Week Break

Next week is going to contain the best five days of the year so far!

On Monday morning I’ll be attending a prize-giving at Angel’s school. Just for a change. After she has been reawarded her Top 10 badge, I shall head home to pack the car with my Louis Vuitton luggage and enough food and drink [non-alcoholic] for the week.

Thereafter I’m hitting the road and heading to the North West where I’ll be spending a few days in a private lodge, which overlooks a small stream, on a farm nestled into the Magaliesburg mountains.

River View

A River Runs Through It


The Secret Garden


Big Momma’s House


A Room With a View

“On arrival, relax and unwind with a refreshing drink, then take time to enjoy the majestic views over the Buffelspoort Valley and dam while you cool off in the swimming pool. Spend the evenings in peaceful elegance, cuddled up to a cosy log fire, or sit around the fire pit and after cooking your meal, enjoy the star studded skies and listen to the nocturnal inhabitants commence their vigil.

Welcome the new day with a stroll through the secluded kloof, and listen to the exquisite sounds of the wakening bush. We have 1000 acres of private and pristine bush and mountain veldt for you to explore at your leisure. An energetic walk to the top of the mountain will give you views you only dream of, and if it is warm enough, take a dip in the pure, sparkling rock pools. The bush is a nature lover’s paradise, with numerous species of flora and fauna.”

My timing is perfect, as there will be a meteor shower in the hours before dawn from Monday to Wednesday, so I have have two opportunities to view the shooting stars without the Jozi lights and smog getting in my way. And best of all, if I have a really early morning shower, [either indoors or out, as I have both facilities] I’ll experience a POWER shower!

My days will be spent outdoors; taking long aimless walks, exploring the bush and the farm at leisure.  If the weather holds, I’ll take a skinny dip in the rock pools [swimming pools are so blasé] and picnic on the river bank. I’m going to attempt to the mountain, and meditate at the summit [all my Tarot and Angel cards are coming with me.]

Did I mention there’s no television, no cellphone signal and therefore no internet either. Four days of disconnecting from technology and reconnecting with myself.


I’m going to have to use my womanly wiles to get one of the owner’s teenager sons to light my fire every night. And I’m mean that in the literal sense – minds out the gutter place – as I have never lit a fire before and wouldn’t want a splinter for my efforts.

I plan to cuddle up on a comfy chair in front of the fire, with a pile of books I’ll be purchasing from the Hospice Shop this afternoon; sipping on hot chocolate and nibbling on chocolate.

I promise to take lots of photo’s and post upon my return!

On that note, I’ll be back in Jo’burg on Friday afternoon, just in time for my appointment with dear Adam who will be starting my Masquerade Marilyn tattoo! He sent me a mock up yesterday, and other than change the colour of two of the feathers, the design is absolutely perfect!

And a week after all that excitement is my Birthday! Good times ahead.

Til then, bye!

The Sky is Falling

And this is why I love my daughter.

Angel was off sick yesterday with a dose of bunkalitis, disguised as a slight tummy ache. Not ill enough for laxatives or Buscopan – I offered both and the decline led me to my own diagnosis of bunkalitis, as Madam never turns her nose down at medicines when needed. So whether due to weariness or laziness, she garnered a day off.

The next statement will probably take me out of running for Mother of the Year, but nevertheless … I will admit that I’m not adverse to Angel taking a sick day when she needs it. As of last term’s marks, she is now first in her class, so she’s certainly not lagging academically.

Strangely, Star never attempted bunking – with or without my consent. In fact, he only ever missed two weeks of school in his entire career and that was due to Swine Flu. Yup, the child who never ever gets ill, somehow and from somewhere contracted Swine Flu.

I still remember him being diagnosed on the day of my step-fathers funeral – speaking of which, it was the 5th anniversary of his death yesterday – and even though it was merely a low grade fever and sore throat; the fact that it was Star under the weather, I took him to a doctor to be checked out, because as I mentioned earlier – he never get’s sick. Par for the preschool chicken pox and mumps.

Poor guy was quarantined in his bedroom for two weeks, sans any visitors. In order to feed him, I’d leave his plate of food outside his door and then BBM him from the safety of my bedroom for him to retrieve it. When he needed to use the bathroom, similar arrangement would be made to ensure we didn’t cross paths in the passage. We laugh now, but I would’ve died had I contracted it, so we took every possible precaution at the time.

But I digress. As I do so well.

Star had the Feisty Fiesta yesterday and twice a week he fetches his girlfriend was school [how sweet] so that they can spend some time together and so he drops me off at work and fetches me in the afternoon.

After the earthquake I found my myself ravenous. In fact I wondered if the rumbling of my office wasn’t in fact due to my hunger but after consultation with Google, I found out that Orknie Snork Né.

I called my kiddies to ensure that they were fine after the rumble in the jungle. Not that I was concerned about Star – nothing fazes him; but Angel is a very sensitive soul and I didn’t want my Chicken Little thinking the world had come to an end.

