAAAAAAA3X4/2gbOisJHeG0VSoEbnpeCIV9hhIZIEcntQCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h480/IMG_20201103_120857.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VgSEMGwLWP4/X-30ljHb0aI/AAAAAAAA3YA/r_w4GI2b0gskWZnaZ1OOB2-XAF3qojRcACLcBGAsYHQ/s2000/IMG_20201104_181812.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1500" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VgSEMGwLWP4/X-30ljHb0aI/AAAAAAAA3YA/r_w4GI2b0gskWZnaZ1OOB2-XAF3qojRcACLcBGAsYHQ/w480-h640/IMG_20201104_181812.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-udTOI-uejCA/X-30lksWWJI/AAAAAAAA3X8/BiZntukTVQII32pMowVz1xyLMdT8-xH8gCLcBGAsYHQ/s2000/IMG_20201106_112042.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1500" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-udTOI-uejCA/X-30lksWWJI/AAAAAAAA3X8/BiZntukTVQII32pMowVz1xyLMdT8-xH8gCLcBGAsYHQ/w480-h640/IMG_20201106_112042.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><p>Then just a few weeks ago, as the dreaded Second Wave rose up in the background, a careful but joyous and largely outdoor few days away with friends - the mountains and river and company a balm to our exhausted, end of year (x1000 like all things 2020) hearts and bodies.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DDnBBp8Pbxw/X-309pHWtjI/AAAAAAAA3YQ/xudQcWtXxmoAbqcUoHdJBLOEm4uVP6HyACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_20201215_143003.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DDnBBp8Pbxw/X-309pHWtjI/AAAAAAAA3YQ/xudQcWtXxmoAbqcUoHdJBLOEm4uVP6HyACLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h480/IMG_20201215_143003.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>Christmas spent alone - just like last year when we thought the concept so novel and cute - my parents in isolation after possible exposure (it seems they've luckily dodged it), brothers scattered to family bubbles not our own.</p><p>But we got kittens! A long-awaited request from the girls, a source of some anxiety for me, an ongoing slow introduction to the dogs continues... but how completely impossible is it to feel gloomy in the company of kittens? We LOVE them.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SsBjXqK5JIU/X-31Ez90rWI/AAAAAAAA3YY/R6L-jtgMPTc2n5ADB4du_AyjRKtMmQUAwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2000/IMG_20201123_121117.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1500" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SsBjXqK5JIU/X-31Ez90rWI/AAAAAAAA3YY/R6L-jtgMPTc2n5ADB4du_AyjRKtMmQUAwCLcBGAsYHQ/w300-h400/IMG_20201123_121117.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><p><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q6O-7OMV_Bo/X-31E6Nsq4I/AAAAAAAA3YU/fESDlSLSDb0e4ClMsXT3_LC0qxnHdj40wCLcBGAsYHQ/s2000/IMG_20201126_104850.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1500" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q6O-7OMV_Bo/X-31E6Nsq4I/AAAAAAAA3YU/fESDlSLSDb0e4ClMsXT3_LC0qxnHdj40wCLcBGAsYHQ/w300-h400/IMG_20201126_104850.jpg" width="300" /></a></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Now we're back in lockdown. Two weeks from today of no alcohol sales, 9pm curfew, no gatherings, and worst of all - no beaches. No beaches, no rivers, no parks and no waterways. No knowing if two weeks means two weeks or more weeks or... no one knows.<p></p><p>But I do know one thing, after this heinous and deeply weird year, I am so proud of my lockdown crew. Consistently we've amazed each other with our resilience and perseverance. We've laughed, and kept the home fires burning and remained, mostly, loving and kind. We've allowed each other space to have our moments - to be weaker or stronger - to wallow in sadness or frivolous hysteria. I'm proud of us.</p><p>At the beginning of this year we said we wanted to spend lots of time with the girls. To that I say, careful what you wish for.</p><p>Please, no one let me write a post like <a href="http://ohfortheloveofblog.blogspot.com/2020/01/rolling-into-it.html" target="_blank">this </a>for 2021 okay?</p>Mollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09678300547613778858noreply@blogger.com5