There’s a Norwegian in my bed. No no, not like that. It’s a girl.
... argh... not like that either!
But if you care to join my boyfriend’s mind in that thinking...
And I am suiping on a bottle of good old RoSé!!!
Oh how I have missed you, miscreants of wine types. Kinda trashy, but in that classy Scarlett Johansson way. French days are but a taste away from my memorising.
Life this side. Rollercoaster hour. The boy left me for some more Sheep Shearing Shite in the Outback. He is gone for 5 months. 5 weeks in. 2 weeks out, typo 5 months.
The 5-Weeks-In involve bugger all communication. The only good friend I have living in Oz has packed his togbags & is testing how I handle the Big Bad Arrogo World on my Ace. I am seeing it as 5 months of Selfishness awarded to me for Time Well Served. Hey! Hey! Bring on yoga, art, random political afterclasses & foreign filming…!
Since then, A hundred and one Tradies have traipsed through my house as they fix my burnt-out hot water tank (Aussie for “Geyser”. Say Geyser & you get the same look as “packet” and “robot” and “just now”). It burnt out about 30 seconds before the clock ticked into Easter Sunday. Not even the greedy could be convinced in for the two holy-days after that. Our landlady apoplexied at the idea of human beings not having access to tappable hot water, but we reminded her we’re from Africa, 2 days of no (hot) water is only gonna make us nostaligic.
Since then, We’ve/ I’ve had the sparkies, the chippies & the blandly-named electricians pay hourly visits. I now have running hot water. But no longer have kitchen cupboards. It’s a give-and-take sorta wheeling & dealing.
I have a bike! My very own in about 20 years! AND! I have ridden it twice! SUCCESS! Can I stop now? Cause my arse hurts. I even rode it to my 1st yoga class in 10 months. And then no longer had the energy to ride home. What the fkc do you do, when stuck in artic wind far from home with only a bike but no fuel to get you home! I can’t recall what my solution was, but I know I well-pissed off my first motorist & then didn’t move for the rest of Sunday in its entirety.
My boss & I discussed the possibility that what I do in the name of employment makes laughably no sense. And so we adjusted some words. And hey presto! I have purpose again!
All news from South Africa has, honestly, just been shite. Friends of loved ones have died (and no, fokken Eugene is not included on that list). Eugene died. Malema sang out of key. And so Hysteria now appears to reign supreme. The missing link that will blow all other missing links out of the evolutionary water was found & not enough gave a fkc. And that upset me. But thrilled me to know, that as much bad press as our media gives us, we are doing incredible things in spite. [Read that journos, in spite!] So while it might have passed most South Africans by, the rest of the world has acknowledged that the minds & money of WITS have done something monumental.
And then a Norwegian ended up in my bed, with a bottle of Rosé wine in my glass, and my boyfriend was shearing sheep in the Outback.