Merry Christmas

Christmas is the one time of year you get to feel like a kid again. I was so excited last night that I almost wanted to open all the presents and had to try restrain myself. The only difference being that I wasn’t actually excited about opening my own gifts but couldn’t wait for my husband to open all the presents I had brought for him. It must be a sign that I am growing up. It was our first Christmas on our own. London tends to completely shut down on Christmas day leaving those with no transport a little stranded, which also means a mass exodus on Christmas Eve. This meant that Will and I had the choice of spending £30 or more on a taxi to get to friends, or spending Christmas at home, just the two of us. You know that you’ve married the right person when Christmas is just as special with just a two person family.
We went for a walk before lunch and had the pleasure of seeing all the children’s new Christmas presents being taken out for a spin. There were new bikes, roller skates and remote control cars being played with in the park. Although the little girl with the roller skates was not so much as skating, as being held up by her father and pushed along.
According to the Christmas check list it has been a rather successful Christmas day.
There were awesome presents
Family
Mince pies and plenty of drink
And I have eaten so much food I can barely move.
Now for an afternoon nap and Christmas will be complete.
Hope you all had a very Merry Christmas!

The 72 day itch

Kim Kardashian is getting divorced after 72 days of marriage? What a joke! I’ve had food in my fridge for longer than that. Granted I should have thrown it out after it began to smell, but at least I know a thing or two about commitment. How bad could things be to call it quits after only 2 months and 2 weeks? Most people are still in the honeymoon stage at that point. Even after my humble 4 and a half years of marriage, I still hate being away from Will. He recently went home to South Africa to shoot a wedding, and I missed him terribly while he was away. So much so that I became quite a useless individual:

1. The inability to cook - Men may relate to this one more, but when my husband is away I can't see the point in making an entire meal for just one person. It takes longer to cook the meal than it does to eat it and dishes are your dirty reward at the end of it. One evening was a delicious meal of bacon flavoured crisps (my meat and veg), blueberry yogurt (fruit and dairy) and a cup of tea - at least I made sure it was a balanced meal. The fact that I haven't cooked a meal in 4 years also weighed heavily against any culinary brilliance whilst he was away.

2. My IQ level lowered significantly - There are certain movies that I am not allowed to watch because my husband refuses, and vice versa, it's called compromise. I haven't seen a Will Ferrell movie since we met because my hubby can't stand him. I, on the other hand, loved movies like Elf and Old School. So when he was away I thought it the perfect time to watch movies that I ordinarily would be banned from seeing. My movie choice comprised of Scream 4 (I had seen the first 3 and it would just be wrong not to complete it), Stepbrothers and Blades of glory. I see now that there is a reason I have been banned from these movies. My mind felt like porridge by the end of it, unable to hold an intelligent thought.

3. First sign of madness, I began talking to myself - ‘The Female Brain’ by Louann Brizendine states that women speak an average of 20,000 words a day, compared to men who only speak 7000 words per day. Whether or not this is scientific fact, it is definitely true in our marriage. I hate silence, and I like to fill it, either with music, TV, or the sound of my own voice (or sometimes the sound of my own voice OVER the TV or music.) You can imagine what torture it was for me to not have Will to chat to in the evening. I began to discuss things with myself, and tell myself what I think we should do next. I was, understandably, getting very bored of my own company by the end.

You can imagine how happy I was when he returned home, the promise of decent meals and intelligent conversation returning with him!

It’s my one year anniversary!!!

Exactly one year ago today my husband and I landed in London to begin a brand new chapter in our lives. We had no definite plans and started our journey with literally the money and possessions we had on us at the time. Some days were scary, not knowing what was going to happen. There were teary phone calls back to South Africa once or twice. Looking for work felt like a full time job in itself. Will and I sometimes only had each other to fall back on. But despite the bumps in the road, it has been the most exciting thing we have ever done; we have enjoyed every moment, and it has made us closer and our relationship stronger. It has taken a while to feel settled in; but it has somehow always felt like home here. God has constantly been there laying out each next step for us to take. It’s still an exciting journey and we can’t wait to see what happens next. I can’t quite believe it’s been a year already as I still feel like a newbie. But I think it’s safe to say that we have officially passed the newbie mark and are now meeting people who we can pass on our wisdom to (however miniscule that might be). We celebrated the momentous occasion with a bottle of wine at the park in this unnaturally balmy weather. And may I take this opportunity to say - To all you Brits out there, I really love your country!