So whilst on phone, I hinted that I was hungry and asked Star if he could drop off a sarmie at the office on his way to fetch the girlfriend.

Imagine my absolute delight when he arrived an hour and hour later with a large lunchbox which contained chicken mayo on a Portuguese roll, with six moist mini red velvet cup cakes. Baked by none other than my Angel.

It is this heartfelt thoughtfulness that brings tears to my eyes and warms the cockles of my heart.


Home Sweet Home

home sweet home

This is why I adore my son.

Last night we were chatting about our unsavory new neighbour and I told Star about my idea of using cat poop to hold down the plastic on the balcony above us in order to prevent it flying up and over the walls, and then down into my rose garden.

Star then told me that during the day he found even more plastic flying around the garden; and having already removed several packets and taken them down to the refuse area, he wasn’t about to take another walk.

So he put the bags inside each other, inserted a small rock, and threw the packet back up over the balcony wall where it landed with a satisfactory thud on the tiles.

Well done my boy, you did Mama proud.

After a hearty laugh together, Star noted that the poor guy doesn’t know what he has got himself into; as with all the hundreds of complexes in our town, and all the hundreds of units in our complex; he happened landed up above me. Only the most powerful woman in sectional title property in town. *

But in the spirit of communal living and keeping the peace, I shall be paying the hot-butted litter-bug a visit with a view to lend him a few of my movies.

Herewith a few titles I’m sure he’ll thoroughly enjoy:

Arlington Road
Bad Neighours
Lakeview Terrace
Rosemary’s Baby

[feel free to click on the links for a synopsis on each movie]

* Modesty dictates that I refute this claim, but truth be told I’m not feeling all that modest.

Dirty Neighbour


I said I like GLITTER, not LITTER!

Not even 24 hours in and my good neighbourliness has officially reached it sell-by date and I’ll be quite happy to see the back of upstairs neighbour. And I’m not referring to his admittedly cute ass.

I returned home yesterday afternoon after a glorious day in The Park to find a very large plastic bag on top of one of my rose bushes, which is situated directly below the balcony of the unit above.

Inside the large plastic bag were several more bags – all from Sheet Street; indicating that someone had recently purchased quite a bit of bedding.

After untangling the shopping bag from the thorns on the wild branches, I stormed inside to vent my anger at the new neighbours littering to a poor unsuspecting Star.

He know how much a abhor litter bugs. I’m the crazy women in the Feisty Fiesta that hoots aggressively behind drivers who throw their used tissues [I could vomit] or empty cold drink bottles out their windows.

There is absolutely NO excuse for littering of any item under circumstance, and so to return from my litter-free Park [thank you Angel and fellow Scouts for your weekly cleaning thereof - it doesn't go unnoticed] to find a very large invading white packet in my garden just did my nut in.

Star, ever the diplomat, said that perhaps the new neighbour/s had put the packets on the balcony with a view to disposing of them later, and during the afternoon a gust of wind lifted them from the floor and whisked them away into my bush.


I shrugged off my frustrations and put on hold the scathing letter I had drafted in my head, calling for the immediate eviction of the new tenant/s. [I have yet to discover whether the fine-bummed litter bug has a roomie.]

Leaving for work this morning I was horrified to find more plastic bits in my garden.  This time my plants were covered in large pieces of clear plastic, that I suspect was ripped off a new bed mattress and thrown out a bedroom window.  I can’t prove it , but new neighbour is high on my suspect list.

Lucky for him he had already left for work by the time I got to my car; otherwise he’d have found his shiny new BM confettied in tiny bits of static plastic that are very difficult to remove by hand.

So final warning to Mr Upstairs Neighbour: refrain from permitting your plastic bags flying off your balcony and into my garden; failing which Girlfield and Lady Tubbington’s litter will make their nasty way onto your balcony in order assist in keeping the plastic down so as not to fly away in the wind.

Am I overreacting? Quite possible … but that’s what you get after working 12 hour days most days of the week and have no social life to speak of and haven’t touched alcohol for 6 weeks and as for sex, god I can’t even remember what that is … so I could be frustrated. Just a little.

Moving on.

New Neighbour

I have a new upstairs neighbour. The homeowner, the quietest woman known to mankind; moved out several months ago, and her father (Krishna, of the I’m-going-to-tend-your-garden fame) has been renovating the place since.

A few weeks ago we arrived home at the same time, and with our parking bays alongside each other, we got to chatting over the hood of his car.

He said that instead of he and his wife moving in with their daughter, as was originally planned for his retirement, the three of them, together with their son; decided to get a house in the North. Hence he’s been working between the townhouses of his respective children, retiling, painting and generally getting them ready for rental.

Krishna asked if knew anyone looking for a place (too many people are under the mistaken notion that I am a rental agent). I told him that I didn’t know anyone who was looking but that I would keep my ears and eyes open.

Yesterday Angel was at her BFF – Nina’s daughter and Star was parked on the couch watching movies of his own; and with no responsibilities or duties, I slept late and stayed in bed all day watching movies back to back on my laptop.

