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

— @HaggardHawks

The day ran away with me. I did not accomplish everything I intended to, but did manage quite a lot of other stuff that wasn’t planned, and I made sure to do the two things that I promised to do for myself today: go to The Hoghouse Bakery to get a takeaway lunch snack and some treats to enjoy with my coffee, and to have a proper swim. These simple pleasures keep me sane and going even when the everyday gets tough. If I manage to swim every day, I can sit at my computer for many hours without experiencing back problems. And a chocolate chip cookie from The Hoghouse Bakery can brighten any day.

It’s going to be a working weekend. Chocolate chip cookies and swimming will help me get through it.

I was driving through Cape Town just before curfew tonight and it was quite eerie. (There is definitely less crime in our area with the curfew in place.)

The latest update from the ICU: stable again – thank all goddesses!

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 sent me this photograph from his walk today. All snowy peace and quiet.

What a night, though? I did sleep a bit but, mostly, I was wide awake staring at the CNN news feed with ever wider eyes. Eventually, I was in my polar bear suit (a furry white hoodie, a gift from my Mom that I always wear for comfort), drinking hot chocolate and still gaping a the TV at four a.m.

Psychopaths. The moment one arrives on the scene, truth and transparency go out the window, and gaslighting, manipulation, chaos and devastation follow. It was on full display last night.

I keep thinking about David Gillespie’s Taming Toxic People: The Science of Identifying & Dealing with Psychopaths at Work & at Home. It should be taught at schools, because identifying a psychopath is actually quite easy once you learn how to see through the smokes and mirrors and look straight into the horrific inner void of a monster. And dealing with them is also possible. Best solution: do not engage, walk away (or rather: RUN!).

Today was strange, of course, made stranger by tiredness and little snippets of difficult news and then no news from the ICU until late this evening. Stable – that’s all that matters!

Despite it all, I did some good editing work and had the most wonderful swim in the late afternoon. There is a new Frog Prince in my life! The previous one got a frog girlfriend and eventually they both moved on to greener pastures, or bluer pools. Not even a goodbye. I was all alone for a few weeks. But then I noticed that a new frog moved in, twice the size of the previous ones but just as shy; single. All of that shyness, however, disappeared today: I managed to not only swim next to the frog, but also pick him up and hold him in the palm of my hand, and then swim with him while he was still sitting in the palm of my hand (two full lengths!). Then he jumped off and dived to the bottom of the pool. We are a kiss away from a happily ever after, me thinks :) (he might be a she, but this is my fairy tale – a prince he is).

Just look at those legs!

Dinner with my love. Then a Skype meeting with Mom and Krystian.

Now: sleep, hopefully. Good night.

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 calmer day. I read for quite a while in the morning (Lamott, Coates & Kingsolver) – all inspiring. Then a few hours of editing and a swim at the end of the working day. The Cats joined the sunbathing session in the late afternoon sun after the swim. A few more poems from Kingsolver in the sun – I don’t want the book to end though. Luckily, it can be reread as often as needed.

‘Stable’ is becoming my most cherished word as I and many friends and loved ones await news from the ICU every day.

I am roasting a chicken for dinner.

A calmer day.

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

Just before lockdown began, Mom told me to stock up on a few things – “to strengthen your immune system”. I did. And then I read in Howard Philips’s In a Time of Plague: Memories of the ‘Spanish’ Flu Epidemic of 1918 in South Africa that the local survivors of the 1918 influenza pandemic repeatedly swore by my Mom’s recommendations (lemons, ginger and garlic) as what had kept them alive during the ‘Spanish’ flu. They also added brandy to the mix, wise people. As far as I know, my unusually non-drinking Polish mother had never even had a taste of brandy, so she is forgiven for not knowing about its immune-system-boosting properties, but she was spot-on in her list of survival ingredients otherwise.

I again have lemons, garlic and ginger and there is a little bit of cognac left in my kitchen. I am not sure about my immune system, but just having these fruits and veggies in the house makes me feel better, although they probably protect me from the coronavirus as effectively as they protect me from vampires. What definitely counts for the psychosomatic part of confronting the pandemic is the idea of care, care for oneself and for others. Wearing a mask, social distancing, hand washing are also part of the protective layers we can easily put around ourselves and others in order to at least attempt to keep safe from this horrible virus. With care.

It has been rough, especially when facing the maskless carelessness of others. We are all paying a horrendous price.

And now the vaccines are exposing another kind of carelessness that I find highly disturbing. I also want to get a vaccine against this virus and the disease it causes. But I want it because I want the pandemic and the suffering that it causes to end. What worries me is that there are many people who want it simply because they want to continue being careless, and they will, of course, do whatever it takes to get their shot. The selfishness and greed and yes, carelessness, involved are staggering.

