On your marks, jet set

Am having writer's block this week. Sorry. I tried to write a post on Tuesday. And made a couple more attempts yesterday again. I now have at least five drafts saved, and they all start with 'Am having writer's block this week'! 

All I can think about at the moment is **London** – being back in my bustling Bristish hometown and trawling the King's Road alongside fellow poms, clutching a Starbucks frappucino (equivalent to freezocino), my arms lined with Top Shop shopping bags (I'm allowed to, it's London) after a morning in Oxford Circus (officially my favourite place in the world) and Covent Garden. Heading to the pub after a full day of walking and shopping for a jug of pimms and some pork scratchings beneath the spring blossoms, then dining on the Fulham Road with Lovely Boyfriend and all my amazing friends and family whom I cannot WAIT to see! Bliss! (And bankruptcy... Blasted ZAR.)

(I think I forgot to mention that on my way to Turkey for amazing free-food-and-bubbly media-elite week on luxury 14-person ketcha with private crew and chefs, we are actually stopping in to London for a day. I literally am reeling, but wish it was longer since we have to be up actually before dawn cracks to get to Gatwick. But who can complain about being whisked away on Monarch Airlines only to arrive in Turkey for 5-star free-of-charge treatment. I certainly can't.)

Anyway, what with the trip in 3 weeks, moving house in 2 (to previously mentioned pimpim' bachelor pad), and flying home for Easter in 1 (we all know how I feel about Joburg), my mind is ticking like a metranome on acid. I haven't even thought about packing yet and am trying to focus on the fact that we are throwing a 'house cooling' chicks-only bash tomorrow night! (As opposed to house warming, in case you didn't quite get it.) I have been instructed to make my famed, gloriously cheesy culinary masterpiece nachos, oozing with salsa, dripping with juicy mince, and dipped in fresh guacamole and ice-cold sour cream. (Did I just make you dribble? You dribbled didn't you.) So am going to be frantically busy tomorrow eve cooking up a nacho storm, while sipping (or gulping) on my flute of Villiera Brut Rose between tasks, and dressed in lumo gear (remind me why we made it a themed evening again?).

Must get to gym after work to work off rather large 19-cheeses Death Quiche I inhaled (literally devoured it in no more than three mouthfuls) over lunch. (I believe that when an anorexic pictures the devil, she visualises this exact quiche.) Am only allowing myself my regular glass of Thursday Night Champagne if I conquer an hour's workout. Say goodbye Death Quiche!

Back in the game!

I'm back! Sorry I've been AWOL. On Monday I was still feeling the after-effects of Saturday's highly eventful and out-of-control cruise and hotel night. I think it's safe to say I worked my way through at least five bottles of Champagne (to myself) over the course of the day – from 11am until about midnight. I have a distant memory of lying on a flourescent pink lilo, gripping a flute of rose bubbly, and attempting to sing along to a tune that actually didn't have any words, wearing a sailor's hat and a mismatched bikini.

Even after an entire day embedded in the sofa, I still felt like I was suffering from a life-threatening, incurable third-world virus on Sunday evening and lay motionless and mute next to lovely boyfriend as we tried to keep down some ribs. 

So Monday morning I arrived at work pallid and forlorn, feeling as if I hadn't slept since last year November, and had run a half marathon a few hours before. Tuesday, I got philosophical and decided that I wasn't quite satisfied with life – after effects of the alcohol? I don't know – and wanted more out of it, so I began signing up to agencies so I can have my turn in the limelight, which I have decided is long overdue. Wednesday I started to feel human again but still felt like I had no purpose in life. Saturn return? Again, I don't know.

Today I arrived feeling sprightly. Have worked hard and am ready for a drink this evening. The verdict?: I'm getting old. It officially takes me three days to get over a big night. How did I do it  consecutively back in the day? What did I have then that I don't now?

Looking forward to the watching the Stormers thrash the Highlanders tomorrow, and then a relaxing day on Sunday while all the delusional people in Cape Town wake up at 5am, get on a private-part-torturing bike for a stupid number of kilometres and ride till their legs cramp or just fall off. Me, I'll be by the pool with a freezocino :)

Over and out.

Forkin' great

I went to Fork on Long Street last night for dinner. I'm still dreaming about the tiny golden fried balls of goat's cheese euphoria that were served to me on little sundried tomato crackers with an onion marmalade. Orgasmic to say the least. Before I realised it, I was hugging the waiter and thanking him for changing my life. They're not so attractive to eat however, since biting into the delicacy means melted goat's cheese oozes out the sides of your mouth. But it's okay - lovely boyfriend is sick and has stuff oozing out of his nose. So he was unable to pass judgement.

