Bridget Ndlovu-Jones' Blog

Technology that's passed it's "sell by" date...

2011-04-05T12:27:00.000-07:00

Ok, here we are, well and truly in the Information Age - thank god - where it's all things technological - blackberries, Tabs, ipads blah blah blah. So why oh why, pray tell, are some things still firmly rooted in the Dark Ages? Why hasn't something simpler, better or faster come along - besides Standard Bank!

3 examples:

1. DVD - Watching (and enjoying) DVD. Picture suddenly freezes.Sigh. No option but to peel self off sofa. Eject DVD. Glare at silver side. Check no-one's watching and spit on. Rub vigorously with sleeve! Re-insert. Try and find last scene. Aarrgh, gone too far back. Reaches same spot and freezes again. Repeat!

2. Printers - Paper jam. Display flashes picture of side of machine. Open side door. Gaze in. Out of corner of eye spot a piece of paper. Slide in hand to gentle tug the troublesome sheet. It feels hot so instinctively try not to burn self. Hand jerks. End up tearing paper. Half of it's left in machine. It's the original. Shit. Fiddle with lever. Now on knees. Other half is eventually spat out. Thank god. Slam door. Heave self up. Optimistically check screen for the all clear. Display flashes picture of front door. Repeat!

And finally,

3. Powerpoint. 'Nuff said.

Come on chaps...sort it out!

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Lessons from The Chef

2011-04-04T08:15:00.000-07:00

My mate, a Brit, is a fabulous cook. And I'm not talking artsy wannabe Jamie Oliver or whatshername... you know the sultry, voluptuous one with dark hair who's always framed by soft lighting - no - she's a no nonsense Northern lass who calls a spade a spade! She's married to a (lucky) Greek guy, they retired (early) and now spend their time between Cape Town and Greece. As soon as the first puff of autumnal wind blows over Table Mountain they're off to Greece! Fabulous huh?

Anyway, she's computer il-literate and I'm a bit limited in the kitchen so we've decided to teach each other what we know. She's going to spend once a week for the next 6 weeks teaching me how to cook and I'll teach her basic computer skills.

Today was my first lesson. I was a bit taken aback when she walked in with a plastic bag which had an empty jam jar (?!), a sharp knife (her own...what's wrong with mine I thought???), and a bag of bones!!! Chicken bones!!!! (Eeeww!!! What for? What for???)

The Chef drains the bones!

So. First was the chicken stock - bones plus carrot, onions, celery, parsley and in seconds it was cooking away and smelt fab. Next we used the chicken stock to make potato and leek soup. Oh. My. God. Simple and simply deee-lish! I can't believe I made soup - for the first time in my life! Beautiful - better than Woolworths (Marks and Spencer). (Plus I used my handheld blender that has been gathering dust for eons.)

Next we did a Napoli Sauce (ie a basic pasta sauce). Who knew onions could be chopped that fine? Hence the knife. I was Julia Child! I chopped, I diced, I cleaned as I cooked, I was on a roll. An HOUR later, the sauce was done and...can I just tell you...well worth the time! Bloody hell. Talk about mouth watering. Jones won't know what's hit him...or what's hit me, to be more precise. Am I on the road to creating a monster??

Next week is carrot and ginger soup, good ole fashioned spag bol, and salad dressing (hence the jam jar!)

What did she get from me this week? A lesson on facebook...we set up her account, she loaded some pictures, made a few friends and she was reunited with a friend she hadn't been in touch with for 25 years (lots of tears followed by lots of wine to recover from the tears!) It was pretty cool. Believe me.

I'm forever blowing bubbles!

2011-03-28T03:41:00.000-07:00

We live just behind a boutique hotel in Cape Town (Derwent House) so we sometimes get the pleasant and unpleasant sights and sounds of carefree holiday makers going about their business. Yesterday evening as I was lying on the sofa with the French door open - waiting for a chunk of gammon to cook (I'm NEVER making that again!) I heard one of the guests whistling I'm forever blowing bubbles...pretty bubbles in the air... West Ham United's football song! As an East End girl, it really brought back some memories.... Sigh!

Jones and I hit the International Cape Town festival!

2011-03-27T06:23:00.000-07:00

The festival began with a handbag search....men this way, women that way. I'm never sure of the point of handbag only searches - no metal detector, no body search, just handbags!?

Anyway, we got in and caught the tail end of Simphiwe Dana. Great South African jazz-ish artist - haunting voice. She's a little stiff, but good nonetheless.

