This weekend I found myself doing two things above all others: Sleeping, and dancing. Friday night I brought out my dancing shoes at my BF's uncle's surprise 50th birthday party. What a shindig it was. There ain't nothing like "Walk like an Egyptian..." to bring the 80s child in you out. When eventually, at 2.30am, my poor tootsies couldn't take it anymore, I quietly made my escape.
Saturday, as you can imagine, I had scrambled eggs for brains. And yet I somehow managed to get myself looking half-way decent and into the car for the drive to a wedding in Stellenbosch. The fabulous thing about it? I didn't know the people getting married from a bar of soap. Not their names and not how they fitted into my partner's world. But who cares? All the better for it. Not knowing anyone means not having to be teased at a later stage about how much you threw your name away on the dance floor. Because that's kind of my modus operandi. Dance dance dance and who cares about the rest?
Having left the wedding at 1am, we eventually got home and crawled into bed, where I stayed for pretty much most of the rest of Sunday, alternatively waking, nibbling, watching QI then snoozing again. Delicious sleep....
One of the best things about getting older, and I'm sure there are lots of things I'm forgetting, but the one that comes to mind today is that the older you get the less you care what people think. So I sometimes think I can dance like a white Zulu? Who cares? A bit of kwaito and we have a different sort of problem on our hands. Cheesy 80s? Bring it on! I'll show you how white people danced in the 80s! And as for my favourites - the one hit wonder that was Ice Ice Baby and who can forget the "pant" that goes with Hammer Time - there's nothing better to get the party started. So, my point? You're never too old or too young to dance. I saw it all this weekend - and the one thing us dance-bunnies had in common (you'd think it'd be rhythmn, but no) was a smile. From kids in their 20s to Oumas of 80, dancing makes the light shine brighter.
Yours in dancing and dreaming
A.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Friday, October 16, 2009
Love Is...?
An interesting question was posed by in a newsletter I subscribe to. It was: "How do I know I'm in love?" On first read, it seems a simple enough question. But on further thought, a hell of a lot more complicated, no? And then last night I went out for supper (to the DIVINE Jewel of India) with the girls from work and we ended up bonding over whisky sours and popadoms. And I listened intently to each person's way of speaking about what being in love means to them, trying to see if they felt the same as I do. There were some very interesting responses, and these are the ones I can remember *blush* (mine are mixed in there too)
1. cooking meat when you're vegetarian
2. wanting to drop all the plans you ever had to have 10 minutes with the person you love
3. passionately wanting that someone to consume you, and to consume them
4. Accepting every flaw and thinking its wonderful that this individual chose you, above anyone else
5. moving cities on the off chance that this person is imperfectly perfect for you
6. leaving sunflowers on someone's car because they're her favourite, and then never letting on that it was you
7. you're in love with a boer but you're a redneck
8. you want to touch/kiss/pause/engage the very essence of their being
9. you want them to be free to just be
10. they're the first person you want to tell any news, the first person you want to share anything with, and the last thing you think about at night
11. you want to kiss them. all over. Often.
12. you do things you never would - laundry/ washing up/picking up dog poo - just to make their lives that little bit easier
13. commitment is planting a tree together and being there years later to nurture it and watch it grow
14. getting up 5 minutes earlier to make tea for your beloved so that they may ease into the day
15. when that certain smile is for you, when theirs lights up the room like champagne bubbles
Ag, there are so many more. And although some of these may not be your idea of how you know you're in love, when you ARE in love, you believe anything's possible, and that's kind the point. Hope and love go hand in hand. Cliche! But no ja, it is what it is. And at the moment, I have both and I'm so so grateful.
How do you know when you're in love?
Yours in warm gooey love
A.
1. cooking meat when you're vegetarian
2. wanting to drop all the plans you ever had to have 10 minutes with the person you love
3. passionately wanting that someone to consume you, and to consume them
4. Accepting every flaw and thinking its wonderful that this individual chose you, above anyone else
5. moving cities on the off chance that this person is imperfectly perfect for you
6. leaving sunflowers on someone's car because they're her favourite, and then never letting on that it was you
7. you're in love with a boer but you're a redneck
8. you want to touch/kiss/pause/engage the very essence of their being
9. you want them to be free to just be
10. they're the first person you want to tell any news, the first person you want to share anything with, and the last thing you think about at night
11. you want to kiss them. all over. Often.
