tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33905787610249505732012-01-10T16:13:19.160+02:00Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.comBlogger701100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-6547727406348651302011-06-22T14:22:00.001+02:002011-06-22T14:22:18.270+02:00

“Fairy Tales are more than true; not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.” G. K. Chesterton

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-49707291326564179772011-06-07T09:47:00.000+02:002011-06-07T09:47:49.127+02:00

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-62792246303352462752011-05-30T09:48:00.002+02:002011-05-30T09:48:56.308+02:00

Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-87963574233884561062011-05-25T13:49:00.000+02:002011-05-25T13:49:02.371+02:00

i don't care about punctuation and people who offer to make me tea make me cry don't be nice to me please

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-19089860137968925962011-01-24T15:52:00.000+02:002011-01-24T15:55:54.109+02:00

Feeling a little nostalgic, not to mention bored, I decided to have a little fiddle. It's been over a year since I posted anything. In the mean time, I see Blogger have added a stats page. And surprise, surprise, *someone* out there has stumbled across Up & Left. It's kinda a nice feeling. So, to whoever you are, if you happen to come back, thanks - a lot!(And, stay tuned ...)

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-28246418763509780372009-09-29T09:04:00.000+02:002009-09-29T09:07:56.093+02:00

"You're like a completely different person!" she blurted.And I laughed."This is who I normally am, you just haven't seen it for a while."Or ever. Or ever? Thought thought. You've known each other for 6 years, has it really been that long or is something new brewing, boiling, rising, ready to spill over? Which do you see more clearly, the red, or the green? Red, green? Red ... green ....- i'm

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-60839278563877994862009-08-19T16:37:00.000+02:002009-08-19T16:41:57.598+02:00

When smoking white-tipped cigarettes. Always, and I mean ALWAYS, check which end you're putting in your mouth.

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-70910268077682133382009-08-18T08:37:00.000+02:002009-08-18T08:45:01.589+02:00

I saw two guys wearing the same hoodie. It had broad white and dove-gray stripes. They were on opposite sides of the road, they walked in opposite directions, they were pretty much the same height too. One had his hood up (it's raining here and cold).The other spotted him as they reach the same median and turned to look back at his counterpart. I wondered what he was thinking:1/ Damn that guy's

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-1261611718264753992009-08-17T13:50:00.000+02:002009-08-17T14:01:57.988+02:00

I shower, make tea, feed the cats and shuffle back to my room to make my bed.The covers are still warm. And I resist the urge to dive back in.Then I pull open my curtains ... 08h04. July 31, 2009.

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-55123554628242449032009-07-22T15:36:00.000+02:002009-07-22T15:49:26.941+02:00

I finally watched “He’s just not that into you” last night. I I’ve seen the Sex and the City episode that kicked off the phenomenon. I think the book came out when I was mid breakup. Natch, the last thing I wanted to hear was that he just wasn’t that into me. Sadly, my mom had picked it up (the phrase, not the book) and in trying to consol me blurted it down the phone. Ah, tough love. Needless to

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-54930996968343699842009-06-25T10:11:00.000+02:002009-06-25T10:27:54.252+02:00

After a week of arguing about compound adjectives, hyphens, upper case vs. lower case and ellipsis, I'm frustrated, tired and seriously considering becoming a receptionist. So, I immersed myself in my favourite design blogs and stumbled upon a new one after following a link posted at Hot Buttered Toast and found these two Absolutely Beautiful Things:I wish I could see more of this dress. I love

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-39910937536304199062009-06-10T12:21:00.000+02:002009-06-12T08:36:08.067+02:00

Every now and then I get to travel for business. It’s not as glamorous as it sounds, mostly because I don’t actually go anywhere glamorous or vaguely exotic. People I know jetset off to distant lands like Morocco, unheard off countries in South America, Europe; per diem in hand. When I travel on the company, I’m never asked to take my passport. One day I’ll be asked to go somewhere exciting,

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-15560751667908814872009-06-03T09:28:00.000+02:002009-06-10T12:39:46.069+02:00

