Hello?

 Oh wow. Imagine wanting to write, knowing what to write but the words just stay stuck. 

And there’s still an essence of that but at the same time, I’ve scrolled to this page and Im typing away (on my phone) and look I’ve done a paragraph or two. 

I’ve been in a funk, no way to sugar coat it, I’ve been ignoring that feeling I get. I’ve been ignoring me. 

But I want to lose the lethargy, the dead weights. When I read back previous posts, I was so happy that I felt like me again. And that continued when I came back from America. And then when I went south in April. Around November time, I lost the mojo. I think by my birthday, everything was screaming at me yet I ignored it. And now I feel foolish. Again. Because once again, honesty isn’t something I need to have in my life. (Sarcasm)

But not for me, the bitter and twisty time. (Haha I sound like Moira)

I’ve deleted so much lest I sound like a wannabe cry for attention dickhead - so at the very least I have my humour intact. 

And so now I adapt, to a plan that I had all along, turns out it was the right one for me. 😉

Travel sick

 There we go, I forgot what this felt like. 

See I don't do holidays - not really. I've done a few but it's not really what I do. By that I mean, lie on a beach, drinking cocktails, maybe see a few local sights. I don't do that. My holidays have in the main part been trips back to SA for a reason. I've done Thailand as a holiday and Goa was another. 

But last week I was in America. And it wasn't labelled as a holiday but that's what I had. In my head I have another label for it. See, here's the thing, I love a plan. And it's not that I can't do without one, I can. But if i have the bare bones of a goal/plan - then I feel a little more sorted. There is a plan afoot but to get that plan moving, I had to answer some questions. And I did, within an hour of landing. I was sitting in a car and I looked to my left and I grinned and my questions were answered. Within 24 hours, I further confirmed so then I went on holiday mode. I saw a new city - one that reminded me of Pretoria so much - in a good way. It wasn't so 'city' that I was overwhelmed and it had good food and Uber. 

Because it's me, I have some regrets. The last decade has been one of huge change for me and a lot of  other stuff not for a blog. I've spent a lot of time trying to heal and I didn't realise that when you've been out of a game for so long, you forget how to play. 

But back to how I feel now. Hell, I wish I could go back. If I had a time machine... but more than that, I am sad. I am sad that my 'holiday' is over. I'm sad to be back. I'm sad that I have had to go to Tesco to buy Limonata to drink with my gin and I'm sad that I have no interest in falling asleep on a sofa. 

Christmas

 I'm decidedly not in the Christmas spirit this year. My tree isn't up and my presents aren't wrapped. I don't even think I'll put the tree up. I just took a moment to put the wreath on the door. So that's one concession. I wonder if it's because I'm at work - maybe not as I had last week off. But I like to wrap my presents with West Side Story playing in the background and I haven't had the chance to watch that. It's just not a vibe this year. 

But I'm spending the day - or time - with family and that's always been the focus for us.  So maybe I get the 'feeling' this weekend. Maybe I don't. I don't think it's a big deal. 

Saturday is Nana and Nhandi's birthday, maybe that's the day for me. :) 

yippee

 In a mere 3 weeks, I shall be getting ready to travel out of the UK. And it really does sound like I'm wishing my life away but I could not be more excited. I have done everything that's in my power to do for this trip - so now it's down to the external partners like rail and plane. 

For the longest time, I've been in hibernation. My get up to go, just wanted to stay in one place. The thought of an airport just didn't thrill me with excitement. And then I went to another office near Gatwick during the Summer and as I waited for my next train and saw all the folk with their suitcases, I felt that familiar pang and my feet wanted to wander. I didn't know where they wanted to go, just that they were ready for it. So I scoured the www and I kept putting it off. 

And then the opportunity presented itself. I took the bull by the horns and just booked it (with obvious consultations with parties involved) and voila! I'm flying West in three weeks. I've never gone West before, so that's so exciting. To see a new place. What strikes me is that yahoo! I feel 'me' again. I could hark to Covid and say maybe it did do a number on me, but not in the way you're thinking. It gave me the chance to put to rest all those crappy decisions I have made since Nhandi died, and get back to basic me. The one I started growing in India and then Pretoria. Losing Suzy was a shock to the system as well. But getting back into the festivals and seeing the London Crowd has all played a part in the fact, I'm ready to do things again. Because I'm ready and because I'm her again. 

