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

— @HaggardHawks

It felt necessary, but until I faced the Arch’s humble coffin, I did not know exactly why. We stood in the queue for a long time. Apparently, the Arch’s family arrived when I was about two hundred meters from the cathedral’s entrance and a private, short service was held for them, the bells ringing, the sun baking us in the early afternoon’s sun. Twenty minutes, they told us, but in the end, the cathedral was closed to the public for nearly an hour, and I almost gave up. I am glad I persevered though.

The loss – actual and potential; personal and global; private and professional – of the last two years has been staggering, relentless, at times nearly unbearable. And for most of the time, our rituals of mourning have been brutally disrupted.

To stand all alone, even if only for a few seconds, in front of Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Mpilo Tutu’s coffin with my hand on my heart and whispers of gratitude passing my lips in the solemn cathedral was a necessary ritual of mourning. I went home with tears in my eyes, but my heart felt lighter. To be able to say goodbye in person, with hundreds of others, at a time when we have so often been left all alone in our grief, felt like a gift. Even in death, this good man’s generosity gave me comfort. It was one of the last gifts of a truly difficult year.

The other gifts were waiting two hundred kilometres away, in a place near the sea, where the late afternoon’s golden light and a bottle of golden bubbles and, most importantly, the golden hearts of my love and our dear friends welcomed me after a beautiful drive. Before going over to the cathedral, I stopped at the Book Lounge and got a gorgeous book for my love. On my way to our friends’ wine farm, I stopped at Liberty Books and wished Christy and Cleopatra a happy new year. In my family, we have all kind of new year’s eve superstitions. Visits to two of my favourite bookshops on the last day of the year felt like a good omen for the coming year. I also did all my washing – no leaving of dirty laundry for the new year!

Our new year’s feast was accompanied by the most divine wines and a sense of gentle relief. Last year has asked the impossible of our friends – they experienced loss beyond words – but they also lived through miracles. At the end of it all, we were still here, together, sharing good food and drink and friendship. So grateful for what could be celebrated.

We did not wait for midnight and went to bed just after dinner. I phoned my Mom and Krystian just before falling asleep and exchanged one greeting with an old friend. I slept soundly and woke up to the sight of a beloved man next to me and the sound of rain on the roof. Blessings. Outside, the grapes were looking healthier than ever before and the new, beautiful wine cellar stood waiting with its soft light for the first harvest. I read, we had coffee, snoozed some more, and eventually got up to welcome the new year with smiles, greetings and a royal breakfast.

I drove home with a lot of love in my heart. And here, my darling Salieri was waiting. It is her fifteenth birthday today and she has had a good day. She ate well and we cuddled a lot. That she can celebrate another birthday after everything she’d had to endure last year is the first gift of this year. What else will 2022 bring? Belinda Mountain tweeted about respair today: ‘fresh hope; a recovery from despair’.

I wish us all heath, kindness and respair in 2022!

Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local. Get vaccinated, please. Live.

“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

My oldest orchid is flowering again. Salieri is not great, but stable for now. We made an appointment with the vet the moment he is back from holiday.

A day of reading, a bit of admin, Skyping with family, floor washing and bed linen changing. In the afternoon, I had tea with a friend and then went for a walk with my love. He had a big lunch with his friend, so he only joined me for dinner in conversation.

The day will end with ironing and TV watching. I almost feel like a domestic goddess today, but it is difficult to feel like a domestic goddess when you have just discovered that you have weird elbows. Unlike Jennifer Lopez, who is perfect …

Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local. Get vaccinated, please. Live.

“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

Salieri wasn’t well again this morning and vomited for the first time in weeks. I think she is better now, and has eaten well since the early incident, but just in case I made an appointment with the vet for tomorrow afternoon. I will see how she is in the morning to judge whether to take her in (always very traumatic), or allow her to be. I stayed longer in bed today just to let her sleep in loving company in the morning and the afternoon. In between, my love and I went for another walk around the Common and then I did some garden work and had a delicious lunch with my lovely friend and her delightful godson. In the afternoon, I actually returned to editing. And it felt great. I needed a rest, but I also need to complete this work.

I started reading the latest Benny Griessel today and am really enjoying it, a proper page-turner. Great stuff.

Quarantines are back. I will comply if exposed to COVID-19 again, but I wish we just vaccinated everyone and moved on. I read today that a Dutch anti-vaxxer who opposed lockdowns and mask-wearing died of COVID-19 at the age of 53. If this is the kind of freedom people are prepared to die for, they really can’t be helped, but I am so sorry for the family and friends who loved him and now have to deal with the pointless loss.

“No beds means no beds” – this video!

Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local. Get vaccinated, please. Live.

“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

Boring. I used to think that being bored meant being stupid. A long time ago, I watched a Western where the hero told the beautiful woman he was pursuing that only stupid people got bored, because smart people always found something interesting to do or think. Needless to say, I haven’t been much bored since. He was really handsome. But, NOW, I keep longing for boring. Or simply sitting still with no need to do anything, or only the things that give one joy.

