*Coldplay*Coldplay*Coldplay*

So it looks like we'll be heading back for Round 2 of injections. Fabulous. Wooopppeeeee. Am ecstatic.

NOT.

Still recovering from the extreme trauma of the first one, and now to have it again in the other knee!! It took so much out of me (on top of 7 tubes of blood), am going to have to spend the next few weeks building up my stamina again.

How to do that?

"REST!" says Mum, Surgeon, friends, and every other person I've ever met.

I had to look 'rest' up in the dictionary this morning. Something about 'putting your feet up... not going out...' Sounds absurd. But it's come at a good time since every man and his dog is going to Rocking The Daisies this coming weekend, leaving me alone in Cape Town. What am I supposed to do? Sit home and knit?! Hoping it's warm enough so that I can go 'rest' on the beach. Or in a bar, whatever...

Summer is on its way and I'm not allowed to exercise (bar cycling). Am still carrying lots of winter wobbly bits due to hot chocolate overindulgence – this calls for emergency tactics: an additional cycling session a day starvation. Need to start saving for Christmas presents anyway.

Was a lovely weekend. The most exciting part was when I finally bought the pair of pink skinny jeans from Forever New that I have been eyeing for a stupid amount of time. I have wanted pink skinny jeans since 2009. So you can imagine my elation. I proceeded to wear them the entire weekend and now have hastily shoved them in the wash so they're ready for Coldplay on Wednesday. They are so hot I'm half expecting Chris Martin to spot them in Golden Circle and hoist me and my pants up on stage. I think they'd fall off if he even just looked at me. Ah the rich and famous... I want one.

Below is the song I am most excited for, but during which will also probably have a little drizz due to the memories it holds. Luckily I don't think I'm the only one when it comes to Coldplay songs who might shed a tear or four.

I was actually at this concert – it was the Brit Awards 2009. Yes, I got a press ticket, and yes I went alone. And yes, I finished the free press Champagne in the first 25 minutes:

Car Wash

Yesterday I did the impossible. I took my car into be cleaned. 

Stop traffic.

Put it this way: I've owned my little vehicle for about 2 years. In this time I have cleaned it once. Suffice it to say that there was year-and-a-half-old bird faeces ingrained in the paint. In fact one of the droppings of turd was so enormous (its splatterings covering a good 25cm of my roof) I'm convinced a large albatross dropped his runny load on my baby. A thick layer of grime suffocated my mirrors. And don't get me started on the inside. Old freezocino takeaway cups squashed under the seats, rusk crumbs, socks (THAT'S where they all went!!), and only God knows what else. As the guy at Hannibal's handed back my keys I shrunk beneath his resentful grimace for putting his personal health as serious risk thanks to the unsanitary dump that was my car.

Now am driving the cleanest, sterile, shiniest, gleaming, newest-looking little Yaris in Cape Town. And for the first time in months I can actually use my wing mirrors! I think this calls for celebration. Champagne anyone?

Post-Easter predicament

This is [not] me, on the yacht in Turkey... here's why:

Everyone kept telling me how cold it was in Cape Town this weekend. But I haven't been able to feel the cold, even though the temperatures here have been lower than those in Jo'burg. I am attributing this to the colossal mass of Lindt I consumed on Easter Sunday. My family actually couldn't believe their eyes as they watched their sophisticated young offspring transform into some sort of barbaric Easter mutant, chocolate smeared down my face as I inhaled one egg after another. I now have an unwanted layer of additional Winter padding. Unfortunately, as you know, I somehow need to squeeze my pallid, pasty (and now pudgy) self into a hot skimpy bikini next weekend as I board the luxury Turkish yacht. How am I to impress Lovely Boyfriend (and potentially attractive boat crew) now? Hoping the calorie-conquering task of moving house on Sunday will do the trick. Although this may quickly be cancelled out by the Cheese and Wine Festival in Franschhoek on Sunday afternoon...

I give up.

Under my umbrella...

I'm alive! No one worry. I'm safely back in Cape Town. No bricks through windows, no driveway highjackings, no streetside muggings. I made it through unscathed. But, unfortuantely I brought back the shitty weather that I endured all weekend in the City of Gold. But hey, my new pink winter beanie is more than fashionable, and is the snuggest, most awesome thing I've ever thrown away cash on. So am sporting it everywhere I go to bring some colour and happiness to this ghastly mood-dampening meteorology.

 This week is great because I have nothing in store, which means a little 'me' time – everyone needs that now and again, right? Plus it's the end of the month so am hanging by a short frayed thread until payday Friday. So a few tins of sweetcorn and some TV nights in should do the trick. Maybe a bottle of Champagne or three. 

