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