Then, an hour and a couple of beers later, came EARTH, WIND and FIRE!!! They had decided to kick off there 40th Anniversary world tour in SA! And man they ROCKED it belting out classics like Boogie Wonderland, Fantasy, Let's Groove Tonight and lots lots more !!! What a treat! Out they came looking like...errm... they'd just stepped out of the 70s! One had on a shiny white suit which had white tassles down the length of a pair of very snug trousers. Their faces were weirdly tight, shiny and plump! A little knife job methinks. But once I got passed the frozen wrinkless smiles I had a blast! Man can Philip Bailey sing. The range puts Mariah Carey to shame. Seriously.

They performed nonstop for just under 2 hours and I, along with the several thousand others, was sweating from the all the dancing, jumping, arm waving -except for the obvious tourist right in front of us who had on a large back pack, nodded her head in relative time to the music and then at one point (during Fantasy I think) took out and started munching on a ham sandwich!

Dripping sweat we went to another of the 5 stages to watch Liquid Deep! I think they're South African. Recognised one song - 'Will you be my Fairy Tale'. Great music. The lead singer, though very talented (and knew it), was a bit too in to himself. He introduced himself, in a funny American accent, as 'just Ayo'!! Hmm... Is it just me or doesn't that sound Nigerian?

Anyway, after about 5 songs and with aching thighs, sore knees and throbbing heels - it was time to move on to the next stage and catch Youssou N'Dour! Fan-bloody-tastic! Aching forgotten, we threw ourselves into the Senegalese rhythm. Wow!

A vigorous hour later - at about 1:30am - we surrendered and limped back to the car!

I heard later that 15 000 people came and I'm sure enjoyed themselves as much as we did. I love Cape Town!

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What's so great about Great Britain?

2011-03-26T08:48:00.000-07:00

A conversation during the England vs Wales football match...

Friend to me: Why is Wales booing England? (This was during the National Anthem)

Me: Huge rivalry.

F: Isn't Wales part of England?

Me: No. It's like a separate territory...errm.. country - but Wales is part of the United Kingdom.

F: ?

Me: They are next door to each other like SA being next door to Zim. (I draw a stupid map of the UK on the back of an envelope UK separating England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales). Each has their own capital city.

F: Oh. OK. So you need a passport to get there?

Me: Err....Actually no. There aren't any borders.

F: No borders??? But...(getting more and more annoyed). So what the f%#$ is Great Britain then?

Me: It's the name of the island...so it excludes Ireland.

F: (Totally exasperated...as now am I vowing to google it at next chance). It's a balls up!

Me: Hahaha (I can't help but silently agree)

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Guaranteed to make me giggle...everytime!

2011-03-26T06:04:00.000-07:00

Remember how, several years ago, during his rape trial, SA President JZ made that spectacular blunder saying that he couldn't have contracted HIV from the HIV positive rapee because...he took a shower immediately after sex!!?!!

Anyway, ever since then, South African cartoonist Zapiro has ALWAYS depicted JZ with this shower attachment on his head and it cracks me up EVERYtime!

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In SA, driving without a license is a pain in the eye!

2011-03-25T05:51:00.000-07:00

In SA driving licenses expire every 5 years. I only know this because Jones once had to go, queue for hours, get finger printed blah blah to get his new license. (In the UK your licence pretty much expires when you expire.)

My friend, oblivious to this tradition - born and raised outside SA - was recently stopped by the police and asked for her license.

Policeman: 'Ma'am, your license has expired!'

Friend: '?'

Policeman: 'It expired 2 years ago!'

Being the law abiding citizen that she is off she went to the traffic Dept.

Woman behind glass counter: 'It says here that you need glasses to drive.'

Friend: 'Yes, I wear contact lenses'

Woman: 'Where are your glasses?'

Friend: 'I wear contacts'

Woman: 'I need a letter from your optometrist saying you wear glasses.'

Friend: 'Huh?'

True story.

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A 4HWW Experiment!

2011-03-25T05:37:00.000-07:00

So 2 days ago Jones got given a book called 'The Four Hour Work Week' by an ex-colleague. Hang on...the book isn't written by an ex-colleague - he got it as a gift from blah blah... I digress! So, long and short is that I read it cover to cover in 2 days. Very interesting. Question is it really doable??? The jury's out on that one.

So... To challenge my sceptical, eye-rolling self I've decided to actually try some of the exercises and see what happens...

Hmm... Watch this space to see how I go...

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Losing my rag in a public place....tsk tsk tsk...shameful!

