People

People make the world go round: Fact.

Actually, it's all sorts of people make the world turn. And I do appreciate that the world would be a terribly boring place if we were all the same. Diversity: that, is indeed the spice of life.

However, some people really annoy me. Why can't these be the ones that live in a different county or country and the ones I truly love and like, live near me?

Pretentious people are the ones that get to my GRR switch the most. The ones that are all Mother Earth and recycling and ethnic fabrics, who just HAVE to be organic dahling and listen to elk music because 'natural is the way forward'. These are the same people that wouldn't know a mung-bean if it hit them in the face. They bemoan people who aren't into conservation and who don't 'truly live' their lives - who don't see the world. However, these are the very people that will fly millions of jet fuel miles to visit a supposedly never touched island and stay in 5* luxury.  Who proclaim they are sucking up culture and bemoan that McD's and Starbucks have infiltrated. Yet refuse to eat the local food. Irony. Hypocrites. Pick a word.

I don't doubt they believe they are doing good. But it's the smugness and condescending nature of these people that possibly grate on me the most. 

"Oh Ali, you simply haven't lived, stuck in your little one horse town while I've been cavorting with the locals on some small pacific island/tiny country/etc" they say

To which I ask the question: cavorting with locals you say? staying a wood hut, eating off the land?

The answer is rarely yes.

And I will appreciate that this blog is coming across equally as pretentious and self righteous as the folk I'm mocking.

But I don't pretend to be something I'm not. I'm a mother. I live in a one horse town where the horse died a million years ago. I'm a family gal, I'm happiest amongst friends and family  and I live for my family. I totally made the wrong life choices (read male choices there) in my life. As a result, I am single, which I plan to be forever (or the day I die, whichever comes first). And that's me. I'm fairly simple, down to earth, with a penchant for shoes and books (I stroke them the same way, half a sigh and a gentle touch). I recycle as best as I can. I can sit and stare at the sea for hours, I'm rarely without a pen. So please please, stop trying to belittle me with your pretentious and very silly ways.

Music

Now I've blogged a bit about music before. But it continually amazes me how a song can transport me to a mood or a place. Quite often the people who were with me, won't have realised or the song might not have even been around but it reminds me of a certain moment in time.

Our House by Madness will forever remind me of my dad. He changed the words so that it fit to our house in Port Elizabeth. Same goes for 'Don't cry for me Argentina' and pretty much anything from Chicago.

Changed the way you kissed me by Example will always remind me of my last night in Thailand. I hear that song and I'm transported to being on a beach, laughing ten to the dozen with new friends and old. And I remember as it was playing and the fire man was doing his thing, I thought to myself "I will remember this forever" and I took a little memory snapshot. So now I hear that song and I'm drenched in happiness, smiling from ear to ear and thinking of Miss J dancing on a table (much to the horror of the Asian couple trying to have a romantic meal). *snorting with giggles now*

But there's another song, a song that only came out last year but if I did the video for it, it would be back in 2001. It just fits with how that memory of watching the sunset in Cape Town felt at the time.

Songs, I love them, I flipping do. For flicking my memory switch and enabling me to laugh and cry with them.

New Carpet

Something about a new carpet that is so very nice!

I have a new carpet... it's squishy, paler in colour than I thought but so nice and soft and lovely.

Smells vile though.

Twenty-twelve

I consider myself both British and South African - I flick between the two quite easily depending on my mood at the time (and how homesick I am for smarties and my family and friends). I feel I am South African because I was born there and lived there for the first 20 years of my life. I feel I am British, as my dad is, and as it's the only passport I've ever held and I've lived in England for 18 years of my life. And when I lived in South Africa, I considered myself the same. 

I have LOVED cheering on the South Africans in the Olympics and Paralympics and I have... with great gusto and emotion (also for Team GB). However, this 'summer' I have adored being British for the way this country (not just London) have put on these games. From the Olympic torch relay to tonight's closing ceremony - it's being pretty damn fantastic. I doubt I'll see it again in my 'home' country - so I'm really sad to see it go.

I come away with memories - memories of trying sooooo flipping hard to get tickets and failing every time. But going up to London to see the men's Triathlon with the CG was a day that will sit in my memory bank for as long as my brain lets it. The crowds, the athletes, the vibe, the emptiness of Oxford Street - it created such an atmosphere that will be hard to replicate. 

And then there's the Torch Relay that came prior to the Olympics. The town I live in, is at the arse end of society. It tries so bloody hard but is let down by some shoddy things - namely London prices on non-London etc wages. However, on Torch Relay days (we had two), we really did come together as a town and put on such a grand display and sense of unity. (gosh, I am rather gushy tonight!) It was also the week we regained the world record for the most pirates and the Red Arrows came for a fly.... all in all - a week Hastings should be damn well proud of. It's amusing, I think of Hastings as a stroppy teenager, it really can't be arsed most of the time, is a little sulky and petulant. However, when it's not in front of 'family' - it behaves really well, dresses up with a smile on it's face. 

Anyway, thank you England for a fabulous 'nearly-summer' twenty-twelve. I truly doubt I'll ever be a part of such a thing again (don't see immigration to Rio in my future).