So in three weeks, I shall be all packed and ready to make my way to an airport, to board a plane and to have coffee in another country. And it'll be weird but in the most fantastic way. ;) 

Housework

 I'm not a fan. I think if I had a system - tried and tested - I'd probably be better at it. I think if I didn't stop/start my day so much, I'd be more disciplined in it. And I think if it was more enjoyable, I'd like it more. It's always the getting started. Once I begin, I fly through it and won't stop until it's all lovely. For example, today I tackled the bathroom. All the stuffs, throwing out and refilling and cleaning etc. And then I got side tracked and fixed that shower curtain that's been bothering me and it's wonderful now. Next was the kitchen, and that's all sparkling. And then I had to go out. So I've come home and I'm less than enthused to hoover and do my bedding blah blah blah. But I must. However, I'm in a mood. So it's a quick whizz around with the hoover, not the job I had planned. And then the bedroom. 

Clean sheets are such a good thing. I have a method where I do the duvet cover inside out. I'm short, so I can climb right in. Because I hate nothing more than the ends not being in the right corners. It's a rush job so I'm going far too fast, I lean over for the other corner and feel myself tipping over. But it's okay because it's a big bed. I must have got turned around somehow for the next thing I know the tipping is not stopping and I can feel myself falling towards the floor. I stick out a foot, an arm, a head, I shriek and land unceremoniously on the floor - where there are no clothes for once to break my fall. Now I am stuck in the duvet. It's a king size, I am not king-sized (contrary to my mother's opinion). I can't find where to get out, I'm also loathe to let go of the corners because they're a bitch to find again. I scrabble to where I think the opening is, it's not there. I have visions of paramedics bashing down my door, but unable to find me as I'm scrunched up in a duvet cover. 

Anyway, it's done now, I feel like I've done a marathon (this is pure imagination as I have no idea what a marathon entails). I guess I'll appreciate it later. :) 

7 hours 36 min

Seven hours and thirty-six minutes. Longer than some people's working day. Longer than a movie. Another half hour and it's the same time as a trans-atlantic flight. 

 And yet none of it was difficult. It was the right amount of serious, silly and stuff. 

I'm in a worm hole of looking at retirement and never in my million days did I think that would be a fun thing to do. I often say I have never made a major life decision - I have but I never think they are until the event is over. Yet this is a decision that has me armed with a notebook, a pen and a raft of ideas and plans. I can visualise it, which is my thing. If I can 'see' it, then I can make it happen. I can see it, I can see how it could work so well. And I'm invested. 

I'm full of words right now.... but none of them are for this blog. ;) 

Welcome back

Oh hello, it's me again. I used to love this page, blogging away all my words. But life goes on and we never make the time for the things we really enjoy when work is all-consuming and the words don't want to come out. 

But sometimes it takes a moment to sit and chat with someone and then all the words start clamouring to enter the world. And you still have a doubt if you're any good with them. But you try and there's a kernel of inspiration sitting there. 

When I really sit and think about my childhood, I know without a shadow of a doubt that it was a good one. I never had to worry about some of the things my friends did. And the same goes for my teenager-hood. My biggest concerns were hoping I'd done enough to pass the year, which boy liked me and who my BFF's were. Recently I've been recalling the years I was 15/16 with someone and what sticks out is how those years define me. There's a wild patch of discovery and then there's a maturity when the drama gets far too much. And a step back. Almost a reinvention of the girl I was. And she was pretty cool. It's obviously not who I am now. 

I've written a lot about how travel and experiencing new things has changed me and it's how it's not an Eat Pray love trippy trip but how if you experience a new culture, you get a new perspective on life. If you live by yourself without the trappings of adulthood, you should come away with who you are and what you like. And I did that. I realised that there were things I was accepting of that were unacceptable and I needed to purge them from my life. I needed to grow as a person, I needed to be happy. It's taken me a minute. But I got there. 

To talk to someone that understands that is an immense - and I want to use this word - gift. That is all. I want to use my words more, exercise my brain and do the things I want to do. It's so nice to be able to write again. I'm so rusty but practice makes perfect. 

