And still the box is not full.

John Steinbeck writes this in East of Eden - about the Salinas Valley in Northern California: Once, fifty miles down the valley, my father bored a well. The drill came up first with topsoil and then with gravel and then with white sea sand full of shells and even pieces of whalebone. There were twenty feet of sand and then black earth again, and even a piece of redwood, that imperishable wood that does not rot. Before the inland sea the valley must have been a forest, and those things had happened right under our feet. And it seemed to me sometimes at night that I could feel both the sea and the redwood forest before it.
 

What a writer.

I've just finished reading Dan Sleigh's glorious Eilande (Islands) - an epic piece of literature about the history of the Cape, starting with the arrival of the Hollanders in 1650. A mere few hundred years ago. A time when you made your own entertainment and there were lions roaming Table Mountain, indigenous cattle, elephants in Paarl, hippos in the Berg River - all destroyed for sport and bacon. (A small cheer in my heart every time a soldier got trampled or gored in return)

I think of these things as I walk the streets of Cape Town. This past Winter has been a quiet one for many in the film industry. Instead of bemoaning this, my friend John took the time to build a theatre in an old corrugated shed. We walked up to the farm last night for the first show. We were enthralled, lost in time. I understood anew why people would want to be actors.
A dog growled on cue.
The silence outside was dispersed by the clicking of a hundred frogs.  

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?

❤

Mummenschanz.

You know those shimmering hot days when you drive around to a hundred places, knowing full well that Cape Town in March 2011 is not the place to find authentic 5th century dressing for a commercial featuring King Arthur? And on top of it all, you feel fat?

So you can either go home and drink wine or you can go to the theatre with your dear friend. I did both.

No photo does Mummenschanz justice.

The show is a constant enthrallment. Just as you think: THIS, this is the best part, they do something better, funnier, more touching. I loved it when the big yellow slinky man batted a giant red balloon into the audience and we batted it back. The illuminated ribbons of light swishing through the air. The man who cried toilet paper tears. The inflated organ as big as a car. It changed from liver to heart to grinning head, to ominous thing engulfing part of the front row, to a small puddle of fabric. Mummenschanz wobbled and floated and soared across the stage. Deceptively simple and fiendishly clever are these elegant illusionists. Then, to final bravos, they whip off their camouflage and you see the people underneath. Grey hair, beautiful smiles. They've been doing this masquerade since 1972.

Mummenschanz is on at the Baxter till 19 March.

Yes, I still feel fat. It's just one of those days. But my heart is light as spun sugar.

Show'n'Tell

 I loved the drive to Matjiesfontein. Flashing by as I drove: black-headed sheep, children waving, rosy mountains in the late afternoon and itty-bitty railway halts with names like Konstabel and Tweeside. The soundtrack was loud and perfect: Dead Man's Bones, Electrelane, Slim Gaillard and a

smattering of Captain Beefheart.
 

 The Lord Milner Hotel is a Victorian beaut. If you ever go, nab the Honeymoon Suite - it has twin bath tubs! The weekend there reminded me of being on a cruise ship in days of yore - planned activities, breakfast and dress-up dinners in the dining room... 

This was the fifth annual Show'n'Tell, but my first. I plan to go forevermore.
 

 Photos by Damien Schumann - a great capturer of the moment. He had a secret printer and photos appeared in the foyer as if by magic. He also did a very graceful dance with fire.
 

 Music, theatre, crafts and general hilarity.
 

The Magician Dude entertains the tinies before the Bioscope. In the Laird's Arms Bar the night before, he had us crying with laughter in an act that had him multiplying red foam balls, finding money in lemons and stripping down to his boxers.

 

 Waiting in line, the Folk Singer did some impromptu strumming. He has a voice sweet like honey and takes frequent naps.
 

 The Speed Confessional Booth by Doctor Ruth. Discretion not a guarantee. So I confessed to being fickle when it came to matters of the heart. That I fell in love at the drop of a hat, but quickly suffered from lassitude. My prescription, drawn from that hat:
learn a foreign accent.
 

 Croquet was played, as was Boule. Gin & tonics and champagne on tap. A morning of crossword puzzles on the lawn. Things never stopped happening.
 

 I've always loved the colours and the smells of the Karoo. And the water tastes like copper coins. 

Back soon I hope.
 

Saturday Night.

The gang met up at hospital supper time yesterday, ie. 5pm... we'd all prepared different fillings and then we wrapped them in tortillas at the table. This was the smart plan of the Architect's Wife, who also saw to it that we made it down the road in time for the last performance of the Mechanicals' "Cosi" at the Little Theatre, Hiddingh Campus. 

"Cosi" is an ambitious two and a half hours long and did not disappoint. It is set in an Australian Insane Asylum, where the inmates decide - with the help of a green drama school graduate, to perform their own version of Mozart's Così fan Tutte.  The final act - the actual performance of the opera - was particularly hilarious, as well as very touching.

The Mechanicals are a repertory company who perform different plays in rotation, taking care of everything from front of house to ticketing and bar tending. They were all brilliant, but Guy de Lancy's performance as the pithy, manic-depressive inmate 'Roy', was outstanding.

We were all trying to place him - I knew I'd seen him in a couple of commercials. Turns out he's a set designer, photographer and ex-commercials director. He is quoted as saying, about the film industry: "It is a world I would much rather not inhabit."