12. you do things you never would - laundry/ washing up/picking up dog poo - just to make their lives that little bit easier
13. commitment is planting a tree together and being there years later to nurture it and watch it grow
14. getting up 5 minutes earlier to make tea for your beloved so that they may ease into the day
15. when that certain smile is for you, when theirs lights up the room like champagne bubbles
Ag, there are so many more. And although some of these may not be your idea of how you know you're in love, when you ARE in love, you believe anything's possible, and that's kind the point. Hope and love go hand in hand. Cliche! But no ja, it is what it is. And at the moment, I have both and I'm so so grateful.
How do you know when you're in love?
Yours in warm gooey love
A.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Don't Be A Donkey About It
It's been an age since I last wrote anything, blog-wise or other. But today, I just feel like writing.
What happens when you think you're making progress, and getting better at something only to be evaluated and told you're not, you haven't, reached the standard expected of you? And who gets to set that standard anyway? Surely personal standards are more important? Or a discussion should at least preceed any sort of mutually agreeable standards. Well, in my case, it comes down to me once again trying to get some sort of "ok", acceptance, pat on the back... When WILL I stop doing that?!
The fact of the matter is that we're obsessed with recognition. There are a hell of a lot of people out there who go about there business seemingly not caring (do they?), and to be perfectly honest, I admire that. I wish I could so easily throw all sensitivity out the window and throw around comments I haven't thought through. But I don't. I think it must have its roots in some weird childhood pathology: "please see me, please recognise me, please hear me". But be that as it may, and whatever its bearing on today's reality, childhood can't be blamed.
I think what it really means is that I have just got to step it up a bit, put on the big girl panties and stop crying. Stop expecting and start creating, my own world, without so much as a second thought for the selfish blighter(s) I tend to allow to influence me, to bring me down, to make me doubt myself. It's the way I like to think I live my life, but sometimes these little (read: BIG) hiccups come along and sometimes they bring a tear or two (or a toilet tissue roll worth). It's all about how you pick yourself up, no? Yes?
How do you pick yourself up, when someone else is intent on not allowing that? I'll tell you how I plan to do it. A bottle of wine, a friend's ear to twist, a grand plan, and hope. Smiling all the way...
What happens when you think you're making progress, and getting better at something only to be evaluated and told you're not, you haven't, reached the standard expected of you? And who gets to set that standard anyway? Surely personal standards are more important? Or a discussion should at least preceed any sort of mutually agreeable standards. Well, in my case, it comes down to me once again trying to get some sort of "ok", acceptance, pat on the back... When WILL I stop doing that?!
The fact of the matter is that we're obsessed with recognition. There are a hell of a lot of people out there who go about there business seemingly not caring (do they?), and to be perfectly honest, I admire that. I wish I could so easily throw all sensitivity out the window and throw around comments I haven't thought through. But I don't. I think it must have its roots in some weird childhood pathology: "please see me, please recognise me, please hear me". But be that as it may, and whatever its bearing on today's reality, childhood can't be blamed.
I think what it really means is that I have just got to step it up a bit, put on the big girl panties and stop crying. Stop expecting and start creating, my own world, without so much as a second thought for the selfish blighter(s) I tend to allow to influence me, to bring me down, to make me doubt myself. It's the way I like to think I live my life, but sometimes these little (read: BIG) hiccups come along and sometimes they bring a tear or two (or a toilet tissue roll worth). It's all about how you pick yourself up, no? Yes?
How do you pick yourself up, when someone else is intent on not allowing that? I'll tell you how I plan to do it. A bottle of wine, a friend's ear to twist, a grand plan, and hope. Smiling all the way...
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
The Editing Process
In my line of work I receive many many proof copies - samples - of books which will release into the market in the next few months. I get everything from thrillers, general interest fiction and non-fiction, religious titles and romances to our more amusingly termed genres. Each of these proofs are less than perfect copies of the finished product. There are spelling errors, occasionally print errors, zero jacket designs, sometimes the text is laborious because it hasn't yet been cleaned up by an editor... Ag, there can be all sorts "wrong" with the book. And yet proofs are designed to give people like me a very strong feel for what the final product will be like. We must then bridge the gap between unfinished and final copy and sell the product to people in the know - bookshop managers and so forth.
