OYSTERHOOD is reclusiveness or solitude, or an overwhelming desire to stay at home.

— @HaggardHawks

Small hours blues. Quite a gap in my sleep between three and five a.m. and it was impossible not to feel sadness and anxiety, thinking about the world at that time of the night when everything is a deeper blue than usual anyway. A stranger told me on Twitter to take antihistamines to make me sleep – not that I was asking for advice. Friends commented differently, saying that they also have poor nights, sit and stare at the dark sky outside with a cup of tea to keep them warm. Sometimes we voice our distress to share and not to feel alone; we are not searching for ways of how to drown out our emotions. Reading the stranger’s comment this morning, I remembered many friends and my doctor wanting to give me medication to help me with my grief after André died – I understood their concern, but I also knew that some things hurt because they are meant to, because losing a loved person is so catastrophic that it rearranges your DNA. I also remembered telling the psychologist I was seeing for a while four years ago that, as long as I was coping (barely, but I was), I did not want any medication to dull the pain I was feeling. What I was going through was bone-breaking and it hurt like hell, but the cause of the distress was so horrific that I understood why it was breaking me and intuitively I felt the need to experience it. That agony taught me a valuable lesson I will never forget. I am sorry that I had to pay such an excruciating price for knowledge, but in the end it saved my life and was worth it. We are in the middle of a lethal pandemic – distress, nightmares, insomnia are only a few of the reactions many of us experience when confronted with the enormity of what Covid-19 means for us today and in the future. The reason why I cannot sleep and why I feel an overwhelming sadness at four a.m. is gigantic and valid, and I would be only worried about my response if I felt no distress at all. Fear can be life-saving. Carelessness is potentially fatal right now. Our infection and fatality numbers are rising and it is hard not be feel freaked out.

I slept again until about eight, made coffee in my beautiful rat cup and started work. Another garden walk around lunchtime: I noticed one new plant with beautiful purple flowers has moved into my wild garden. And the sunshine flowers were smiling at me and the delicate ferns reminded me of the time I worked at a florist’s when I was still at university.

Mozart came to say hello when I sat down. As is his usual rhythm, he is gaining weight for winter and his coat is getting thicker. Because of this transformation (much more pronounced in him than the Lady Cats), I call him Winter Version during the cold seasons and enjoy cuddling with him even more when he is so fluffy.

Already during the walk, I felt the weather and atmosphere pressure changing, the day turning grey, but I was still okay throughout lunch and a lovely Skype conversation with the writer Penny Haw. Soon afterwards, however, a headache exploded just behind my eyes, blurring vision and thoughts, and this was a pain I had no interest in experiencing, so painkillers to the rescue. I lay down next to Glinka for an hour and just listened to the radio until the ache behind my eyes disappeared and I was ready to resume work.

The release of the first South African edition of Malibongwe: Poems from the Struggle by ANC Women, edited by Sono Molefe, was announced today. Another stunning title from uHlanga.

That the unborn child
May not see what I see
Or taste what I’ve tasted
This is my journey

(from “I must go: do not mourn” by Fezeka Makonese)

A new uHlanga title always makes me happy. The press and its founder, Nick Mulgrew, have been an inspiration for many years. And this particular book, after its initial publication in exile in the early 1980s, has been waiting for nearly forty years to be published at home in South Africa. And now it is here, finally. A homecoming worth waiting for.

Be kind to yourself. Be kind to others. Stay at home.

“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”

— NICD

OYSTERHOOD is reclusiveness or solitude, or an overwhelming desire to stay at home.