Bank Holiday Bliss

One thing I do miss about back home is the amount of public holidays we get blessed with. April is practically a right off due to all the days off work….

Britain seems to be a little more frugal with its holidays. However this does result in a heightened sense of excitement when one finally does come around. August 29^th bank holiday weekend saw a huge exodus from London to relaxing country side getaways.
We decided to visit a friend in Wales. Some may remember that Wales is where we started our little adventure. It was slightly strange returning to the same house we spent those first 2 months in. The last time we were there I was stressed beyond belief; homeless, jobless and with no idea what we were going to do. It was nice to return knowing we had a home to go back to as well as my awesome new job!

We had a lovely time; we ate good food, spent time with a good friend and even visited the beach, albeit in long pants and a jersey!!!!

Here I am enjoying the lovely sea view!

Feel Good #2-Tea

It is common knowledge that if you have been dumped, lost your job, are facing a huge decision, or your precious pet Scruffy has passed away; a cup of tea is the answer to all of life’s hardships. I grew up in a family that believed this wholeheartedly.

We were lucky enough to enjoy family holidays three times a year in our house down on Durban’s south coast. My grandparents would often come to stay. When they did us kids would try to avoid any adults at 8:00am, 1:00pm, 4:00pm and 7:00pm as we would certainly be asked to make yet another tray of tea. It was the worst possible job. No matter what you had been doing, you were forced to stop and make a full tray of tea. Not just a mug of tea; teapots, teacups, sugar bowls and milk jugs had to be included (WITH a doily, purely for the purpose of decoration).  At 30 degrees Celsius it would be too hot for such a beverage, but this would not deter these die hard tea drinkers.

This is now a custom that has passed down through the generations. My husband knows that if he has to wake me up early, he only needs to present me with a cup of tea to coax me out of bed. I find nothing better than a nice cup of tea after dinner. This love of tea is something I definitely inherited from my mom and granny.

On the day my beloved gran passed away, the entire family met at my grandparent’s house. It was a time we all needed to be together. We spent the whole day there, talking about my gran, grieving our loss and laughing at all the fun memories of her; and I can’t tell you how many trays of tea were made that day. She would have loved it!

SA trip part 3 ~ The End

My dear brother, yet again, had to deal with our mom and me fretting about getting me to the airport on time. We had first decided that he would try leaving work early and then fetching our other brother, mom and I and then trying to get back to the airport. We of course wanted to all be together when we said our goodbyes. After about 10 phone calls back and forth, we decided that logistically it just wouldn’t work. My mom and I said our goodbyes after she dropped me at my brothers’ office; and we set off to the airport and the extremely early hour of 15:30 for my 20:00 flight. Have I mentioned that my dear brother is a very patient man? We soon discovered that there isn’t that much to do at the airport after you’ve eaten something. After an hour wondering around, I sent the poor man home and went through the security check. After all, it was now about 6pm and I only had an hour to get through before I could board the plane. Or so I thought. At 8pm exactly we were finally allowed to board the plane. But instead of getting straight on board, we had to get on a little transfer bus to take us to the plane. After 2 min of driving the bus stopped but didn’t open. Traffic jam on the tarmac! I held on nervously to my boarding pass for fear of losing it. I kept checking my seat number over and over again. ‘Seat 4 OH. Seat 4 OH’ I thought this was a weird seat number but figured that, since this was a different plane they just numbered them differently. We sat in the little bus for about half an hour before we started moving again.  After a brief 5 meter drive, the bus stopped again and the doors opened. It would have been quicker had we all just walked to the plane. Yet when standing in the queue to board I wished we could get back on the bus; it was a freezing cold winter’s night and I only had a very thin jersey keeping me warm. It was a very long 15 minutes of dancing around in one spot to keep warm. Finally on the plane I walked down the aisle trying to find seat 4 OH. When I got to seat 58 A I admitted defeat and asked an air hostess to help me locate my seat.

