Date Night

All i want is one nice date.


We would go here.

And id wear this.

And because of the place and the dress... we would end up like this..

Nice huh?

With Love from Switzerland.

My friend Deddou had five days off from her job in Zurich Switzerland before she headed to Istanbul, So naturally she booked a flight to visit me in South Africa for five days.
We wined and dined, drank copious amounts of rooibos tea, ran around the dogpark with maya the bee, had long talks in bed for hours and hours, glared together at the overcast sky, danced in the sun when it finally showed its happy face.

We created a little world of friendship and happiness for those five glorious days, until Tuesday when all was packed up and tears were shed at the stop and drop at the airport.
I miss her topshop clothes hanging in my closet, her little laugh when i bring her coffee in the mornings, the way she fell in love with Joburg all over again and made me fall in love with Joburg all over again.

Deddou you little tiertjie of delight, thank you for far too much swiss chocolate, eye cream that actually works and for showing me what brave girls really look like.
ich trage Ihr Herz mit mir ich trage es in meinem Herzen

Oh my good Hairness!

Libraries are cool.

I honestly think i am the last of my friends to own a library card.
Every Friday i go to Parkview library with my little basket and come home infinately richer with 6 or so delicious books.
I love finding little book marks people have left in there, i once found a love letter, a piece of lavender, a print out on erectile difunction and many more slightly amusing things.
Parkview library is amazing.
They have all these little sections like the 'great books you might have missed' section, the reading corner(for adults!)
and the very best part?
Outside in their courtyard they have piles and piles of old books for R1 and R2 and R5 that you can scoop up and feel like the worlds luckiest girl because you found a honest to god 1950's copy of Sense and Sensibility.
In our modern era of gadgets and computers, i feel deeply sad that books are being forgotten, do yourselves a favour, go get a library book, go visit the musty books and interesting characters that sit around the library, you might find yourself drawn to a world of Alice in Wonderland and The Velveteen Rabbit.

Tea for two.

I attempted to put on my face,and a pretty dress today.
Being housebound for the last week thanks to my new very time consuming and demanding relationship with Mr Bronchitis Van Flu has left me ravenous for my friends and their spectacular company.
I am happy to say the relationship seems to have ended as quickly as it started.
I have thrown away all the remains including the soaked tissues and vicks,packed up all his stuff(cough syrup, med lemon, sinutab) and have put it all in a brown box on the curb.
So today i walked out the house a single girl once more to meet my Best friend for a little light lunching and heavy gossiping at our favorite cafe,Service Station.
She ate a Parma brie sandwich, i ate home made vanilla bean ice cream.
It was delicious. the conversation, the food and the freedom to be out on the town in my red lips with the person who knows me best.
I came home and realised such a remarkable thing, who the heck needs medicine when friends and laughter and really creamy ice cream can heal just about anything in the whole wide world, well i never.

Breakfast Lunch Tea.The many little meals of Rose Bakery.

I was this close(insert small hand gesture here)to throwing a pair of red heels into my vintage brown suitcase, and popping off to Paris for breakfast lunch and tea at The Rose Bakery.
But alas, lack of funds has made me go out and purchase the delectable book instead.
One of the reviews i read on the book made me all dizzy from delight it went a little something like this "Rose Carrarini’s first cookbook, Breakfast, Lunch, Tea — based on the dishes she serves at her café, Rose Bakery — carries much of the same appeal. Almost all of the recipes are for familiar foods — scones, carrot salad, brownies — except that Carrarini is British and her café is in Paris. The book’s appeal lies in its charming Anglo-French combination, one part Secret Garden, one part Madeline." how deliciously romantic does that sound?
One day Paris, one day Rose Bakery, ill show up in my red heels with a rumbling hungry tummy and you better have a slice of that asparagus tart ready for me.

But is it Art?

♥ यह शब्द नही भावना है, ज़रा महसूस करके देखो!♥

Last week we decided to have a night in. The gang and i drove to Mayfair where some of the best Gujarati food in Joburg is to be found.
The street is a bit dodge, and the car guards even dodgier, but boy oh boy, when you get inside Shayona's sweet meat curry store the wafting smells of masala, samoosa's, and honest to good real potato curry is enough to make you buy a one way ticket to India.

Sleeping Beauty.

I have been friends with Joni Barnard for about twenty years.
This is Joni having a nap, while im running a bath for her on Saturday night before she was heading out on a date.
The amazing thing about being friends with someone for that long is, you can do the whole 'sjoe im tired,ill take a nap, while you run me a bath and while your are at it, can you make me a cup of coffee?'and its totally normal.
I love Joni Barnard, her naps in my bed, the way she lets me put makeup on her face, and feathered shiny combs in her hair, and the way she memorises all the words to songs she loves.

