Valentines

Mamies muffin.

I have just turned down four tickets to a concert at the Durban Bot gardens tonight because I am single and all my friends have dates. Instead I will be reviewing Anchor Man 2 on my own. Perhaps I will spoil myself with one large popcorn and Coke zero combo.

Now before all you couples pity me. Let me be clear: I am single out of choice. I seem to attract ridiculous men into my life. For example: man who got married whilst he was seeing me. Man who was already married with a child and forgot to tell me. Man who pretended that he had killed himself (after I declined a sexual encounter) and then turned his phone off for a day leaving me to believe he was successful. And recently, Canadian man who told me he had washing to do when I asked him to lunch. It does hurt - but at least it's funny. 

I grew up with a grandmother who always told me: "My girl, you need to find a rich man who will look after you". I always replied that I would make my own money and look after myself.
I think it is often the case that we look for anyone to love us instead of looking for the person that we love.

I am ok with being on my own again this Valentine’s day because I know eventually a delicious somebody will be madly in love with my bubble-butt and won't mind my eccentricities. As one colleague points out, at least I don't find myself with someone who is suicidal, with a child or elbow-deep in his laundry.

It's ok though because canteen auntie’s biryani is probably going to give me diarrhea later which would render me useless on a date. So I will enjoy my movie, go home to my own bed and sleep soundly knowing that I am happy, healthy, wealthy, single and ready to mingle. At least auntie gave me a chocolate muffin with my meal so I can say I got something for Valentine's Day.

A month later

It has been nearly a month after Mandela was buried and I had a plan to write about the events that occurred in my newsroom, and in others, in the days following Tata's death. But as the days have passed I have come to realise that I am too loyal to my craft to give away industry secrets. Yes, we all know that Madiba's passing rituals were to some degree planned. But to what extent, even I don't fully understand. What I do know is that his passing was a sad, stressful, but it was also an exciting time for my career.

I was too tired to feel anything until I went to pay my respects to Tata at his capture memorial in Tweedie. I spent the day sobbing and feeling a loss that was so painful it was as if my own father had passed. Madiba had that effect on people.

What hurts me the most about Mandela's passing is the public fiasco that followed the days after his death. It hurts to know that his memorial became a public mockery. But I do believe his funeral was a beautiful tribute to Tata. Perhaps once all the anger and hurt has passed, perhaps then I should share all the background to Mandela's death. For now I will share my personal photos from the week of his death.

I am sitting at my desk with a few staff members who returned to redo the newspaper.
The clock reads 01:50 and the TV is on eNCA. 

My mother and I paid our respects at the Mandela capture site outside Tweedie,
on Saturday 7th December, two days after Madiba died.

Our editor in chief Andrew Trench conducting a moment of silence which was undertaken
 by all South African news agencies at 12:00pm on Friday the 6th December.

This is the team that came back on Thursday evening to redo the newspaper. The Editor Andrew Trench is sitting in front, Robin Crouch , the design editor holds up our front page which he designed and the deputy design editor, Bonnie Parker holds up the insert for which she designed the front page. We dropped all adverts and all of the plugs from the front page and the first four pages, which we dedicated to Madiba. Our masthead remained black until after Mandela's burial on the 15th December.

Happy New Year

My new years eve was spent bar hopping with some wonderful friends.
This is just us intoxicated on the party bus - you missed a good time if you weren't here!

Happy new years to everyone. Thank you for all of your love and support. I know I have not written in a while. For those that know me, you know that the December period is a hard time of year for me. Let us celebrate the start of a new year and new beginnings. 2013 took some great people from us let us celebrate their lives in 2014. 

I am looking forward to this year and to my new resolution: to be more selfish!

I love you all with every fibre - may this be a great year.

Happy faces are the 2014 look!

Goodbye Nelson Mandela

It is 2 am. A night out cut short to report back to work after hearing about the passing of our nation’s father. As I sit here I can only imagine the implications of his passing, but to reflect on his past ... A man who birthed new nation of believers in their own inner strength, who knew that true freedom from oppression starts with the oppressed themselves. I have no words to express my sorrow, only to say that I wish that I could leave this world having lived it as he did.
Goodbye Tata, you leave this world a better place. I love you.

Thor and IMAX premiere at Gateway

The lovely lady on my left is Estelle Sinkins, arts editor at The Witness.

After a crazy week of  general newsyness which comes from working for a large news machine - and cleaning (see previous post), it was lovely to have been invited to the Thor premier as well as the IMAX opening at Gateway. 

As usual the traffic to Gateway is hairy but once we arrived we were greeted by a lovely big cocktail and an assortment of really yummy finger foods ranging from burgers to fish and chips, pasta the list is endless and dahling - I helped myself. 

But the real treat was watching Thor on IMAX. We were told that four weeks ago the whole theatre was rubble. Tonight I sat in state of the art, world class entertainment. My seat was big enough to put my feet up (what a treat to be the first person to sit on that seat). The 3D glasses now look like snow goggles, but I am told that they are an upgrade for those who wear glasses as they fit perfectly over the frames.

So yes, I am a fan of the new IMAX and I am waiting in anticipation for The Hobbit which will be screened next year. 

Isn't she beautiful?

Mavis

I am so exhausted this morning. This is the norm for a Thursday as the beginning of the week is dedicated to Mavis. Mavis is our 'maid' for want of a better, less pregnant-with-apartheid word. Or to my mind: Wonder woman. Not only is she a good friend and mother figure, she literally whips my world into shape, leaving behind her a wake of order and a pleasant wood polish smell. Her name really is Mavis - this is not just me being an ignorant mlungu. 

It starts on Tuesday. All the laundry must be washed, ironed and folded back into the cupboard. The floors need to be scrubbed; mirrors and windows need to be polished. Dusting and scrubbing - it goes on all day and I actually enjoy it because I see it as my exercise. It has to be done on Tuesday because Mavis comes to clean on Wednesdays and we wouldn't want her to think we actually live like this. 

Although I spend all day cleaning, every Wednesday when Mavis walks in she clucks her tongue lets out a gasp and tells me she will have a long day ahead of her. I am so ashamed.

Veranda Panda and Goodluck at Tiger Tiger

I think this sums up the evening...

Good morning! I write with a hangover from the comfort of my bed after a rather pleasant evening.

I am reminded that it does not matter where you go as long as the company is good. I spend the evening with two new friends Liam and Jane who perform as Veranda Panda and did so last night at Tiger Tiger Pietermaritzburg. 

They got going after their set to play another club in Margate which left my friends and I dancing to Goodluck. 

It was only after being pushed around by the bouncers that I was reminded why I don't like club venues. Apparently there are people who have more privileges than others on the dance floor. One has to first filate the bouncer before he allows you the honour of being on his turf (I speak metaphorically of course). Too bad for him I was already gagging on my drink (I'm sure I asked for a gin and tonic). But I have met this bouncer before; he was the one who would not let a certain DJ into the club even after said DJ confirmed that he was actually playing the club.

I am not writing this with any bad spirit to anyone involved, but as a journalist I see so many stories where bouncers lose control and harm patrons and this kind of thing is unnecessary. I think that perhaps Mr big dick needs to come a few steps closer to earth so we can all just have a good time.

After all it was a good night and I daresay I shall be back (this is an unavoidable sad fact) but for now I am going back to bed. Thanks everyone you are awesome.