My love and I had breakfast (with lots of lovely bacon) and went for a walk around the Rondebosch Common together. The rest of the day was reading, for pleasure and for work. Butter chicken for dinner. Simple things. Almost boring. And boring nowadays feels like heaven.

One month from today I will be forty-five. “Tell me, what would you do in 2022 if you knew you could not fail?” Robyn Porteous asked on Twitter today. I know what the answer is for me and I do not want to wait until 2022 to start. I do not intend to fail. New year’s resolution(s) loading.

Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local. Get vaccinated, please. Live.

“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

One of those rare days when there wasn’t enough coffee to keep me awake. Arriving home last night, I stood on the stoep for a while and just breathed in the fresh sea scent. I live quite a distance away from the shore, but sometimes the sea visits, and last night she came in all her perfumed glory. A clear indication of a change in weather, and so it was. I could hardly keep my eyes open on this foggy, drizzly, partly sunny, mild day. My love and I went for a walk and got rained on towards the end. But we had a simple braai for lunch, so it was all warm and cosy next to the fire on the stoep. Mozart and Glinka came to join us.

In the afternoon, I managed to do some good work before and after my sleep. Not sure what this evening holds, but I guess my DVD collection will provide some much-loved distraction. And a good sleep during the night would be welcome.

Salieri is slightly better, but I think we will have to visit the vet before our scheduled check-up in February. Sigh. My poor baby.

Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local. Get vaccinated, please. Live.

“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

Two days that feel like a lifetime, and they perfectly sum up this year: heaven and hell; things happening at such a speed that it seems impossible to take them in or comprehend them. I am overwhelmed by sadness and fear, but also eternally grateful. The story of 2021.

Journalist Miriam Mannak died at the age of 45. Apart from following her on Twitter, I did not know her, but she was a very dear friend to somebody I care about – somebody who has had a terrible year, but it had been made bearable largely thanks to the selfless efforts of Miriam, who assisted my friend during many months of need. I read the news of Miriam’s passing just before leaving home to spend Christmas & Boxing Days with my love. Miriam was my age; she died without any warning.

My love and I needed to be mostly alone this Christmas. We wanted to have a calm festive season and celebrate that we have survived this year and to honour all the miracles and grace that this year has afforded us despite all the horror. Earlier this month, when South Africa’s borders were effectively closed to travellers, many restaurants and other tourist destinations suffered immediate cancellations and reopened bookings for the festive season. When one of our favourites – La Colombe – sent out an alert about their open seats, we grabbed the opportunity and booked for Christmas lunch: our Christmas gift to us. It was the first time ever I had a meal in a restaurant at Christmas time. And it was beyond-words-marvellous. I am not sure that there is a going back to Christmas cooking after this … unless it is my Mom’s cooking.

Because I did not want us to drive after such a meal or bother about securing safe transport, I booked us into the neighbouring Silvermist Hotel. We swam, sunbathed in the late afternoon, walked, read, relaxed and slept early after having a pot of rooibos tea for dinner (nothing else had room in our happy stomachs).

The next day early, we headed back home and picked up the Sunday Times which featured my book of the year. The text was slightly shortened, so the full version is beneath.

I was uncertain whether I wanted to read anything else about the irrefutable fact of our mortality at a time when we were constantly confronted with its reality during the pandemic, but I have the greatest admiration for writer/editor Bongani Kona, so I braved the anthology he compiled on the subject this year, Our Ghosts Were Once People: Stories on Death and Dying. And I have no regrets. Not only does the book include contributions by some of my favourite authors, delivering incisive and exquisite writing – Mary Watson, Hedley Twidle, Tariq Hoosen, Dawn Garisch, Musawenkosi Khanyile, Karin Schimke, Shubnum Khan and Nick Mulgrew among them – but allowed me to immerse myself in the topic in unexpected ways, whether through Stacy Hardy’s haunting short story told from the perspective of a murdered forensic pathologist or Madeleine Fullard’s indispensable essay about the disappeared victims of apartheid’s horrors. I am deeply grateful to the writers for this remarkable book which feels like essential reading for our complex present.

Our ghosts were once people. Today, one of our people became an ancestor …

We started preparing breakfast when the news arrived via a phone call. My love was called back to work to report on the death of Archbishop Desmond Tutu. Blinking away tears, I said to him, “I know he was old, and that he was ill. But it sucks.” And I wrote to a friend, “2021 can fuck off.” It really can. Because if we thought that this day was done with us, this afternoon, we found out that a dear friend is in the ICU awaiting a bypass after a brush with death yesterday.

I don’t know whether to mourn or celebrate. A life has been taken, another saved. With Tutu’s death, it feels like our country lost her soul. He was a truly good man, a man of greatness and grace. Someone we could always turn to for guidance. Always. But after the initial shock of the news, I realised that this soul, the moral compass that guided us and millions of others around the world for decades, is not lost as long as we continue cherishing the Arch’s legacy and carry his wisdom and compassion in our hearts.

