Happy Human Year

 Alexa and I have been chatting quite a lot since we've been in the UK.  The banter is mostly about the weather - it is a key topic of conversation here, and it is easy to see why.  I have come to appreciate that weather plays a huge role in anyone's lifestyle.  I am missing the Cape Town sunshine, but was delighted to experience falling snow here on Saturday. 

 Saturday snow

The weather in the UK disrupts a lot - wind causes trees to fall and trains to stop, rain regularly floods roads and makes them impassable.  Snow and ice - so beautiful - are slippery and dangerous. The weather determines the Who Where and What of any occasion.  Alexa maintains a cheerful tone throughout her announcements, and she doesn't get irritated that I ask her multiple times a day for a forecast.

I do ask her other things as well, and depending on her connections she can be helpful or just plain stonewalling.  "I am unable to help you with that"  was her response to my asking her to clarify some politics.  We have encountered two Alexas on this trip.  We spent New Year in Cambridge at Tom and Hannah's apartment as we opted for an exchange within an exchange to enjoy some family time together. (If you are new to this blog, you might want to google HomeExchange to make sense of all this!) 

Cambridge cows

 

Alexa is marketed as a "virtual assistant" and I can see the convenience of voice activated commands.  We turn lights on and off, set timers, play music, get the latest news headlines, see who is at the front door, turn on the TV with a simple sentence. On a superficial level, two things bother me:  the tone of voice we tend to use when talking to AI (sharp and commanding!) and the needlessness of any politeness.  I worry, in an old mother grundy type way that, as the words please and thank you are superfluous to a machine, many people may forget to use them in other contexts. Will we become so used to talking to AI that we forget how to play nicely?

On a slightly more complex level, Alexa seems to me to be the perfect household spy. Everything we say is data .  As a wise person once said to me : " If it looks like you are getting something for nothing, YOU are the product." I presume most of the data is used for marketing purposes, as Google learns about what you like and who you are.  I don't really like that. I am not that comfortable with people knowing too much about me (says she writing a blog.)

I was given a book about introverts for Christmas by a person who knows me exceptionally well.  (The title is Sorry I am late, I didn't want to come by Jessica Pan.) The author decides to spend a year as an extrovert.  I admire her courage and determination, but I am not sure I could attempt the challenges she sets herself.  We all have different challenges I suppose, and, as I am still not into new years resolutions, I won't ask you what epiphanies you had on 31 December.  I had none.  I was content to enjoy the moment of being together as a family.

I will keep my eyes open this year, however, for opportunities.  I might nudge myself into uncharted territories, because I can't think of a reason not to.

I will also be on the look out for AI creeping into my life.  As much as I enjoy the novelty of Alexa, she is difficult to have a meaningful conversation with.  We need each other for that.

Let's make 2025 a happy human year.

 

Direction

 Landmarks give us direction.  I have been lucky enough to live my life using Table Mountain as my compass.  It is hard to get too lost in Cape Town - when in doubt, I can look up and see where I am in relation to the mountain's benevolent shadow, and I can breathe out.  I know where I am.

It is slightly more difficult here in south London.  It requires a lot more effort for me to determine which direction is north, and where (temporary) home is.

Andrew talking to our neighbour

  It is slightly out of my comfort zone.  Looking out of the bedroom window on the third floor, I can see horses grazing in the fields, and a wood beyond.  If I look up a bit more, I can also see the Shard, and that grounds me and gives me a sense of place.

We are living in someone else's home for December and January, and they in ours.  This house swap has been months in the planning.  It is an incredible opportunity to experience a different way of doing things for a bit. London is on our doorstep ( a 30 minute train ride) and beloved family are close by.  We can have lunch with our son during his lunch hour. 

On our way to lunch...

We can celebrate his turning 30 in Cambridge.  Our daughter has been to visit her cousin in Oxford.  We are making the most of creating special memories.  But we are also just living ordinary lives.  Andrew is working online.  We are catching up on sleep.  Sorting out the usual monthly admin. Watching TV.  There is less need to rush around using every precious minute like on previous visits because we have the luxury of time.

I have ambled through both the Tate, and the Tate Modern art galleries, soaking up the visual beauty.  We have been to Borough market a couple of time, and drank in the hustle and bustle and smells of the wonderful foods on offer.  And I have achieved a tick on a bucket list item (more about that in another blog.)

Getting around on public transport is not something I do at home.  The trains and buses  here are efficient and close by. The London underground however, confuses me direction wise.  That is where I fear getting lost the most.  There is absolutely no landmark in a tunnel to tell you where north is, or if you are going the right direction.  Thank goodness for apps that make me feel less disorientated.

