Pamela Power

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New Beginnings

Dear reader, this will be my last blog post for the foreseeable future. It will come back in another iteration, of that I’m sure but it’s goodbye for now. Why, you ask? Because we have sold the Go. See. Do. SA business to our Cape Town Manager, Alison Coughlan. Ali is an absolute tourism stalwart […]

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It’s about the journey

I was chatting to The Husband whilst we were enjoying a very nice glass of Gabrielskloof vino at Il Contadino on Sunday (another great place to get wine or bubbles by the glass BTW.) Me: why are we here? Husband *puzzled*: at Il Contadino? To have a glass of wine and a focaccia.  Me: No,

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Prince Nigel

Prince Nigel is poorly

Last week started off badly when we took Nigel along with Poppy to the vet for a routine visit. She has both anxiety and allergies, and Nigel just seemed a bit skinny. Some blood and urine tests later, we realised that Nigel’s kidneys were not in a good state, and he had lost a third

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The Worrying Is Forever

I didn’t believe people when they told me that I would get used to the empty nest AND even enjoy it. But the truth is you do get used to it. For example, you get used to not having to worry overly about supper. The husband flings a couple of chicken breasts into the airfryer,

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In praise of time off

Dear reader, last week I worked all hours god sent and was massively excited to get all my scripts submitted before we left for our whistle-stop tour to the coast which meant I had an ACTUAL weekend. Miraculous but true. I also turned down some work on the Thursday for which I think I deserve

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Death of a writer

Death of a TV Writer

The TV writer lay on her death bed. Clustered around her were the writing team, many of whom she had taught and mentored over the years. She was moved to see them all gathered around her, keeping vigil. She waited expectantly for them to tell her how much she meant to all of them. She

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Blog FI 24 March

Wrestling with a pig

What is that saying, dear Reader? The dead don’t know that they’re dead (hiiiiiii Sixth Sense), same same with the stupid. Something like that. And it is tragically very true. I think a great sign of intelligence is when you understand how little you do know and freely admit to it. I remember a very

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