At the Beach

This is me at the beach. Naturally I have my phone with me. i’ve been talking to my mother, who wants to know where all the Christmas presents are, and I’m telling  her about going to church, and seeing fish all around my feet in the water, and how this part of Knysna is pleasantly quiet. How there are no ADT signs, like Plett, and how I am enjoying a different way of being.

My mother is pleased. She thinks my friend Laura is a good influence on me.

Tweeting in the sea

 

Today was an interesting day. I spent the first 2 hours like I do every Monday, working, because I am running a Christmas campaign and it’s up to me to make it work. I also wanted to post the piece I’d written about the Lalela Project.

Lunch was a spontaneous affair, spent with Kanthan Pillay at the house of friends on Thesen Island. I was thrilled to count four violins, two cellos, one boudoir grand Yamaha piano and one harp – a seriously musical family this. They moved from Yugoslavia to Boksburg to Knysna, as you do. I will admit that lunch was outstandingly good, involving Alaskan salmon, as well as risotto, chocolate cake and sago pudding, which I haven’t had in donkey’s years.

4 violins 2 cellos 1 piano and a harp

Thesen Island is probably as close to Pleasantville as you can get in South Africa, in part because of the Cape Cod architecture. After some shopping in the Harbour Town, where I bought another Panama hat to replace the one I lost (losing hats is another terrible habit of mine), I headed back to The Heads where I waited for a CapeTalk interview about Justine Sacco.

Now I’m sitting on the stoep below a sleeping rock pigeon, listening to the thwock-thwock of slipslops as people walk past, trying to work out what they’re saying. Later there were probably be drunks yelling in the street, and I’ll try to concentrate on one of the books piled up next to my bed, and probably won’t succeed very well. The Internet in general, and Twitter in particular, has been very bad for my ability to focus on books.

I get lectured all the time on my inability to switch off, to stop working. But as I sit here in the still evening, the sigh of the sea not so far away, I reflect on how I really do love what I do, a lot of the time, and if doing it makes me happy, then it can’t be a bad thing.

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