Doing things differently is both exhilarating and challenging.  My sense of (self) direction has shifted this past year or so.  My landmarks have changed, and sometimes I gaze up and wonder where I am in my life.  Sometimes I get tunnel vision, and wonder if I am going the right direction.  There are two options that I can see - either create new landmarks to be my  Table Mountain, or just get on the tube and see what direction it takes me, knowing I can get off at the next station if  I want (so to speak.)  I haven't decided which option to take yet, or if I can combine the two.

In the meantime, happy travelling - at home or abroad- to you - and thank you for your company on the journey. 

En route to The Tate.  Cold and wet

Borough market on a quiet day!

London is beautiful at night.  It is dark by 4.30pm.  That takes quite a bit of getting used to!!

 

unbelievable

 

 Our home will be welcoming new custodians for the months of December and January. We have arranged  a house swap with a family from the UK.   This promises to be an adventure par excellence!  So it is time to sparkle the space and make it neat and tidy.  Most of it is, but our work areas tend to get creatively messy.  I have started the process of cleaning the blood, sweat and tears (quite literally, I'm afraid ) from the room in the roof which is where I do my glass work.

I have just finished a big project, which used lots of glass, lead came, putty, linseed oil, baby powder, nails, and solder. It also involved courage, most of my head space and quite a few plasters. I was asked by someone who has buckets more faith in my abilities than I do (thank you, Donna) to create new leaded panes for a shop front in Observatory.  A truck and a storm had destroyed the originals.

work in progress...

The task seemed Herculean from the outset, but I have so enjoyed the challenge and sense of accomplishment.  And I have learnt so much along the way.  Mostly about measurements and cutting and sourcing the right glass, but also about asking questions until I understand what's what and believing that I am capable.  

We fitted the three panels on Saturday.  Andrew's expertise, patience and unwavering support made this possible, especially as it turns out that old buildings have their foibles and glass is not bendy. 

We shaved off some of the lead came with my power sander, chiseled offending bits of the wooden frame and eventually it all fitted together.  It was a huge relief and I am delighted with the result.

The thing about glass is that it is both tough and fragile at the same time.  It can withstand  the rain and wind battering it, and provides a barrier keeping the outside separated from the inside.  But it is easily breakable, particularly if you step on an edge it seems.  (I had to throw that piece away.)  Cutting glass starts with scoring - essentially you create a flaw or weakness in the glass before using pliers to complete the break. 

I think there is a reason I enjoy working with glass so much.  I can identify with the medium.  I know what it is like to be tough and fragile simultaneously.  I understand the importance of a shield between external and internal.  Our scars are our weak points, and where we are most likely to break.  I get all that.  But I also get the beauty of glass - how it reflects and refracts light, how it amplifies and frames a viewpoint. People have innate beauty in them.  Sometimes the panes just need a gentle wash for us to see an unclouded version.

 Self doubt has often been my shadow.  I have sometimes felt unbelievable, or unheard, and that has, in the past, put speed bumps in my path.  But recently I have allowed myself to see the possibility of potential.  Thank you to those of you who have encouraged me.

TaDa!

 

 

 

 

Crosswords

 I married Andrew (34 years ago!) for three things:  his ability to tie knots, his sense of direction and his new tech convection microwave oven.  Sadly, all good things must come to an end, and the microwave died gracefully a long while ago, to be replaced with a cheap, practical Do-The-Job-Quickly type.  But his ability to tie knots - a product of a long and illustrious scouting enthusiasm-, and his sense of direction have lasted. (Well, mostly.  He seems to have issues with where Noordhoek is.)  Which just goes to show that it is better to marry someone for what is on the inside, rather than what they own.  I am still very happy with my decision, and we celebrated this past weekend in Riebeek Kasteel.  (A quaint village close to Cape Town.)

We had chosen and booked the accommodation together, but Andrew had sneakily asked them to put some roses in the room for me.  He is thoughtful that way, and next to a wine cooler filled with flowers was a little note from management wishing us both a very happy anniversary of our "beautiful union."  I was touched.

And next to the vase was a welcome letter from the hotel, giving the wifi password, room service number to dial and a sincere wish that we should not hesitate to ask if we need anything.

I say "we", but it was addressed to Andrew only.  A small, unimportant detail you may think, but it shoots right to the heart of the invisibility of women.  Especially as it was placed next to the congratulations-on -your-union card.

Last time we went away, you may remember, the weather was foul , and we landed up playing Scrabble. (See Quite! blog if you don't know what I am talking about!)  Not this year - we decided on Crosswords instead.  

