Snatches of written words that I hope will become something beautiful and creative fill every corner of my phone and websites/apps.
The current musings deal with student revolutions, imposter syndrome and the sadness of celebrating 49 years old as a widow, a combination of which leave me with little space write about concisely.
Between Instagram, this blog and also a foray into Substack, I now find myself at odds with what to write where. I certainly wouldn’t be unimaginative and repeat everything on three places but now trying to figure out what I want to write, and where, leaves me…. Well maybe considering to stop writing in all three.
Between the three of them, each was supposed to have a different purpose. Pinot, Bretzels and Cathedral’s was always my newsletter, having left for France.
instasham for sharing the instants, in the moment, which the app itself no longer really is. Or it could still be that for me, if I wasn’t conscious of sharing all the highlights. Because oversharing is also a thing, with reason.
Over on Substack, I feel it’s a place to rub shoulders with professionals to network perhaps, and maybe in time, earn a coffee with paid content.
But I am not that person. And it’s been difficult to maintain content that isn’t deeply personal. Historically that’s what this site is for. My sister once said that she’s doesn’t really read it because it’s like a diary entry, and it causes her discomfort. But my friends here have known me forever, and my missives should resemble letters to a best friend, so it is personal.
Over on Substack, I am beginning to feel like a fraud, more so when a friend asked me recently why I use the platform and I had to honestly say: for vanity purposes. I like knowing there’s people reading what I’m writing. But then again, that’s a bit like being in an uncommitted relationship where you’re giving away something for free. Is that what I want?
Anyway. Let me not overthink this any longer, and just delve into what makes me, me.
October. Where on earth has this year gone to? Certainly, I have much to share for this month, but it begs the question: do I focus on how France is in a revolution of sorts, and how it has effected Beth’s schooling and my mental health, or do I go into the rabbit hole that has been my mind as I venture into a birthday as a widow, with only my daughters to make the day special?
Pity party either way- but I don’t need to remind you, this is how I work. I write through my emotions, eventually finding a light tower’s the end.
October has seen student and school life wholly disrupted by protests. By now you’re probably well aware of them, having started in Paris and evolving across the country by blocking entry to schools at first, followed by police being brought in to protect the state, resulting in violence and teargas during marches and protests and – as in true French form, the unions have aligned themselves to the cause.
Since Beth is affected at school level, I know and (almost) completely agree with their cause. Smaller classes. More teachers. Proper facilities in many cases- often the schools are too hot in summer and too cold in winter. Apparently the process with which students apply to universities is also problematic. And something which I do agree on: more equality for underfunded schools in poorer areas.
Because Beth is taken up with the cause, she has taken to the streets with thousands of other folks, leaving me somewhat fearful of the consequences. Cities are being shutdown weekly by the demonstrations and the strength with which this movement began has not lost its momentum. This, I feel, is quite French, and I do ponder the question on a weekly basis when I scroll through the socials and the actual news: is a revolution on the horizon? With elections looming within the next 6 months, time will tell. As far as physical safety goes, while Paris (and the other big cities) burn and police violence vs public provocation is at the forefront of the news, physical safety is not a concern for us.
Of course, as autumn arrives in Europe- I’ve decided I really adore autumn with all my heart- it is also birthday month and I have arrived at my last year of being in my forties. Perhaps I’ve made it a bigger deal than it needs to be, but around mid month I had a sadness overwhelm me. I overindulged in a pity party thinking that I was relying exclusively on Alex and Beth to spoil me for the day. I felt guilty and sad that the responsibility would fall on to them to make the day memorable. I also forget that it’s also Beth’s birthday and by rights, I need to spoil her to as much as I would like to be. While married, Anton would always make the day memorable. Gifts would be well thought of. We’d have a party or a dinner. We’d do something. Last year we were with family in South Africa. It made the first year without him easier. By now, 2026, it’s really different and the mental space it took up was huge.