— @HaggardHawks

A looooong working day. And I survived being put on hold by Telkom for half an hour, trying to get my latest bill sent to me by email. All other options (text, website, Twitter) failed miserably, so phoning was the last resort. Once I got through to a human being, the matter was resolved within two minutes. I know that this has been the way of the twenty-first century – reducing face to face customer service – and now with Covid-19 nothing will ever be the same again, but I miss being able to go to a counter, speaking to another human being about my problem and having it resolved that way instead of the faceless, often automated kind of help one can mostly expect nowadays. Then, after Telkom, I took a deep breath and dialled another number (fifteen minutes on the phone to Discovery, trying to resolve an issue with a claim – the doctor got paid twice and I got nothing…). This phone call was also a success once I spoke to the nice consultant at the end of the line, but sjoe, I REALLY DON’T enjoy talking on the phone with strangers! It’s sheer torture.

I started work early today, at around 8am, continued until lunchtime and then subjected myself to these two conversations. Walking was the only option afterwards, around forty-five minutes in loops around my garden. It was lovely outside and I felt restored. Then another four hours of computer work. At the end of the working day, a few lovely emails were waiting in my inbox to be answered. Throughout the day, weekend leftovers kept me fed and litres of coffee kept me focused. And Salieri, as always, catssisted by sleeping on one of my books (she is still in the same spot as in the photo above now!).

We sent a book to the printers today! But I am too tired to even celebrate with a nice glass of wine. (Don’t hate me. I grew up in a country notorious for the levels of alcohol its citizens consume. Not feeling like a drink always feels reassuring, especially under our current circumstances.)

Are we expecting any rain this week? I really want to walk on the Common again. Maybe very early one of these mornings before everyone else gets up…?

Current mood:

Bed. Mindless television. Good night.

Be kind to yourself. Be kind to others. Stay at home.

“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”

— NICD

OYSTERHOOD is reclusiveness or solitude, or an overwhelming desire to stay at home.

— @HaggardHawks

A Sunday mostly like this. I did nothing that could be counted as productive, and it feels good.

Another attempt at sleeping in my own bed, which was mostly successful, but I did have a weird gap somewhere between 3.30 and 5am, but was too tired to move and not tired enough to sleep. So I read stuff on Twitter (as one does). But the most interesting comment was sadly deleted shortly after being posted. Luckily, I took a screenshot, but won’t credit the author, since they clearly changed their mind about the text (although it might have been a quote from somewhere for all I know): “Ethics: the branch of philosophy known as economics” (Twitter, 4am).

Nechama Brodie’s comments about media reporting on the pandemic and re-opening of the economy later in the day also struck a chord in a similar fashion: “There have been threads/tweets recently […] pointing out that the groups who are pushing a ‘re-open the economy’ narrative are the ones for whom re-opening is low-risk & high return. Whereas, for many others this may be the opposite.”

I have been thinking a lot about defiance. My life has been marked by it in extraordinary ways since my conception. My parents have an age gap of nearly ten years between them, my Mom being the older partner; they had me out of wedlock and refused to get married for two years, despite pressure from Catholic families on both sides. Hugely uncommon at the time. At their wedding, my Mom remembers, I apparently cried out to her in the middle of the ceremony, shouting, “What are you doing?” Years later, she often told me, “If only I had listened to you.” I grew up in a country where everyone broke the law by simply breathing. That is how totalitarian regimes function. As long as you disobey under the radar – and you have to disobey to survive – and are not a nuisance, you are allowed to continue, but if you dare too much, speak too loudly, and become uncomfortable to the authorities, there will be, obviously, a million things that they will be able to hold against you, because it is simply impossible to lead a decent life without breaking the rules. It’s a vicious cycle. You are damned either way. To escape this, my parents broke international laws by illegally crossing a border when my brother was six and I was ten and by seeking asylum in a foreign country. Those borders did not cease to exist even after the Berlin Wall fell, and to cross them one often had to break many other laws, repeatedly. I was a smuggler in my youth; a pretty good one, although nothing major. Got caught only once, but not entirely because of my own mistake – on my own, I never got caught. I am more ashamed than proud, and I promise you, when the EU expanded and the borders across Europe disappeared, I celebrated the end of that adrenaline life with a bang. There are many ways to break the rules. And there are many reasons why we do it. Now that I am going grey and wrinkled and a little bit of life’s wisdom has begun to sink into the few grey brain cells remaining after endless bottles of pink bubbly, I understand one thing: if you do it, do it for love, or kindness, but don’t break the rules for money only.

