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Month: August 2013

Breakfast at Prada’s

Posted in Style & Travel, and Uncategorized

In August, Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills turns into a playing fields for Italian in bermudas and fancy sunglasses. They stop, huddle and photograph stores they can happily see in Milan or Rome without having to shell out $2,000 for a flight but I understand, Rodeo Drive is a rite of passage for the first time tourist.

What happened next: the unhappy-ever-after of Disney’s Princesses.

Posted in Aging, Style & Travel, and Things We Love

bc4532e7fef74230522640765e7a4757.600xI always wondered what happened to the heroines of Fairy Tales:  after the doors closed on the wedding reception, (it always ended with a wedding) after the king and the fairly godmother and the singing brooms left … how did things turn out for them? Were they accepted by the evil stepmother eventually. Did they celebrate the holidays together?

If their stories bear any relation to the rest of ours … real life and true nature got in the way. Nothing was the way it was told. And they’re making recovery plans.

Breaking up is hard to do – especially with a best friend

Posted in Life & Love, Relationships, Uncategorized, and Women's issues

friendly-casualties-13238608937kHThe voice mail or e-mail arrive punctually every few months. “Have been thinking about you so much lately. I miss you. The reason why I haven’t been in touch is blah blah blah” and, at the end “I don’t even remember what happened between us but we should get together”.

My reply, mostly out of guilt and an inability to let go of people I loved, is a subtle variation on “we should definitely get together, this is what I am doing blah blah blah. Call me!”.

Turn in, tune in, drop out** – the new introvert

Posted in About Us, Health, Life & Love, and Relationships

introverts-anon

My friend Jenn was worrying the other day that I spend too much time alone. “I used to work from home”, she said to me: “it’s so easy for your world to shrink. Especially now we have mobile phones and the internet”. She has a point – for the last four years my work has been very solitary. And, completely self-directed. Rare face-time with employers and no work-mates have lead to me becoming very insular. Add to that friends who have left Cape Town, other friends becoming wrapped up in their own jobs and it could well be I spend too much time alone.

Or is it that I am an introvert? I have always suspected I could be – albeit one with extrovert abilities. When I put my mind to it, I can hold my own in most any social situation. I certainly used to do a job that meant interacting with thousands of people a year – and life on the road is seldom solitary. Not the ideal job choice for an introvert. But, according to Sophia Dembling, author of ‘The Introvert’s Way: Living a Quiet Life in a Noisy World’: “Spotting the introvert can be harder than finding Waldo, a lot of introverts can pass as extroverts.”

Thought of the week… #47

Posted in Relationships, Things We Love, and Women's issues

Kama SutraSex will never be simple or nice in the ways we might like it to be. It is not fundamentally democratic or kind; it is bound up with cruelty, transgression and the desire for subjugation and humiliation. It refuses to sit neatly on top of love, as it should.

The lying lion of Louhe

Posted in Life & Love, and Things We Love

The sign reads "feizhou shi" (African lion)
The sign reads “feizhou shi” (African lion)

Every now and then, the miserable newspapers cough up an item that tickles my fancy

Last week, it being school holidays in Henan Province, China: Mrs. Liu Wen, took her son to visit their local zoo in Louhe. The child was particularly interested in the big cats, and so they headed straight for the African Lion (hah, as opposed to the English Lion, a whole other species!). When they got there Mrs. Liu – a nature fan, realized something was amiss.

The apple never falls far from the tree – Ulric Collette’s genetic project

Posted in Things We Love, and Uncategorized

My better half might be my husband but my other half is definitely my sister.

I always thought of my little sister as the other keeper of memories only the two of us share. She and I alone can remember the smell of our bedroom; the sound of the lady next door washing up as we prepared for sleep (her kitchen abutted our bedroom); the secret Sunday morning games played in bed; the endless dinners while our parents were arguing. In short, nobody else knows how it felt to grow up in our household but my sister.

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