i am not me without you

Andrew’s granny passed away last week and he has gone over to England for a couple of days to be with his family.  In retrospect, I should have gone with him, because try as I might, I’m pretty useless without my soulmate.  While he might drive me crazy sometimes, he is also both the steady rock and the crazy fun rollercoaster in my life.  I thought it would be such a treat to have the house and some time to myself so that I could write and read and eat chocolate in bed and lie in the bath undisturbed for hours on end if I fancied it.  (Yes, I have done most of these things. Also: starfish’ed the bed to the max)

Truth be told, as much as I’d like to say that I’m an independent lady and Andrew is but a side cart to the thrilling motorcycle that is my life… really, he is my whole life.  That guy makes me feel so happy in my skin and so excited about waking up every morning, that I’m actually not my entire self when he’s not around. I mean, I’m still Keri, but I’m not the best version of Keri I know I can be. I haven’t written a single inspiring thing since he left, despite having all the time in the world to do it and no noise (I don’t even turn on the TV when Andy’s not here) or any delicious smells wafting from the kitchen to disturb me or my writing process.

The thing is, Andrew IS my inspiration.  He’s my man muse.  He allows me to shine in my own light, holding my hand and standing at my side without ever placing any shadows over me.  He spoils me and will cook me dinner while I write.  He is always eager to engage in conversation with me about anything under the sun, to put his two cents worth in on my work and to encourage my dreams, no matter how big or small. He gives me the freedom to be me, warts and all. For want of sounding like a glorified cliche, he makes me a better person.  No, he makes me an even better person than the best person I thought I could be.

I miss you, dude.  I am just not me without you.

flashback

I was a teenager in the late ’90s and early noughties (not sure how I feel about this word, but it seems to be the going term) back when there were no cell-phones, or iPods (or at least I didn’t own any), we had just got MTV and Elle magazine, sunflowers and daisies were uber-trendy, as were jelly sandals and platform takkies (which are in again, I see – great news for all the midgets with stumpy legs) and life was a blur of hormones, crushes, meaningful lyrics, school disco’s, thick novels (ah, to have the time to read like I did when I was a teenager) and Archie comics.

Last night I came across an image on Pinterest of Winona Ryder and Johnny Depp and was hit by a wave of nostalgia for the era ruled by flannel shirts, Doc Martens and thick eye makeup.  Do you guys remember My So Called Life with Claire Danes and Jared Leto?  I don’t think I ever had a bigger crush then I did on Jordan Catalano.  Baz Luhrman’s Romeo + Juliet?  Obsessed.  I watched that movie a zillion times, taped the soundtrack from my cousin (onto an actual tape) and played it until the sound went wonky.  Ah… Love fool by The Cardigans – remember that song?  Man, it was awesome.  I remember going on a standard five tour to Zululand and there was only one copy of Alanis Morisette’s Jagged Little Pill on the bus.  We all listened to it in turns on a discman – You Oughta Know with that controversial little eff word was our favourite, as well as Ironic, obviously.  There was No Doubt and Natalie Imbruglia – I still tink Torn is one of the most beautiful songs of all time – those lyrics… I die.  Remember Beverly Hills 90210 and Melrose Place?  My mom used to let me stay up after bedtime once a week when they were on.  I remember that they showed quite late, and her and my Dad and my brothers would all have gone to bed and I felt so cool and grownup being awake by myself in the house, watching an adult series.

Remember Wonderwall by Oasis and Bittersweet Symphony by The Verve?  Remember Nirvana, Offspring and Green Day?  Remember when Cindy Crawford and Claudia Schiffer were the BOSSES of the modelling world and then a skinny little girl from London called Kate exploded onto the scene and stole their crowns?  Remember All Saints and Take That?  Remember when Princess Diana died?  I was devastated.  I bought made my mother buy her memorial DVD and the Elton John single of “English Rose”.  Dude, I taped her ENTIRE funeral day.  It took up three VHS tapes.