There was no rule breaking in the mall I visited today, my first mall since the lockdown. Masks, distance, crowd control, disinfectant – the lot. I had to go into a computer shop and decided to do some advance shopping for the Cats at the same time, so as to use the trip to its full extent. I was also hoping for coffee capsules, but the mall I went to had that particular shop closed. Online order it will be then. I had never been big on shopping. Apart from bookshops and museum shops, I’d found shopping mostly boring in the past, and now Covid-19 has taken away the last bit of whatever small pleasure I might have gotten out of it. The long queues, the fear, the constant vigilance – it’s too much. It was difficult to hold back the tears. But knowing that touching my face would not be allowed until I was back home and safe, I swallowed them.

What helped was speaking to people I love today: my Mom, my love, my brother. I am about to meet my friend Charlotte on Skype. A little bit of gin with Mozart in the late afternoon sun on the stoep was also a joy. We had a rare moment today: all three Cats on the stoep in close proximity without any hissing breaking out.

The Cats have been in physical distancing mode among one another for as long as I can remember. But I am so grateful that they have no problem with being close to me – all the time. In days like these – with a pandemic rewriting the rules of our human social interactions – the company of Furry Ones is one of the greatest blessings. (Salieri has just arrived on my lap as I was typing this.)

Be kind to yourself. Be kind to others. Stay at home.

“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”

— NICD

Unless you are part of a pride of lions, then you can indulge in closeness and grooming as much as you want.

OYSTERHOOD is reclusiveness or solitude, or an overwhelming desire to stay at home.

— @HaggardHawks

A long, deep sleep; the TV kept watch. After waking up, I immediately moved to my bedroom with coffee and treats and a manuscript I am supposed to write a reader’s report on. Salieri joined me, of course.

Everything I do needs her paw of approval. We stayed in bed for a long time, reading the manuscript and articles online, watching Wild Earth and just staring into space. This article about Peter Piot was important to read:

‘Finally, a virus got me.’ Scientist who fought Ebola and HIV reflects on facing death from COVID-19

By the time we got up the sun was shouting: ‘Swim!’ We are experiencing an unusually warm autumn, me thinks, because I don’t recall ever swimming in May…

Guess who was waiting for me in the pool :)

dav

The Frog Prince allowed to be photographed, but refused to pose for a selfie! And when I looked into the pool wire where he spends most of his time, I saw a few bees and beetles floating around. Dead. Is this what happens to damsels in distress when they kiss the amphibian? I do wonder what frogs eat… Luckily, a little water rat is still bigger than a frog, and I know what the French eat and have tasted their delicacies before – surely one can find easy frog legs recipes online…

The Cats loved being in the garden with me, during the sunbathing, the swim and afterwards when I tackled the ‘lawn’ mowing. Our ‘lawn’ is as wild as the rest of the garden, so I am not sure it deserves the designation, but it definitely looked more respectable after the trimming.

I celebrated a job well done with a piña colada on the ‘lawn’ and Mozart came to investigate what I was having. I did share my olives with him earlier, but I did not allow him to have a sip, just a sniff. A drunk, blind cat is not a good idea. He settled for some cuddles instead.

Skyping with my love, I could report that my cheeks don’t get sore any longer. In general, my anxiety levels are much lower than even a week ago. Not that my situation has changed in any way, if anything it is becoming more dire as I begin to understand what the pandemic indicates for our futures, but the survival instinct is a powerful drive, and it amazes me every time what circumstances one can actually get used to in relatively short periods of time. One shouldn’t be able to, but one does. Sometimes, it’s the only way forward.

There are always Ribbon and her gorgeous cubs to make one smile. And elephants.