Now imagine we could create "proof" copies of our own lives and future lives, complete with unfinished "covers" (our looks which will change, without prior notice), odd idiosyncracies which flow throughout (bad learned behaviours and childhood traumas), and plot twists which are hard to follow (sometimes we just can't decide exactly how we'd like things to work out). We'd present these "proofs" to our prospective partners and employers to peruse and decide whether or not they'd like to have you - in your exposed entirety - or not. There would be input from all sources - the designers (God), editors (your parents), marketing people (your friends) and others. It would be possible to get feedback so that positive changes could be made in advance, and then you'd send out another "proof" copy to, say, an employer who would like to know more about you. It'd be as simple as saying "Sure, I'll send that right on over. It's a summary of my life so far and the rest as it shall happen, give or take an event or 2."
What do you think? Yay or nay? I like the idea of constant change and improvement, perhaps that's why I like the idea of a proof being a work in progress. Sure the final book is gorgeous and smells nice and looks pretty and reads well, but really its the result of months of hard work put into making it what it is. And even then some books bomb and others sell and sell. Maybe its more about seeing the the innate value in each and every book, for what it is, in the same way as we should look beyond the obvious in each person and see the work in progress and the achievements which have been hard won. Imagine what your life "proof" would be like to read, so far, and how would you like the next few chapters to turn out...
Now imagine we could create "proof" copies of our own lives and future lives, complete with unfinished "covers" (our looks which will change, without prior notice), odd idiosyncracies which flow throughout (bad learned behaviours and childhood traumas), and plot twists which are hard to follow (sometimes we just can't decide exactly how we'd like things to work out). We'd present these "proofs" to our prospective partners and employers to peruse and decide whether or not they'd like to have you - in your exposed entirety - or not. There would be input from all sources - the designers (God), editors (your parents), marketing people (your friends) and others. It would be possible to get feedback so that positive changes could be made in advance, and then you'd send out another "proof" copy to, say, an employer who would like to know more about you. It'd be as simple as saying "Sure, I'll send that right on over. It's a summary of my life so far and the rest as it shall happen, give or take an event or 2."
What do you think? Yay or nay? I like the idea of constant change and improvement, perhaps that's why I like the idea of a proof being a work in progress. Sure the final book is gorgeous and smells nice and looks pretty and reads well, but really its the result of months of hard work put into making it what it is. And even then some books bomb and others sell and sell. Maybe its more about seeing the the innate value in each and every book, for what it is, in the same way as we should look beyond the obvious in each person and see the work in progress and the achievements which have been hard won. Imagine what your life "proof" would be like to read, so far, and how would you like the next few chapters to turn out...
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Strange Days...
It's been an absolute age since last I posted and quite frankly, I have no excuse. Ok, I had an op on my foot and recovery wasn't fun, but should that have stopped me? And I've been busy - with work, with friends, with moving into a new house, but should those things have prevented me blogging? Surely if writing the odd post is something you want to do, you'll prioritise it and get it done regularly? Apparently, not so. But all things aside, I'm back and I'm making a fresh start. So...
Today I want to talk about weird things. You know, when you're merrily going about your day and you witness something just, well, odd, and you realise that some people are just weird. For instance, in an effort to find boxes for my recent move I popped into the local Pick 'n Pay to ask if they had any and while I waited I watched a man behave strangely. He walked up to where the eggs were stacked, chose the smallest box and then, without skaam, transferred a box of jumbo eggs into the place of the little eggs, which he placed carefully into the "jumbo" box. Who does that?
And then later in the day I watched a man walk down the eisles in Checkers and help himself to cans of food which he placed inside his oversized jacket. When I pointed this out to a person packing shelves, he stopped, watched the man, and then shrugged at me and went back to work. Amazing. Truelly amazing.
And that's not all, I've now become alert to this weirdness and I've been seeing all sorts of weird things ever since, almost like I went through a one day initiation of weirdness and now I'm alert to it. I live in a special city, Cape Town, but now I'm seeing all kinds of "special". As my friend A would say; "That's a special kind of f***ed up right there!"
What strange or notable things have caught your eye lately? I'm not talking oh-my-god-bring-down-the-city kind of weird, just, well, odd stuff.
Yours in pursuit of odd
A.
Today I want to talk about weird things. You know, when you're merrily going about your day and you witness something just, well, odd, and you realise that some people are just weird. For instance, in an effort to find boxes for my recent move I popped into the local Pick 'n Pay to ask if they had any and while I waited I watched a man behave strangely. He walked up to where the eggs were stacked, chose the smallest box and then, without skaam, transferred a box of jumbo eggs into the place of the little eggs, which he placed carefully into the "jumbo" box. Who does that?
