Table for one...

You know those evenings when all of a sudden you have nothing to do! Every single person you have ever met in your entire life has plans... You end up ringing people you haven't seen in months, people you don't even really want to see, ANYONE – just so you can feel secure in the fact that you have a plan.

Then you make a point of telling people, even if they haven't asked - I'm going to X tonight with X... Just so everyone knows that you are actually busy... You have friends... You are popular!

I tried a few people and finally realised I was merely coming across as desperate, and my phone bill was going through the roof, and it was time I faced up to the fact that I am going to be alone tonight. All alone. And this is going to happen many times in my life. And the more I thought about it the happier I felt... – I can get what I want for dinner, at whatever time I want, and go to bed when I feel like it, and watch what I want on TV. After much deliberation I have decided to get me one of my favourite salads from Newport Deli (to treat myself after a hugely strenuous gym session) and then pop to Waterfront to see Burlesque, which I've heard is simply awesome, fun, loud and energetic, especially if dancing gives you reason to live, like myself!

So that's my plan. I'm a loner. But I'm gonna do it in style...

French Toast

By the way, French Toast (on Bree Street) is GREAT! What a lovely little spot, one floor up with a sweet little balcony over the street, and a cool breeze flowing freely through the sliding doors and windows. The food is fabulous - delicious little tapas dishes (you must try the calamari, the pastry parcels and the short rib), great service and superb wines. I'd recommend it to anyone. Especially Spanish food lovers!

What's hot? Cape Town. Literally.

So all my awesome activities this week have been cancelled as a result of this excruciating heatwave. 

Such activities included running on the promenade (er, death by dehydration), climbing Lion's Head (I believe I'd melt halfway up) and staying at my gorgeous flat on the sea. The latter is made impossible by the fact that I have a freakishly small, stifling bedroom. No matter how wide I open the balcony door, a breeze refuses to flow through my humble abode, and my fan is so small it wouldn't even blow over a praying mantis. So when my boyfriend and I stay at mine in weather like this, it equals one times sweaty, baking evening of no sleep and we leave for work the next day angry with the weather, angry with each other, and 5kgs lighter than the night before. Even my gym sessions must be kept short and sweet (if I stay too long I start to see spots). I cannot blowdry my hair (I have to get back into the shower after!) so am sporting the natural frizzy look. I also struggle to drink tea (the idea that 'it cools you down' is a total myth) or cook – standing over a stove really aggravates my sweat glands. 

Have resorted to spending evenings in front of the tele in boyfriend's flat which has fans left, right and centre and a strong breeze wafting through. So this is a week for takeouts and relaxing. What are you doing?

This week's meals out: Dad is still here so hoping to take him to some good spots. The new Basilicos is on the cards for dinner, and 95 Keerom, which neither of us have been to yet! but am always game for my faves: Haiku or Bukhara. Otherwise I'm keen to try out The Test Kitchen, Luke Dale Roberts' new venture (the chef of La Colombe), which is in Woodstock.

There are some great summer specials on in Cape Town. Try this link: http://foodblog.cape-town.info/restaurants/posts/spring-summer-capetown-restaurant-specials-87.php

Monday madness

So my poor, darling BlackBerry is broken. It has gone into hospital for emergency surgery after I lost all control of the buttons and it proceeded to dial my boyfriend over and over on its own. When I finally managed to stop it (and explain to him that I'm not THAT desperate to talk to him), it wouldn't stop pressing the 'a' button. My mother thought I was going mad when she received a text message filled with a's followed by four drop calls and another blank text as the cherry on the cake. Eventually I pulled out the battery and drove down to Vodacom in a complete rage, where I sat in a queue for 45 minutes in a room with no aircon in Cape Town's 40-degree heat. When I got to the front, the wonderfully polite, chirpy and exceedingly helpful (not) sales lady brutally stamped a page and told me – with absolutely no compassion, empathy or sympathy – that it would take two weeks to send up to Joburg to be fixed and that I would be BB-less. I was so dehydrated and frustrated from waiting in the queue I didn't even have the energy to argue. So I signed and left.

I didn't quite realise just how distressing this was going to be. On top of losing ALL my data (numbers, music, photos, BBM contacts etc) I also can't read my emails when not at my desk, pop onto Facebook, Twitter, or the internet. I feeling very unhappy. Especially since, as a replacement, Vodacom (ever so kindly) let me borrow a prehistoric walkie-talkie-like brick dating back to World War II, which keeps emitting a piercing cacophony at regular intervals and I'm not quite sure why. The screen is so small and dark I have to wear reading glasses and shine a torch just to decipher my texts. And it took me 20 minutes to find the 'Messages' folder and figure out how to put it on keylock. At this rate, I'd rather not have a phone at all. Anyway am feeling very disconnected and sincerely disappointed in BlackBerry considering this is the second time this has happened. Not a great start to my week.