The day began with a headache that wouldn’t go away. I drank water, had coffee, went for a walk, but the headache would not lift. Tension, I assume, although, of course, there’s always that other possibility that causes much of the tension in the first place. But I have no other symptoms, so I am not too worried. Salieri told me to get back into bed and be lazy with her, but eventually, I took a painkiller and was dazed for most of the rest of the day, yet could at least do my work – which was really lovely today because I returned to my editing job that I am really enjoying. There was also some admin, but nothing major. I did not accomplish everything that I wanted to, but a lot got done. At the end of the day, I even managed a swim before lighting a fire and braaing steaks for our dinner. And over lunch, I skyped with Mom and Krystian. They are also experiencing all sorts of tension symptoms. That’s the nature of a pandemic – even when you are not ill yourself, you are dealing with so much stress that it has to manifest somehow.

A fire always soothes me.

Good night.

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 twelve-hour work-Monday. Need I say more?

No photographs were taken today, so above is one of my favourite images. It portrays exactly how I feel right now.

But: things got done. And I managed to cook a nice dinner for my love. And now: I am going to have a glass of red wine, stare blankly at the TV, hoping that the most recent tangerine-troll-loony-news-loop is over (although, god knows what he might have done again just a few minutes ago …), think about what needs to be tackled tomorrow (too much!), and go to sleep.

I had the most incredibly vivid dreams last night. It was strange to wake up with all those stories in my head again.

I have taken to regular secular praying. Someone dear is still in the ICU, fighting. I remember once smuggling G&Ts into the hospital when we were both visiting someone together and how she couldn’t believe that I’d actually done it. But the person we were visiting was craving a G&T and I will do anything for my friends, including smuggling booze into a hospital ward. Now, I am visualising the three of us again, drinking G&Ts and laughing and celebrating when all of this is behind us.

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 cannot believe it is almost time to return to my desk full-time. But luckily, I should be wrapping up a few things in the next week and then taking real time off to just rest properly without any pressure.

Today, I did work a bit, but took it easy for most of the Sunday. I swam and sunbathed with Glinka in the afternoon. She was first meowing at the edge of the pool, telling me to get out, and then cuddling with me on the blanket in the sun. She even forgave me the flea treatment she’d reluctantly received with the other feline family members in the morning. She was quite skeptical about the moisturising mask I put on my face after the swim though. It did not cover the nose and mouth properly, you see, and Glinka thinks that masks should be worn correctly. Wise Glinka.

I finished another Bosch novel and have no other to turn to. I am hitting the bookshops tomorrow for the next fix. I do, however, have some deeply satisfying poetry to read: Barbara Kingsolver’s How to Fly (when I can get it away from Salieri).

A gift from my love, this is poetry on another level. And the book itself as an object is so beautiful.

I have decided to do the Goodreads reading challenge this year and set my goal for 2021 at sixty books. It is what I managed this year, not counting the few books I had worked on (and read each several times). The sixty should be mostly reading for pleasure. Let’s see. I known that most people read much less than that, but I also know quite a few readers, including my love, who will read at least double in a year. What amazes me are aspiring writers who read much less.

Off to bed. Early night after a pizza and TV evening with my love.

Is it really January 2021 already?

How did this 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

We read, swam, sunbathed, chatted on Skype with family, read some more and had dinner with our love. Painkillers and purring and human love helped us through the day. One has to be kind to oneself. Especially when the wind is making one go insane.

In the evening, I watched the wonderful Kinky Boots film.

More news of friends being infected. I keep wondering whether people actually know when and how they got this terrible virus, the specific circumstances? Sadly, for some it must be obvious (frontline healthcare workers, for example). But where do I go for the less obvious stories?

We all know what we are supposed to do not to get infected, but I keep hearing about people becoming ill even though they were being very cautious.

This constant fear can’t be good for one either.

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

2021. The finality of Brexit. One of its casualties is Erasmus – the international exchange programme that brought me to Wales for a year twenty years ago, one of the most formative experiences of my life. I can’t believe that other students will no longer have this opportunity. What a loss, on top everything else.

My year began with a monster monstrual headache and a bout of insomnia, but because of the latter I could tune in to my favourite Austrian radio station and listen to the traditional St. Stephen’s Cathedral bells ringing live at midnight in Vienna and to the first song of 2021: ‘Jerusalema’. I used it as an opportunity to finally catch-up with the original and the challenge – I am probably the last person with an internet connection on the planet who did not know what all of it was really about … I am a dinosaur in many respects. The last song they played before midnight was the top requested song of 2020 and my favourite of the year: The Weekeend’s ‘Blinding Lights’.

At our midnight here in Cape Town, I lighted a candle in memory of all the people who died due to Covid-19. We still haven’t reached the peak of the second wave and the numbers are shocking already. I keep thinking of all the people left behind, mourning their loved ones – millions of people worldwide. So much loss.

I slept eventually and woke up early to no water in the house. My love was supposed to spend the day with me, but after this news, I drove over to his house and we welcomed the new year with being lazy together, reading, listening to music, napping, eating leftovers. I returned home in the late afternoon and continued with the laziness on my own on the couch in front of the TV. I might have eaten potato chips for dinner.