And then later in the day I watched a man walk down the eisles in Checkers and help himself to cans of food which he placed inside his oversized jacket. When I pointed this out to a person packing shelves, he stopped, watched the man, and then shrugged at me and went back to work. Amazing. Truelly amazing.
And that's not all, I've now become alert to this weirdness and I've been seeing all sorts of weird things ever since, almost like I went through a one day initiation of weirdness and now I'm alert to it. I live in a special city, Cape Town, but now I'm seeing all kinds of "special". As my friend A would say; "That's a special kind of f***ed up right there!"
What strange or notable things have caught your eye lately? I'm not talking oh-my-god-bring-down-the-city kind of weird, just, well, odd stuff.
Yours in pursuit of odd
A.
Monday, June 1, 2009
What gets you through the day?
So there I was, sending my final emails for the day, planning for tomorrow and merrily getting on with things, when I heard a PING!, alerting me to the fact that I had new mail. And the mail read:
The big bad wolf said "I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house
Isn't that brilliant? Is that not the funniest thing you've read all day? It made my day, I'll tell you. At the end of a lllllllooooonnnnnggggggg Monday, it raised my mood perfectly.
What gets you through a blue-ish-grey-ish Monday? Besides strong coffee, great company and jokes that are actually funny?
Yours in self-raising spirits
AG
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
What books have influenced you?
I have lots and lots of books. Hundreds, even. I've been in the book industry for the past 10 years so I'd better have a few books to speak of, shouldn't I? And they're all special to me in different ways. Not only do I remember the story of each of my well-paged books, but I remember where I was in my life when I read each one. In some I found words of wisdom, in others, a good laugh.
It was a cold winter night in 2002, the house was freezing, I had a pot of thick veg soup on the stove and I was tucked up in a blanket reading Anne Michael's Fugitive Pieces. It's incredibly multi-layered and poetically written, but at it's core is a story of love as redemption, love as a gateway to something better. And that concept found me and I held on to it. It spoke to me - I was in a loveless relationship and desperately trying to convince myself otherwise and this "love concept thing" as it was realised in the book, made me realise that above all else, love feels good. Great, in fact. Love doesn't hurt. It can redeem and free. (Duh!) But at the time, it was a quiet suggestion that made a big impact. It lead me, over time, to free myself from a situation which wasn't serving my heart. Powerful stuff, I tell you!
Another book that jumps to mind unasked is Chris Cleaves' The Other Hand. I read it over a few weeks of a balmy Cape Town Summer, everyday lying in the shade of the tree outside my bedroom window, head propped up with massive pillows, drinking countless cups of tea and enjoying the long days. I'd come home from work straight away and dive straight into the book. It deals with tough subject matter - that of a young Nigerian refugee named Little Bee, who finds herself in England, unable to speak the language and desperately looking for an English couple she met on a beach in Nigeria. What follows is a heartfelt, gut-wrenching yet somehow thoroughly enjoyable read which transports the reader to uncomforable spaces, where we explore what it means to be a refugee, what it means to fail, and to find courage to try again. You wouldn't think that all that "heavy" stuff would make for a positively remembered experience, but it does. It's an absolute gem by an author fairly unknown in SA.
I just love picking up a book and drifting into a different world, and all the better if it's such a brilliantly clever and moving story. So what books have influenced you? Its a pretty huge topic and perhaps best dealt with over a few posts, so I leave it to you - tell me about the books you've loved / hated, and why.
Yours in ferociously good books
AG
Thursday, May 21, 2009
I have a new scar
Believe it cos it's true. I have a new scar. Running down half of the side of my right foot. I have scars where the stitches were. I have scars where the cut was deeper than elsewhere down the line. And you know what? I love scars. I think they tell a story. Your own unique story has been memorised by your skin. It'll always be there to remind you of that time, although mostly, scars lose significance over time.
The other very deep scar that I'll have with me forever is on my knee. It was the result of a run-gone-wrong with my jack russell, Ethan. I was in high school, and was making my way back from the cafe to my grandmother's house. I loved the feeling of freedom I got when running. Ethan and I were happily sprinting down the road when a car came past and back-fired. This sent the poor pup into shock and he veered all over the place, and in the effort of trying not to get caught up in his leash, I tripped and went sprawling. I left a huge chunk of my knee behind on that tar that day. But my scar serves as a reminder of the (now humourously thought of) events that followed, as well as the feeling of freedom that little dog and I often enjoyed together.
