Family

It's a global community we have. Especially if you come from a country which isn't very old and has most of it's roots based in immigration. I'm first generation South African on my dad's side and 3rd on my mothers. It's pretty much a given that family is scattered around the world. And even although I don't live in SA anymore, I have family there as well and friends. I'm quite often torn between two places - not so much in later years as previous.

So when one of the most influential people in your life, who currently live so many miles away, comes to visit - it's like Christmas and your birthday are on the same day (with double presents). It's beyond amazing, emotional and makes your heart explode with love and fun times. And makes you yearn for maybe the day when she's not a12 hour (minimum) flight away... when she's at most an hour flight away or a hour's drive. So that you don't have to work out time difference, so that you can get 'puppy' love from the dawgs, where you can surround yourself with familiarity and family. Where you can snort like a warthog and cackle like an hyena and it'll be okay because she knows you and is more likely snorting along with you.... I want that day to come soonest.




Soonest. Hurry. 

Ice ice baby

Sometimes I feel jaded and experienced and old. Not often mind you, but sometimes.

Then I come to this office. It's 14C outside, it's raining, I'm wearing winter garments. And yet, every single flipping window is open. I think there are even two fans going. My fingers are going blue, my feet encased in ice and yet there are several women bemoaning how hot they are. FFS, go to your doctor, get the HRT - it's not hard to do.

I'm not exactly sure why I have to freeze to death because your temperature is governed by your hormones. Why should I have to think about bringing hat/gloves/scarf/coat to work in the month of August? I'm not impressed.

So today I feel not so jaded, not so old. It's a result of sorts.

The Bumps

I'm allergic to animals. All of them it appears, even the flying and 8 legged beasties.

This summer has been particularly bad for the animals liking my skin, blood, fur. And I've been feasted on quite merrily. I'm kind of au-fait with the process now.

And bored with it.

This is my day to day guide.

Day one comes the big red patch, it's like a tomato has bled on your body.
Half way though day one: you start to swell.
Now if the bite is on a piece of skin that you like to expose, you're not onto a winner. In fact, in my opinion, Winner turns to Whiner. Because by swelling I mean, the tomato bleeding bit has swelled to an epic proportion. This last one I've had is not so bad, it is only the size of my palm. I find applying some sort of anti septic cream helps - the nurses say it doesn't, I say I am a fan of the placebo effect. Copious amounts of chocolate directly applied to the mouth is also good.

Day two and you feel ill. I imagine the sucker's poison is traversing through my system. My body reacts by increasing the swelling size and forming a huge blister. Thanks Body, you're AWESOME! You also start feeling like road kill. Hot and feverish. Clammy, And ill. And all other things road kill feels like. Dead and matted and emotional.
The temptation to lance the boil must not be given into.. not until day 4 at the very least.

The tomato patch and blister will be hot to touch, and sore. However, people will marvel at the size and regale you with when it happened to them. It never happened to them, not like this. Spider stories get boring very quickly but do try to smile through the pain. If you wanted, you could do a score card on how many people tell you that a million baby spiders will hatch from patch. 10 points gets you a vodka. 11 gets you two.

If you bother to seek medical advice, be prepared for nurses being shocked - it's a little bit off putting at first. But you must remember, these are very often nurses from the Northern Hemisphere, not the tropics, they are not used to these beasties. They will give you medication and sympathy. It will work. Don't take pictures of the offending article... it never looks as bad as it feels and quite frankly when will you show it off? Oh maybe when someone else has a bite and a score card they're hoping to score a vodka off?

Repeat until day 5 when you will give into the blister and lance it. You'll be sick of people gasping over your bite and you'll also be sick of marvelling over it's largeness.  Don't forget sterilisation is rather important if you're going to lance. 

And after day 6, your body will be back to it's wondrous self. You'll be a little grumpy for a day or two, I think this is because the poison hasn't fully left the body. You'll be tired.  So sleep dammit.