Afternoon delight.

Nothing better than being sick and in your pink pj's feeling awfully sorry for yourself, stuck at home, watching Dirty Dancing for the zillionth time(shameful i know)When like magic, one of your lovely friends arrives at your door with a feel better package of cupcakes and flowers.
Brett Rogers, sjoe, you really are all kinds of wonderful.
.

All Aboard!

I just had to share this picture with you,
Browsing my local thrift store today, the owner Gail ran upto me and with this delighful creature in her hands,
Sh said it was 1950's original and that for me to not have it would be an utter shame.
I couldnt agree more,
So here is my newly adopted 1950's vintage glamour vanity case carrier/handbag.
It makes me think of starched white table cloths, little gloves, hats and trains.

Christine.

I have a ritual at least four times a week.
I lie on the foot of my mothers bed,where she is to be found from 8pm every night, under her billowing white canopy of gossamer on a bed of antique starched white Victorian bedding.(No i'm not being dramatic, she literally bought the bedding in a small town in France, she had pulled a muscle in her foot, and was lying on the porch of some French villa, fanning herself and cursing the hot weather and the un-walkable foot, her mind shouting 'Your in France for god's sake!pull yourself together woman!' When like a dust tornado from hell, one of the servants came running towards her, breathless, red in the face, gasping for the perfect English amongst her beautiful French ..' Madam!Madam!zer ees a markeet down zee groad where zee are zelling antique Fraaanch beddeeeng!'
To say my mothers foot healed like some ancient miracle by pope John himself is an understatement.
hence we now own three sets of Antique genuine Fraaaanch bedeeeng.
But back to the point i'm trying to make.
During these weekly rituals we lie on her bed and talk. and talk and talk and talk sometimes for hours, My mother is most often surrounded by a mass of books, newspapers, Time magazine, a bowl of grapes and her beloved dachshund Lucy Bella.
She is a phenomenal thinker, a magical creature of words, light, and a true understanding of self.
She is my mother, magnificently so.
I have been wanting to write a post on her since day one of my year of magical thinking.
So here goes. To know me, you must know my mother, though some would say i am my father's child, i am a traveller in the heart of my mother that found its way into a person some 25 years ago.
Great wisdom, fiery frustration, deep respect and fierce loyalty are four ways to aptly describe her.
Her mind is often to fast for her mouth hence her nickname miss malapropism.(or miss dogberry-ism of we realllllly want to get smart)
A floating delight of whispered knowledge to be found in quiet moments, like when she is picking roses, or watering her lavender plants when the sun has cooled and the earth is no longer scorching, for watering in the day has a way of ruining the night time watering magic.. in plainer terms, watering a garden in full sunlight can come of no good, as the water dries up before it reaches the plants roots.
She has taught me to put lemon verbena in my pillow slips, warm a teacup before pouring the tea(It keeps the cup staying warmer for longer, for all you slow tea drinkers out there.)
She has loved the same man, my day dreamer father for the past 36 years, with a deep and unselfish love that see's them sneaking kisses when they think no one can see, and stealing glances at one another like star crossed lovers.
We built fairy houses out of cardboard boxes, left notes for the mermaids on the beach, and when we returned to the sandy spot a few minutes later, there would always be a pearl necklace, or a shell bracelet... how she got them there, i don't want to know, i want to think it was the sea people, its the child within me that longs for the magic to remain.
Thank you mamma, for teaching me about Proust and Simone de Beauvoir, i know i yelled at you and said id rather watch Barney than learn about people who were dead already, but now that i'm a little older and hopefully a little wiser, i am eternally gratful.
Thank you for dragging me to listen to all those piano concerto's they have given me a love for Beethoven that you cannot begin to imagine, for your wealth of knowledge you laid bare for me to gain from, sjoe... its given the me the world and made me dream of Peru.
For the sacrifice, for the laughs, for the dinners, for the hand me down antiques, for your moms brooches, for mismatched broken tea cups, for faith in me.
For being my mother. Your a gift of light.

Lady of the house

As promised, some tit bits of my new pink boudoir.

Look who's coming to town.

In her orange and yellow coat.

Aunty Autumn is on a jet plane heading for Jozi land.
Soon we will all be needing to wrap ourselves in delicious scarfs, snug riding boots and drink cups and cups of tea.