I say "Crosswords" but what I should write is Cross Words.  Some of them too rude to print.  I found myself in a fug on the morning of our departure, and anger welled up in me.  "This is as bad as our 10th anniversary," I fumed.  Our tenth anniversary is a distant memory, but not a good one.  Andrew and I were barely talking to each other, and we sat through a miserable dinner in an upmarket restaurant in Town, wishing we were somewhere else. Separately.  It was the year of fertility treatments, and if you have been there, you will know the strain it puts on a relationship.  Ours was near breaking point.

But here we are, battle scarred but stronger for it.  My fug lifted as we settled into our weekend away, and we had the most enjoyable time, reading, resting and reminiscing.  

 I am grateful we are travelling together, and I think getting angry with each other is part and parcel of any long term relationship.  It means both of us have a voice, even if I feel the need to raise it on occasion in order to be heard. 

Life isn't always about Facebook smiles.  Sometimes we need to tell the irritating truth.  Looking back over the past three decades, I can acknowledge the times when we haven't always seen eye to eye. That's ok with me.  We are two separate people with different opinions about many things.  It is our strength that we can weave our threads together into a knot that holds in stormy weather. 

 

 

Not a bad view, really!

 

Background noise

There is a consistent buzz in my head.  It is more of a low hum, and sits just between my thoughts lobe and the irritation cortex in my brain.  Sometimes it is all I can concentrate on, and it leads me to despair. Please make it stop. It is an environmental noise, and a month or so ago, Andrew and I spent a Saturday evening trying to locate its origin.  Andrew is an engineer in almost every fibre of his being, so he had a mathematical plan.  We would triangulate the sound.  Yes - this was news to me too.  I would have just ventured out, fuelled by sheer determination, and stabbed blindly in the dark, hoping to get closer to the irritation.  But using the scientific method worked.  We drove to one edge of Pinelands, hoppped out the car, made silent assessments of the direction and intensity of the sound, and then conferred.  We could agree on direction.  I wrote down our findings in my notebook, and we drove to a different corner of the suburb.  Rinse and repeat, until we had plotted the possible area by intersecting the notebook lines.

And there it was, tucked away in a back street in a neighbouring industrial area.  Even at 8.30 on a Saturday night it was churning out steam and noise.  It is an massive plant that looks to me a bit like a mine with corrugated walkways and conveyor belts. And a security guard who walked up to us to see what we were doing there on a drizzly evening. The company manufactures oils and margarine products.

I was glad to have found out where the annoyance was coming from.  I knew it wasn't all in my head, but locating it exactly made me feel a lot better. I could direct my anger at a particular company rather than just vaguely thinking it must be somewhere out there.  Information is calming.

Sometimes I get lost in the trap that something is "all in my head."  And to be fair, a lot of thoughts do get stuck up there and need to be coaxed out.  

I am wondering if I can use this triangulation system to pinpoint other noise in my life.  If I stand and look at something that is bothering me from one angle, jot down my results, walk some distance away (metaphorically) and note the problem from a different angle, rinsing and repeating until I can work out the intersecting point,  maybe I can  find a cause and create a solution.

My heart hurts at the moment.  I don't know why - it feels as if a ball of wool (mottled blue!) has been cut through with a pair of scissors and there are all these loose ends sticking out and if I pull one, the whole thing may unravel. It is probably all in my head, but I am going to test the triangle theory with this as a case study.

Beautiful Peaceful Sedgefield

Recently we slipped away for to Sedgefield for a few days, and had a glorious holiday.  Highlights included painting rocks, having my face splat with shaving cream, eating celebratory pecan pie and NOT having this constant droning sound in my ears. Coming home made me even more aware of it and its effect on me.

 

 

 

I think it is the frequency that bothers me most.  Not so much the Hertz, but how often I can hear it - even now at 11 on a Sunday evening, the drone continues.  It is non stop. Time, I think, to phone City Council and see if there is any recourse. Enough already.  

 

A creative community project in Sedgefield - we left our contributions to be added!

 

 

 

A face full of shaving cream - part of a hilarious Task Master game we were playing....

Sun and Ski

26 January:

Andrew is packing to go on his much anticipated Austrian ski holiday with his brothers.  We leave for the airport in two hours, and he is a bit more flappy than he usually is.  This trip is a celebration of Life as he hits 60. The brothers haven't had a joint adventure for too many years. (One lives in Canada, the other in the UK).   Underpants - tick.  Jeans - tick.  Long sleeved shirts - tick.  But when it came to socks there was an odd assortment of forlorn mismatched singles skulking at the back of the cupboard.  He found enough comfy matching pairs, and decided to part with some that had not yet morphed into hangers, and probably never will.  Almost there.  Ski pants and jacket - tick.  Book to read....   And he is ready!