I am a bit numb. All of this is impossible to hold simultaneously. My friend has cancer, another is waiting in ICU for a life-saving operation, another is mourning the loss of someone who cared for her deeply. And here we are, watching TV, writing, squeezing a loved hand, and having a simple dinner. We are feeling a gigantic sense of relief that our friend’s life was not taken, and we are shaken by the death of a moral giant who has come as close to being holy as a human can.

A friend told me today how special cherries are for her, and I remembered how we used to collect and eat them by the bucket during the cherry seasons when I was growing up in Poland. We need to celebrate the small, mundane pleasures in life. Those everyday joys. And live our lives with wisdom and compassion, so that we can live without regrets.

And tomorrow, we wake up with hope, no matter what.

“Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.”

— Archbishop Desmond Tutu

Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local. Get vaccinated, please. Live.

“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 had to be small and intimate. I just could not face big celebrations and many people – no matter how dearly loved – this year for Christmas. I read a lot in the morning; then met my lovely temporary neighbour for a small lunch and exchanged gifts; together, we delivered a small gift to our friend who is having a really rough time right now; and I cooked a very simple dinner for my love. No meat, just fish and veggies – the only traditional aspect of today’s food. After dinner, we opened our gifts from the lovely temporary neighbour and connected briefly with Mom and Krystian on Skype. I will watch some TV and go to bed. Tomorrow, we will have a Christmas lunch feast for two. But today’s simple calm was all that was needed. For many reasons, for many people, this is not an easy time of the year, and maybe sometimes one has to be selfish about it. And to say: this is what I need. I did polish the silver. And I did set an extra place at the Christmas Eve dinner table according to Polish tradition.

I sent out some Christmas greetings today and will continue to do so tomorrow, but I am sure to forget someone. I apologise. I do wish everyone well.

If you are reading this – thank you. May you and your loved ones have the kind of Festive Season you need, and may it be healthy and joyous. Merry Christmas!

REVISION TO CONTACT TRACING, QUARANTINE AND ISOLATION PROTOCOLS

Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local. Get vaccinated, please.

“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

Salieri hasn’t been herself in the last few days, but she is eating again with a little bit of help and definitely enjoying her long sleeps, especially when she can be on my lap.

Today, I read, did some work for New Contrast, went walking, cooked a nice dinner (new recipe) for my love, and all day long I have been waiting for news from my friend. When it arrived this evening, I felt what I have been feeling all year long: anxiety, anger, fear, relief, hope, and, and, and. It is not great news, but it is also not the worst. The journey ahead is going to be really awful, but it will be accompanied by a lot of hope and it will have a kind outcome – I firmly believe that this beautiful, amazing woman will be able to continue with her life the way she has been living it until now: with a sense of adventure, courage, resilience, heart and lots and lots of joy. Yet, I so wish she did not have to go through this.

My brother remarked how quickly things can change and turn everything upside down. Indeed. But now, they will change for the better. There is no other option!

Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local. Get vaccinated, please.

“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

My last visit to the printers for the year – this time to pick up the latest issue of New Contrast. I will be sending it out to subscribers after Christmas.

I wrote a blog post about 2021 and Karavan Press, and had a typo in the original title, of course (it has been a loooooong year).

In the morning, I also saw my counsellor and we spoke about topics that in a strange way prepared me for the news of the afternoon: a dear, lovely friend has been diagnosed with a serious disease. I saw her together with another friend and we spoke about this new reality, the fears and hopes for the future, and how we will be facing it together. We cannot travel this journey for her, but we will be there for her. And in my head, I am planning a big ladies’ lunch to celebrate the day when all the pain and anxiety are behind her and she can enjoy her life to the fullest again.

Our health is such a fragile, precious thing. We need to treasure it.

Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local. Get vaccinated, please.

“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

I have never gone so long without a visit to the hairdresser. I don’t think that my hair has ever been as long as it is now. It is surprisingly healthy and still relatively easy to manage, but I am gradually thinking that maybe it is time to cut off a little bit …

A day of early morning reading and then admin. I am working on too many projects at the same time, and maybe like my hair, something will have to be cut in the new year. I am kind of coping, but there is very little room for error to keep everything on track. And it’s not like everything is falling into place and everyone else is doing their job on time. I really dislike having to pick up the pieces, not only for myself but for too many others.

In the wise words of Manuel: “But I learn, I learn.”

My lovely temporary neighbour (a dear friend is housesitting nearby) invited me for a beautiful lunch today, and in the evening, my love and I treated ourselves to a celebration of the longest day of the year on top of one of the loveliest places in Cape Town: The Silo Hotel. And today’s windless, balmy evening was absolutely perfect for the occasion. The city delivered with her usual spectacular charms and the evening was pure bliss.

I love this city.

I am hoping for a better night than last; I slept really poorly and not terribly long.

Good night.

Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local. Get vaccinated, please.

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

— NICD