There's always a great, heart-warming feeling when you've been at home with family for the weekend. Firstly, it's great leaving at the end of it – you always appreciate your independence more than when you arrived! (This was particularly relevant to me this weekend when we were leaving to go out for Sunday lunch and my Mother decided I could not and would not, even if my life depended on it, leave the house in the 'dreadful' sweater I was wearing. Apparently it was grubby and stretched (er, totally stylish). I, naturally, threw a tantrum, but when I realised I was holding everyone up I was forced to go upstairs and change. Much to my boiling annoyance.) 

But secondly – that feeling of being loved and cared for and having that closeness with people who would do anything in the world for you is comforting and reassuring. It means a weekend of letting go, feeling secure, and being looked after. Everyone should be allowed this once in a while. It's important to recognise and cherish the love that's available to you.

 Before I go all sentimental on you (vom), I'm going to go get my muesli as, in my utter excitement of landing back in the Mother City last night, I totally forgot to get me some grub and my tums has been growling angrily at me all morning. Cheers!

Home Sweet Homeward Bound

So I'm off home to Jo'burg this long weekend. Aside from the fact that I am sh–t scared of that place – I tend to drive round in utter fear, expecting someone to bust through my window with a brick at every traffic light – I am really looking forward to being home and having a much-needed reprieve from gorgeously sunny but dizzyingly active Cape Town. I have a brilliant big homely home in Houghton, an awesome boxer and an even more awesome family. Of course, being the tres efficient person I am, I have already organised some dance classes to go to at Dance Junxion and planned a few lunches and drinks with friends (checking out The Attic in Parkhurst on Sunday eve) – my mother is not at all pleased with my numerous, fixed plans and keeps reiterating that she was flying me home merely for 'family time' and not to meet up with every person I've ever known. My step dad has, as usual, stocked the fridge with Hunters Dry – a sweet little gesture he does every time. And Mum buys Woolies muesli rusks, mint tea and fills the fridge with avos, hummus and sweet chilli sauce – key additions to my every meal. Now all I need is a haircut, maybe a few new items of clothing and perhaps a few expensive toilettries. Will see what I can wangle...

Had an absolutely stunning weekend and got to watch lovely lovely boyfriend complete (in excellent timing) the Argus. You may have spotted me: I was the hungover, screeching lunatic at the finish line wearing my thick-rimmed purple reading glasses (was really worried I might miss him since I have the eyesight of a fruitbat. But it was either that or a squinting idiot), waving frantically at him, beaming with pride, as he passed by looking more attractive than ever in his flourescent yellow, sweat-filled Rawsons kit. We then proceeded (take note: on a Sunday) to drink solidly in celebration for the next four hours at Doppio Zero. Was such a great vibe, swarming with prawns, vibrant outfits, overjoyed faces and plenty of Hunters Dry (my one true weakness). Needless to say my Sunday ended earlier than usual...

My lack of posts over the last two weeks is a result of me having an abnormal amount of work. Hopefully I'll be posting more regularly over the next few days. Until then!

Yay yay it's CONCERT day!

It's concert day. Woopppeeeeeeee. Yipppekayay! Wooohaaaaa. Yeeehhhaaaaaaa. Zippadeedooodaaaa.

Concert day is clearly good as it means that this Olive gets to make a premature office departure so as to get home before every road, alleyway and highway in Cape Town officially shuts down, and every fan and his dog make their way to Cape Town stadium. 

  (Let me hear a 'Oooooo' ... 'Aaaaaaah')

The unfortunate part is that this guy:

 ...has very kindly decided to stay with us today, tonight.... and the whole weekend!! After arriving at my dinner late last night having almost lost a car door, been blown into a road sign, and flashed my knickers at the car guard (not out of choice), I walked into Blonde restaurant with what was carefully GHD-styled hair, but now a slovenly bird's nest of wiry knots, and bits of paper and sand from the street. If this is going to happen tonight, I am walking to the concert in a disposable windbreaker. Or a hat. A hat's probably more stylish. I don't think they'd let me in, in a windbreaker AND a moonbag: 'Eish, sorry M'am... Wrong concert... Roxette is only on in May?'

Anyway, I was at work at the crack of dawn today. I'm REALLY not a morning person so it didn't suprise me when I was half way to work and I realised I'd walked out the house without any shoes on, and promptly had to turn around and drive home, only to find that I'd left the shower running and the front door unlocked. Needless to say I won't be waking up this early. Ever again.

This guy seems to have as much work as me and must've also gone through 2 bottles of Graham Beck at dinner last night.  

The Cricket World Cup and the Super 15 Rugby have started. This means that if I want to see my boyfriend at all over the next couple of weeks, I'm going to have to accept and welcome the TV as a 3rd wheel in the relationship. Actually, more like I'll be a 3rd wheel to him and TV.