2011-03-24T08:04:00.000-07:00

I don't often yell in public - but the yesterday at the carnival I did. 5 hours before it was due to start I had positioned myself right by the ledge of the veranda of this pub - from my seated position the ledge was sort of neck height - and I could comfortably rest my right arm over it, a perfect position for taking pictures. Sorted.

So...everything was orderly for most of the afternoon until the Harley Davidsons came roaring down the street announcing the beginning of the festivities. Everyone inside the pub came rushing out on to the balcony (as to be expected) but I was fine in my chair. A little hemmed in, but fine.

Next thing, this guy starts leaning on the back of my neck so he could see over my head shoving his camera right in front of my face! WTF! And I'm not talking gentle leaning - I'm talking heavy inconsiderate leaning like my shoulders were the ledge. My exposed throat was now pinned against the ledge and my eyes started to water. I shoved him back as best I could and 'nicely' let him know that that wasn't going to work and he mumbled some kind of apology (Strike One!)

Thirty seconds later he proceeded to do the same thing - as if I'd had a mini case of amnesia. And once I'd freed my neck I swiveled round and shouted at him to "BACK UP" and "GET OFF!" One of my mates, in a show of solidarity, poked him with her handbag as he backed off! (Strike Two).

I know it's hard competing with the LOUD carnival music - and I don't know what he thought I said but as soon as I turned back around he leaned in behind me and in a shouty, flirty whisper said, by way of explanation (I can only think) "Sorry, Ï'm from Mozambique" to which I yelled "I DON'T GIVE A SHIT WHERE YOU'RE FROM!" (Strike Three)

Arrrggghhh.. I'm a racist.

Hanging out at the Cape Town carnival

2011-03-23T03:35:00.000-07:00

One of my Top Ten things to do before I die is go to the Rio carnival. The throbbing music, the dancing with sheer abandon, the scantily clad men and women...brilliant!

So when I heard that CT has it's own version of the ritual I thought I'd go along with some mates and watch.

Mid-afternoon we parked ourselves in the upstairs of a dodgy looking pub that had a brilliant view of the street. At 8pm and several ciders later the carnival erupted with a 100 Harley Davidsons riding through the street and the crowds went wild!

Over the next 2 hours we were treated to foam life sized animals (a la Lion King), 100s of Indian dancing girls, sci-fi robots, gum boot dancers, scenes from CT, marching bands, minstrels, giant sea-food including huge prawns (that could have been mistaken for sperm - well, they had this weird tail thing on their heads...easy mistake) and much much more. A feast for the eyes and ears! It was brilliant.

Afterwards we joined the throngs on the streets in search of much needed food to soak up the litres of alcohol. Everyone was in high spirits, places were packed, the temperature was in the 30s! It was fantastic. A great warm up to Rio.

Thank you Cape Town!

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Great wine philosophy!

2011-03-18T10:32:00.000-07:00

Saw this at a restaurant. Liked it!

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The not so beautiful game!

2011-03-05T07:58:00.000-08:00

Rugby is a game played by men with odd shaped balls! Indeed.

So here I am. At the stadium of the infamous - well, maybe I should say infamous as in not-famous-to-me - Cape Town Stormers. They're playing the Free State Cheetahs. Actually the scoreboard says 'DHL Stormers and Toyota Cheetahs'. It kind of takes branding to a whole new level...

Jones managed to get us a couple of tickets for what is apparently a BIG game! So here I am in the company box sipping a cold glass of wine, munching on biltong while Jones keeps reminding me that this poor display of ball handling will never compare to the 'beautiful game'.

I have to confess I quietly concur - there's no football chanting, no foot stamping, no bald, toothless men swearing at the ref, no hugging random strangers when a goal is scored. It's all a bit...umm...polite and civilised.

I can't help but wonder if Arsenal have scored in their game against Sunderland...

Ho hum! The wine is cold and free, so cheers!

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Specificity!

2011-02-27T03:39:00.000-08:00

Is that even a word? Specificity. Spell checker says no! Anyway...in attempt to re-energise after a night of one-too-many-bottles-of-wine with wayward friends...Jones called for muffins to be made. I'm no Delia Smith so the boxed variety had to do. Check out step 6 - 'bake for 21 - 23' minutes...?!? Have you ever heard such specific unrounded timing suggestions?

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Oh happy days!

2011-02-20T09:33:00.000-08:00

So here I am...in a darkened room...every girl's dream of the ideal way of spending their Sunday afternoon. But wait...what's that I hear you say? Why are you in a darkened room when the sun is shining outside...when it's 30 degrees and no hint of wind...? I'll tell you why...I'll tell you in one little word... Arsenal, my friends, Arsenal!