Between movies I could hear activity coming from above me. The scraping of furniture alerted me to the fact that my neighbourlessness was now over.

This afternoon I finally got out of bed. There was no milk for my morning coffee and I was starting to twitch.

Anyway, Angel needed to get to Scouts so I had no choice but to leave the warmth and comfort of my little heaven and put some suitable attire on.

When we got to the end of the garden, I noticed a silver luxury German sedan parked just outside my gate next to the Feisty Fiesta.also silver but definitely not luxury.

I took a few second to appreciate her fine curves and pristine coat before getting in my own car.

I plugged my BB into aux and with Pills n Potions blaring I reversed out the parking. Half-way out I noticed the Bee Em’s boot was open, and there was a guy leaning in it, attempting to retrieve some far reaching object.

Hmmm, nice view.

I took my sweet time navigating from out of my carport, keeping an eagle eye on any possible hazards in my way. Being the butt in my line of of eye.

By now my presence was obvious, and with an armful of packaged curtains the new neighbour turned to face the large beast (beast, not breast …).

He gave me a sweet small smile and continued watching me maneuver the vehicle until he was nothing but an object in my review mirror, looking a lot closer than he was.

Hair Today – Gone Tomorrow



I am not spontaneous, not by any means. But impulsive … different story.

Herein lies the difference:

Spontaneous: I feel like cutting my hair, so I’ll phone the hairdresser and make an appointment for the first availability.

Impulsive: I feel like cutting my hair, so I’ll ask Angel to cut it now … with her Swiss Army Knife.

I took out my hair extensions last Saturday afternoon, and once the fake tresses had been removed I decided that my natural hair [which was just just below my bra strap - call it mid-back] needed to be shorter too. I was not prepared to wait to get an appointment with a hairdresser and so I summonsed my mini-me to chop off the length.

We hunted high and low for her school stationery bag in order to retrieve a pair of scissors, however it was nowhere to be found. So whilst I continued digging in kitchen drawers Madam brought out her Scouting tool and showed me the mini pair of scissors.

I didn’t so much as blink an eyelid.

“Let’s go Angel. Cut it off. “

And so she did. With the blonde wet wavy locks falling in soft piles on the cold white bathroom tiles.

My head feels so much lighter with my hair now resting on my shoulders.

But it isn’t enough. Or rather it’s still too much. I have a burning need for greater change and so I have made an appointment with a hairdresser for tomorrow afternoon [hey - spontaneous after all!]

These are the ideas I have in mind … depending on tomorrow’s mood and how brave I am feeling once under cape.


short hair  Short Hair

Unfortunately I have no blonde in my hair, as I was sporting an ombre look and therefore all the lovely light coloured sections of the hair was removed, and only the bland brown remains. So I will be highlighting my hair [as in literally doing it myself - we all know how I feel about hairdressers and colour]; either tonight prior to the cut – or tomorrow afternoon after the cut.

Decisions decision.

Song For Harmony




Party girls don’t get hurt
Can’t feel anything, when will I learn
I push it down, push it down

I’m the one “for a good time call”
Phone’s blowin’ up, ringin’ my doorbell
I feel the love, feel the love

1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, drink
1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, drink
1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, drink

Throw ‘em back ’til I lose count

I’m gonna swing from the chandelier, from the chandelier
I’m gonna live like tomorrow doesn’t exist
Like it doesn’t exist
I’m gonna fly like a bird through the night, feel my tears as they dry
I’m gonna swing from the chandelier, from the chandelier

But I’m holding on for dear life, won’t look down, won’t open my eyes
Keep my glass full until morning light, ’cause I’m just holding on for tonight
Help me, I’m holding on for dear life, won’t look down, won’t open my eyes
Keep my glass full until morning light, ’cause I’m just holding on for tonight
On for tonight

Sun is up, I’m a mess
Gotta get out now, gotta run from this
Here comes the shame, here comes the shame

1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, drink
1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, drink
1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, drink

Throw ‘em back ’til I lose count

I’m gonna swing from the chandelier, from the chandelier
I’m gonna live like tomorrow doesn’t exist
Like it doesn’t exist
I’m gonna fly like a bird through the night, feel my tears as they dry
I’m gonna swing from the chandelier, from the chandelier

But I’m holding on for dear life, won’t look down, won’t open my eyes
Keep my glass full until morning light, ’cause I’m just holding on for tonight
Help me, I’m holding on for dear life, won’t look down, won’t open my eyes
Keep my glass full until morning light, ’cause I’m just holding on for tonight
On for tonight

On for tonight
‘Cause I’m just holding on for tonight
Oh I’m just holding on for tonight
On for tonight
On for tonight
‘Cause I’m just holding on for tonight
‘Cause I’m just holding on for tonight
Oh I’m just holding on for tonight
On for tonight
On for tonight

~ ♥ ~

[that being said, I haven't had a drink in 23 days]