I had two people around on Friday, and I was very chuffed with what one had to say:
“Your house is like a global village.”
From the top:
Morocco: the Fez hanging on the wall
New York: the shaggy rug
Bauhaus: the perspex chair
India: Doc's original Bollywood pictures, and a picture of the God of Strength
Thailand: The gold statue and buddha, a lame lamp
Burma: Cue other gold statue
Mediterranean: Ant's mosaic vase she made for me
France: Old school French advert pictures
That 70s Show: 3RM's retro 70s armchairs
African: wire beaded protea, picture of Ponte Tower, wooden bowls from Tanzania and Mozambique, reed baobab tree, and a box covered in Chappies wrappers (The Transkei, they say. Being Eastern Cape boys)
Old school war trunk: Finneas Fogg travelling around the world in 80 days
Antique tin collection: The Depression in the UK
America: the corporate art I have hanging on my wall...it's NICE corporate art though
Japan: a print by a Japanese artist
Russia: one of those dolls, with mini dolls inside it
East Rand: Blown up picture of a sign post that says Boksburg, Benoni, Brakpan in various directions
Zanzibar, Seychelles, Bazaruto Islands: shells
Ireland: a tin of chocolate leprechauns
Yeah so that was enlightening.
Spent much of this weekend holed in. It's bitterly cold, it's overcast, I'm hibernating. Spent much of it drilling holes into the wall with my madre, eating soup and mooching around watching the E! Channel.
I put on 80 layers and headed to Woolworths. Needed another jersey. And foodstuffs.
Lady at cashier: Eish, you have so much ...sweet stuff.
Lady: Eish, you want to eat all of this?
Peas: Are you judging me?
Peas: No, no. No 'Eish'. Are you judging me bitch?
Peas: OK, so YES, I plan to eat hot malva sticky pudding under my duvet. And then drink 8000 cups of hot chocolate, and try and remain sane in this bitterly cold, fuck.
Peas: Yes alone! Well, actually no, Klo is coming round to eat sweet hot foodstuffs with me under the warm wrapping of 3 duvets, not that you know her, but you seem to take a vested interest in the 'sweetening up' my cold time, so heavens knows what you think of my thermal vests I am buying right now.”
Good grief. What has the world come to when you can't by groceries (not condoms, groceries) without being judged. Eish wena.
So Klo came over and lay on my mat and purred. And we also opened a bottle of wine and played lots of Shithead, feeling a little blue, you know.
Then we found a new pub. By which no means I suggest you go here for a quality, pretentious time, except if you like the bush, then you might like it.
The Bushveld Pub & Diner. Holy, like, God.
OK, it's as if you're in Standerton.
There are bushveld painted murals and they serve Guinness, but it's like you're in KleinBietjiesfontein. And this place is in Craighall.
Live music and all (all the classics your mum dances to after a few spritzers), Klo and I found some young uns and ended up having a blast...at the Bushveld Pub & Diner.
So Sunday afternoon I finally get out and peaked, so therefore Monday=ball ache. Had bad dreams last night, tossing and turning, the kitchen light exploded in my face, and I cut my hand on the TV cabinet.
Bad Monday, and I've been up for 20 minutes.