 

Two weeks of music and all the stuff

 While I'm in a writing mood. Let me tell you about my festivals this year. Oh what a great couple of weeks that was. 

I saw Pearl Jam twice in one week. I saw the Pixies which made my inner 16 year old SUPER happy. I cried when songs where played because: Suzy. And I realised Covid did me a injury with the spicy stuff - turns out chilli makes my lip swell to epic proportions, like I've had ALL the filler. Amusing now, very amusing at the time. 

We were blessed with fantastic weather, but not the first day where a mini-monsoon came to town. However, it will be one of my 'stuck in the brain' memories. Rag 'n Bone playing Anywhere away from Here with sheets of rain falling onto me, steam rising from the previously hot earth. It seemed like I was the only person in that field of thousands. Korn at Download was a similar experience. 

(just took a moment to look for it on Youtube - does not disappoint. Now I'm in a RW wormhole) 

Thankfully we had a lovely tent all set up and were able to go and get changed and dry. And I discovered new bands which is always an awesome experience. I've said it so many times but festivals in Europe are a millions levels above the UK festivals. Food is varied, you're not limited to beer/cider/warm wine but Martini's! I drunk myself silly on Bellinis - well it came with fruit. The people are friendly, not drunken savages. The toilets are clean - Reading do you read that - CLEAN! And I had a bloody amazing time. And a mere 4 days later, we gathered at Hyde Park for Pearl Jam/Pixies and again, the sun shone, I had people around me who have known me for forever and still love me. Life was so good. And you know, it should be awkward that I'm the token single person in a sea of couples. But I don't feel that. I just feel really grateful and thankful I have friendships that run into the decades and also that I have friendships that FEEL like they've run into the decades. 

I laughed so much over those two weeks, really laughed, really spoke, lived. And maybe I'm over sentimental. Maybe I'm appreciative because of who I've lost. And our childhood has lost some big characters this year already. 

How'da like them clichés? :) 

Luvyabuh

 Whoa, so I haven't blogged since Feb. I think it's pretty accurate to assume I've been not in the place to do so. I have written though - old skool pen and paper. I have a lovely new fountain pen which makes me feel very fancy when I'm sitting at my table in the garden, armed with a new notebook. I've been in love with fountain pens since I got one for my 18th birthday, so I feel like I'm coming back to THAT girl who journalled every day. If that means the blogging takes a hit, so be it. 

But I suspect it's also because I lost my Suzy in February. And the contrast between losing her and losing Nhandi was immense. And I'm not sure which was worse, if you can compare as it's not really a competition is it? I am so grateful I was there for her at the end. That I saw her and held her hand and told her to dance so loudly. I haven't grieved. I know this. I grieved before she left us. Sat in my car and wailed after being so cheery with her so many times. Cried out in pain when she was told she only had weeks left. But since she's gone, my tears have been very private, my sobs catching me unawares. To the outside world, I must look stone cold hard. "Oh I'm fine" - should get it tattooed. But it's her birthday soon. Will that be the day I break? 

I miss her ALL the time... we shared so many Ali/Su jokes, I must have gone to text her a thousand times. I HATE that we'll never do all the stuff we planned for the future. And that's not a lesson in doing stuff in the NOW...because we did. I mean additional stuff.  I miss her humour, her 'aww chickie'... and her 'luvyabah' whenever she left.  Flip, I just miss her. I've also been angry at her. And yeah, I know that's one of the steps. This was not meant to happen. Simple as. I also didn't realise how many Suzy phrases I had picked up. This is amusing. Anyone for a parking hole? :) 

I have planned a meal for her birthday. Not a prosecco, chinese, laughing meal like our SAS tradition but a meal nonetheless and we will laugh and no doubt shed a tear but we WILL laugh. Because that's what she did a lot. 

Reality

 I have not been able to blog. Bloggers block must be a thing. I’m full of words that’s not the problem. I guess putting things down just makes things real and I don’t want things to be real. 

I don’t want to have to write “she is gone”, “my best friend died” and “I’m so sad”. 

But I will, in time. 

today

 Again with the not blogging so much. 

Today I get to have my booster jab. And there's just so much discussion about to vaccine or not to vaccine. And yada yada yada. 

