Why do people who want to make horrible hateful posts on Facebook pages or news stories almost always use pseudonoms? What kind of person has such strong opinions that they feel compelled to share, but are too afraid to say who they are?
Why is it that even the graveyards of Moorreesburg (and, I'm sure, many other places) reflect the disparity and inequalities in our society? The solid, granite-entombed citizens at the top of the hill and piles of sand and wooden crosses further down. If you look closely, you'll see that the flowers on this grave are inside water-filled, upturned cooldrink bottles. Ingenious.
We were at Moorreesburg's graveyard so that Greg could bury Margaret, one of Cape Town's homeless whose sister lives here. What was really heartening was the fact that two official government Social Welfare cars brought people who had known her and worked with her to the service.
What on earth made the designers of this hotel on Cape Town's Orange St think it was a good idea to put a kitchy gold couch in the lift?
Especially as the lift only feeds three floors! Seriously, not even time to sit down.
Why don't I get to spend more quality time with my sons? Why is life so often a rush? Why doesn't someone realise how incredibly talented Simon is (including himself?). Why can't I bottle happiness and contentment and give it out in copius quantities to the people I love (and the ones I don't... it would make even them into better people)?
Monday, 24 May 2010
Sunday, 2 May 2010
I seem to have entered another season of change where the comfortable places are beginning to feel a bit constricted.
It's not that unusual... I tend to get restless when things stay the same for too long. Maybe it is because moving has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. When I was 36 years old, I counted up how many times I had moved in my life. It was a rather daunting 39!
My mother used to see our homes as challenges, and she'd knock down walls and put up wallpaper on whatever was left. Carpets and curtains were changed... and just when it was exactly as she liked it, my dad would say "we'd probably get a good price for this place..." and we'd be on the move again.
Add the fact that his work meant we moved town pretty often ... he'd whip a branch of his company into shape and then be moved on to the next one.
Greg has been working with me for a month now, and we are getting used to working in the same office space. For the first 10 days or so he worked in the dining room and left me to the study, but then I went out for the day and came back to find that he had rearranged and organised the space in a way that worked very much better.
If he'd asked me if he should or could I'd have responded with a very emphatic "don't touch my stuff!" But actually it has worked out very well.
We now sit opposite each other and chat on skype, and that works well too.
But this is where I'm hoping we'll be for a couple of days a week anyway.
I feel like the horizons are broadening, like the possibilities are endless.
Posted by Lynne at 17:40