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

— @HaggardHawks

Friday, 2 July, I passed my breaking point. All the tools I needed to function professionally were taken away from me one after the other (looooong story), and despite making alternative plans and finding temporary solutions, the uphill battle became Sisyphean. And this at a time when, personally, I was facing tough challenges on top of the bloody pandemic and the ruthless third wave. A mild breakdown followed. Not major, because I could still somehow get up the next day after a nearly sleepless, anxiety-ridden night, make a plan with my by then numb brain, and for the next week follow through with it, completing the three projects I felt I could not let down (if at all possible).

Two Karavan Press books are at the printers, latest issue of New Contrast has been distributed.

This weekend, I am still tying up some loose ends, but afterwards, everything else – on the professional front at least – will have to wait until I feel human and sane again. On the personal front, I have to take care of Salieri and myself. We are both not well, but at least I can communicate what is wrong with me. She just refuses to eat and is listless. We are going to the vet later this morning again. My heart breaks seeing her like this.

My love, despite his own challenges, has been a pillar of strength for me. He gave me a bunch of pink and white roses mid-June. The pink ones have all wilted, but the white ones continue strong almost a month later and I see them as a sign of hope, perseverance.

Reasons to rejoice in the past week: my Mom got her second jab (and a new haircut, first since the beginning of the pandemic) – she had two rough days after the second jab, but is okay again; my brother got his first jab – when I told him about my eligibility for a vaccine starting in August, he said: ‘Zuma has been in jail for one day and things are already falling into place!’; sanity won over gaslighting and one of this country’s chief gaslighting experts is behind bars (probably not for long, but it is such a relief to see a little bit of justice being done); I renewed my driver’s and car licenses within an hour (!) in Fish Hoek (the most efficient and friendliest service); AND I am still physically healthy.

The NICD has reported two and a half thousand official Covid-19 deaths in the past week. The infection numbers are through the roof. It is difficult to imagine that level four will not be extended beyond Sunday.

On Wednesday and Thursday, I had to pick up something from my local printer. They are opposite a small Catholic church. During both trips, I witnessed a funeral taking place at the church. A handful of people in masks grieving. How does one grieve at a time when grieving has become a way of life for most of us?

How are any of us still coping? I really don’t know.

Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local.

“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 brother recommended that I read John Bradshaw’s classic. I am only fifty pages into the book, but I understand why he felt I would profit from reading it. (But: I simply can’t believe the typesetting of this edition, butterfly page numbers and all …)

I woke up with a monstrual headache and I will be going to bed with one. C’est la vie.

My favourite phrase of the moment: ‘judicially emotional & angry’. I think we should all be judicially emotional and angry – for real – how else do we deal with the insane legal and socio-political reality around us, local and beyond. And all those predators walking free.

The pandemic is taking no prisoners. Over twenty-one thousand new infections, close to four hundred new deaths.

It is devastating.

Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local.

“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 know the rain is important and I will not complain, but I do miss the warmth of sunshine. And there is just so much wind I can take …

Topolino’s window is completely fixed. May we never have to go through the mess of this ever again.

A day of work. An amazing cover in the making. And two books nearly ready for printing. The day we press the PRINT button is going to feel like a miracle. I really do not know how any of this is still somehow possible.

“#COVID19 UPDATE: A total of 70,593 tests were conducted in the last 24 hrs, with 19,506 new cases, which represents a 27.6% positivity rate. A further 383 #COVID19 related deaths have been reported, bringing total fatalities to 60,647 to date.” (NICD)

Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local.

“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

Merely the fact of fifteen unsuspended months behind bars gives me a deep sense of satisfaction. Fifteen years would have been even more comforting, but hey, I will take fifteen months just to feel a little bit better about justice in the world.

Especially on a day when I heard that someone I adore lost all her jewellery, including heirlooms from her mother, to a brazen cat burglar who will never be found and brought to justice – not in this country.

Work. Rain. Work. Rain. Work. Rain. That was the rest of Tuesday.

The roof is leaking, but I am still healthy. And someone is going to jail … :))))

Culinary highlight of the day: takeaway lunch and dinner from The Hoghouse. And their irresistible chocolate-chip cookies will brighten my morning tomorrow. Something to look forward to on another rainy winter’s day in Cape Town.

Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local.

“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

Monday. Ridiculous rains. Deluge. Freezing temperatures. Nearly missed the refuse truck again. A dripping little rat returned from the upstream run after the truck.