On a lighter note, I am going to French Toast tonight - the new wine and tapas bar on Bree Street. Have heard only good things so am looking forward to trying it out.

Things that go bump in the night

So I've had a sort of writer's block recently. (A blogger's block?) It's just been your average week – in other words, nothing remotely interesting/funny/emotional/insightful has happened. Lovely boyfriend arrived home on Sunday so I have been super glued to his hip to say the least. I thought I'd allow myself 4 days of this behaviour before I must resort to being your standard girlfriend. 

Something very funny happened on Sunday night that has kept me in the highest of spirits and giggling to myself all week. My man has just moved flats. This was fantastic for me because I got to be typically female/motherlike and help him unpack, do up the house and suggest where things should go and what he should be buying etc. I would get to wear the pants for a few days. Or so I thought. I soon realised that he is just as meticulous as me and likes things done very much his own way. To the extent that he even rearranged his books in the bookcase after I had carefully placed them onto the shelves. After this I gave up to watch TV. But he didn't ask me to help again. We came to an unspoken agreement.

Anyway, the thing about your first night in a new flat is that you don't really have your bearings yet. You can misjudge a step, or the positioning of a table, or the location of a light switch. In addition to this my boyfriend had the misfortune of being jet lagged and grossly fatigued. In the middle of night, he popped to the toilet. I faintly heard him returning but did not move from my comatosed fetal position. Complete exhaustion compelled him to flop down on to his bed. Unfortunately, a combination of the dark and feeling disjointed and spaced out meant that he totally missed the bed. Next thing I heard was a hard THWACK as he landed face down on the carpet, just a few centimetres from the bed!

Silence.

I sat up. Instantly awake. I blinked. Oh my god. Was I allowed to laugh? 

'Er, are you okay?' 

'Uuurgh bluskaisilhrjebjs' ... Incoherent noises, spluttering. 'Hummmpph.'

With that he got up and got into bed.

Silence.

Then suddenly, a small laugh erupted from his chest. I believed this was my cue. And so I started laughing. But then as quickly as it had started, it stopped. And then silence. And we were asleep again.

Having been in such a listless haze myself, I completely forgot about the incident until lunch time then next day when I unexpectedly burst into fits of hysterics in the middle of the office from the image of him at one with the carpet. And I proceeded to ring his sister and relay the whole story. 

Needless to say, he seemed somewhat peeved (or just embarrassed?) when I brought it up that evening, and he deliberately and hastily sidestepped the conversation. Before I knew it he had asked me to help him hang pictures.

Anyway - that was the highlight of my week. What's yours?

Checklist

The parents are coming to visit me, separately, over the course of the next two weeks. I know from experience that this means they expect a number of tasks to have been carried out preceeding their arrival in the Mother City.

For Mum:

• Get car cleaned (inside and out)
• Make flat spotless (dust bedside tables and wash dishes) and make bed
• Go for a facial (Mum hates a dirty skin)
• Get a hair cut (Mum hates jagged, whispy ends)
• Wear only the clothes Mum has given me
• Be on time
• Don't go out the night before she gets here
• Make all restaurant bookings a week in advance

For Dad:

• Cancel all plans to make time for Dad

GREAT SPOTS TO TAKE PARENTS:

Harbour House, Kalk Bay

River Cafe, Constantia

Cafe Roux, Noordehoek

Miss K, Greenpoint Main Road

At last

Anyone else got that Friday feeling? Am feel smug. And relieved. And overjoyed. And slightly amorous.

Lovely boyfriend just rang from the top of the slopes to tell me how beautiful it is up there. I'm hoping the subtext in that was that I am more beautiful than the snow-covered mountains, glistening beneath the Austrian UV rays... that must be why he rang. Even if I'm wrong I'm going to stick to that interpretation, as it's got me beaming and ready for a weekend of revelry.

Very much itching to get out into the sunshine, dressed up and clinging to my sundowner cocktail followed by a full-blown Friday feast with my rock-on flatmate. Will have to see where the night takes us. All I know is that no matter how long the evening goes on for, it better spit me out at the pool tomorrow so I can sport my new bikini. Maybe I should keep it in my handbag. 

