It’s a strange thing, this blogging. Especially if, although you may be a person of many words, you find you have nothing really to say. It’s spring again (although with the snow on the mountains outside Cape Town, the cold weather in Joburg would belie that) and I’m doing the same thing I do this time every year. Wandering around wondering at the amazing flowers of the bauhinias, bougainvilleas, erythrinas and Strelizias, enjoying the smells of the jasmine, wisteria, Yesterday,Today and Tomorrow and the syringas. Sneezing up a storm, like so many others, wishing for the rain to come and settle all the dust and smoke and dryness. Every day you see the clouds massing, you wait in breathless anticipation of the afternoon thundershowers that must, that must come soon…
It could become all very subjective. So many things can happen in a person’s life that have no bearing on or is in any way relevant to other people. Especially when you hit 17 again (with 200% interest, although I’m trying to convince the Parkhurst Pixies that is the right sum, not 300%. Shew, I’m not THAT old!) So unless you’re a wanna-be agony aunt, there’s no point in bemoaning things that happen to you personally – is there? People are up in arms – again – about the E-Toll debacle (we’re calling it the F E-Toll in this house). It doesn’t affect me, as I totally refuse to go on the highways if I can help it. I’ve decided on a much mellower way of driving. By mostly staying off the roads as much as possible, or only going out when it isn’t rush two-hour. And although I’d like to add my voice to those trying to fight these things in the New South Africa, it just seems to be completely pointless. No matter what the people want, and how much they fight against things that are just, well, wrong, it seems to have no effect. Other than getting oneself bent out of shape. No. I’m not becoming a born-again hippie. Or even toying with the idea of becoming a wanna-be hippie. Going backwards doesn’t help with going forward. Avoidance is the new watchword.
So it may be a good thing to on a yearly basis bump people on the psychic head and remind them of all the good stuff that happens in this strange city of ours. Maybe. I think far too many of them are getting their A-Type Personality stress out on each other down on the Spruit ride on the weekends (you should just see what it looks like now – giving the M1 in rush hour a run for its money!). No more the throwing down of golf clubs in anger on the fairway. It’s mayhem on those single tracks folks.
So I’ll just keep doing what I’ve been doing. Taking time out to smell the roses…..