Every so often, I arrive at work to find my telephone blinking at me. Innocent enough, but it becomes infuriating when, after frantic button pushing, it. doesn’t. stop.I. WANT. IT. TO. STOP. Pleeeeeease. Make. It. Stop.I know what you’re thinking – technophobe. (Is it because I’m a girl? Would you like to meet the soul of my fabulous new boots?) I’m NOT a technophobe. I pour over website after

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-2246766521756440672009-06-02T16:10:00.000+02:002009-06-02T16:12:37.174+02:00

I got sucked in AGAIN. And got a headache for my trouble. The trouble is I love cute alicebands. And trouble doubled when I popped into Woolies recently to buy a hen party present and walked out with six alicebands. I couldn’t resist. Even though that little voice in my head was shrieking: don’t do it. You know they hurt you. You know you only wear them for 10mins before you pull them off and

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-7593190869343333892009-05-21T15:07:00.000+02:002009-05-22T09:17:18.093+02:00

It's May. I've shaken out my feather duvet and mohair blanket. I've dusted off my oil heater. Slippers don't get put away and Oscar has started sleeping on my head and wakes me up in the morning by scratching to get under the covers and curl up in my stomach/groin/thigh crook. It's cold and it's getting colder.Yesterday was a freakishly warm, almost tropical, day. The prom in Sea Point buzzed

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-33985006010553090532009-05-15T13:38:00.000+02:002009-05-15T14:07:22.189+02:00

This weekend, I need to have one of my tyres repaired/replaced because at some point before last weekend, I drove over something (it's looking like a nail) and by Sunday afternoon my back passenger tyre was pap.I KNEW something was wrong with my car.I heard a weird noise, coming from what sounded like my back passenger tyre. I actually stopped the car to check it out. Couldn't see anything, so

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-15061329227148924302009-05-14T10:08:00.000+02:002009-05-14T16:46:03.823+02:00

I finally saw the new VW Golf ad last night, after hearing friends and breakfast show DJs talking about it. There are few ads out there that I'm happy to watch over and over and over again. This one is one, and another stellar from O&M. We played it in the office, not a dry eye in the house!Great work O&M and well done to the VW client for buying into an ad that is at the opposite end of the

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-37511653962281915482009-05-13T11:32:00.000+02:002009-05-14T16:25:02.750+02:00

I desperately want to get a new couch, but can’t bare the thought of Oscar scratching it to bits. Yes, he has a scratching post. Yes, I should’ve been a lot tougher on him when he was a kitten. Anyway… I started taking him to the vet to have his nails clipped. It had reached the stage when it wasn’t just my furniture that was bearing the brunt of his sharp claws, but my arms and legs too. You

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-57200468696683992272009-05-11T12:14:00.000+02:002009-05-11T14:07:19.802+02:00

It's been a crazy few weeks in my world, between work, a wedding, birthday and birth days, a christening and everything in-between, I’ve had no time to potter at home and find my zen.After 3 days of intense, eerie, thrilling, midweek mist, I woke on Saturday morning to startlingly clear skies, warm-hot sun and a beautiful day. So after schloefing around in my jammies, a couple of cups of tea and

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-17835459153892034902009-05-08T13:23:00.000+02:002009-05-08T14:57:40.284+02:00

A friend of mine got married recently and, for the first time in my life, I was asked to be a bridesmaid! So in the run-up to the wedding (she had only 10 weeks to plan it, and no, she isn’t knocked-up) I immersed myself in Google Image searches (from bridesmaids to dress and all the variants in-between), Vera Wang On Weddings and as many wedding blogs I could find!My bride had a vision and a

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-72172424316429955502009-05-07T12:08:00.000+02:002009-05-14T10:21:23.875+02:00

I recently did one of those personality profiles at work (you know the ones). I was impressed with the results, it was pretty accurate (ha! the details go with me to my cremation) except one: Roles that require empathy or sympathy may not suit her. My knee jerk reaction to this was: WTF?! I have empathy and sympathy (cue indignant glare and pursed lips).BUT in observing my interactions with

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-83636206231509488772009-05-05T17:32:00.000+02:002009-05-05T17:48:33.468+02:00

