Been busy, be back never

And just like that, it’s July.  The year has done its’ usual ‘gallop full speed’ ahead to rush as much of my life past me as quickly as possible before I realise what is happening.

The only good thing I can take out of finding myself halfway through another revolution of the sun is that it’s my birthday month.  Even better than being my birthday month, it’s now my birthday week!!

This year Jon and I are heading out to the mountains for what I have no doubt is going to be a spectacular weekend hiking, braaing, drinking wine by the fire, and spending some quality time together.

Sadly I often forget how much preparation it takes for a weekend away and inevitably leave all the organising until the last minute.  Friday is four days away and I still have to menu plan, do the food and booze shopping, and make time to pack.

Procrastination is my middle name, no seriously.  Here I am writing about it instead of narrowing down my to-do list.  And on that note I must be off.  I hope to have some cool photos to share next week.

Until next time  x

A little piece of heaven in Mbotyi

I had a laugh yesterday, Jon and I were working in the garden when we heard the sound of a baby crying coming from one of our neighbour’s houses (which is of course not funny in itself obviously).  We looked at each other and I commented on how it was definitely a baby this time and not a baby goat.  Having just spent a week in Mbotyi in the Eastern Cape where there are kids (offspring of the goat kind) running amok constantly calling for an absent family member, we quickly grew accustomed to the sound coming from lost little goats and not from a baby, if you can forgive my sound comparison.  When I travel I tend to associate sounds to places as a means to relive and invoke the memories made in that place, and the sound of goats calling is going to forever represent the amazing spot of Mbotyi for me now.

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Good Morning Cape Town!

Anyone who knows me will agree to the sentiment that I am not a morning person, and if you should find me up before 8am on the weekend then there are generally only two viable reasons for this – either I am going hiking, or I am heading off to go travelling somewhere (or our cat Felix has been meowing from outside our bedroom door for the last hour so as to wake us up to give him attention).  This morning it was the former and this saw Jon and I ‘up and at em’ just after 6am so that we could get ready and start our hike before the sun came up in order to catch the sunrise over Cape Town whilst walking.

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a.k.a The Cuddlers or The Terrorists.  The choice of label is determined by a mood dependent scale which weighs up and determines how tolerable the two of them are being to each other and us, on a particular day.  Sometimes they cuddle and sometimes they are terrorists.  Mainly the latter which is a pretty accurate description of every cat ever I guess.  Lord knows there is not a sock in this world that is safe from the paws of Zeus.  It is like watching a fast-paced game of ice hockey once he has it in his clutches, and much of groping under couches and curtains, and wheel spinning around the house does ensue.  Goodbye sock, I pray that you find your long-lost friend who succumbed to the washing machine last week and live together happily ever after in your unmatchedness.  And who needs an alarm clock to wake you up in the morning when you have Felix meowing outside your bedroom door to be let in the second that you crack open an eyeball to the new day?  In all seriousness, I am convinced that he is somehow spying on us!  The meowing starts literally as soon as Jon or I blink, let alone get the chance to utter a sleepy good morning to one another.  I mean, how does he even know that we’re awake??

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