Repair and reward your body with great food, great company, drinks and a road trip. It's what I'm doing this weekend. Only two legged animals allowed. #fact

Pins in the head

It's a Tuesday. The sun is shining. The birds are all a twitter. There's a soft breeze blowing and it's summertime.

And where am I? Well, I'm not outside. I'm in a place where the good, the bad and the ugly congregate. A place so cold in atmosphere, I'm wearing a jersey (outside it is 20+C). A place where I keep trying to escape and they keep dragging me back. A place no one can believe you'd want to leave. Leave? Heavens, why ever would you want to do such a thing? The thing is... I'm actually not ready for the scrap heap, I'm not ready to throw myself a retirement party. I'm not ready to say the same phrase 15 times a day, 5 days a week... that's approx 3850 times a year - give or take public holidays. I'm not ready to be bored. And I know that's what I am.

What I am ready for is to shine and sparkle and do things. Do bloody great things with my time. Do bloody great things with time.

I had another blog to write, but as so often happens, my mind pins onto something else and this has been the pin in my head for a few long weeks.

a letter

Dear L_M

Tomorrow it's your birthday.
First one that you are not here with us. First one that we'll light a candle in memory, and not for you to blow out.
I miss your wisdom so much. I miss your voice and I miss your laugh. I miss sharing my "signs" with you.
Every time I turned on the radio last Tuesday, there was a song that spoke to me and I was wondering what you and Nhandi were trying to tell me. I like to think that it was just to say you are there. With me. Always. Sharing my life. Telling me to live it.
I've stopped kicking the cupboard door in anger, mostly because one broke and my kitchen needs its doors. Also, because I know you'd tell me off. I know you'd tell me you're free from all pain and while I'd never want you in pain, I selfishly want you with me.

But my time hop app tells me one thing, that you loved me so much. I read your whatsapps and have those messages of love as well. And I feel that love all around me. Thank you. Thank you for your love, your heart, your kindness, your chuckles and your wisdom.

Happy happiest of birthdays. Give Nhandi a smoosh from me.

Your A_D
Xx

Stuff and nonsense

I wrote half a great blog and then the app crashed. No one will ever get to read it now.

I've had some time away and it's just reaffirmed everything I thought I was right about. It's not the place for me. Bizarre how the brain works, how you can be excited over something you know nothing about. Or maybe, the excitement IS that you nothing about it. A year ago, I was giddy with the thought of travelling to another place, a new adventure. Today, I am filled with dread over travelling to that new place tomorrow. It's not that it's hard work and maybe that's the issue....my level of complete boredom.

It's also that the next 18 months, rests in their hands. Oh I have choices either way. But I dislike not being in control of my future. Ah contrarè, I hear you cry, you flit like a small butterfly and can't make a choice over what to eat. And yes you could be right. But when I want something bad....then I fight. I did a year ago.

Either way.... being sad over tomorrow is not the life goal I have for myself. It might take longer, but either way....it's going to change.

Musicality

I read a meme about why we mourn when musical stars die. I can't remember how it went, but here is my take on it.

Essentially, they are there at the big moments of your life. Their lyrics speak to you in pivotal moments that you have growing up and beyond (when you think you are an adult).

First love? There's a song/band for that. First heartbreak? Again you can pin a song to it. Epic parties...again there's music.

I can't speak for all, but there's s definite soundtrack to my life. Songs that can bring a memory, a smell and even my clothes to mind.

Iko Iko - singing with Nhandi. Loudly and badly. Laughing at the playback of the recording so hard that we nearly puked.

Our House by Madness - my dad, mom and I doing the Cameron Drift tour.

Brother by Matt Corby - driving and crying when Peter passed away.

Counting Crows - Omaha for TB. Mr Jones for loud road trips with CG.

Tropical London - my ability to get lyrics so wrong and the road to Southend.

Down with the sickness - download festival 2016.

And that's just a small sample.

I used to fall asleep to a favourite mixed 'tape'.

I've always had music so it's no surprise I get sad when a musician is no longer. They've been part of the history of me.