(In case you hadn’t realised, I love birthdays, and I believe we’re all entitled to celebrate in every way we can. Live for your birthday. Take the wishes and love and cake that we exist every day for.)
Needless to say, my girls have picked up a thing or two from their Dad. Gifts were sorted. And after pushing myself out of the funk I placed myself in, I decided to host a brunch with a handful it 2 of friends. (Obviously choosing a just a handful or 2 was quite difficult. I would have invited 3 times the number -or had to have hosted 3 brunches- to come close to being able to celebrate the day with friends that I hold in high regard.
The realisation that my destiny is held in my hands and there are many people that will come along for the ride was an uplifting moment.
And so we continue on this journey to Becoming 50. I had a long drawn out expletive written here but I realise that it written down doesn’t carry the same weight as it being said, so I deleted it. Use your imagination. What do I want to achieve before turning 50? To go to Champagne actually. I have received birthday money to that cause so it’s definitely on the cards- but oh if it was just that easy. Why do I feel like I should set my desires to a higher level? Road trip in the US? A beach holiday in North Africa? Why travel? A tattoo perhaps? Perhaps I should set a goal to start some new sporty exercise, or write and publish something, but at the risk of failing, I’ll probably leave those ideas in the back of my mind.
And so the end of October arrives, in her misty, chilly, and dry glory. We’ve had days after days of sun and it couldn’t be better for anyone’s mental health. But nothing quite sets back a mood than watching how the days become relentlessly shorter. It truly blows my mind at which the speed this happens. It’s with a sense of irony that I admit this, because I guess people can change their stance over time, but I was grateful for the clock change last week. It means we have a little more daylight in the morning for a while but the evening light suddenly snaffled away like blowing out a candle. I’ve always been a fan of the evening being longer, less so an early morning so normally the changing means my mood is set back. But like I said, people can change. I feel like I’ve embraced it this year for the exclusive reason that I appreciate seeing the sun come up these days and given the amount of cloud free days we’ve had, it’s been magnificent.
While I’m not into astrology and I really know nothing about the stars in our night skies, I am drawn to the moon and her phases. I guess it aligns with my affinity to appreciate cycles of life and being a woman but I do find myself seeking out the moon at her fullest and most swollen. Her September peak was supposed to be magnificent and somewhat illuminated by pink (or blue, I can’t remember) but with the way she rose and set, she was all but absent from our skies.
And then during the course of this week after our clocks changed to the winter time, our skies dark by 5pm, the full moon rose into the night sky like a sceptre held up by an invisible rod and while she stood up high in her axis and watched the world in quiet, she cast an eerie light over the earth that set my poor Thandi off in frenzied barking during a midnight foray into the garden for a wee.
Octobers full moon is called the Hunter’s Moon, so titled after the Harvest Moon in September, when the fields are left bare, the animals fattened and easy to spot across the naked lands.
This is an informative article about moon names.
It’s been a while since I got to set up my tripod to photograph the full moon, and while she wasn’t spectacular and I lack the skills to photograph like a professional, I captured something memorable of this coming of age full moon.
And lastly, to finish off, I have taken to appreciation of the chrysanthemums that now fill my kitchen terrace flower boxes. The ‘mums, a symbol of the Dead, acknowledging loved ones that have passed, all wrapped up in Halloween and Saints Day on November 1st, it’s important that I take a moment to remember my Mum, and obviously Anton. I planted some of these ‘mums in October 2024 when he was becoming quite couch-ridden and was, essentially- at the beginning of the end. It’s always bittersweet, but over this spiritual period of remembering our loved ones no longer here, take a moment for yourself and fill a vase or flower box with some chrysanthemums.
And on that sombre note, I shall bid you au revoir for this month and pick up a broom to sweep away the weeks worth of hair and leaves that seem to find their way into my life like an unwanted gift.
This life. It doesn’t stop, does it?
Lots of love,
Me.
Xx