And sure I've got the odd shaving cut here and there, and a few nicks that I don't recall actively receiving. But I love scars, that's just how it is. I don't think a scar should ever be seen as an embarressment, no matter how severe it is perceived to be.
What scars do you have? Are they of the kind that can't be seen but are felt as permanent features on the heart, or do you have physical scars you love, or hate? I'd love for you to let me know. And which kind do you think heals the fastest?
Yours in greencross-esque icky blue "stability" boots and misty afternoons
AG
The other very deep scar that I'll have with me forever is on my knee. It was the result of a run-gone-wrong with my jack russell, Ethan. I was in high school, and was making my way back from the cafe to my grandmother's house. I loved the feeling of freedom I got when running. Ethan and I were happily sprinting down the road when a car came past and back-fired. This sent the poor pup into shock and he veered all over the place, and in the effort of trying not to get caught up in his leash, I tripped and went sprawling. I left a huge chunk of my knee behind on that tar that day. But my scar serves as a reminder of the (now humourously thought of) events that followed, as well as the feeling of freedom that little dog and I often enjoyed together.
And sure I've got the odd shaving cut here and there, and a few nicks that I don't recall actively receiving. But I love scars, that's just how it is. I don't think a scar should ever be seen as an embarressment, no matter how severe it is perceived to be.
What scars do you have? Are they of the kind that can't be seen but are felt as permanent features on the heart, or do you have physical scars you love, or hate? I'd love for you to let me know. And which kind do you think heals the fastest?
Yours in greencross-esque icky blue "stability" boots and misty afternoons
AG
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Do you have a "person", ala Grey's Anatomy?
Today I got a call from my best friend, who is sick and lamenting her situation. To top it all off, she's had a bad time of it lately at work, and she's just feeling glum, all round. Besides the obvious pep talks and ra-ra-ra's, how do you go about cheering someone up?
I like to go with the less obvious. Forget the flowers and free meds. I like to communicate just exactly how much I love and adore this friend, because let's face it, who doesn't like to be told they're loved, no matter what. Loved unconditionally and without fail. I thought I'd let her know how much she really means to me. And so I did, but via a beautifully worded text message, because sometimes it's easier written than said. I told her she's "my person", always and forever and that I'm always here for her - a cry on the shoulder, or a bottle of red wine, when she makes me watch horror films and rugby with her (I hate rugby and horror), or when she tries out new recipes on me. When she borrows books I haven't yet read, or when she laughs at me on my crutches ("Speedy" my ass!). And then I got to thinking about how everyone should have "a person", be it a friend, lover or family.
What does it mean to love unconditionally? I had a strange realization the other day, and that's that unconditional love is really rather scarce. We tend to judge people, forget them, hold stuff against them or impress upon them our disapproval, and that's when love is no longer pure - it's tainted and murky and it takes a lot of effort to remember what it feels like to let go and love unconditionally. To me, unconditional love means a non-judgemental and immediately forgiving approach. And the more I do it, the easier it comes. But I also think that it goes beyond practice and sometimes has everything to do with who the person is that you love unconditionally. Let's face it, it's far easier to feel that way if you feel you're receiving the same kind of love in return. So maybe it's a combo of practice, mindfulness and finding the riht person.
Try it today, in your own tiny way, to be free - love, and let the light in!
Wishing you lots of unconditional love, warmth and sunflowers
AG
I like to go with the less obvious. Forget the flowers and free meds. I like to communicate just exactly how much I love and adore this friend, because let's face it, who doesn't like to be told they're loved, no matter what. Loved unconditionally and without fail. I thought I'd let her know how much she really means to me. And so I did, but via a beautifully worded text message, because sometimes it's easier written than said. I told her she's "my person", always and forever and that I'm always here for her - a cry on the shoulder, or a bottle of red wine, when she makes me watch horror films and rugby with her (I hate rugby and horror), or when she tries out new recipes on me. When she borrows books I haven't yet read, or when she laughs at me on my crutches ("Speedy" my ass!). And then I got to thinking about how everyone should have "a person", be it a friend, lover or family.