“Ah,” she said. “That’s seat 40 H, right in the front.” I sheepishly turned around and had to push against the stream of people going in the right direction; irritating many a passenger along my way. (Not my finest moment, but a very good reason why I shouldn’t be made to do things on my own.)

I’m happy to say that all my on flight entertainment was working! I didn’t sleep a wink on the plane but made up for it when I got home and collapsed on my bed. One of the best sleeps I’ve ever had.

SA Trip PART 2

When I arrived in Joburg, it didn’t feel like I had left. I don’t know what I was expecting it to feel like, but when I saw my brother at the airport it felt like I had seen him just last week. It felt lovely to hug him again and I was so excited to see him. But there was no time to stand around hugging; we needed to get to the church and still needed to battle through Friday morning Joburg traffic.

I wished I could know the feeling of stepping out the plane from first or even business class; having freshened up after sleeping in a supine position. Instead I felt like I had to be unfolded from the ridiculous position I had assumed in order to fit on the impossibly small economy class seats just to get some sleep.

I needed to freshen up before the funeral and unpacked my suitcase on the back seat of my brothers car as he drove like a demon passed cars and trucks on the highway. I had to do my make up from the back while glancing in the rearview mirror and wasn’t completely certain that I wouldn’t emerge at the other end looking like a women of the evening. I’m happy to report that we made it half an hour before the funeral started. Thanks to my brothers brilliant driving I must add……

The funeral was a beautiful goodbye to my grandfather with all his family and dearest friends; but the best moment was when I saw my mom. It was awesome to hug her again! I had a fabulous 5 days in South Africa where the winter days were warmer than London (are we surprised?).

Here are some pics of my S.A trip and the absolute fun I had.

Me and my best friend

My Boys!

My mommy and me

My other best friend and her beautiful boy!

S.A. trip Part 1

When my brother called to say he would buy me a ticket back home, it was 10 am on Wednesday morning. I was on my way to work and we decided to buy the ticket for Thursday evening. The funeral was on Friday morning at 10:30am and I would be landing at 8:30am. We would be cutting it fine but my brother assured me he would get us there on time. The women in his life, i.e. my mother and I, doubted him. As women we felt obliged to worriedly consider the worse case scenarios.

It must be known that this would be my very first solo flight. I have an irrational fear of airports.  They seem huge and complicated; a place that I could easily get lost in, miss my flight and if I ever did find my way, I would be refused entry into the country. If this trip had been planned months in advance I would have been a nervous wreck. It was a blessing that it was so last minute as I didn’t have time to consider the worst case scenarios; I just simply had to go.

 It turns out that I was slightly justified to have worried. When we flew to London back in October, I booked my ticket under my married name and produced my marriage certificate when showing my passport which was in my maiden name. There were no problems. But this time, flying a different airline, this was a problem. They would not check me onto the flight. The only thing I could do was to buy another ticket. It was at this point that I began to cry. I was already emotional about my granddad, nervous flying on my own and apprehensive about making it to the funeral on time. Now we had to buy another ticket. I felt like saying “See! I told you so. Airports are evil!” As there was no other option, we purchased another ticket. They reassured us we would be refunded, but would have to pay £25 admin fee. I doubt whatever admin was done was really worth the £25.

The check in lady, after seeing my tears I assume, offered to find me a better seat on the plane as I was sitting in the middle of the middle aisle. After going through security and the passport control, I arrived at the gate just as they were boarding the plane. I was asked to take a seat as they were still trying to get me a better seat. I waited half an hour before they conceded that all the seats were taken and I had to settle for the seat I was given. My seat, 58E was in the centre of a school trip, which was made up of a group of 16 year old boys. The up side was that I had someone to help me put my case in the overhead compartment. That and the fact that if I had wanted to, I could have farted away to my hearts content and no one would have noticed as there was farting going on all around me. An unpleasant smell would soon be accompanied by “Ah! Dude! No!” and then raucous laughter.

What I had been looking forward to on the flight were the 11 hours worth of movies I was going to watch. However the four screens in my row didn’t seem to be working. I waved my hand to get the attention of the air hostess. I could see her looking at me but she didn’t move. I gave her the benefit of the doubt and waved my arm more frantically in the air. Again she didn’t respond; yet I knew she was looking directly at me. I was about to be outraged when I realised that she was actually waiting to start the safety demonstration. Instead I sank down as low as possible in my chair, hopefully unnoticed by any judgemental 16 year olds present.