So I got my nautical-themed dress at the ready, have undergone the various necessary waxing procedures/torture, and am ready to bubbly and bikini it up for a cruisin' afternoon in the jacuzzi, the wind flowing through my mouse-coloured tresses. If I don't have a cold by tomorrow I'll be gobsmacked since I've spent all week in close proximity to sickly boyfriend (although I insisted he remain at arm's lenght), plus I spotted one or two eskimos tottering around my office earlier this week. Despite the searing heat outside, arctic temperatures in here mean I'm frost-bound to my keyboard and drinking tea for Africa. But I seem to be the only one who can feel it...?

So afraid of getting sick that I actually ran away from my flatmate this morning when she sneezed. She wasn't impressed.

From cramp and carbs to cocktails, cruises and champers...

First thing I was asked this morning when I limped into the office was why I was walking like a constipated elderly. I chose to ignore the invasion and proceeded to my desk, where I popped a couple of Mypaids to ease the muscular constriction! I got a terrible fright when my phone rang this morning at 7am, and my sudden movement (in response to the alarming cacophonous Chris Daughtry ringtone) caused my overworked calves to seize up and go into an unbearable cramp. Good GOD it was sheer agony! I lay wincing with pain for a good 30 seconds until they had released and relaxed. The good thing is I can really feel the hard work I did last night – was a pretty challenging class. Anyone interested in ballet, pop into a trial class at the Cape Ballet Centre. It's not a walk in the park. It's hell in a studio. But really great!

So I have been on a health binge this week. Unfortunately I have had to force myself (with great difficulty) to give up freezocinos because not only were they costing me about a 12th of my salary per month, but they are also not great for my skin or weight, or blood sugar. Health streak going well – four day's clean (of freezos), daily exercise, lemon water in the mornings (apparenty it cleanses the body, clears the skin and boost metabolism), lots of water, veges, fruit, and only morning carbs. I am already seeing results. Unfortunately I shall be dismantling all my hard work this Saturday, starting from 11.30am. My friend's 30th birthday weekend will be going something like this:

We arrive at the Ambassador Hotel in Bantry Bay (Cape Town) at 10.30am (might try squeeze in  early-morn gym sesh to reduce guilt) only to be put on a shuttle to the Waterfront where we will board the Nautilus Luxury Yacht for a 3-hour cruise complete with free Champagne, food platters and an onboard jacuzzi. We then disembark and return to the Ambassador for a Peroni party by the pool where there is free food, a free cocktail and (obviously) a free Peroni. I might have to trade this Peroni with my boyfriend for a bottle of Champagne. I'm sure he won't mind. That evening we dress up and attend a formal cocktail party at the Salt Vodka Bar where there is, once again, free bubbly, and platters of delicious eats. We then spend the night at the hotel and wake up to a mouth-watering hotel buffet spread the next morning.

I don't think I've ever been this excited. A little nervous too since, in hindsight, we are basically drinking and eating consistently from 11:30 in the morning... Bubbles, gourmet cuisine, jacuzzi, hotel suites... 

Health streak, what health streak?!

If I actually make it into my cocktail dress, let alone get to the cocktail party, I'll be pretty nothing short of impressed. Might even have to toast to it.

All that jazz...

I've only just got around to today's post this second since, apart from working extremely hard of course, I have been frantically searching for a new car-insurance company – anything has to be lower than what I'm paying at the moment! It seems all the odds are against me since I own a black car, have had a minor collision, and am only 25. 

I am also refreshing Gumtree every 15 seconds in hope of finding a totally pimpin' bachelor pad on the Atlantic Seaboard (I have a mild obsession with the ocean, it makes me happy). Considering my rent budget, the word "pimpin'" may not be appropriate here. I will probably have to go with 'crusty' and 'decrepit'. But, suprisingly, some interesting options are popping up and I may end up in a totally decent shoebox, with perhaps a small woodern chair, a futon and a mini bar fridge! As long as I have offstreet parking or I'll have to sell my laptop to pay for the increase in car insurance...

I am off to a jazz dance class tonight to get my razzle dazzle on. At least if I don't get the part I still have a safe space to release my inner theatrical expertise! I also desperately need to tone my bottom before this weekend. – You are going to have to wait till the next post to find out what extraordinarily thrilling adventures I am embarking on this weekend at my friend's 30th. Let your imaginations run wild – and don't rule out hotels, cruises, spa treatments and cocktail parties...