I don't really have anything important to say other than it's T minus 30 before I kick back and enjoy the sweet taste of a strawberry margarita, a plate of nachos and the company of great gals I used to work with. We try and get together once a month. (I think we're averaging once every 6 months, on account of working in advertising, The Amazing Race and Cath's Italian classes.)Outside, the sun

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-45883663055252160942009-04-23T12:31:00.008+02:002009-04-23T13:16:53.471+02:00

Ally and I have voted together for the last couple of elections because we vote at the same spot. So this year, we agreed to meet at 7 at Vida for a takeaway latte and walk up to Laerskool Jan van Riebeeck. Voting stations opened at 7am so we thought we’d get there, get in, make our marks and be out of there in about 30 min!So I woke up in the dark and debated whether to have a shower or just

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-25813229366975515202009-04-16T17:09:00.002+02:002009-04-16T17:18:12.518+02:00

ff After a brief respite, 503 was at it again. And this time, they were not alone. As a rule, I don’t believe in god. But there are some nights where I’m convinced that the god-I-don’t-believe-in really does exist and is furiously conducting his latest work just to teach me a lesson.So, I’m in bed. It’s 11pm. Wa-hay past my bedtime and as I nestle into the warmth of my duvet and hide my toes

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-80522221079082769562009-04-09T10:46:00.002+02:002009-04-09T10:48:52.641+02:00

But shitnuts, I wish I was sometimes. It helps that I live alone so I can go home and not have to talk to anyone. This week has been exceptionally crazy. Working late. Full-focus mode at work. Not enough hours in the day. Playing Creative Director-Creative Director. Did I really sign up for this? The only thing that's holding me together is the long weekend ahead and getting away to

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-80279553457492855412009-04-07T08:47:00.001+02:002009-04-07T08:47:58.569+02:00

Cars that cut me offIn morning rush hour trafficMake me want to kill

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-71848827440384145812009-04-06T15:38:00.003+02:002009-04-06T15:42:29.529+02:00

I'm fascinated by signage in public toilets. I'm not talking about advertising on the back of toilet doors, I'm talking about signs that the establishment types up in word, prints and prestics to the back of the door. I'm horrified that people need to be reminded to flush! There's a certain amount of irony that this is needed in a Ladies loo!This one I found in the Ladies toilet at Oblivion, a

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-32441693231695315632009-03-31T09:22:00.002+02:002009-03-31T09:23:42.047+02:00

right-hand lane hoggersespecially on de waalmake me want to kill

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-5516627709339824172009-03-27T13:22:00.002+02:002009-04-06T08:32:27.165+02:00

Last night I went to watch Dear Reader (formally Harris Tweed) at The Assembly for the launch of their new album. It was with much anticipation and excitement that I bought the tickets weeks ago – I’ve been waiting for their new album for months. I wasn’t disappointed. The evening kicked off late, but anyone from Cape Town will shrug and disclaim: it’s Cape Town. (Something I’ve never really got

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-72759383016250924592009-03-23T16:03:00.003+02:002009-03-31T15:49:38.097+02:00

It doesn't happen often. In fact, I can't remember the last time it did - but then, why would I? Firmly in my 30s, there's a lot I don't remember. It used to only happen to people my parents' ages: you know, walking into another room to get/do something, only to completely forget as soon as you step over the threshold. It's a mystery. And, to my horror, it's happening to me more and more.There's

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-72292347492623354422009-03-20T11:34:00.004+02:002009-03-20T11:44:52.419+02:00

503: It could be the name of a new club that’s opened in Cape Town. Come to think of it, considering the amount of noise that comes from 503, it could be a new club that’s opened in Cape Town. Unfortunately, it’s not. It’s the flat above me. And I’m going (not-so-quietly) insane.I suspect, since I knocked on their door to (very sweetly) ask them to shut-the-fuck-up, that they’ve begun devising

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-86552481934711612532009-03-17T12:49:00.007+02:002009-03-17T13:02:49.086+02:00

A regular occurrence in the loading zone outside my local grocery store. This time, I had the camera ready.And then, to my delight, it happened twice in ten minutes!Notice how there’s always one guy who just stands around and watches while everyone else pitches in to help pack up. Wanker.(I’m not sure why I find it so funny since I’m the poor sod that might end up buying whatever landed on the

