on my way

There’s a way people have in Cape Town – when they meet someone they know and want to keep on talking (but are in a hurry) – of carrying on conversation while walking in opposite directions, until they’re both out of ear shot. Talk drifts away in the breeze. No goodbyes. I quite like that.

So after nearly a month dashing round the country and catching up with numerous friends, I‘m thinking about packing. At last I’ve experienced the weirdness of meeting up with bloggers - getting a bit hammered with the delightful Helen, Potdoll and Lara last weekend (plus had a rather more sedate chat with engaging Elinor, the week before.)

Managed to meet my fab new half brother (and wife) In a way, I wanted to just sit and have a good stare and contemplate any shared traits from our father. There is an odd resemblance. Also made a quick trip to Havant to see an uncle I’ve not seen in ten years. After 15 years in the navy in his youth, he spent a frugal life either travelling the seas in self-built yachts or cycling across various continents. Now 73 he has spent the last 8 years building and perfecting what is likely to be a final yacht, all meticulously detailed woodwork – now moored on Hayling Island.

So no writing done at all, at all. But on the plus side – numerous photos have been sourced for the jazz book. Stunning ones of the Blue Notes when they first sought exile in London – looking all stylish and slim and in clingy cardigans and even one of SA's Mokaleng with Thelonius Monk.

So I’ll be back here. Yes I will. My hub says his idea of hell is 50 years working on the London Underground. I think mine is possibly 50 years in purified Cape Town.

Ha!