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Moving to Cape Town? Flat pack my friends, flat pack!

2011-01-14T00:18:00.000-08:00

Oh my god! 24 hours of sheer hell. The removal men arrived with our stuff, of which approximately HALF of it fits in to our rented flat. Jones and I had managed to find a self storage place about 10 mins up the road to store the other half of our crap.

Anyway, they came, it was a scorching day I was standing burning in the sun trying to direct what boxes were to go in to the flat and what was to proceed on to storage. The removal guy was NOT happy I can tell you. So we decided to give him random ‘gifts’ to thank him for the inconvenience. He and his team got the small desk with the wobbly leg, a suitcase which we realised weighed 6kg empty (?!), a bookcase, a rug and much much more. He cheered up and we were done in a mere 5 hours!!!

The tragedy of the whole day was that my beautiful, comfy sofas would NOT fit through the front door! Be warned - Cape Town flats have the narrowist doors in the world. Anything or anyone wider than a size 16 and we talking come in sideways. I was SO gutted when the guys reloaded them on to the van headed for storage!

Not one to be defeated I woke up the next morning thinking of how I could get the sofas in. A quick teary conversation with the letting agent solved it. She had the name of a man with a van and a plan. The French sliding door would be our way in (despite the fact that we live on the second floor!?) Sorted.

This, my friends is not for the faint-hearted. Jones took these pictures while I shut my self in the bedroom.

Sofa one climbing the 2 storeys to our flat.

It’s in!

God I miss Ikea.

The Girl who got Jones to watch a movie with subtitles

2010-12-18T07:42:00.000-08:00

A GIF (good Indian friend) of mine gave me a copy of Stieg Larsson’s The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo about 5 months ago. I decided that lolling about over the festive season was a good time to read it. I read it a couple of days. I’m hooked. Am not a thriller kind of gal but this is g-r-i-p-p-i-n-g, I tell you! I’ve now got the next two The Girl who Played with Fire and have borrowed the last one The Girl who kicked the Hornet’s Nest from Hobbit.

Anyway, I managed to convince Jones to come with me to watch the The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo! He, like me, usually likes to read the book first and then see the movie and point out all the stuff they’ve missed out. I can’t wait for him to read it so off we go.

Jones: (in the car) So where’s it showing?

Me: The Labia.

Jones: The WHAT?!?

Me: The Labia Theatre.

Jones: Aren’t the labia the….

Me: Yes! (I abruptly interrupt… trying to keep a straight face) It’s the name of the Art cinema in Gardens. It’s also the name of a 5 screen cinema that shows art movies. Isn’t it fantastic?

Jones: Ok…. Cool.

We arrive. I buy the tickets. Jones is severally distressed when he realises it’s got subtitles. I send him off to get popcorn. With slumped shoulders he does. Minutes later he comes bounding back. “Guess what????”, he beams. “They sell alcohol! We can have beer while we watch!”

Hurrah! I love this City!

Preparing for a quiet Christmas

2010-12-14T06:46:00.000-08:00

Friends of ours left a couple of days ago for India on a 2 month journey of…erm….self…I mean….culinary discovery’! Little did they know that their adventure would begin before they’d even left South African soil. They’ve kindly rented their apartment to us for the next couple of weeks while we wait to move in to our new place. We picked them up, hopped in to their car, dropped them off at the airport and waved goodbye. Half way home we got an embarrassed call telling us they’d missed their plane. By a day!
We u-turned, picked them up and headed straight for the pub!
That night, as I lay in their wonderful king-sized bed (because it had clean linen) while Mr slept in a single bed in his own spare room and Mrs on a mattress on the floor in the sitting room, I thought ‘how bizarre!’
The next morning we headed out to the travel agent and they managed to get on a flight that afternoon. Crisis averted. All was well.
Mrs, before they left the first time, had given me a list of things that would need to be cleaned, how to clean them, when to clean them and with what cloth to clean them with. That’s just who she is and I adore her. Of course that means that every time Jones so much as sneezes I sprint off in search of the right duster! Ugh! It’s exhausting.
Their flat is in what’s known as the ‘southern suburbs’ – south of Table Mountain. The ‘northern suburbs’ is referred to as being behind the boerewors curtain ( Boerewors is Afrikaans for a traditional South African sausage). As the name suggests, I’m told that it’s mainly Afrikaans speaking people who live there. The English speaking South Africans live in the south. A lot of my GWF tell us we should live in the south as we’ll feel more ‘at home’...
To get to our friend’s flat you drive through the picturesque and leafy suburbs of Rondebosch and Newlands ( famous for the cricket and rugby grounds). It feels like a suburb. Wide roads. Shopping malls. Everything just slightly out of walking distance. It’s very pretty but a wee bit quiet. To be honest though, our livers need the rest.