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-34234125625254112352009-03-12T11:30:00.016+02:002009-03-12T17:03:43.790+02:00

My friend Sam is doing a photograph collective for an internal project at her agency. She’s asked people to take a photo of the first things they see in the morning and write down their first thoughts/what they say to their loved ones in the morning. (The idea is that most of us work with the same people every day, but there’s a lot about their lives that we never see!) She’s compiling all the

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-84474004174893282192009-03-09T14:03:00.000+02:002009-03-09T14:04:33.008+02:00

There are many things in life over which we have little to no control. Like the way other people drive, like the kind of service you’re offered, like the dress you’re asked to wear as a bridesmaid. Basically, any time someone else is involved, the only thing you have any control over is self-control.This is when you need to be a go-with-the-flow person.I’m not. I try very hard, but I don’t always

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-23810767069239562902009-03-06T10:30:00.002+02:002009-03-06T10:38:03.862+02:00

“Normal” people even.I’m talking about those little idiosyncrasies that most people keep secret, either because they’ve convinced themselves that they’re completely normal, or don’t want others to think them strange. (I know because I’m one of them.) Until the day they’re faced with having to explain their peculiar behaviour. (As a person prone to littering my conversations and motions with

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-32708702869306735892009-02-17T15:55:00.002+02:002009-02-17T16:05:39.172+02:00

when you are brushing your teeth? Staring into the mirror last night, thinking that I really need to get a new toothbrush, I pondered yet again why they never seem to use toothpaste in the movies. Thorough teeth brushing can be a messy business (well for me anyway: fcuk, I’ve messed toothpaste on my top over my right boob, again, and need to change the top!). Extended brushing can also mean a

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-68677573907125734462009-02-16T13:34:00.001+02:002009-02-16T13:36:03.922+02:00

I woke up early on Saturday, 14 Feb. That’s what happens when the cats are thundering around the flat, which always ends in hissing and a disgruntled meow from Duchess. I blame myself really, I’ve never taught Oscar to play gently. And now the neighbour’s cat (who’s come to stay for a while) is baring the brunt of his roughhousing. At least she’s getting a bit of action!I pottered around and had

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-74261871406575556502009-02-13T14:55:00.001+02:002009-02-13T14:57:55.149+02:00

It's Friday and I've got that Friday Feeling, aka doing precious little except browsing my favourite sites that I've sorely neglected lately. Except that, when you don't check a blog for a while there is reams and reams to read, which is infinitely more satisfying.I also know that I've sorely neglected my own blog. If it were a child it would be in foster care and I'd be in gaol. The thing is, at

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-80869787751835319222008-12-04T13:32:00.001+02:002008-12-04T13:34:07.753+02:00

I’ve only been at my new job for a month, so I’m still getting to know my colleagues and what makes them tick. Or should that be who makes them tick?I was sitting with Claire, helping her with a TVC script when Sonja, our producer wandered over to Claire’s desk. She’d got engaged the night before and was showing off her beautiful ring. Squeaks of congratulations were flying through the air space

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-80098591462968750472008-10-17T15:18:00.002+02:002008-10-17T15:33:28.357+02:00

Yesterday evening I was having a smoke on my balcony. When I'm still coming down from the day I tend to lean into the balcony wall and dangle myself over it, with a few feeble pliés thrown in for good measure. What else is there to do when you're just standing there? (It's all part of the music video that is my life.) So, I was in this position yesterday evening when, down in the street below, a

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-76597256990543331882008-09-12T09:47:00.003+02:002008-09-12T09:59:18.551+02:00

Dynamic and changing. I understand this. Language evolves, over time, which is why we say knight with a silent ‘K’ and no reference to the ‘GH’ rather than the Chaucerian way… hard ‘K’, ‘n’ and ‘i’ and then, mustering up as much phlegm and spit as possible, into gggggggggggh and a sharp ‘t’. I wonder, did those folks mind wiping the spittle off their brow and cheeks? Or is it just me that can’t