Andrew on the move...

We celebrated his birthday yesterday.  It started with a leisurely breakfast in Kalk Bay (highly recommend the food at Chardonnay Deli), followed by a dip in the ocean.  It is pure bliss for me to float in sea salt with my ears under the water, bobbing to the gentle current.  It feels like being in Creation, with all external distractions floating away.  

Actually, I am hoping to make this  the Year of Distractions.  I fancy dipping my toes in new adventures, even if I discard them promptly or "fail" miserably.  So what.  I have made a start by signing up for an online course. K and I are sneaking off for a Daughter/ Mother weekend while Andrew is away.  I have started a new glass panel for nowhere in particular.   So the January distractions are doing well.  Who knows, by the end of the year, I may even have a cookie jar full of creative ideas and a house full of odd looking glass panels.

 

31 January:

Even my distractions get distractions it seems. Andrew is having a wonderful trip by the sounds of things - I am sure he will share his adventures with you when he gets back.  He sends daily maps of his ski runs, and of  people sunbathing in the snow.  I am hoping the brothers are having a good time of re-connection. 

 I have been enjoying having the extra space to uncap my eccentricness and lying low for a bit.  January is done and dusted. 2024 is well under way.  I hope it has started well for you.

 

29 January

25 January

 

 

The dark side of gratitude

 It was a glimmery sunny day last Sunday, and I sat in the garden with my mug of tea, rereading The Ugly Duckling and enjoying some tortoise time.  I have an ambivalent relationship with fairy tales - I can appreciate the history and language, but I often find the themes outdated and laboured.  The Ugly Duckling however, has a cast of mostly animals, and that is somehow more palatable.  And of course the themes of finding your space in the world, the hurt of being bullied and appearance discrimination  are important and  thought worthy contemplations for a sunny Sunday morning.  

I was wanting to look beyond the obvious though, to see what else resonated with me.  And guess what - one of the themes was around gratitude. The little "duck", having been rejected by family and community, having survived being shot at by hunters, and having been thankful that he was too ugly for a dog to bite and eat him, finds refuge from a storm in a cottage occupied by an old woman, a cat and a hen.

Sounds good doesn't it, to find a home after such a rough journey, even if he knew he was only being tolerated there for the possibility of his usefulness (alas, no eggs for the old woman, but she didn't know that).  The cat, speaking to our hero who wanted to go for a swim, and who voiced the truth that the cat didn't understand him, tells the swan to "thank your good fortune that you have been received here....I advise you, therefore, to lay eggs, and learn to purr as quickly as possible."  

Be grateful and conform.

Please don't misunderstand me - I absolutely believe in gratitude and am grateful daily for very many things.  But I think it is a mistake to tell/hint to other people to show gratitude, because such an instruction comes fully loaded with oppression, submissiveness and judgement. Telling someone to be grateful for what they have often implies that they shouldn't expect more, and are indeed lucky to be in the situation they are in.  But what if they don't feel lucky?  What if they want more?  What if conformity is damaging to them? 

Gratitude is strictly personal.  Anyone imposing it on you may have an ulterior motive, and it is an easy trap to fall into.  Because if you don't show the gratitude expected of you, the trapdoor of guilt is right there waiting for you to fall into.  Sometimes the negative voices telling us to be  grateful and conform are not from society at large, or even people in your inner circle.  Sometimes it is your internal voice betraying you.  If the sentiment comes out as "I should feel grateful, but....." take a step back from that guilt trapdoor, and ask whose voice you are listening to.  If you do feel grateful then skip right along and enjoy the bounty of your gratefulness.

The Ugly Duckling found the strength to leave warmth and safety of the cottage to follow his instinct that better things were out there.  It wasn't easy, and he had a rough winter, almost freezing to death, facing more rejection and much self loathing.  

But, as we all know, it ends well with him finding his place and happiness.   

The fable makes me uneasy to be honest.  A lot of it centres around others' reactions to the poor little outcast, and even in the end, the duckling is only happy when he finds acceptance in community of lookalikes. I often find myself on the outskirts of groups - sometimes by choice, but not always, and I wonder if I were to look into that reflective pond as the Ugly duckling did, would I like what I saw as much as he did?

I love swans.  In my family they are known as "Oofs" thanks to K who was delighted by these creatures when we stayed on Eel Pie Island near Twickenham when she was a toddler and inventing words.  They swam gently on the Thames River, coming up to the edge to be admired.  They can be scary creatures too - loud and aggressive when they feel threatened. We took quite a few happy snaps of them that holiday, and Andrew kindly and skillfully painted a couple of pictures which hang in our house. They are  constant reminders to me that reflections of kindness and self acceptance are the positive outcomes of gratitude.

