I want to be in a tent

I have the festival blues. Or maybe it's not so much the festival blues as opposed to the 'outside' blues. The joy of camping maybe. The setting up of a tent, getting your chairs out, making a fire. Just relaxing....fresh air, chatting, a drink or five. Hearing sounds but relishing the quiet of doing nothing. Making your space your own. Exploring around. Walking miles, just having a wander. 

I have outside blues, back to basic blues, 21st century, 1st world blues. 

It's north but it's south

And we're back. After a while. It's so lovely. It's even cloudy and not so warm. But it's great being back. 

He's fantastic. Annihilator. He's confident. I watch him striding across the court, his serve is immense. Looking great. His shirt rides up just a bit. It's a head butt place. Rock star. 

Last week was great but watching this is better. Maybe because I'm privy to the journey? 

I can hear the sea. I'm happy here. It's been a crazy year, but I'm calm. I'm chilled. The sea. The air. Here. Bear. They all do that. 

That little girl inside

So I'm reading through my hard drive - sounds filthy but it's not. I'm literally reading my hard drive. And I come across this little gem.  It's made me smile. It's about the start of facebook I guess. It's a little long winded and strange in itself.

I wrote about how you connect with those people from your past. Who knew you as a child, who you've 'friended' as an adult via social media and how you end up remembering how they made me feel. It's basically about my first big crush and how I became a pre-teen again, wondering if I should friend request him. Even though I was a woman. I wrote about how it's good to revisit who you were.

The funny thing about my first crush is that our circles ran along side each other for most of my teens and still now. I doubt he has any indication that I was so besotted....or if he did, has no memory of it now. We live in different countries, yet we still connect and converse. And that 12 year old who felt physically ill in his presence is gone. He's lost his exotic allure of being a boy. He's just a human friend to me.

And that little girl who was me was funny, now I think about it. She was all squiff teeth and freckles. Short - the one everyone calls cute and pats on the head. And she made people laugh. If I was wondering what people thought about me 'way back when', Facebook has done that one thing for me. If only I could tell that girl that people really thought she was lovely, and would actively seek her out to reconnect, maybe she wouldnt' have been so shy, so afraid to intrude. But then, maybe she wouldn't have been so nice.

I did say sorry for being a bitch to an old school friend. And they were astounded that I thought I was. Maybe girls want to be seen as bitchy - so that people think they don't get hurt? I wonder how many would be surprised at how many nights I cried myself to sleep over a boy, over an argument with a friend, over first world problems, over famine and the state my country was in. Maybe they wouldnt' be surprised? 

And I can admit to being the less than perfect friend, i can admit to being the one who always got her way, who dragged her best friend around the streets even though poor Nhandi had a cast on her leg... so not cool....I still feel guilty about that one.

Now I'm not sure if there is a point to this blog and I'm certainly not about to put the contents of my hard-drive onto this blog..... it's just been nice to reflect that I was a funny little thing with so much emotion and giggles in me... and you know maybe I havent' changed that much! That little girl is still inside, all silly and giggly and blushing from her toes.

In the words of Sammy Davis Jnr: Savour the moments, that are warm, special and giggly

Certainly one of my life mottos.