I choose to. Now here's the thing. Historically, I don't have a great reaction to things like this. As a child, I reacted so badly to my first inoculation, that I didn't have anymore. When I was writing Matric, measles was travelling around and so we were all told to line up and receive some kind of booster. I didn't have that. Because - bad reaction.

As an adult, I've reacted super badly to the Hepatitis ones and various others. However, when the call came for my Covid jab I nearly ran up to the vaccine centre and here's why. Firstly, the reaction I have to the flu one is mild in comparison to the others. And secondly, getting Covid without a vaccine, seems like it could be a death sentence to me...what with my asthma and all. I would rather suffer with after effects of a injection (rarely has it gone over 72 hours) than be in hospital on a ventilator. 

Most importantly, that's my choice. It's my choice to have these jabs - flu and otherwise. I have decided that Covid would ruin my family as it is, if we weren't vaccinated. I'm not saying I won't get it - but if I do I'm hoping because of the vaccination - that is is a milder form that doesn't impact my life as it is now. 

I HATE being sick, I mean I'm truly the world's worst. Why would I inflict that on anyone. It's bad enough my asthma etc makes me want to scream in frustration, why would I add Covid to that mix. 

I went to a friends yesterday for coffee. She has a cat. I'm allergic (obviously) to cats. (it's milder than it was but still) so I took my meds, and I didn't end up not breathing. I mean, I had streaming and itchy eyes and my breathing was affected but not to the extent I would have been had I not taken something for it. 

D'ya see what I'm saying? Have it, don't have it. But for me, it's my choice to have that because I believe it's to my benefit. 

If it makes me a sheep, I really don't care. If you laugh at me because I'm wearing a mask, again I don't care. Because I'm alive to be a mask wearing sheep. Baa

Today I get my booster.. and because I have an interview this week, please dear vaccine gods, don't let me have a reaction. Which is probably what I wanted to say at the start of this. 

9 years

9 years, what does that look like? It looks like a lot of anger, a lot of what could have been and a lot of missing someone. But it also looks like a lot of laughing. A lot of thankfulness for having such a beautiful soul in my life for 24 years. A lot of talking to myself.

9 years, I cannot fathom Nhandi has been gone so long. I can still recall every emotion of that day, nine years ago. And every emotion since.

Just three years ago, I found myself alone on a beach in Goa and I screamed out over the Arabian Sea at her asking why had she left me, her parents, her babies behind. I flumped onto the sand and sobbed and sobbed.

There is so much of my life she has missed... so much she would have given me hell for. I can hear her shrieking with laughter over a lot of it as well. I know I've made bad choices, based totally out of grief for her - some great ones as well. I know she'd have understood each and every one of them.

So I take off this day from work every year... and some years I cry buckets and other days I laugh hysterically. But always I remember. I remember that I had a great love, a great friendship, a sister I chose for myself and someone who got me no matter what. Who wasn't afraid to tell me I was being a brat.

This year is a bittersweet one - I'm emotional but I'm not sad. I just miss my best friend. My 1313. My Nhands.

I'm so meh

 As always, the need to type furiously and fast just slams into me. I could write but it turns out I actually can't right now (this has never happened). I've been sitting, armed with a pen (sometimes two) and one of my many notebooks and I end up doodling. I am unable to put pen to paper. I'm hoping I can put fingers to keyboard a bit better. 

My head is a cacophony of thoughts right now. I am all a jumble. It's like I'm all fits and starts. I'm wanting to move forward, but I'm also wondering if I'm just repeating my old adage of saying 'the chapter is over' when really it's not. And I'll prove myself wrong yet again. There is also a part of me that wonders if I'm just having that in my head as a forefront to not deal with anything else. 

And there's a lot to deal with right now. 

It turns out I can't put fingers to keyboard either right now. I want to, I really do. But I have nothing I want to put down in print. 

I will say this: I'm really quite weary and tired of being told one thing and then seeing something else in front of me. I'm tired of all the double talk and double action. I'm really just tired of having to do and say the right thing all the time. I'm tired of the hints about being 'fat' for one, for my mom being in rehab (of the physical kind) and not knowing how much to push for another.  

I'm tired. I hope this is just a phase and the start of the winter meh. 