Regardless of no in flight entertainment the entire journey, it wasn’t an entirely bad trip. The food was tasty, the service was good; and I took a sleeping tablet accompanied by a glass of red wine and passed out for the duration of the flight…..

In loving memory of my grandfather

Moving to a different country is wonderfully exciting, but when a crisis hits a family, the distance between countries becomes painfully apparent. About two weeks ago my cousin, who also lives here in London, sent me a message asking if I had spoken to my mother. I knew immediately that something was wrong. I phoned my mom straight away. She told me everything was ok, but my grandfather had had a heart attack. He was in the hospital; stable but still critical. I felt helpless not being able to be there to see him; and also helpless that I couldn’t be there for my mom. Moving away from my family unit was a difficult decision to make. It is one of the biggest reasons most people move back home. We kept in contact with Skype and numerous messages, but I have never felt further away from home than in these last two weeks.

When my granddad passed away he was surrounded by his five children and his grandchildren. Fred Greeff was a beautiful man who loved his “Spouse”, my grandmother Yvonne Greeff, more than anything in the whole world. They made me believe in Soul Mates. They had a gorgeous marriage, were still loving and considerate and I never heard a nasty word spoken between them; and they still held hands right up until the day my gran passed away in 2006.

My granddad was a man of incredible character and love. He was a REAL gentleman. I never saw him lose his temper. He was always so grateful for everything in his life and could often be heard saying that, “This was the BEST dinner/ concert/ picnic/ etc,” that he had ever had.  He was an example to all his children and grandchildren of how to live by faith and love our Lord. He has left a legacy behind of a family that loves each other and will always be there for each other. My grandparents’ marriage will always be an inspiration to me personally, and although we will always miss him; it is reassuring to know that he is now at peace and full of joy for all eternity with my gran and our Lord.

We weren’t planning on going to the funeral because of finances. I was going to be the only grandchild absent from the funeral. I wrote a goodbye letter to my grandfather to be read out during the service. I sent it to my brother for a proof reading. He phoned back and offered to buy me a plane ticket instead. My family is awesome! Because of my brothers generous heart I got to say goodbye to my granddad, and all of his 5 children and 14 grandchildren were there. Every one of us had a part in the funeral; it was wonderful to see my granddads legacy.

Thank you Grandpa for the beautiful memories. Thank you for all the laughter, the family holidays and for always being there for us. Thank you for the example you have set for me. I am grateful that I was witness to such a beautiful marriage and that I knew such an incredible man. I will miss you always.

Goodbye. 

Tick Tock, Tick Tock……..

 

Something has happened to me recently. I am unable to walk through the streets of London without the uncontrollable urge to “ah cute” and “oh sweet”; and basically sound like a blabbering idiot every time I see a baby!

Does someone suddenly turn a switch on inside you  that makes you desperately want to increase the world’s population? I am constantly turning to my husband saying, “Ah, I want one,” like we should simply go down to Tesco’s and pick one up in the baby isle.

When I meet new moms or pregnant ladies I sound like the Spanish Inquisition, drilling them with questions about morning sickness, birth choices and sleeping patterns. They must think I’m doing some kind of report on the subject. Luckily new moms are always delighted to talk about their offspring and are happy to tell me anything I want to know. Moms are very honest as well; they tell me all about the good and bad moments and I’m pleased to report that they all say it is very, very worth it in the end. In preparation I have even started taking calcium tablets because my mother said it was important during pregnancy. Apparently the little darling takes all of mine while it’s in there.

 We aren’t quite ready yet to have a child (though I wonder if anyone is ever “ready”). We’re not totally settled in our new life here. So little baby Adams will just have to wait. If my biological clock ever needs temporary silencing I simply head down to the Gazebo in the common. It is the popular local haunt of young mothers. They meet with their prams, let the kids run riot in the open spaces and have a little lunch. I have gone inside the small yet thriving café to get an ice cream and have come out with a dull aching head; a result of the screaming, crying and generally noisy children, free from any feelings of broodiness I once had. Well at least for a short time anyway.