Sugar in my bowl.

A friend of mine posted on Facebook this morning: how many of you are on Twitter and why?

Twitter is a mystery to me. I'm only there because the man with the generous heart said I should be (he also said you should start a blog / you should start a tumblr, etc. so I listen)

Sometimes I find interesting links there, sometimes it feels like a real-life soap opera. I never won anything before in my life, but on Twitter I won a meal for two at a posh wine farm and a few months later, a case of Pinot Noir. Who follows who is also an utter mystery to me. Dita von Teeze follows Die Antwoord! I once retweeted a writer from LA. It was something about hairy dudes in a car and it reminded me of film recces I've been on. He said thanks and we had a little chat. Next morning I woke up and Erica Jong was following me. Yes! Famous Feminist Writer! She of the zipless fuck!

(I do admit to checking every now and then to see if she's still there.)

Flying without a net.

We once had a birthday party together, the lovely Virgoan girlfriend and I. We served bottomless White Whiskers and the Martinis were dirty. There was chocolate ganache cake with figs, and as much liquorice as a girl could wish for. Spun sugar and candlelight. The big surprise: the Magician... I introduced him to my baffled friend and watched as he entranced her, soon drawing a crowd. He bent spoons, he turned back time, he made us all a-flutter. He was a brilliant illusionist, but my favourite part was watching the faces around me - they were filled with such incredible child-like wonder, all of the world-weary cynicism left aside for a while.

And that's exactly what the circus did for us tonight.

Scented with jelly tots and buttered popcorn, this troupe of grown-up children entertain... I was by turns on the edge of my seat, then laughing so hard my ears ached and then having bouts of dislocating cold shivers. Juggling so strange and offbeat, it should have been a mess, but it was perfect. Bodies being tossed and tumbled into the air, zooming like paper aeroplanes, the flinging of ropes.

Lightning Bolt Drummer Girl in the Red Boots:
you left me breathless.

Ghostly Trapeze Acrobats: you made my heart stand still, my palms all sweaty.

Guy with Arm Muscles who Floated Horizontal from the Bar: well. You made my heart beat again.
 

We whooped and we whistled and we ahhh-d and we oooh-d.

How will I ever sleep tonight?

❤

Memory Road.

The Agent from Berlin is visiting. We took a meandering drive today - starting in Strubens Road, Mowbray. The wonderful house of Niki and Jude Daly. Niki was my lecturer at Stellenbosch University and is responsible for many of the threads in my fabric. The Agent and I lived next door to them many years ago. We were very young and poor in those days and I remember that we ate a lot of potatoes. At night we'd roam the streets looking for firewood. We had no tv, but Niki's piano would regularly entertain us through the shared wall of the terrace.

The Dalys' are moving to the seaside in the new year and today they had a studio sale of illustrations.

How difficult it was to choose!

A lucky girl is getting this one for Christmas.

These came home with me:

Also, a gift of his beautiful book, "A Wanderer In Og". Thank you Mister Inkman!

As always, I was rather distracted by bits of the house.

 And while passing through Observatory afterward, the distractions continued.

We ended up at the Biscuit Mill for a bite. I'm not one for the herd feeling, but the coffee was very good, as was the cider and the flatbread.

Liked the cardboard plate,

impressed by the crepe man's array of half finished Nutella.