Travelblog

Those people who say Life is about the Journey, not the Destination, don't travel Economy class on long haul trips.  This time last week we were chatting to an over zealous check-in assistant at Heathrow airport, who thought the battery in the built-in scale of Andrew's suitcase, might pose a security risk. We were coming home -via Doha- after the most fabulous two weeks in the UK. 

The absolute highlight was also the reason for this trip - we were privileged enough to watch our son receive his PhD in Mathematics from Cambridge University.  I guess it is a private sort of moment to see someone you love achieve something he has worked so hard for.  I can't yet put into words the explosion of celebration I felt on a synaptic, cellular level.  Being together as a family was the background of happiness, celebrating is the overlayer of  fireworks and champagne.

Trinity graduates walking to Senate House

Even the weather smiled on us that Friday - the daily drizzle stayed away.  After the Latin ceremony (I had brushed up on Duolingo and could follow most of it), Trinity treated us to lunch in the college grounds.  We celebrated later with a sublime dinner.  What a day.

I know, I know.....here we go again, me bubbling over with green-making potions.  But it has been a tough, exhausting year, and this was just the reset I needed.  Let me bubble a bit.

We started our trip in Surrey with much loved family, walking country lanes, eating, laughing, catching up.  Trying to forget that we live continents apart, and time together like this has to be savoured and put in the memory bank because the distance is so great. 
The teenage niece taught me to Just Dance, as my attempts at Mario Kart (these are Wii games) have not improved in the last 6 months and probably never will.  I am ok with that.

 

 

We stayed one night in the very middle of London - Piccadilly Circus -  and managed to tick off a few of the sights we really wanted to see. 

If you want details of the V and A or Science museum visits, or the interesting statue in one corner of Trafalgar Square, or how K got pickpocketed, or Spitalfields market send me a DM.  :)

But on to Cambridge (via a non functioning rail trip...) .  It is a magical place, with beautiful buildings, parks, and abundance of museums (opening hours are strange - best to check), a market,  quaint shops and something of interest around every corner, and of course the river Cam. It helps to have family with inside knowledge of  whats-on too.  S suggested we try a Shakespeare from the selection being performed in the colleges' gardens. What fun to picnic beforehand and belly laugh through the wit of Much Ado about Nothing in the grounds of St Johns College.  Not even the bracing dampness could spoil the evening.....

I will mention just two more things (hope your tea is still hot - otherwise I can wait while you make another cup) :  Another trip to the theatre, and what to do on a rainy Saturday afternoon.

R treated us all to tickets to see the Agatha Christie play, "Witness for the Prosecution" .  The theatre is the County Hall in London (next to the London Eye), and used to be the Greater London Council headquarters.  So the setting is perfect for a courtroom drama, and if you are sitting in particular seats, you will be chosen for jury duty. It is immersive theatre at its best, well acted, fast paced and more of an experience than just a play.

It was raining quite heavily on the last Saturday we were there.  Cambridge is definitely a Walking Zone ( we averaged about 10km a day) and after a fancy brunch at a restaurant, we decided we needed an indoor activity. R and S knew just the place.  We were lucky to get a table for a couple of hours at the Board Game cafe, slightly out the centre of town.  And we spent two happy hours playing board games from their large (over 500) selection, sipping tea, chatting, and you guessed it - more laughing. The vibe is relaxed and animated, the perfect way to spend some quality family time together on a wet weekend.

We had such a good holiday, that we just let the airport official fuss about the battery in Andrew's case without it bothering us or us needing to show him the absurdity of his logic.  His supervisor did that anyway.  Airports can be stressful environments, as we were reminded right at the beginning of this journey.  K sometimes holds her breath when her back pack goes through the x-ray machine, as she carries insulin and needles and such like paraphernalia. And indeed at Cape Town International, her bag was sent for second look.  She explained the situation, started hauling out the doctor's letter, but the official said no, that wasn't what they were looking for.  Security isolated the object of concern.  It was a toy car that K was carrying with her in memory of her grandfather.  (They had a thing, and indeed a whole language, about vehicles. ) Apparently a toy is of more concern than the needles and medicine vials. 

I guess in life, the journey and the destination are equally important and  indeed symbiotic.  But should you get stuck in the airport of life and happen to be in Doha, head to Terminal C - there is a cool, misty indoor garden to enjoy while you wait for your next flight and choose your next destination.