Be kind to yourself. Be kind to others. Stay at home. Dream of kisses.

“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”

— NICD

PS A Lana Del Rey kind of evening.

OYSTERHOOD is reclusiveness or solitude, or an overwhelming desire to stay at home.

— @HaggardHawks

A TV night with a short gap, but no nightmares. In the morning, Salieri and I watched CNN’s Town Hall with Laurie Garrett, among others, but she was most impressive (I need to read her books!). She spoke about the best case scenarios for our future and the CDC guidelines and I looked them up after the interview. This particular point struck a chord:

Emphasize individual responsibility. Based on emphasizing individual responsibility for implementing recommended personal-level actions, empowering businesses, schools, and community organizations to implement recommended actions, particularly in ways that protect persons at increased risk of severe illness, focusing on settings that provide critical infrastructure or services to individuals at increased risk of severe illness, and minimizing disruptions to daily life to the extent possible.

Watching hippos in the morning was also a good idea. And coffee – always the best idea.

And I have completely fallen in love with Lauren Arthur’s (of Wild Earth) accent (it took me a looooong time to figure out where she comes from – I am hopeless with accents). She used her porcupointer (what a wonderful word!) to explain animal tracks today.

Then it was time for more work, but getting up properly this morning was nearly impossible, so I just worked in my PJs and unwashed/uncombed hair until I finished the tasks set for the morning.

Showered around noon. The day outside was begging to be acknowledged, so I went on one of my garden loop walks to dry my hair and listened to the radio. Mozart and Salieri accompanied me.

For the last few days, I have been smelling something wonderful in the garden and today I identified where the scent comes from. I have no idea what the little tree is called but it smells divine. Mozart obviously also thought so, because he sat among the fallen petals and did not want to come out.

The rest of the afternoon was work apart from a friend testing the safety features of the delivery system for her restaurant and bringing a surprise to my gate. This was so lovely and so delicious that it completely made my day.

When the deliveries are up and running on a full scale, I will write about the restaurant. There are great stories to tell. Hopefully soon! They are also busy organising a soup kitchen in their area. The generosity and kindness of people during this trying time is inspiring.

Another beautiful act of generosity was Nancy Richards’s email today, announcing that the interview she did with me about letter writing a while back was finally available online as a podcast. I listened to it again and wanted to write paper and pen letters immediately, but… One day again!

I don’t mention them by name during the interview, but the friend who sends me postcards is Robert. I wrote to him today via email and sent him the podcast link and warned him not to send postcards for the time being. The other person I mention, the man I worked with, who used to sign his emails with ‘Fond regards’ passed away almost one and a half years ago: Stephen Johnson. I miss corresponding with him – his emails, even the purely professional ones, were a thing of beauty. He was a publisher who knew and loved language.

I have received a few beautiful and moving emails during the lockdown, people taking care to communicate through typed words what cannot be articulated over a cup of coffee or a glass of pink bubbly, or just sharing thoughts and feelings and dreams and fears across space because words have that unbelievable power to bring us closer and to make us feel less alone.

The moment the post office is up and running again, I will write real paper and pen letters again and send them out into the world. It is always such great joy to receive a postcard or a letter in the postbox… The good old days when dinosaurs roamed the world.

Just in case you were wondering: the amphibians are still roaming the earth, or our tiny patch of it. I said hello to the Frog Prince in the pool weir today. He looked at me for a few seconds and dived into the pool. Playing hard to get!

Shortly before the sun went down, I sat next to the pool and read for a while, with Mozart and Glinka next to me. Two doves were parading right in front of us to Glinka’s great interest and Mozart’s non-interest because he couldn’t see them.

Time for bed and Carter. I have recorded the latest episode and will watch before falling asleep. The show is so silly, but it makes me laugh out loud all the time. And I am always grateful for laughter. It makes almost everything bearable. Even this:

“The virus will continue to circulate in the world regardless of whether or not there’s a vaccine unless we’re committed to a strategic goal of really getting rid of the virus from the planet,” says Laurie Garrett, the author of The Coming Plague (1994).