By lunchtime, I already had an eight-hour workday behind me. By the time I finally got into bed, six more had been added to the tally. Since I haven’t slept properly for a while, I am beyond tired – physically and mentally. The numbness has set in.

Topolino has a new window. The two kind men from Glasfit did a stellar job, but they did break my hope. I hadn’t been aware that Topolino already had smash&grab protection on the windows and had been hoping that putting it on would protect me a little bit better in the future. But it turned out that I had the protection film during the attack and it did nothing to delay the inevitable. For a pro like the one who attacked me, this was not a hindrance at all. And, sadly, it is very difficult to install bulletproof windows in a little Fiat (I did ask).

I went groceries shopping once Topolino could leave the garage today, but driving makes me all tense, agitated and terribly sad.

Tomorrow, we are getting the first takeaways to support at least a few of our favourite restaurants, but tonight I just cooked a hearty lamb stew and served it next to the fireplace where I also spent most of the evening, finishing my work. My love came for dinner. Glinka catssisted throughout. Poor Salieri is sick and I think it’s the thyroid medication that might be making her feel so miserable. I have nursing instructions from the vet, and I am monitoring her closely. And Winter Version Mozart insisted on ‘watching’ the rain from the stoep for most of the day. I think he is still out there, although his warm cat house, his favourite blanket and our bed are available for him at all times … He is beyond independent.

Tonight’s EURO 2020 games are quite something, even though I am watching with only one eye on the screen.

Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local.

“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

Spent the morning in bed, lunchtime on Skype with Mom and Krystian, and the afternoon and evening in front of my love’s fireplace, with his cats, watching the amazing Tour de France stage win of Mathieu van der Poel and the EURO 2020. My favourites lost, AGAIN, so now I am just going to cheer for the teams I would usually prefer to lose.

Level Four, adjusted. As expected, I suppose. I am trying to move whatever professional meetings possible online for the next two weeks and to somehow cope, survive. So many people I know are sick, or isolating, or recovering … My heart bleeds for all the people whose livelihoods are going to suffer even further. I am organising a small-scale personal support campaign and thinking of ordering takeaways from a few places I love, like HARU and The Hoghouse. My contributions are only drops in an ocean, but I don’t want these places to disappear.

I dread the work week ahead. I feel defeated before it even begins.

But this, in today’s Sunday Times, was lovely:

“The backstory: Breaking Milk“

Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local.

“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 beautiful day in Botrivier. The food was delicious, the wine divine, the joy palpable.

Not all my decisions were wise today, but like most others, I am just muddling through the everyday, and I learn something new with each experience. Driving is not exactly fun at the moment :(

Wales is out of the Euro 2020 – emphatically so. Not much hope for Austria tonight either, but since I don’t seem to be able to sleep much nowadays, let me watch and hope against hope. Miracles do happen …

Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local.

“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

Lethargy setting in. Not a good night. Opening my eyes took forever in the morning. I spent most of the day in bed trying to read but without much success. I listened to the radio, filled in the forms for the insurance claim, ate a lot of leftover chicken curry, and nearly jumped out of my skin when the wind unexpectedly shut a door behind me. Yes, I am feeling very sorry for myself, but it is what it is.

I just wish I could use this time to catch up on some work, and instead, all that is happening is the work is piling up even more around me. And I will have to write even more apology letters to the people I work with. Ugh.

And this weather … My roof is leaking, but I am incapable of doing anything about it. No money. No energy. There are worse things than a small puddle on the passage floor. Scarlett O’Hara mode all the way, or:

“Solve this problem later” (the artwork is a gift from my love)

Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local.

“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 platypus walks into a book … the latest Karavan Press title: Conjectures by James Leatt. Stephen Symons drew the platypus and designed the book. We are in the final production stages.

But I postponed all my meetings and commitments for today and tomorrow to early next week. Falling asleep last night wasn’t simple, but I did eventually after midnight with the TV on for the rest of the night. I couldn’t face the silence – or worse, the odd sounds – of the house. Focusing today was also not exactly easy, but I managed to do some work in bed in the morning, met on Skype with Mom and Krystian, and then went for a walk in the sun. I was quite on edge, hyper-vigilant, and relieved to get back home, but it was good to be out there in the sunlight. My insurance company phoned in the afternoon and told me how to proceed with the claim for the replacement of Topolino’s window. I will get onto it tomorrow. By late afternoon, all I could do was wash floors, hang out laundry, clean the kitchen and cook a chicken curry from a new recipe – I improvised a lot, but it was delicious. My love came to dinner. He checked up on me earlier in the day on his way to work too.

