Got up at 6.30 am to edit scripts.
No presents from them. Little brats.
Got uber to Rosebank as my car is in the shop and I didn’t feel like driving the husband’s car which is similar to a tank. I call it the pimp-mobile. Whilst in uber, got call from the Lastborn. She was very concerned as she had arranged to have a smallanyana cadeau delivered to the house and I wasn’t there.
Went to Rosebank with the intention of spending a fortune.
Found nothing I liked to spend fortune on.
This is the other thing about getting older. You just can’t be bothered to buy things for the sake of it.
Also, do I really need any more black clothes?
That was a trick question. One always needs more black clothes.
The reason I thought I’d better go shopping was because my clothes are looking…tired and I don’t want to look like a cave troll emerging after a few years of hibernation at the upcoming lit fests.
Stopped off at Tasha’s Rosebank for a take-away coffee. Was presented with lovely Mother’s Day choc chip cookies which felt weirdly moving.
(Tasha’s is a fave. Read Chasing Marian to find out why).
Had security tag taken off jeans which they had forgotten to take off the previous week.
Cashier was thoroughly irritated that it hadn’t been removed.
- Cashier: Mxm!
- Me: Haai shem…he was a trainee, he didn’t realise.
- Cashier: He must KNOW.
YES!! I found jeans a week ago. Enormously exciting.
Came home to husband who had just returned from KZN, full of flu but bearing yum chocs for me.
Valiantly insisted on going out for lunch even though I kept telling him not to worry.
Luckily, lunch places all booked up.
Told him to have bath with lovely lavender bath salts, take drugs and go to sleep.
Flowers arrived for Mother’s Day from offspring with beautiful card. Actually, the card itself was not beautiful, the words were beautiful. I particularly liked the gratitude expressed for the money the kids get from me.
Edited 5 scripts.
Prepared for upcoming lit fests.
Husband woke up feeling like a new man. Not really. But defs feeling a lot better and decided we HAD to go out for dinner.
I realized I was being a bit of a Debbie Downer and agreed.
Went off to fave spot, Turn n Tender for delish meal.
Tried to find nice movie to watch on all the various channels we subscribe to.
Watched True Crime show instead. Scoffed chocs. Got call from son in the UK. He was reading out the spring temperatures in Norfolk with a mixture of horror and disbelief.
May not have seemed like a wildly exciting day to anyone else, but I thoroughly enjoyed it.
Film/TV recommendations: Am enjoying Missing: Dead or Alive? on Netflix. Found the questioning of the one crim so squirmingly cringey. His lies were so BAD!! Put some woema into it, little psychopath and come up with better porkers.
Also, moment of guilt when the one cop says she doesn’t like mysteries, she doesn’t read them, she doesn’t watch them because she deals with it every day and it’s people’s lives not just a story.
Book recommendations: I am recommending books by the three authors I am interviewing on Saturday, 27 May at the Kingsmead Book Fair.
The Invincible Miss Cust by Penny Haw which I have mentioned before. It’s an historical novel about the first female vet in England and Ireland and what she had to go through to get qualified. The bits about Ireland, the Troubles and the Catholic Church obvs resonated.
Peaches and Smeets by Ashti Juggath which is also historical and moves between what was then Natal and the Transvaal. Having been born in KZN, and attending university there, I loved all the history about the Indians in SA and again, the struggle of our female protag to get an education.
Was left appreciating my education after reading these novels. We stand on the shoulders of giants, gals.
And finally, Bloomer by Anne Schlebusch which flips between a group of feisty oldsters at an old age home during the time of the Rona and the diary entries of the protag, Maggie. Hilarious and poignant. The penis stuff had me snorting my coffee. Also made me think (not the penis stuff, just generally) about what getting older means, and what kind of third act I want.
All three are stunning reads, buy one for yourself and one for a friend.
Because our panel is called A Wise Look At The Written Word, I asked my three authors for words of wisdom. This is what they said:
‘It’s going to be fun exploring wisdom with such esteemed authors. Wisdom is a word of gravitas. It conjures images of all-seeing gurus distilling years of reflection into epigrammatic words. I was once intimidated by the concept. Then I read this: “They say wisdom comes with age. So does grey hair and the inexplicable urge to wear socks with sandals.” A glance at my greying temple and fluffy socks and, voilà, I was no longer daunted. Indeed, I too could be wise! Here are my epigrammatic words: Dream big. Really big! Chase those dreams. Don’t let age or naysayers deter you.’ Penny Haw
‘If the words of Aeschylus in 500 BC- “Wisdom comes through suffering”, are true, then acquiring wisdom sounds quite daunting. Fortunately, the common thread gleaned from other writers and philosophers is that wisdom comes from experience and cannot be taught. Alternately words of wisdom are sometimes created after the ingestion of magic mushrooms or toad venom. Since I have not been influenced by these psychedelic substances, my reliance on experience will have to suffice. My words: “Do not dwell on the bad stuff, cherish the good stuff and don’t give up hoping that life can always get better.”’ Ashti Juggath
‘I can claim to have had Wisdom since I was 18.
What possessed an 18yo to buy a heavy pottery doorstopper at a fete? Called Wisdom cos I’d just had said teeth whipped out.
The fact that he’s lost his right shoulder and part of his pedestal and has a slightly haunted look is a) because he’s 52 and b) has spent his years largely outside and c) has had to live with us. And because he’s Wisdom, natch.
He hasn’t been around the block but seen plenty of pups do that. He knows it’s not his thing.
“Keep the door open with Wisdom”, “Where’s Wisdom?”.
He’s worked hard, directed our lives, hacked our shins and been loved. Wisdom is NOT skills, knowledge, intellect. I quite like the word “perspective”.’ Anne Schlebusch
Besides interviewing the aforementioned authors at 11 am in the Learning Centre, I will also be talking about the Shitfaced book with Fiona Snyckers, Sara-Jayne Makwala-King and Melinda Ferguson at 4pm and that’s in Mackenzie. PLEASE JOIN US!
Have a great weekend and Happy Reading! xxx