What does it mean to love unconditionally? I had a strange realization the other day, and that's that unconditional love is really rather scarce. We tend to judge people, forget them, hold stuff against them or impress upon them our disapproval, and that's when love is no longer pure - it's tainted and murky and it takes a lot of effort to remember what it feels like to let go and love unconditionally. To me, unconditional love means a non-judgemental and immediately forgiving approach. And the more I do it, the easier it comes. But I also think that it goes beyond practice and sometimes has everything to do with who the person is that you love unconditionally. Let's face it, it's far easier to feel that way if you feel you're receiving the same kind of love in return. So maybe it's a combo of practice, mindfulness and finding the riht person.
Try it today, in your own tiny way, to be free - love, and let the light in!
Wishing you lots of unconditional love, warmth and sunflowers
AG
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
What did you learn this Summer?
It's a glorious sunny Autumn day in Cape Town and, as with the change of every season, I reflect on the past season's highs and lows and life lessons. So what'd I learn over Summer? Funnily enough, my life lessons came mostly (but not exclusively) from my dogs. Lemme tell you a little about them, first. Bella is a border collie cross and she's the smartest dog I've ever met. But poor old Finley, the orange dog, is mostly rather daft. And then there's Jasper, the pup (well, he's just over a year old and he still thinks he's a puppy). Jas is a doberman cross something or other, and he's HUGE.
It's all got to do with the beach, you see. There is nothing better than watching dogs on a beach. You can feel their happiness - it's infectious! You can see what they're thinking: "Dig dig dig! Ok now swim swim swim. Ok now roll in the sand. Oooooh! A frisbee! Fetch fetch fetch!" As their tongues loll out of their mouths in sheer joy, I was reminded time and time again, to live in the now. To enjoy each moment for what it offers. To sniff out treasures others aren't looking for. To enjoy simple pleasures which bring great joy. And of course, breathe. In and out, breathe.
With this basic lesson in mind, I plan to live Winter like it's my favourite season. I WILL concentrate on the little things to bring me joy - a walk in the rain, all bundled up in scarves and hats and gorgeous wellies and then a hot bubble bath to restore feeling to my toes, a wonderful book to read next to the fireplace, weekends away in Pringle Bay and long walks on the beach, yummy croissants and reading the newspaper in bed on a lazy Sunday morning, home-made veggie soups and thick slices of fresh country bread. I have all of that and more to look forward to in Winter. But for now, these are the things that raise my spirits in Autumn.
1. Thick woolly socks and last year's fav jumpers
2. Wonderful books
3. Putting on the warming blanket 10 minutes before climbing into bed
4. Sleeping late on weekends in rainy weather
5. My silly and amusing pooches
6. Hot cross buns, lightly toasted with a smidgen of butter
7. New boots
8. New gloves ;)
9. Enjoying the first of the Winter delights at great Cape Town sidewalk cafes
10. Not feeling guilty about getting straight into my jammies when I get home after work. If the weather leaves much to be desired, why not?
What raises your spirits in Autumn?
It's all got to do with the beach, you see. There is nothing better than watching dogs on a beach. You can feel their happiness - it's infectious! You can see what they're thinking: "Dig dig dig! Ok now swim swim swim. Ok now roll in the sand. Oooooh! A frisbee! Fetch fetch fetch!" As their tongues loll out of their mouths in sheer joy, I was reminded time and time again, to live in the now. To enjoy each moment for what it offers. To sniff out treasures others aren't looking for. To enjoy simple pleasures which bring great joy. And of course, breathe. In and out, breathe.
With this basic lesson in mind, I plan to live Winter like it's my favourite season. I WILL concentrate on the little things to bring me joy - a walk in the rain, all bundled up in scarves and hats and gorgeous wellies and then a hot bubble bath to restore feeling to my toes, a wonderful book to read next to the fireplace, weekends away in Pringle Bay and long walks on the beach, yummy croissants and reading the newspaper in bed on a lazy Sunday morning, home-made veggie soups and thick slices of fresh country bread. I have all of that and more to look forward to in Winter. But for now, these are the things that raise my spirits in Autumn.
1. Thick woolly socks and last year's fav jumpers
2. Wonderful books
3. Putting on the warming blanket 10 minutes before climbing into bed
4. Sleeping late on weekends in rainy weather
5. My silly and amusing pooches
6. Hot cross buns, lightly toasted with a smidgen of butter
7. New boots
8. New gloves ;)
9. Enjoying the first of the Winter delights at great Cape Town sidewalk cafes
10. Not feeling guilty about getting straight into my jammies when I get home after work. If the weather leaves much to be desired, why not?
What raises your spirits in Autumn?
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