More, much more than this…

11 07 11


Let’s not beat about the bush, here – my blogging days are over. While I see crazy, hilarious, depressing and interesting stuff all over the Internet and in my life everyday about which I would love to write and tell you, I just don’t seem to have the ability anymore. So before (I hope before?) I turn this blog into a festival of rubbish, I think it’s time to shut it down.

It’s been a marvellous five-and-a-bit years of sharing some of the contents of my head with you. Some remarkable things have happened to me, South Africa and the world during this time, and I have really loved being able to muse about them with you.

That you have taken the time to say ‘howzit’ and have allowed me to know your own opinions whether through your comments, your own blogs or in person, has been special and so very valuable and meaningful to me – thank you.

Please do keep in touch. Email me at and I will give you the email address I use on a daily basis.

Thank you so much, it’s been grand!



Doin’ some stuff

06 07 11

In the past month, I’ve done some enjoyable stuff.

Saw Greg Homan’s stripped-down and hilarious ‘The Pirates of Penzance’. It’s starting at the State Theatre in Pretoria on 12 July, running till 6 August.

Took in ‘Bridesmaids’ this past weekend, which was very funny and very perceptive in terms of how it portrayed the ‘haves and have-nots’, i.e. the marrieds/soon-to-be marrieds and the those who are not. I greatly enjoyed how the complications were presented, and the wickedly hilarious scenes in which the bridesmaids tried on dresses, and when they were on the plane to Vegas.

Saw ‘Jesus Christ Superstar’, which was excellent. Tight performances by all and a kick-ass prop cross.

Ate and meandered around Art on Main one sunny Sunday morning. Always fun and interesting to be in a green little cultural spot in the heart of the CBD.

Finally, in an attempt to get back into reading fiction, I was advised to try the English version of Afrikaans thriller-writer, Deon Meyer’s ‘Thirteen Hours’. I’m 120 pages in, and I daresay I might actually succeed in finishing this novel.

The last few I’ve started  – a fiction novel by my one of my favourite authors that focusses somewhat on incest; a ‘true-life’ account of the drug-taking by a New York Times journalist;  a modern classic about a female murderer in the 19th century, and a collection of, sadly, quite unexciting short essays by one of my favourite South African authors – have just not managed to grab me, and I fear I am becoming unused to concentrating on reading for more than 10 minutes at a time, which is about the length of time it takes to read a long-form article on the interweb.

Perhaps this little ‘skiet, skop and donder’ will get me back to where I wanna be.


05 07 11