A little bit writer’s block, a little bit rock and roll, but at least it wasn’t blunt trauma to the head.
Yeah, everyone’s been asking about me. I know I’ve been missed.
Just like that pathetic Sally Field quote from the Oscars. “You LIKE me! You really really LIKE me!” We’ll skip being THAT much of a saddo, but it’s nice to know you care!
Ana M: “How the h£££ are ya?”
Al K : “It’s like my favorite TV show’s been canceled!! What’s happened to you??”
Sue H: “Helloooooooooooo, anybody home?”
Kelly C: “Talk to me, girlfriend!!”
CvD: “Why u still there? Come study here in UK!”
Jim W: “Apologies. My broadband is finally connected. Hope to hear from you!
Teri H: “Come visit us at book group!”
Sally S: “I haven’t heard from you for so long! Are you ok?”
Emma H: “What’s going on, E-bear?
Fiona: ”Are you coming back to Glen Ellyn this summer? We miss you...”
Mary O (ever the optimist!): “I assume since you haven’t been writing that you’re settling in and feeling better.”
my dad: “Get back to your writing, young lady!”
Ag, so much to tell you about. But I’ll give you the short version.
I spent the couple of weeks after the robbery in January frantically trying to effect some changes. We decided to send Miss T back to England to study with Aphrodite at the school they’d been at since we moved to England in 2002. Had to retrieve Miss T's passport from the US Embassy (we’d just sent it off to be renewed, three days before the hold-up), and then we rushed up to Pretoria to the UK Embassy to get T a student visa. Once we did that, we booked flights to England, and T and I flew up to London at the very end of January. Miss T was immediately back in school, missing only 1 week of second semester, and I was having a mental therapy break for three weeks, staying at Mary’s cottage apartment.
For three weeks, I got to pretend I was living my old life. Back to tennis, with Ronalee and Jim so kindly giving me rides to and fro from the club. Back to ogling my favorite tennis pro’s gorgeous calves. Back to a Pilates studio without any gunmen lurking in the back room. Back to seeing great friends and generally just trying to forget that I’d moved to another country. Of course, because of my little run-in with the traffic cops last fall, I wasn’t able to drive anywhere, but I put on miles and miles of walking, to and from all the train stations. And that’s so VERY slimming. Actually, as a weight loss regime, I highly recommend losing your driving license. Forces you to get off your a---- and expend some energy!
Naturally, for the first week when I walked, I carried an expandible baton. A flick of your wrist, and you have a 18” long steel baton, perfect for beating a robber or whatever to death with. The fact that I almost “offed” a three year old kid in the club cafe while demonstrating the weapon’s capabilities, we won’t go into. All I can say is, the kid was being naughty and should have stayed farther away. No harm done, and the mom didn’t see her child’s near miss, but the look of horror in Jim’s eyes was quite daunting. I’m afraid I may have given him another white hair, which in fact will actually only add to his elegantly handsome good looks. And Colin did mention that I’d probably flown into England with it illegally. Hmmm. Great to have lawyers and immigration officers for good friends. At least you know IMMEDIATELY when you’ve eff’ed up! I told Colin it was in my checked baggage, so there!
So, three weeks in England, and I think I was finally mostly calmed down by the end of it. I used the time to finish my application for a Master’s Degree programme in Museum Studies, from the University of Leicester, UK, and I enjoyed Mary’s fabulous cooking. Now there’s a woman who does everything -- like 50 thousand things -- beautifully, and doesn’t feed her kids noodles every night either. No, it was meat and 2 veg (no snickering, Brits!), bread, and pudding. Couldn’t be nicer. I barely managed to not get fat. It was the 10 miles a day of walking that kept everything in balance.
And then back to Johannesburg. Two weeks there, paying bills and sorting out Oscar, chatting a bit with Mr D. A whirl.
Then another return to England in early March, staying with Emma and then Sooz. This was in order to take the long-awaited “drink/drive” course. That will be the next installment. Too much to go into here, and too fascinating, but I tell you briefly: I’ve freakin’ learnt my lesson!
So, mid-March. Back to Johannesburg AGAIN. Another few weeks, and then it was Spring break for the girls in mid-April. Mr D and I met them in Vienna for a lovely week of museums and weiner schnitzel and walking and shops and European civilization. Thank God for all that.