Tip: If you're looking for a good tanning spot this weekend, away from the tiresome crowds, persistant gale and glacial Cape Town waters, then pop up to Mandela Rhodes House's rooftop pool and bar. That's where I'll be anyway. 

Every now and then the girls that I do modern dancing with and I organise (well in advance) a Mexican evening. It's quite an anticipated event and tonight's promises to be a real winner. So I paid a visit to the party shop during my lunch break today, and returned to my car half an hour later sporting a new sambrero and carrying a bottle of pink champagne (Tequila on a school night? You've got to be kidding). I decided to leave the poncho. It seemed a bit much.

The weekend's coming, the weather looks great and the beach beckons. Going to try get me a little tan before my lovely lovely boyfriend returns home. So I'll be leaving the sambrero at home then... It also works well as a small laundry basket.

In the spirit of Mexico, I thought I'd leave you with some excellently witty Mexican jokes. Oh, and if you're looking for a great Mexican in Cape Town (a restaurant, not a person. I don't know any Mexican people in Cape Town) try the new El Burro in Greenpoint, Fat Cactus on Park Rd (always a good choice), or my personal favourite – the vibey unparalleled awesomeness of Buena Vista (they even offer beginner's salsa classes for the uncoordinated).

Ariba!

How many Mexicans does it take to screw in a light bulb? Juan

Why can't Mexicans be firemen? They can't tell the difference between jose and hose b

What do you call 4 Mexicans in quicksand? Cuatro Cinco

What do you call a Mexican with a rubber toe? Roberto

Why did the Mexican push his wife off a cliff? Tequila! 

Why aren't there any Mexicans in hell? They jumped the border

What's a Mexican's favorite sport? Cross country

A day of nothing

I haven't had anything to write about all day. Not a single topic. I really dug deep – I read the news, scanned blogs, scrolled through meaningless tweets, skyped friends, looked up holiday destinations, eavesdropped on conversations, fuelled an office argument. Nothing...

On a lighter note, I'm desperately excited that the inconvenient hurdle that is Wednesday is almost out my way – it's kind of a nothing day: too early in the week to go out, but far enough into the week that you feel you need to do something mildly exciting or rebellious. But I'm all out of rebellious after the festive season. And the means to fund it!

'Mildly exciting' on my agenda looks like TV and takeaways... solo. And, to be honest, I'm quite content with that. It's when I start talking to myself you can be worried.

It's great when you finally find someone who accepts you for you...

How many text messages are you allowed to send someone before it's deemed 'uncool'?

Or better yet: how long do you need to be going out with someone until you can send them as many texts as you want in a row and it won't matter? 

With my boyfriend still overseas, at times I miss him uncontrollably and want to tell him about all the little things in my day or about my irrevocable love for him.

But yesterday I completely disregarded the fact that he was on the slopes and would only see him phone when he got home late in the evening. He arrived back last night (after apres ski, dinner, more apres ski...) to a total of 14 texts revealing how much I miss him, love him, wish he was on the promenade with me, wish he was watching TV with me, wish he was brushing his teeth with me, wish he was reading his book with me, wish he was lying in bed with me... (you get the gist).

Frantic suddenly that he might realise he was going out with a monomaniacal madwomen I lay in bed, eyes like saucers, body rigid in anticipation, until midnight when he finally rang. 

With a small, reassuring giggle he simply said: I love you too, Darling.

PHEW!

Weekendmania

Wow! If that wasn't a big weekend then I don't know what was. If anyone went to the L'Ormarins Queen's Plate then you'll know just what I'm talking about. By the end of the day I'd started to think I could no longer see colour and was perhaps living in Pleasantville – I had to remind myself that blue and white was just a theme, not permanent eye damage from the bottomless Champagne we were served in The Stud Club. Pink bubbly, free gourmet nosh, bowls of biltong, Lindts and brownies were the order of the day, as were my two wins on the spectacular equine beauties – Nysean Bolt and Mother Russia. Unfortunately such victories meant more Champagne preceeding a blurred, yet excellent, performance by Locnville. I heart those boys and their extraordinary talent. So much so that I deemed it appropriate to stalk them for the remainder of the evening.

Not sure how I got there but it was a wonderful feeling to finally fall into bed that night. Needless to say I stayed there until Monday morning. I think I'm off the booze for a while... 

(The only positive outcome to Saturday's inebriation was that my boyfriend – who is still away cruising the slopes of Austria – was so worried he almost caught a flight home as a result of my total incoherence. I may have to try this again.)

