A new london

a new london well- the year has been cracking on for the past 18 days but i have only just managed to get things together to sit down and write. One would think that with such enduring foul weather that one would feel permanently inspired to cuddle up in bed with one's computer and mass produce e-mails with more speed (and probably more quality) than the pork sausage factory in Escourt- but alas, this weather inspires nothing but idleness and the damp that seeps into ones bones allows for one thing only.... cuddling up to the best source of heating possible (fire, central heating, human body) and staying put!!!!
The start to my year was not nearly as gloomy..... I was in Austria tearing up the slopes, (as only an amateur south afican with 20 days ski experience and 2 lessons could) coiffing white wine spritzers and busting out never before witnessed moves (in my steamy blue ski suit) to the rantings of Klaus Moller- apres ski master, dj and part-time goat herder. My time in austria was utterly glorious and it took me no more than 5 minutes to leave serious life and a worries about a broken foot in the far distant past. it was fantastic to be in my old neighbourhood again- the village of Saalbach is as charming as ever and its people ever friendly and receptive to the likes of pretty South african girls...lucky me.
We were spoilt with the fantastic snow conditions- blue skies punctuated by a snowfall every seven days so the pistes were in world-class condition. This was a stark contrast to the year before where we were skiing over rocks and grass while trying to not focus on the green hills and clusters of foxgloves, daisies and gladiolas that were sprouting at every turn. For whatever skiing I missed out on last year (due to poor conditions and possibly an exhausting social "night" life) I made up tenfold this year. I cannot tell you how may enchanting moments were spent standing on top of a mountain, staring out into a white wilderness.... thinking that I was the luckiest girl in the world. I have finally figured out what all this snow business is about- why hundreds of obsessed europeans travel tens to hundreds of miles every weekend for 6 months in search of powder, ( and I am not talking about the class A stuff to be found corner Commisioner/Market str, Hillbrow) to be in nature and experience it on that level is one of the most rewarding and pleasurable expereinces that this world has got to offer right now. So for a girl who was brought up on bacardi, beach sand and bikins- i have learned to fully embrace (and LOVE) schnapps, snow and ski suits.
Anything post Austria is bound to be an anti-climax- so when my dear friend Karla (token Australian mate) came to fetch me at Stanstead airport- I wasn't in the least bit suprised that I was refusing point blank to get off the aeroplane and put my feet onto British soil. Though... in London's defence, things haven't been too bad.... I mean how could they really be when I was coming back to my charming English family who I have unashamedly adopted (whether or not they want me is a different story) They have welcomed me into their home once more ( even though my foot has now healed) and will be my base here for the next couple of months. It does feel fantastic to come home to a family in London, especially a family who spoils one as much as mine spoils me. My birthday was celebrated in the rapturous style becoming of such an occasion- I spent the day drinking delicate french champagne, was given an exquisite black party dress (chosen by godfather Robert) and was taken to the smartest Italian In Belgravia that London has to offer. If my birthday reflects what is in store for 2008- i think it is going to be a year of prosperity and happiness...... and i will gladly ignore the sad but true facts that I still have a flabby belly and no boyfriend nor ground breaking career to be heard of!!! But who cares- it's 2008 and the start to it has been formidable and fun.........

Ladies in Lavender

It's a cold and grey London morning. I have spent it cuddled in the vast expanse of my feather duvet watching "Ladies in Lavender" and all I can think about is my wonderful mother- who was with me the first time I watched the film.
My mind takes me back to those countless afternoons spent with her in Rosebank's Cinema Nouveau. For us, movies were usually watched late on a Tuesday afternoon. Most times we would arrive together, but if not I remember descending the escalator whilst simultaneously searching for that head of immaculately groomed blond hair and warming smile waiting for me in the queue. Choosing a film was eay, we always liked the same ones. We had our little ritual of buying tickets, fruitjuices and salting the popcorn, (a constant point of conflict) something that seemed so ordinary to me then and feels so sacred to me now. Once gastronomic supplies had been gathered we would find our allocated cinema and excitedly await the start of the film. We would sit in that blackened room and while the screen flickered before us, my one hand was given the purpose of shovelling popcorn into my mouth and the other of holding my mother's hand.
I remember watching "Ladies in Lavender" with mama and at the moment when I was most stirred to tears- turning to look beside me to see her beautiful face, light by soft light, wet also by little tears. It was in those quiet, dark hours that i realised more than ever my overwhelming love for her.

The music of "Ladies in Lavender" has returned me to the evenings of not so long ago, where her and I would lie in bed together drinking tea, reading books and listening to classical music (our favourite cd on repeat a hundred times)...... I remember her closing her eyes and allowing her soul to drink in the exquisite sounds. She looked so peaceful, glowing with gratitude.. and maybe a little sadness too- knowing that I was going to leave her. Sometimes she would fall asleep, her glasses perched on the edge of her nose, her sleeping hands having lost her page in her book and I would watch her lovingly for a few minutes before I would wake her up.

It is these little snippets of memory that bond me to her now and I am aware more than ever how blessed I am to have such a beautiful and heavenly mother and as I inhale the cold London air, it is her radiance and enduring love which I miss so much right now.

London Mornings

It's the most beautiful morning in london.
Pink light seeps across a clear sky. Jet streams are suspended like the first strokes of a paintbrush on an atrist's canvas.
The green is thick with fallen leaves, a gentle reminder of the approaching winter.
The air is fresh and crisp and behind the long windows and heavy brick walls- waking families begin to stir.

a legal (yet damaged) alien

I bet the title of this makes you want to burst into Sting's redention of "Legal alien in New York" and if you are a legal alien- particularly a south african one living in london at that, the following lines might ring true to you...

I started my blog calling myself "girl about town and country"- accounting for my current mobility status, i think "girl about town" would even be pushing it. I am a girl confined to the stretch of the Fulham palace road between Hammersmith and Fulham broadway tube stations.. my stints of town traveling are limited to the grimy seats on the 295 bus that curteously and not so timeously carries me from my working to my living destinations. My pitiful and routinely boring travels are due to the fact that i have recently managed to fracture the 4th metatarsal in my foot- this is a rather peculiar (yet essential) bone lurking between the toes and the ankle and according to my orthopaedic surgeon is prone to stress fractures.

Now- I am asking myself what exactly have i done since my arrival here that has predisposed my decrepid old foot to a stress fracture??? I was hoping that since i had shed at least half of my "puppy fat" acquired in Austria that my body should be fast approaching a state of health. I am certainly a good few stone lighter (this is an english measure for weight that us alien Safas have not quite grasped) and so should theorectically be able to move around with equalled amounts of stealth and strength... Alas! the minial amounts of walking, running and pilates i have done since my arrival on Mud island have rendered me disabled!!! how frustrating... to think that in one's persuit of an adonis morphology, one acquires broken bones and a depression matching Romeo's on learning of the death of his beloved Juliette.

So I have been tossed about in the NHS like a leaf in hurricane and finally after much misdiagnosis (the crabby nurse at Charing Cross hospital told me to ditch me crutches) have finally been told about the real status of my ill-fated foot. So I am a legal alien- dealing with a grossly incompetent health system and quite without my usual support structures (mum with cups of tea, dad with words of sometimes annoyingly apt wisdom). Still trying to figure out what is the best tube to take to get to Bank, what it means when the traffic lights flash orange and what crisps are.... figuring all this out with a 15kg moonboot (however many stone that is) bolted to my right foot is no easy chore. So here's to growing up in the real world, legal, illegal.... challenging nontheless