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-71595254742537031282008-09-05T11:49:00.001+02:002008-09-05T11:57:14.858+02:00

stories, songs, magic spellsnot yet slippingjust sipping the warmth ofwhispered wishesspinning on the edgeevery seventh swell is a wavespilling secrets from the deepshifting sand between my toes

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-83318619767614828262008-09-02T09:19:00.001+02:002008-09-02T09:24:02.448+02:00

As the US braces itself for another hurricane, Cape Town was battered and bullied by a storm of its own this weekend. Foam and sea water hurled itself on to Beach Rd in Sea Point and the houses at Bakoven stood bravely in the face of eminent destruction. It made the front page. The little haven of a beach vanished beneath the waves.I experienced my own little piece of the action at The Palms. A

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-82431021663185308962008-08-29T11:07:00.002+02:002008-08-29T11:09:16.236+02:00

No, I don't think advertising is evil.No, I'm not going to tint my eyebrows.No, I'm NOT going to grow my pit hair.

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-67251218936912508822008-08-26T08:28:00.003+02:002008-08-26T08:52:39.839+02:00

So, I finally have a new phone. When I got my "flippy-phone" two years ago, I thought they were really cool. Little did I know how many people I'd cut off attempting the one-finger-flip to open the phone, and then the increase in my phone bill when I'd call them back with "I'm so sorry, I cut you off". Sigh.Sunday was the day, to get my upgrade. I'm back to Nokia (thank god) and it's really a

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-89011543123892085992008-08-18T12:45:00.002+02:002008-08-18T12:57:58.679+02:00

Every day, without fail, the following type of email gets “sent to all” at work:“Does anyone have a charger for a (insert make and model no. here) cell phone?”Now, there are instances when your cell phone dies… like when you’re at a three-day music festival and there’s no electricity. Or you go away for the weekend and you leave your charger at home. Or you battery is dying, as they do, and

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-4947131290817319012008-08-14T14:28:00.004+02:002011-01-24T16:01:23.152+02:00

Hers was bad. And it's put me in a bad mood. She's new. She's a PA. I was helpful and she gave me attitude.MS Word, as a programme, can be infuriating if you don't know how to use it properly. My solution to this is the Help Menu. (Funny that!) After all, that's what it's there for. A little persistence and perseverance goes a long way and I've learnt many cool tricks and snappy shortcuts in my

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-18279552934174095932008-08-08T13:03:00.004+02:002008-08-08T13:13:03.233+02:00

It's times like this that I wish I were an Art Director, that my knowledge of Photoshop was a bit more than extremely basic, that I were blessed with original visual ideas and that Photoshop hadn't been lost when my machine was upgraded. However, I'm thankful that I work with a studio filled with Art Directors who are sometimes willing to take up my causes... like birthday or baby shower invites

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-3854468551680809212008-08-06T15:58:00.000+02:002008-08-08T10:50:02.713+02:00

Oh, she’s lovely. Her name is Ruby and she’s a 3-month old Dauschhund puppy. Kim, one of our Project Managers, has brought her to work for the past few days. I first caught wind of her as squeals of delight skipped down the passage and through my office door. Normally, I think that animals should be left at home, and dogs, in the garden. Work is no place for them. But, there’s no doubt that a

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-45113062923307685692008-07-14T11:18:00.000+02:002008-08-08T10:50:49.342+02:00

Sunday was a glorious day. The sun was shining, although it wasn’t all that warm, but it made a difference. Roger (my boet) and I went for our first surf in months at Muizenberg. (Please bear in mind that I use the term “surf” loosely!) And as is our habit, we went for coffee and something to eat when we had got out of the water, dressed and packed the car. It’s been so long since I’ve been there

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-83099711282530683092008-07-10T09:48:00.001+02:002008-08-08T13:15:00.374+02:00

Encounters is on in Cape Town and this weekend I went to watch two films: Bustin’ Down the Door and Note by Note. The first told the story of a group of young South African and Ozzie surfers that turned the 1970’s surf culture in Hawaii upside-down. They didn’t just open the door to professional surfing; they (as the title suggests) went in kicking and screaming. And for those of you who have

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-61586909319461545172008-07-09T14:32:00.000+02:002008-07-09T14:54:27.617+02:00