TIPS FOR TODAY

Great hangover cure 

Willoughbys' Spicy Creamy Rock Shrimp Tempura on Spicy Maki Roll

Great sundowner drinks

Sky Bar in De Waterkant

Great cool-me-downs

Vida's new mango and strawberry frios

Sickness

So I didn't go to work this morning because I got a mild bug. That, mixed with the scorching heat, and I woke up feeling like I had about seven hangovers in one, and was seeing spots. After a much-needed siesta and buckets of H2O I feel like a human being again and just about ready to enjoy the big weekend ahead. Yes you guessed it – Queen's Plate tomorrow and two friends' birthdays, so non-stop frivolity from all angles. I best get some more rest and be sure I'm right as rain before I venture out into this weekend's sunshine (oxymoron?). If you're in Cape Town pop over to Cafe Neo this weekend for brekky – it's delish (with a Greek twist), on the sea, and certainly on my agenda considering it's a stones throw from my simply fantastic apartment.

Have a goodie. And if you're going, I'll see you at L'Ormarins in your whites and blues...

By the way...

For anyone looking for a hot new restaurant – Sotano is totally at the top of my list right now. The food is unreal (and well priced), the wine delectable, the setting idyllic and the decor and ambience are chilled, chic and just plain awesome. Check in out on Beach Road in Mouille Point...

Some minor changes

So my boyfriend has abandoned me in Cape Town and gone off on a terrific skiing holiday with the boys, meaning I'm wallowing in self-pity back at work while he dominates the slopes, inhales Austrian beer, and probably hasn't thought twice about his poor little girlfriend pottering around the office in post-holiday depression. So after 3 days of being utterly miserable, checking my phone every 2 minutes and constantly ringing his mother (to see if she's had a text from him more recently than me), as of today I have resorted to the following:

• I will leave my phone in my bag and not prop it up in front of me on my desk waiting for a call or text. This is really very sad.
• I will except every invite that comes my way – be it dinner with the girls, a run in this sweltering 40-degree heat, or even a game of naked putt putt with some dashing, vacationing Latinos (you never know).
• I will accept that men are useless at contacting and that he still loves me.
• I will replace water with wine.

After another night of no sleep in the sweat pitt I realised I'm quite glad he's not here... One person in my bed is bad enough in this heat. Two would be offensive.

HEATWAVE in Cape Town

Oh my god. This is officially the hottest it has ever been. Ever. In the whole world. No country has ever experienced temperatures this high. Have you actually tried to sleep in this unbearable sauna of a city? I tried. Three nights in a row I tried. I ended up sleeping with nothing on, with my head the wrong side of the bed so that I could feel the small puffs of 'wind' generating from my pathetically tiny desk fan I have clipped on the table opposite my bed. I can't bring it any closer as there isn't a plug. All the useless contraption was actually doing was pushing hot air straight into my face. And keeping my bedroom door open merely meant that heated air was cascading through my room bringing with it families of mosquitos, who happily settled on my ankles and wrists to feed. Yes, it was an unpleasant evening. I wish we didn't have to wear clothes to work. Actually I wish we didn't have to work. I'm tired... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Brand Spankin' New

Right, as you may have guessed - I'm new to this. This whole blogging thang. But I tend to while away my days at the office reading so many other blogs I thought why not create my own? Hopefully I can be as witty as the ones I frequent daily. No pressure.

I'm starting off in a miserable week and am on a massive holiday comedown. I can't get out of bed but I also can't fall asleep, and am knocking back Essentiale by the dozen as an sincere apology to my liver. 

Luckily I believe the majority of the population is in the same space, which helps. But I have this strong feeling of resentment towards any friends of mine that are still on holiday and I have been deliberately ignoring their phone calls. Is that normal? Or just childish? I'm okay with childish.

My boss just made me tea in her new tea maker that her boyfriend gave her for Chirstmas... You can put in a bunch of herbs and they infuse. This has made me happy. And it has brought new excitement into my life to find out that she has new flavours for each day of the week. A reason to come in to work at last...

I'm not ready for a quiet night in. I think I'm going to go out for dinner and maybe have a very small glass of wine. Or three. At my favourite spot in Cape Town, on the sea, and enjoy this beautiful weather. Which, incidentally, started the very day I got back to work. I mean honestly, not a single ray of sunshine the entire festive season... The whole country is looking for someone to blame. 


Hope to see you back here! Byee