Remember those awesome black and white posters we all had on our walls of hot young couples with tousled hair shmooching each other on motorbikes in their torn jeans and denim jackets?  REMEMBER BRAD PITT IN LEGENDS OF THE FALL?  Mother of god, was there anything sexier on the planet at that time??  No.  No, there was not.   Remember What’s Eating Gilbert Grape, The Witches, Little Women, Pretty Woman, Circle of Friends, Pulp Fiction, Clueless, Home Alone, Scream, Great Expectations, I Know What You Did Last Summer, Saving Private Ryan, American Beauty, Now and Then, Mad Love (Drew Barrymore with that awesome short blonde haircut???) and let’s not even get onto Meg Ryan and Kevin Kline in French Kiss.  Yoh, that era ROCKED.  But maybe it rocked more because the only thing I had to worry about was passing exams and keeping my temperamental skin under control (thank god that problem’s over).  Looking back, there seemed to be a lot more time in my life to just do STUFF.  To read all day, watch movies from dawn to dusk on the weekend, have sleepovers, lie outside in the sun, cloud-watching under the trees.  There was more time to think, more time to write, more time to just be.  Maybe it was because of the lack of cell-phones and social media.  I’m glad I got to grow up without them – I think I just made the cut-off for a non-technological-based childhood.  But then again, maybe it was just because of the lack of a full-time job, house, dogs, bills and other adulty responsibilities.  All I know is that it was RAD.  And I miss it.

Viva le ’90’s.

Images: source

missing cape town

Lately I have been feeling a little stifled in our small village.  Don’t get me wrong, I love the Midlands (obviously) and I have lived here all my life, bar university and three years in the working world.  It is my home and it’s where I have planted my roots and where I rest my weary soul, but man… sometimes I feel a little… confined.  I miss having an entire city to explore, with lots of nooks and crannies to discover containing a million hidden gems.  I miss the anonymity of walking into a grocery store where no one knows your name or where you work or who you’re married to or who your parents are.  I miss the open-mindedness.  I miss the freedom.  I miss the space between people, the respect for others and the choice to get lost.  In particular, I have been missing the mother city a lot lately and this is probably because the large majority of the blogs I read are by Cape Town bloggers.  I would probably never move back there (unless I became uber rich and could afford a second (summer) house there – ha ha ha.  Chances), but it doesn’t mean I don’t miss living there.

Cape Town, this is what I miss about you most:

Runs and walks on the promenade.  When my friend, Bryony and I used to pound the pavement back in 2009, we’d always see dolphins or whales on our walks – it was magical.

The Olde Biscuit Mill.  Always the best cocktails and wine and beer and nom-noms.  Always new and original stuff.  Markets in KZN must be run by extremists, because there is NEVER booze sold there.  What’s the point of a lunchtime market without some vino and haybales to lounge on?  There is no point.

My petrol bill.  I used to fill up my tank once a month in Cape Town, two at a push.  Here it’s once a week.  ka-Ching.

Kloof Street.  Bree Street.  Long Street. LOTS of little cafes, boutiques, bars, vintage shops and restaurants in one place.

The burgers at Royale.

The beaches being so close.  I used to work from home a lot in Cape Town – it was the best.  I’d wake up early, do all my work by lunchtime and then hit the beach every afternoon. It was literally five minutes away.  Sigh.

My tan. (see above)

Wine farms.  ‘Nuff said.

The people.  The creatives and the loonies.  No small-town bitchiness and rumour millage.  People just living their own lives, keeping their noses out of others’ beeswax.

Kirstenbosch picnics and open-air concerts.  The feeling of being part of a crowd, but being your own person at the same time.

Hikes up Lion’s Head.

All You Can Eat Sushi and Half-Price Cocktails.

COUNTRY ROAD.

Taking the train to Kalk Bay.

Kalk Bay.

Hout Bay.

Camps Bay.

Crazy people who wear what they want, say what they feel and just generally don’t give a shit.

The colourful houses at Bo Kaap.

All the flaming gays.  There are NO gays here.

Restaurants that actively strive to provide you with healthy, yummy food.  Usually organic and grown in the backgarden.

My little brother, Jonathan.  Haven’t heard from him in a while – anyone know if he is still alive?

And that’s about it for now.  I know I probably sound ungrateful and should be appreciative of what I have and where I live – which is why I will write a post tomorrow on what I love about living in the Midlands.  But for now, let me revel in my Cape Town missingness.

These are all my pics except the Bo Kaap one which I got here.