Last night, visiting Alv and Lin for TAR (the amazing race), emerging from the loo... (it's quite a feat when I only need to go once):Me: I'm warning you that I've mauled the new toilet roll in your guest loo.(Although, 10 points to me for actually changing the roll.)Lin (laughing): It's because it's 1-ply and really stuck down so you have to rip 50 layers off before you have access to loo

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-6687210485302344722008-07-04T10:54:00.000+02:002008-07-09T14:27:11.108+02:00

I'm a copywriter and I work in advertising. I've long since come to terms with Art Directors' resistance to include punctuation in headlines. "It looks funny", they insist. I get that they see letters as shapes, rather than the words themselves. And sometimes, on days when I'm feeling magnanimous or simply don't feel like banging my head against a brick wall, I'll let it go. Come to think of it,

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-13780826380616811782008-07-01T11:38:00.000+02:002008-07-01T12:06:38.832+02:00

I was eating a chocolate brownie. I didn’t have a side plate, or a serviette, so I held it delicately and ate it swiftly, sitting at my desk. As I revelled in the richness of my midmorning treat, I slid my mouse across my desk to my left hand (it’s a Mac mouse, so it doesn’t matter which side it’s on). My hand promptly seized in a moment of performance anxiety. It reminded me of piano days, a

Wendznoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-7319055245496510352008-03-28T14:48:00.000+02:002008-03-28T14:51:37.310+02:00

For the longest time, I’ve wished that I could feel tipsy all the time. Not in a bourgeoning alcoholic way, but in that warm, everything’s ok, everything’s funny, I’m funny and relaxed and happy kinda way.I’ve just got back from an extended lunch, and I had a bit of wine. I need to put this in context for you: I’m a cheap date. I’m a two-glass-and-girl-down kinda girl. Bridget Jones said: Now

Wendznoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-16051693297111060522008-03-25T18:43:00.000+02:002008-03-25T18:54:16.572+02:00

I think, for the first time, I get that line in Keene's song. Rob and Tink got married, Alv and Lin got married. Rob's off on an extended Indo adventure. Georgia's pregnant. Diane's pregnant. Mike and Georgia are talking about Australia, and Ally and Craig are talking about New Zealand. And so it goes... change. I'm still trying to work out how I feel about all of it happening at once. It's the

Wendznoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-15253162794833955682008-03-18T17:51:00.000+02:002008-03-18T17:59:52.009+02:00

(If you’re a little naive in the ways of waxing, see the glossary at the end of this post.)A trip to the Hollywood HillsIt’s not what you think. It really amounted to a miscommunication, or non-communication. And, it probably was my fault. But really, before smoothing hot wax on to one of the most sensitive areas of the female body, let’s just double-check, shall we?I needed a wax. I made the

Wendznoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-86330734124190973802008-03-18T17:14:00.000+02:002008-03-18T17:19:51.120+02:00

I know, I know, we all have airport horror stories to tell but it never ceases to amaze me how boorish people become when they are at the airport. Somehow, any sense of logic and calm is left in the parking lot and is rapidly replaced by panic and psychosis. And it breeds. Faster than you can say: .There is the elderly woman, overly made up with her ill-fitting wig that self-righteously jumps the

Wendznoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-6397289656650406412008-03-06T17:46:00.000+02:002008-03-06T17:57:23.172+02:00

(Not for the faint-hearted or wussy boys.)This will be a collection of stories of some of the hilarious positions I’ve found myself in as a woman, trying to tame her pubic hair. (If you’ve already shuddered or shrieked at my candor, then may I suggest you stop reading here, and try: Catnip or A Stiff Upper Lip)When it comes to bikini (et al.) waxes, I’m not a prude. There’s only one way for the

Wendznoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-57117918849720794862008-03-05T13:36:00.000+02:002008-03-05T13:38:25.830+02:00

S: Snobbery N: No holds barred L: Loathing V: VehemenceSunday was a beautiful day. It was sunny and hot and although it’s early March, there is already a feeling of “make the most of the good weather while you can”. I off course woke up (when it was) too late, having been at a wedding the night before, and in no mood to rouse myself for a beach or other mission. Clearly I’m getting better at

Wendznoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-6235594809686605682008-02-22T10:47:00.000+02:002008-02-22T10:48:32.759+02:00

If I am because I think, and I am what I eat, where does that leave food for thought?

Wendznoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-64063780591756378762008-02-21T15:54:00.000+02:002008-02-21T15:55:46.258+02:00

Last night, I went to dinner with Nicola. She tentatively suggested Primi Piati at the Waterfront. Tentatively because she knows how much I despise going there. She explained that the restaurant had undergone a serious revamp, was much bigger than before, and had a great smoking section (believe it or not, us smokers don’t relish the thought of sitting in a 2m x 2m, glass cage, peering through

Wendznoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-44696199707549292842008-02-19T10:23:00.001+02:002008-02-19T16:38:12.850+02:00

Monday evening came like a godsend. If I don’t get some downtime at some point in the week I’m likely to become unlikable. I get twitchy and short-tempered, tired and basically unsociable. And, I’m prone to fantasies of reclusiveness, surrounded by books, chocolate and DVDs. Mmmmm. And so, I “cooked” dinner, a stop-start approach to a baked potato due to a missing microwave cookery book. (I fear

Wendznoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-42186692130921699922008-02-18T16:31:00.000+02:002008-02-18T16:35:55.316+02:00

This was taken from the balcony of my flat in Cape Town. The building in the foreground is the Mount Nelson Hotel.

Wendznoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-79937640550476566062008-02-18T16:13:00.000+02:002008-02-18T16:16:48.166+02:00

As we landed at OR Tambo airport, I craned my head to see out of my little porthole window. Blinds to be open during landing. The taxi from the runway to the building seemed to take forever. But for me, the thrill of being at an airport/on a plane/at an air show gives me a rush that I'm not able to put into words.We passed the outlying hangers and buildings that us mere citizens never get to

Wendznoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-71997700783019194962007-12-03T12:58:00.001+02:002008-02-18T16:20:57.337+02:00

As soon as it happened, I knew what the result would be. I’d left coffee with Ally, driven down Rhede Street and turned right into Orange. I knew that the turn was too tight and felt it as soon as my back right wheel clipped the curb. I wasn’t going that fast, so I hoped for the best. Roger slipped into the traffic behind me a K or so down the road I glanced in my review mirror to see him waving

Wenanoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-27184349043384882362007-11-23T10:27:00.000+02:002007-11-23T10:30:00.013+02:00

Quietly, without invitation.And suddenly you find him under your skin.And he makes you itch with anticipation and wondering.The rules hammer through your thoughts.Even though he might be someone you really want to know.Don’t pursue.Don’t scratch.Maybe he will find someone else to creep to.Maybe this flicker will blow itself out.Maybe you are just a Saturday night.(Two maybes too many.)Maybe he’s

Wenanoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-11301094866871959162007-11-21T16:19:00.000+02:002007-11-21T16:27:25.410+02:00

Violet posies, sprinkled over skinThe blue print of his hip against her thighChameleon kissesFade with the daysThe minutes of their coupling tick on to fill hours that divide Their entwined bodies are but a memoryHer eyes, his lips just a fantasyThat boy, a mystery

Wenanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-56687531563582775502007-11-15T09:52:00.000+02:002008-02-19T16:24:49.811+02:00

It’s going to be one of those days. I’ve torn the plastic wrapper off my pack of Super Lights only to unsheathe the bottom of the box, which I then dropped. I got ready for work this morning in a daze, mechanically pulling a comb through my hair, tugging a cardi off its hanger and tying my laces. I’m surprised that I haven’t dropped my keys. I am sleep deprived. And soon I will lose my sense of

Wenanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-73201285670810654392007-11-12T11:06:00.000+02:002007-11-12T11:38:58.052+02:00

For those who know me well, know that patience isn't one of my best traits. I'm tempted to spin it and tell you that it's actually a strength and that I'm your girl when you need something done. And done properly. But you probably won't believe me! Time is my enemy. And people who tell me to "be patient" come a close second. I know. I know. But...It was with the excitement of a 6-year-old that I

Wenanoreply@blogger.com0