Be kind to yourself. Be kind to others. Stay at home.

“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”

— NICD

(But it is totally allowed to dream of kisses. Always.)

OYSTERHOOD is reclusiveness or solitude, or an overwhelming desire to stay at home.

— @HaggardHawks

Waking up with lions, big and small. Big on screen, small on my bed. Monumental day: recycling collection, first time since BC (i.e. before Covid-19). I’d given up on the garbage bin, but was full of hope for my recycling bags, waiting patiently in the garage. Took them out this morning and went to check up on the Frog Prince – all alive and kicking despite new chlorine in the water. No kisses. I might get into a wetsuit for that. I am considering, the wetsuit and the kissing. I have had this plan for three years: to swim in my pool in winter. I have the wetsuit and the booties, but have never been brave enough before to actually try. I really don’t like cold, cold water. Yet: desperate times, desperate measures. And the possible reward of a kiss…

Perhaps worried about frog kisses, my love sent me a link to a beautiful love song this morning. Much more beautiful than a frog’s croak. I can still hear the gorgeous lyrics in my head, the soothing voice. Sorry, won’t share the title: I want it all for myself.

Coffee. Reading. First meeting at 10.30am. On the phone, of course. Final corrections round to the manuscript; you know those typesetting gremlins that just always get in no matter how careful you are? Reminds me of something… Hmmm.

Then, I heard glass breaking outside and knew the recycling collection was happening. And! Inspired by the good recycling people, the garbage people also arrived. I heard them in the distance and ran to put out the bin all over again. When they arrived, I was on the stoep, all happiness, having more coffee, but Glinka was NOT impressed.

Then: some more work and a lunch Skype date with my Mom and Krystian. We laughed, a lot. The funniest was when I tried to translate “selfish fuck” into Polish for my Mom. I don’t swear in Polish; I just can’t. So, in all those years, my Mom has not really heard me swear in Polish much. Afterwards, I felt like I had to not only wash my hands but also my mouth with soap and warm water for twenty seconds. I don’t sing anything, btw. I just follow the instruction how surgeons do it before an operation.

More work, Glinka catssisting.

The Bundesliga news. Now, I am not big on soccer. There was a time when, boyfriends ago, I was in love, and I followed European soccer religiously, but after that boyfriend, there was another, and another, and … well, I watch rugby and tennis nowadays. And, like any sports fan, I am starved for live sports. Bundesliga it is then. I have started following their Twitter account today and I am sooooo ready. I even have a team: closest to my Austrian home, the ex-ex-ex-ex-ex-ex-something-boyfriend’s team, and they have Robert Lewandowski (a Pole). Not to mention that they happen to be top of the log right now. I – hopefully – cannot lose. 16 May – I will be there, popcorn, beer (I still have one can – I KNEW I was saving it for s special occasion) and all.

And then, did you hear James phoning in to the Afternoon Drive on CapeTalk today? I listened to the young man and thought: I want to marry YOU! I never want to get married again, but James, if the thing with the frog doesn’t work out, I will be physical distancing, taking responsibility, not spreading the virus, being intelligent – all the way to wherever you are and asking for your hand, or elbow, or foot, or whatever is allowed at level four…!

Sorry, My Love, please send another love song.

I think it is time for some TV and the rest of the ironing pile.

Good night.

Be kind to yourself. Be kind to others. Stay at home.

“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”

— NICD

OYSTERHOOD is reclusiveness or solitude, or an overwhelming desire to stay at home.

— @HaggardHawks

A new phrase in our global vocabulary – “corona jerk”: someone who can’t distinguish between a beer and a virus. No sorry, that’s my definition. The actual one is: someone who behaves like a jerk despite knowing that they are endangering others with an infection by, for example, not wearing a mask. In other words, a “selfish fuck”.