The feels

 I've got the TV on - it's Olympic season after all. And I'm reading my book, but also snoozing just a bit because late night last night. I look up at the TV, and there she is: The Mother City. The Fairest Cape of them all. It is also Lion Rugby season. 

I don't think I'll ever tire of that view of the place I was born. I look at it with true fondness and love. And yes, the front of Table Mountain wasn't the view I had every day (the back of it was though) BUT I can look at this frozen image on my TV screen and memory walk 'there's where my Nana lived, there's where we walked on the Prom. There's where CG went nose to nose with a squirrel, where Nhandi lived. Where Su and I had our near escape with death. Co-ordinates of my tattoo. The place where I had my belly button pierced. Where Catty took me jolling. Where I played pool - danced on a table - did tequila, danced in a sweaty room with my favourites. Oh the places I have gone. In that city. The emotions I have ridden. The place that will always be in me. 

I look at the date and realise that it's been two years since my feet touched African soil. 2 years ago I was walking around my apartment in Pretoria, making sure I had everything. I was ready to head to the airport - I had made some choices and then decisions, and knew that there would be difficult conversations ahead with an individual. I thought I knew what the future held. But Covid and 2020 truly put all that to rest. But not wholly in a bad way. It is what it always is. But I did think I'd go back to Pretoria and I can't see that happening because travel is just not what it was yada yada yada. 

I wonder about if it's Africa or if it's Cape Town that squirrels it's way into you. I think it might be both. I know it's a place with a lot of difficulties but I'm not here in this moment to talk about that. I'm thinking about how fierce I feel - how passionate I feel when I look at the city bowl and yearn to just be there. The love I have for the city and surrounds. I'm not even sure that makes sense. I'm not even sure it's about memories. It's about a feeling. My heart swells. I look down there and I can pinpoint The Gardens, a place I still know every inch of (well most of the inches, I'm sure there's inches I've missed) and maybe it's just about connections. If I swing back to where I am now, I know that I can look at certain bits of Hastings and feel that same kind of connection. Or maybe it's the sense of belonging. I know when I'm in Cape Town, I feel that I belong somewhere. 

One picture, I look at one picture and that's what I feel. I don't think many people get that. 

Ali's African Adventures

It's not all about me, but this blog is.

 I see the positive in stuff, I know this to be true. And that doesn't mean I'm not meh and arrrgh some of the times, but confronted with a shitty situation, I have a NEED to see the sunshine in it. To find a way. 

I've lost a best friend - I do not want to travel down that road again. I don't want to be that mess I was. I don't want to lie on my hallway carpet and wail. I don't want to collapse with grief on the inside and the outside. In order to do that, I have to believe my #shotgun is going to be the 30% that makes it. That she'll celebrate my milestone birthdays with me. That we will do another road trip. That we will bounce innuendos off each other that makes it seem like we rehearsed it. 

I don't know if I'm doing it right. I need to acknowledge the bad news, but I don't want to right now. I just need to be that person for her. 

I really don't know if I'm doing it right. I don't know if I can do it again, I don't want to lose my best friend. I don't want to be a mess again. An angry inconsolable mess. That collapsing on the floor, rocking back and forth, crying at everything mess. Looking for blame everywhere, kicking out at everything. Making poor life choices. 

Where we were

 It's hard not to think where I was two years ago. I think when I've had a year that's not done a lot, it's easy to go 'right two years ago...' 

And two years ago, Suzy and I finished our road trip along the Garden Route, it was such an amazing day. Started with the most stunning sun rise - I don't think I've ever seen one like it before or since - it was just magical. We meandered and speeded, went off the beaten track, had a proper SA breakfast complete with boerewors, drove through the burning of much weed. The last time I had driven that route, Connor and I had a near death experience, so it was good to face that fear and shriek with the exhilaration of nothing happening. 

Suzy and I sang badly and laughed loudly and put the world to rights. I so loved showing off 'my' country to one of my bests. And we were ill, we were not very healthy at all - and that had nothing to do with the amount of wine we had consumed. Yet we laughed so much and I think had this unspoken agreement that nothing (not even stomach flu) was getting in the way. 

