One of my peeves about South Africans who have elected to live outside their homeland is when they lament the absence of certain homegrown treats that they can’t get. The list is endless: Cream Soda,NikNaks, Ghost Pops, Peppermint Crisps, Ouma Rusks, Mrs Balls chutney, the list goes on and on. Oh, and Biltong and wors, … More Not Mrs Balls
It’s 4am. Yet another night this week plagued by sleeplessness. From the darkness of my room, all I can hear is the dog snoring from Alex’s bed where she disappeared to when I stood up to use the toilet an hour ago. My bladder has long since woken me during the night – it must … More Grief is Non Linear. A Reminder to Myself.
8e3ab3f2-adb8-4332-ac46-b4623d52aeb9 “It’s raining,”. A momentary irritation crosses my soul. The dog, for whom we are currently out here, won’t walk now that little drops of water are falling from the grey skies. “No, let’s push on,” I say. “Let’s just see how far we can go. But it’s almost as if she knew how the … More Is there freedom in widowhood?
Hey there my Angel. It’s not surprising that today dawned with grey wet skies, given where we are, and what we’ve done. It’s been 40 weeks since your tired body finally said goodbye and today we brought you home. Actually we brought you home 🇿🇦 a little over a week ago. You had been sitting … More Another Farewell
I don’t know if it’s this era of my life or if it’s just me in general, but my writings- wherever they may be (although mostly on the ‘gram) are peppered with what appears to be some kind of mantra: “Life Goes On” and “I am reminded how much my life revolves around its cycles … More 30 September 2025.
Summer in my widowhood continues…with some fresh challenges and, let me be honest: a few more wins than I expected. This is the first summer I have worked throughout (ie, no holiday at all) since 2016 2015 2014 Oh I give up… Since the last summer in South Africa in 2012. Perhaps the 7 day … More The August Winds
I’m curious about something, perhaps you can provide an answer. Is it a proven theory that the older we get, the less likely we are able to enjoy a lie in? My girls have informed me, thanks to the gram (where else do you do your research in this day and age?) that teenagers are … More A summer in my widowhood.
A train speeds through the French countryside. Through the window, a lone traveller watches. Her eyes burn a little after shedding tears, and her reflection peers back at her: puffy cheeks, the outline of a second chin, and even her eyes are absent of life. The train slows down to pass through a half derelict … More Strangers
I sense the arrival of the dawn through my closed, sleepy eyes because my bedroom is bathed in the light of the sunrise behind my curtains. I glance at the alarm clock that sits above Anton’s ashes next to his side of the bed. 05:53. It’s even earlier today but Thandi has been restless. My … More Rocky May
We’re already two-thirds of the way through April and I’m blocked creatively- I don’t know what to write. Sure, spring is well and truly upon us. The pom-pom pink blossom trees are rapidly finding their greenery and for the most part, the wisterias are out in abundance, ready to show off their purple finery. Crocuses, … More La Veuve
From the moment in February last year when I realised that something was wrong with Anton, until January, 11 months later as I sat by his bedside watching him die, I spent 12 months writing around the topic of his GBM. 12 months I skirted around my fear, not wanting to say the words [my … More Raw Brutal Honesty.
Anton du Plessis. I was reminded recently that the darkest days of winter are behind us, a date that coincides with my love taking his bicycle out for a final ride. I used this little metaphor when I shared the news, and I think maybe it will stay with me now: the space that he’s … More Tributes to an Honourable Man.
Where do I begin today? Do I set the scene for where I’m writing from (in a cancer ward on a chair at his bedside)? Or so I apologise to my Facebook friends that I’ve gone dark? Or do I take the time to reflect on the passing of calendar dates since I rather dramatically … More January 2025
A definitive ‘clunk’ and the shatter of glass sounded from the kitchen; an IKEA glass storage receptacle crashing onto my tiled floor, and as a Mother with a Sixth Sense, or merely Having Eyes At The Back Of My Head, I knew that when I popped my head into the kitchen, there would either be … More A Miserable December
My dearest friend, It’s confession time: I appeared to have picked up an annoying habit of reading some WhatsApp messages- those kind from caring friends, checking in with us, and after realising that it’s important to spend time on a focussed response which is somethings that is not fluid at the moment, I subsequently decide … More Novembers Notes
The media says that October 10th was Mental Health Day. Did your socials buzz? … More October.
Exist in your anxiety and anger. Even for a short while.. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I feel like someone in my life has once told me that if I am ever angry, or anxious, before blurting out those feelings, that may possibly negatively affect people around me, it’s wise to write things … More The September Harvest Supermoon
It’s a little after 6 on the morning, a mere 4 days away from our return to France. Nearing the end of winter here, I can hear hadeda’s yacking to each other across the neighbours lawn, and the nip in the air is reminiscent of autumn in October back home. My head is restless, part … More August Love.
How do real disabled people do this travel thing, because after spending 72 hours in Cape Town, trying to ‘tourist’ I have come home feeling pretty much unaccomplished and laden with concerns if we’re ever going to really enjoy family travel again. Well, okay. Yes. That statement comes across as overdramatic, but for real- I … More Notes from behind the wheelchair in Cape Town, and Much More.
A Day At The Outpatients All walks of life walk here. Old. Young. Professionals. Patients. Weary. Peaceful. Sick. Healthy. And there’s us. Foreigners, but not really. One of us carries a bag of sustenance for the waiting. The other carries a cane and walks with difficulty. One of us sits with their head hanging, eyes … More The First
7am, and I’m standing on a train concourse bound for Paris. Do you know- I love a train. I love the old stations, the symmetry of the train tracks, curious of the stories of the groups of fellow passengers, the possibilities that await aboard. ** post script from the end of the day. See below … More Loves A Train Trip.
Pinot, Bretzels, and Cathedrals 