"It was like magic!"

So we were sitting at the table on Sunday – a lovely long Sunday lunch at River Cafe. Me and my British people. Drinking rosé, nomming steak and chips, enjoying the sunshine. These kind of afternoon distractions are good for me at the moment. 

Well, wine is a good distraction. 

Anyhoo...

So the conversation was flowing (as was the wine), when suddenly someone exclaimed:

"Did you know there was a Magic School in Cape Town?"

My eyes turned to saucers.


Olive: "WHAAAT?!?!?!?!?!?!?"


Immediately my head was filled with broomsticks, enchanted ceilings, bearded wizards, charms classes, defence against the dark arts lessons, talking paintings, wands, capes, quills and chocolate frogs... when:

"Jess, a school for magicians. Like David Copperfield. Not a Hogwarts."

"Duh. I knew that."

Whoops.

My bad. 

Centre Stage

One more day till I'm back in my favourite place in the world. No, not New York. Not London. But centre stage. At Artscape Theatre! Beneath the dazzling spotlight. Dancing alongside my fellow Jubber students. It's been too long and last night's dress rehearsal felt so wonderful and fantastic. Our costumes are looking bright, sparkly and beautiful. Our hair... well mine is a work-in-progress. Was trying to explain to the Ping about my on-stage 'do, when bloody autcorrect messed it up:

My message –

"Oh my God Ping! Our hair is so amazing. You have to do a plait down one side, then twists round the other side all going into my bum!"

MY BUM?

Er, my BUN.

Luckily I saw it before sending it unlike some of the other fabulous autocorrects I've had recently. Apart from my flatmate who messaged me that she was 'shitting in traffic'. I was invited to a dinner with my best guy friend and I wanted said flatmate to come along. So I messaged guy friend:

Me: "Is it ok if I bring my flange?"
Guy Friend: "Your FLANGE? Er, by all means!! Love me some flange!"
Me: "Omg no, I meant can I bring my flatware?"
GF: "Flatware? Well I think I've got enough!"
ME: "OMG STUPID AUTOCORRECT. My bloody FLATMATE!"
GF: "Well, why didn't you just say so!"

Anyway. I digress.

So we gathered in the Artscape rehearsal room, kitted out in pretty flowy sequiny water dresses or bright sparkling red fire dresses, hair in plaits and twirls and 'bums' and started to warm up...

And then there was the stage. Oh the stage. And the lights. And the harmony and flow of all our hard work and a fabulous piece about the elements.

Come watch us in Showcase of Dance on at Artscape from this Wednesday. Tickets on Computicket: http://online.computicket.com/web/event/showcase_of_dance/702111043/0/52327707 for R80 evening shows or R65 for matinees.

We're totally in our element. :)

Back to the studio

It's been eons. I apologise.

Life got filled up. With attention-seeking cats, long-distance survival, meeting deadlines, planning holidays and daaaaancing. Yes, I'm back baby, after a year and a half of these feckless and dysfunctional things they call knees. However, in my mind's eye, I saw myself leaping gracefully across the studio and acing the routine first time. But this complete co-ord had totally forgotten how to learn a routine, let alone repeat one. And I watched myself bumble and flounder about the dance floor in the mirror, until I felt a strong and particularly painful pull under my ass cheek, which rendered me immobile for a week. So much for my star comeback. Pathetic.

Anyway, as the weeks have passed, I'm getting there. At least I thought that until yesterday I almost knocked someone unconscious with my totally-out-of-line axis leap. My fellow dancers are all learning now... to leave me enough space to perform a sequence of flick flacks and host a small gathering.

So there was this night. A couple of weekends ago. I hadn't been out in a while. You know those nights where you just know. Something great is going to happen. Whether it turns out to be a 5 o'clocker at some crusty Eighties club (which is how my night panned out), someone face plants, your best friend goes home with a seedy foreigner, or you meet an international celebrity (not a local one, because there is seriously nothing less riveting)... You just know that 'tonight is the night'. I slipped on my full-sequin gold dress and arrived at the 30th shimmering like a disco ball in the evening sun. I strategically placed myself next to the Champagne-pouring table during the speeches and befriended the rather fetching 'pourer' – fetching because he promised to 'fetch' me first with each new bottle he opened.

There's no need to tell you that the night took a turn for the… fantastic!! And me and the Pop (featured above) share brilliant flashbacks of a pole-dance sweat-inducing performance to 'Summer Lovin' on the Deco 'stage' at around 4am. Hot stuff? This was sweltering stuff! Literally. Realised I'd shed my make-up, the day's hydration and any leftover dignity on the dance floor, so we escorted ourselves out.

So that was a goodie. But the following day consisted of me trying to hold a mildly coherent conversation at a brunch – I was about as engaging as a dish towel – and then napping through Les Mis due to my lack of siesta.