One of my best memories came from the day before when we were amusing ourselves and feeling very smug that all our ducks were in a row for our trip ahead. All of a sudden I realised it was Sunday and South Africa operates differently to the selling of wine/booze on a Sunday. Cue much shrieking and diving into the nearest supermarket/bottle store we could find. We bought the BIGGEST bottle of wine I have ever seen. 

Around this time two years ago, we made it to Cape Town and the mountain was showing off, we saw a divine sunset and decided our booked accommodation was shite. It had to be the worst advert ever. It boasted a view of the mountain and the sea. Once there we realised that the balcony was two planks of wood and the view was about two centimetres if you craned your neck around a corner. Thankfully, booking.com had an opening at a fabulous place which was perfect for us. 

This day two years ago, I cried with laughter. I so wish Suzy and I get to do that again, road trip and laugh along the Garden Route (with Sarah). So much has changed since that day. I do believe that if we knew then what we know now, we'd have meandered a bit more. 

The links

 I do believe in the freaky things that happen. The things that there are very little answers to. 

And I believe she's sent me another sign. Another friend to keep me sane. 
It's just too much of a coincidence for me to think otherwise. Especially when I'm where I am, emotionally and mentally. 
They have a name in common (spelt the same), they have the same natural curls and the same relationship with said curls. They have much in the way of artwork. And have laughs that would make a vicar blush. Hugs that are of the strong variety. 

I believe she's sent me her to help me out (if I should need it and I'm not accepting that I might). 

And it doesn't matter if this is not the case, it just matters that I think it. 

Maybe I just gravitate to these sorts of women to be friends with, but my girl inner circle is small. Not many get in and stay in. But her and her N are just the loveliest and special of people, so they've got an in. Oh I just got another link... N & C. oh stop it! :) 

With N we spoke on the phone for ages before we met but there was this 'oh there's a gal I'd like to be friends with' - she's got the guts and the bravery and the shared likes in music and stuff. But you always think (or maybe that's me) or question why someone cool would ever do the friendship dance. Oh yes, there's a dance - generally involving awesome music, a field and tequila (or similar). 

Ah I like these gals. They're good sorts. 

Thank you my 1313, you've done well. 

12 May

 Today is the 12th May - and every year since 1937, the Mass Observation Society asks people to write and submit a diary for just today. 

You're only given a page but I've done it (of course I have). For this year, they also wanted reflections of the past year. It was really hard to condense. 

How have I only found about this today? I've been a diary writer since I was 10. I would have had DECADES to submit! 

I probably wouldn't have submitted a couple of years, if I think about it. I might do that this weekend, see what they all say for 12 May through the years. I imagine my teenage years would go like this:

Age 10 - 12 - went to school, did homework. 

Age 13 - study hall was cool, L, J and I swapped letter books, had a midnight feast. 

Age 14 - I think everyone hates me. Am grounded. 

Age 15 - so&so is such a bitch. Spoke to Nhandi. Isn't that boy cute? There's a disco on Saturday. 

Age 16 - we move to PE soon - OMGEEEE I'm gonna miss everyone so much. 

Age 17 - 19 - went out. 

Sun is out

 Just loving this new machine.  I love that I can sit in the garden (I'm not) and merrily type. It's well known I have a 'step of contemplation'. It's been with me for 23 years (nearly) and it's seen my reflections on life, my drama, my life. 

And it's Spring here, so soon I shall be sitting on my step! Bring on the words. 

Finally

 I have a keyboard so I can type again. I've had so many thoughts I've been wanting to put onscreen - as I type faster than I write. And this is so much easier than my phone. 
Ah a laptop, how wonderous a thing you are. 

Today is Prince Philip's funeral - with Covid restrictions still in place, it's a very scaled down affair but moving nonetheless. I think it's been very touching that he planned so much of it himself. Although, I imagine you get to 99, you have an idea of what you'd like at your farewell. 

I've had my first bit of the vaccine - I'm looking towards getting the second one. And it's not about going to the shops - which is not something I ever thought I'd say - seeing as I liked to shop. It's about live music for me, I've truly missed flinging myself about with abandon next to strangers. 
Hopefully, this will happen this year. PJ and Pixies have been rescheduled for another year, but I have other gigs in the offing. Crossing fingers. 

It's been so nice to type this properly. Yipppeeeee