I am tired of being tired, but my tiredness is irrelevant in comparison to frontline healthcare workers’. I don’t know how they are coping. So let’s keep one another as safe as we can this year, so that they and everyone else can get a rest. We all need it.

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 orchids. Rachel gave me hers, hoping I could save it. Karen and Gerhard brought one when André passed away. Tracey gave me another as a gift. I inherited one from Emma when she emigrated. The one that has refused to bloom all these years but is now finally about to flower came from Rahla. And the little one is from Gustav and Family. The orchids live in my bathroom and mystify me. I haven’t inherited my green-fingered Mom’s gift; growing things usually defies me. My garden is a wild jungle that thrives without my interference.

I water the orchids once a week in summer and once a fortnight in winter. Otherwise, I just let them be. And when they are ready to share it, I simply marvel at their outrageous beauty.

Like my orchids, I am extremely patient. Rahla’s is about to bloom for the first time in six years. I can’t wait to see what colour the flowers will be. Emma’s arrived without most of its roots. I put it in a new pot, supported by small poles, so that it could remain upright. In a few weeks’ time, I will remove the poles. New roots have grown nearly strong enough to be able to support the plant. I also wonder what colour its flowers will be – one day. The little one is growing a new leaf since its arrival. One tiny step at a time.

Luckily, by now, Rachel’s and Tracey’s flower regularly in all their glory.

The grief orchid always reminds me of the kindness that sustained me through the most devastating time of my life.

I grew up with the superstition that the last day of the year will prophesy the year ahead. I spent the last day of 2019 next to my love on a flight from Vienna to Cape Town, reading the latest novel by Sarah Lotz. We arrived home just before midnight, showered, opened a small bottle of Austrian bubbly to celebrate the new year and slept a deep, content sleep of satisfied travellers with stories to tell.

Whenever I fly, I cannot help myself, I still think of death. It is nearly six years now since André passed away next to me on a plane flying over Brazzaville. I have flashbacks to that flight whenever I board a plane. Fortunately, they are no longer followed by panic attacks or bouts of despair. Time and love can heal one.

Despite the pandemic and lockdown, my love and I travelled a lot this year, mostly in the Western Cape, but also to Botswana, making the most amazing memories and celebrating our fourth anniversary of being together during one of these trips. And we met at a time when I had no leaves, no roots and thought I would never be able to blossom again …

Reading and working with authors I love saved my sanity this year, giving me a purpose when everything else seemed nearly meaningless in the face of what we were facing.

I spent a lot of time thinking about death this year. But I am landing safely again at the end of this rough journey. I am still healthy. Thanks to the love and support of my family, my love and my friends, I have survived.

Another new year eve’s superstition I grew up with: never leave any dirty laundry for the new year.

Today was a day of being with loved ones, of care and gentleness. I walked with a friend who needed company. I tied up a few loose admin and work ends. My love and I walked together and had a braai for two and shared a little bit of delicious wine before it was time for him to head home because of the curfew. I raised a glass of bubbly on Skype with Mom and Krystian. I am now ready for bed.

My laundry basket is empty. My heart is full despite the sorrow it has endured …

Best books of 2020?

For me, the ones I have had the privilege of publishing: Karavan Press

New year’s resolutions:

1) Keep healthy.

2) Publish more beautiful Karavan Press books.

3) Finish my own next book.

Life is like taking care of orchids. You never know what the one who arrives on your doorstep will need. You will have to be patient and kind. Sometimes you will have to let them just be. They might have to grow new roots and leaves or rest for a long time until they are ready to open up to the world again. But when the time comes, they will reward you with their astounding beauty. It only takes water and time. And hope. And love. Those everyday miracles.

It also helps to wash one’s dirty laundry before embarking on a new beginning.

Healthy and happy 2021!

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 am getting lost in books, reading several simultaneously and editing one when it is time to work. Being able to focus feels like a blessing again right now. Those 497 recorded deaths yesterday, the sixty thousand excess deaths I heard about today, all the reported new infections and the news of a friend’s closest family member fighting for recovery after being put on a ventilator is all very difficult to process.

I woke up with a headache today and immediately panicked, but then I realised that it is that time of the month and that it was perfectly normal to feel this kind of awful, and I just lay there with Glinka purring on my chest and relief washing over me.

Nadia Davids wrote today: “I’m so weary of being wary of and for people. It’s impossible, exhausting, this low-grade constant simultaneous fear of others and the fear that you may in turn be a danger to them.”

I read, worked, swam, sunbathed with The Cats, walked with my love. He is cooking dinner for us as I type. Tomorrow, I want to spoil us with a new dish I discovered in one of my favourite cookbooks this morning. I try to focus on the everyday pleasures, on words and stories, on light and warmth – everything else feels too overwhelming to contemplate right now.

Be kind. Wear a mask. Support local.

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

— NICD