We have just booked flights to Zambia for Easter. Another big family holiday planned by The Mother. She is far too excited.

Mother: Darling!
Olive: Mother...
Mother: I'm SO excited. It's going to be so wonderful. The animals, the Zambezi, the Vic Falls, the boat rides...
Olive: ...the Gin & Tonics!
Mother: Is that all you think about?
Olive: Gin-erally!
Mother: Well I've booked us a cruise on the Chobe.
Olive: What Chobe doin' over there?
Mother: Really?
Olive: Sorry.
Mother: And we can have lunch at the Livingstone...
Olive: ...I presume.
Mother: I'm hanging up now.

Anyhooos stay tuned! Exciting things in the works!

Calm before the STORMERS

Sooooo, to win tickets to the Stormers vs Chiefs game on Saturday 9th at Newlands, you had to tweet what you would put (words and pic) on a poster for the game...

I'm gonna win right?? ...

Right??

Painting the kitchen red

So was all prepared to attempt my first Thai Red Curry for a certain someone. But plans fell through, much to my flatmate's delight! 

Flatmate: "So, er, what are you gonna do with all those ingredients then? I mean they can't go to waste… All that money. And the freshness of the produce... I think it's best if you use them and just cook anyway... I mean I'm sure someone will eat it… … … … …"

Talk about currying favour! ....

Olive: "Alright, fine! I'll cook for you. But your job is wine. Now fill me up!"

Olive's Thai Red Curry

 Fry Thai Red Curry paste (homemade, obvs!) in a little oil, then add tin of Coconut Milk.

 Add chicken and prawns.

 Add 10 000 veges, because we all need our greenery. 

I added beans and broccoli. Flatmate smirked. 

 Let it boil and bubble and conjure up trouble.

 Meanwhile, chop some cori's. Love me some cori's.

Get flatmate to pour you a large glass of wine. And tell him to make himself useful and cook the rice.

Lame-ass Woolies thought it would be funny to only sell peanuts-and-raisins mix. (They had peanuts but only in a bag big enough to sit in, and 3 times the cost. Are they nuts?) 

Next task for flatmate: separate peanuts, eat the raisins, crush the peanuts.

 Simmer... Throw in some coriander. Chilli if you want. Totes up to you. Add some fish sauce (for that authentic Thai twist) and some sugar.

 Put in bowl over jasmine rice.

 Sprinkle with cori's and peanuts. Lots. Coz more is better!

Just because it looks cool.

 

Re-fill wine glass; dig in!

Mother calls – as I'm picking up my fork – for a chat. Told her I was a little Thai-ed up. 

x

Her Anus

Excuse the title. It really is foul. And I'm not a particularly foul-mouthed girl. But it did make me laugh out loud when I saw the sign in Hermanus and the 'm' had dropped off. Not even a halo-clad Pastor in his holy-water Jacuzzi could ignore the humour in that.

Butt anyway...

;)

Moving on.

This naweek am going to stay here:

... at 183 Marine Beachfront Guesthouse.

HOW PRETTY!!

Mental note: MUST PIN ALL THESE PICTURES TO 'BEACH HOUSE' BOARD!

Was supposed to be a surprise weekend. Naturally I let slip weeks ago. Am about as good as keeping secrets as I am at folding fitted sheets.

Plans for weekend:

Whale watching
Weight watching  Drinking and eating
Tanning (yes, I know it's 15 degrees, and raining, but I will sit on that beach)
Reading
Walking
Sleeping
Shopping (for future beach house ornaments)

And that just about does it.

I won't use the cliche 'we're going to have a whale of a time'. But it may be a whale (said in questionable Welsh accent) before I blog again.

Friday morning chat

Mother is actually concerned as to why I am not going to this 'huge festival' with all my friends. I asked her how she'd like to sleep in a tent marinading in mud, while listening to locals bands and watching people get high. She quickly changed the subject:

Mother: So what are you doing this weekend then, Darling?
Olive: Am going to Franschhoek. Lunch on a wine farm, staying on a wine estate. Free massages, free wine tasting, free meals, then off to a wine festival on Sunday.
Mother: All I heard was wine.
Olive: Isn't it great?!

I hear Mother take a deep breath, then again quickly change the subject.

Mother: How is the new flat?
Olive: So lovely.
Mother: How is that little kitten, is he settling in?
Olive: If you define 'settling in' as eating my bedroom door, eating the cupboard door, eating my shoes, knocking over all my bathroom products and knocking a bedside table lamp on to my head while I sleep... then yes, he is settled.
Mother: Does New Flatmate like him?
Olive: I think he did. Until it ate his shoe laces and meowed outside his bedroom door for a good two hours at 4am.
Mother: Have you cooked for him, I think you should? Ask what he would like?
Olive: I did. He asked me to cook the cat… Told him I'd make him a CATserole. (Ba-dum-dum-TSSHSHHH)