I got the first phrase from CNN, the second from Twitter.

Woke up from another nightmare today, the worst kind. And for two hours, I just continued lying in front of the TV with my eyes closed and I listened to stories from around the world, BBC, CNN, Ö3.

The one about a man being shot because he asked someone to comply with his shop’s regulation to wear a mask inside was the one that really got to me. Two women sobbing in disbelief, saying “Over a mask?”

People my age with no underlying issues who had a rough ride with Covid-19 telling of how they survived was also sobering.

But I cried only right at the end. There was a report about professional musicians connecting live online with ICU rooms in the US and playing to patients on ventilators. The musicians can hear the beeps of the life-sustaining machines become calmer and more regular when they start playing their music. Conscious patients can request a playlist. Doctors and nurses can also make requests. It is an initiative by an ICU doctor who used to be a musician before studying medicine. She believes in the healing power of music. But sometimes those live concerts are the last thing that a person hears before they die, alone.

I want to stay healthy for these people, their dedication and kindness.

Coffee. Reading. Then I put on my own domestic goddess outfit and cleaned the bathroom, washed all floors, vacuum cleaned, did laundry. This evening, a pile of ironing is still waiting. Then the other work, at the computer, had to be done. But I allowed myself a break in the sun in the afternoon and the Cats joined me.

I can report that my farming is going well. Potatoes, coriander, and we might be harvesting some catnip after all, although it doesn’t look too promising…

We always knew that the lockdown had the potential of either bringing couples closer together. Or not. I wonder how many more babies than usual have been conceived in the last few weeks, and how many divorces, separations will result from our “togetherness”. But I never thought that with all three Cats being sterilised and elderly, and me being in my forties, we would still get an addition to the family, and this during lockdown! But, we have: we have added an amphibian to the family. I haven’t told the Cats yet, because they will want to eat the latest household member, but I was delighted to get acquainted. I have no idea how they survive the chlorine, but I have always had frogs in the pool, and a few years ago I even participated in a UCT study about urban frog habitats in Cape Town. Soil samples were taken, photographs, etc. I had to do a questionnaire about, among other things, my relationship with frogs. My favourite moment was being shown a photograph of a frog and having to explain my feelings towards the creature. Yep, the things we do for science.

And with my love lockdown-ed far away, maybe frog kissing is the answer? It has worked for other legendary princesses…

What I won’t be kissing anytime soon will be whatever creatures my rotting garbage will start attracting in the next few days. Third attempt to have my bin collected today, but no luck. I am giving up until next Monday.

Another moving blog post today by the wonderful writer, Gail Gilbride. She is managing to keep sane in this insane time, despite fighting breast cancer. I am full of admiration for her resilience and capacity to treasure life’s small miracles. And she can capture it all in such beautiful words. Thank you, dear Gail.

Ironing, TV, sleep, no nightmares.

Yes, I did watch some Wild Earth live safari again. I even did some writing.

Be kind to yourself. Be kind to others. Stay at home.

“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”

— NICD

OYSTERHOOD is reclusiveness or solitude, or an overwhelming desire to stay at home.

— @HaggardHawks

It feels Biblical, the forty days. Somehow. But I’ve had too many painkillers and Jägermeister to remember the story. I am not accountable for anything tonight. I should have asked the gentleman with the beautiful voice to talk to me about the Bible after all.

The day began with a documentary about the current Covid-19 situation in the US. It’s easy to point fingers, but this used to be my home when I was a teenager and I have many fond, formative memories from that time. It is horrendous to watch what is happening there now.

It astounds me how many people are fighting tooth and claw for their right to be infected with a potentially deadly virus. Not only in the US, but also here at home. I love all my surfing friends, but watching the surfers – some without masks, without any attempts at physical distancing – this morning in Muizenberg, I just thought: if it wasn’t for the fact that while attempting to kill yourself, you might kill others, I would have no issue with you trying.