It’s impossible not to be spooked by what happened. I am also sad. And then there are moments when I am proud of myself that I did not allow the thief to take my belongings from me. Although ‘things’ had been taken, but they are not of any value to a thief.

The third wave is freaking me out. I remember reading an article earlier this year in which the Sanlam actuaries had predicted that the third would be much worse than the first two waves. All these weeks I had been hoping they would be proven wrong, but here we are, and it is only the beginning.

Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local.

“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

“No! No! Nooooo! NO! NOOOOO! NO!” I just kept screaming, and hooting, and fighting. Eventually, the light turned green, the path ahead cleared, and I just charged forward and escaped.

It all happened so quickly. The smash, the passenger’s window splintering and disappearing, the grabbing hand reaching for my handbag. But I was quicker. I don’t know how. It was probably all the rehearsing I had done in my head for exactly this kind of eventuality. I call it pre-traumatic stress syndrome, all this mental preparing for the worst-case scenarios.

Anyway, I grabbed the bag, stuck it under my right arm and just screamed “NO” on repeat, and kept banging on my hooter and fought off the intruder’s arm trying to reach the bag through the smashed window and over my body. He scratched me, but not seriously. Then, finally, the road opened in front, apart from one white car blocking my way sideways. I nearly drove into it, braked, drove around it and just ran for my life. I am not sure whether the white car was part of the setup or someone trying clumsily to help me. I know at least one other car stopped on the side and watched it all happen, but these were just glimpses, vague memories. All I really remember is my own screaming and the hooting and the brown eyes of the attacker. Although I would never be able to identify him. The police asked me for details and I could not give them anything beyond the eyes.

I was on my way to Karavan Press’s distributor. Still in shock and shaking, I decided to continue to the warehouse, because I knew that they would help me. I did not know how, but I knew they would. And they did. Phil disinfected my small scratch and put a plaster on it. Sia patched up Topolino’s window with cardboard, so that I would have some protection from the wind and rain going home. They listened, talked me through what I needed to do next, and gave me the books I came to pick up. Phil offered to accompany me to the police station, but by the time I was ready to leave, I was feeling calm enough to continue on my own. I drove straight to my police station and opened a case, then I went home and parked poor Topolino in the garage and throughout reported to Phil about my progress (he made me promise I would). Then, although I had texted her not to come, a friend arrived for a scheduled meeting (she did not get the message on time). It was actually a relief, to sit and talk books and our publishing plans. My body, all tense to the point of abdominal pain, started to relax. She brought books and chocolates and good stories. And was kind and understanding.

I then let my love know, phoned my family in Austria, contacted my insurance company, and waited until my love could pick me up after work for a comfort dinner a HARU. I had no time or headspace to organise food for us, but I knew a HARU burger and a glass of red wine would make me feel better. My love’s hugs and reassurances were like a plaster for the soul.

A hot shower, a Skype call with Mom and Krystian, a warm bed with The Cats. I feel like a survivor. I keep looking at my handbag – one I have had for over a decade, with all my documents, an external hard drive, my twenty-year-old wallet with all my cards and some cash in it, and all I can think of is that I managed to somehow save it – my EU passport is still my own and I can use it. Right now, it is an extremely appealing consideration.

I know how lucky I was. No knife. No gun. Just a greedy arm was pointed at me and my belongings. But what if …

The attacker did not wear a mask. Neither did I. Throughout the attack, one of my masks was next to me on the passenger’s seat, all covered in glass (I took the above photograph only once I was back home). But I can’t imagine that the few seconds of the attempted robbery could have put me in danger of contracting Covid-19. A doctor friend assured me that the scratch is also not a problem. But there are no masks or plasters – not even Star Wars plasters – that will protect me against a weapon, against violence.

My abdomen still hurts despite a Myprodol and the hot shower. I either pulled a muscle or the tension of my entire body has decided to concentrate there. But I am writing in a warm bed, The Cats are watching over me, my love’s phone is not on silent in case I need to phone in the middle of the night, my alarm is on, Mama TV is running in the background. Not sure about sleep, but I know I will be okay. For now, though, I just want to cry a little and to thank my lucky stars. Topolino will be fixed and I will heal.

I am just so terribly tired. And scared. And so relieved that the fucker did not get my bag!

NO. Just NO.

Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local.

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

— NICD