I know watching news in the post-truth era is tricky, but denying the reality of over 250 000 deaths worldwide – within a few weeks, from one cause – must surely make one think twice about doing stupid things. Or not?

To calm the nerves, Salieri and I looked at dragons and hyenas. The former, we drew; the latter, we took screenshots of.

Please note that the dragon is guarding a book.

While drawing, I imagined that a few hundred years ago I would have been one of those people locked up in a monastery somewhere, copying ancient scripts and illustrating them with drawings. I wasn’t entirely sure whether women were allowed such tasks in the past, but I have been told that there were indeed such exceptions even back then.

For the past ten years, this has been the image to be found on my desktop screen. I took the photograph in the magnificent library of the Mafra Palace in Portugal. Whenever I sit at my computer, I imagine sitting at this desk, my sacred place for writing. I spent most of my day here again, preparing a manuscript for the printers, among many other less fascinating tasks. If all goes well, the manuscript will be ready by the end of the week.

I briefly left my desk in the early afternoon when the local printers contacted me about the manuscript I needed printed and bound for reading. They are located less than a kilometer away from my home, so I decided to walk to pick it up. The streets were nearly completely empty by then, so I felt comfortable about walking. The collection point in the company was also extremely well organised and it was nice to wave and smile with my eyes at people I know and enjoy working with.

On the way home, I encountered one person presumably walking to one of the shop nearby (the backpack was an indicator). She had a mask on and kept her distance. But then I also passed a teenage girl on a skateboard with no mask on, and I wondered whether she was doing this with the permission of her parents? What if she fell, crashed? Does she/do they expect strangers to assist a person without a mask in the time of Covid-19? Not that there are that many around to assist in the first place…

It is hard not to feel blue about the constant demand on choices one has to make to keep safe and the responsibility one has to take on, not only for oneself, but others who feel that their constitutional rights are being eroded because they can’t surf for a few weeks.

“Everyone who thinks the current COVID regs are arbitrary and stupid usually hasn’t logically thought through a) the pitfalls of any other option; b) the multiple other moving parts or people required to open up and police/monitor/clean public spaces + access” (Nechama Brodie today on Twitter).

I also long for the sea and I will get drunk on happiness the day I can walk on the Noordhoek Beach again. But until then, I wait. Patiently.

I took this photograph today, calling it “Out of the Blue”.

It was heartbreaking to read about another magazine giant folding today. Why is it that we only start appreciating these things when they are gone? I still buy magazines. I cannot imagine reading Country Life or Bona online. But we, the paper-loving readers are dinosaurs. We keep photographs of ancient libraries on our computer screens to keep sane.

Today, I ordered a few meals that can be heated up from Mr Delivery and treated myself to a decadent plate of sushi from the same restaurant for dinner. I love sushi, so this was a memorable reunion. HARU is reinventing itself during lockdown as a pizza place, it seems. So pizza it will be. And earlier tonight, I read the news that the beloved Alma Cafe is also reinventing itself for delicious food deliveries, so my two minute noodle days are over for now. If you live in Rosebank, Cape Town, or nearby, and have the opportunity to taste Retha’s (from Alma Cafe) lemon meringue pie, do not say no. Order immediately! It is the best I have ever tasted.

After dinner, I skyped with my Mom and my brother. He is visiting Mom for the first time in weeks. They have discussed safety protocols of being together in one house and both feel comfortable with the arrangement. They sat on the opposite sides of the largest table in the house while speaking to me and eating their dinner. Austria is reopening the country after an impressive lockdown, with relatively few deaths and not too many infections. And my family understands the severity of the situation and it gives me comfort to know that they are doing everything they can to keep as safe as possible.

On Austrian radio they were reporting the “Grenzewartezeiten” (border waiting times) with the traffic news today – that was weird to listen to!

Be kind to yourself. Be kind to others. Stay at home (or in a library).

“Physical distancing remains one of the key strategies to curb this pandemic.”

— NICD