The leafy Southern Suburbs

Le Bon Vivant!

2010-12-11T07:46:00.000-08:00

It’s was our 4th wedding anniversary yesterday and Jones outdid himself and took me to a beautiful French restaurant in Franschhoek, a short-ish drive from Paarl. Historically Paarl became home to the French Huguenot refugees. It was later named Franschhoek - the Afrikaans word for “french corner”. Many of the Afrikaans surnames in the area are of French origin – pronounced, as I’ve noticed, in a very un-French way, eg Du Toit is pronounced Du Toy!?! Hmmm.. Hobbit’s husband is a descendant of the French Huguenot and fortunately his name remains un-butchered.

Anyway, back to the restaurant…We had the Chef’s surprise menu – 5 courses with matching wines per course! As an East London (SA) friend of mine would say “OH. MY. WORD!” One mouth watering dish after another. All beautifully presented. All tiny morsels of dee-lish stuff beautifully complemented with wines chosen by the chef. Parfait!

Dessert my friends….mmmm!!!!

I guess this is what they call Le Bon Vivant!

Seeing Paarl in black and white

2010-12-08T05:08:00.000-08:00

We’ve been in Paarl for just over a week. Amongst other things, this quaint, historical town is famous for Victor Verster Prison where Mandela was imprisoned for his last 3 years before walking out a free man in February 1990. I’m starting to think that was the last time black people were actually here because we haven’t seen any!!! Seriously. Where are they??? Jones and I walk down the street and I swear people clutch their handbags just a wee bit tighter.
Anyway, it’s all good ‘cause we’re with staying with GWF (good white folks) – of which there several. Unfortunately, every so often you’re reminded that SA does have it’s fair share of BWF (bad white folks), those who’s Australian visa was denied. They spoil it for the GWF! On the flip side there are GBF (good black folks) – honest hard, working people and BBF (work it out).
As is the same in the UK, the working class have working class jobs – cleaners, gardeners, factory workers etc. As 99% of the working class here are black – most of the working class jobs are held by black people….
Not. In. Paarl.
Yesterday, on her way to work the Hobbit called to remind me to let in the cleaning lady, Stella (not her real name). At about 8ish the door bell rang, I opened it and there was Stella…you could have knocked me over with a feather…she was WHITE!!!

The last sighting of black people in Paarl!

Cheese and wine anyone?

2010-12-06T05:50:00.000-08:00

Oh. My. God.
I’ve died and gone to heaven!
The wine here is to die for! On Saturday we went to Fairview Wine Estate…or I should say cheese and wine Estate. They rear their own goats so they have a mouth watering range of cheeses. It’s a couple of minutes drive from Paarl along a beautiful country road.
For the bargain price of R60 (just under a fiver!) we tasted 8 different wines (generous servings of) each accompanied by a different cheese and homegrown/made olive oil!
Speech slurred and bottles purchased, straight from source, we headed home for a couple of sundowners on the stoep (Afrikaans for veranda)!

The tasting room where you have your own wine expert to tell you what’s what

Make like Speedy Gonzalez!

2010-12-01T14:40:00.000-08:00

In 3 weeks we manage to paint the house, inside and out, ready for tenants. Jones and I are so amazed at how good the house looks we wished we'd done it earlier. We organise removal men (again). We pack boxes (again). We give bags of clothes to charity (again). I resign (again). We arrange to crash with a friend in Paarl (about 50km out of Cape Town) for our first few weeks. We say goodbye to friends (not all of them - not enough time). We give keys to our angel of an agent. We load up the car. We drive to Plettenburg Bay. We rest for the night. We drive on to Paarl and collapse into the arms of a dear dear friend (aka The Hobbit) who has a wine collection to DIE for!

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Cape Town...?

2010-11-04T14:36:00.000-07:00

So Jones gets a phone call, out of the blue, from an ex-colleague. He's in town and wants to meet for a drink. 'Cool', says Jones and off he goes.

A couple of hours later he comes home looking a bit shell-shocked! 'What's up?' I ask. 'I've just been offered a job.' 'Great! Where?' I ask. 'Cape Town' he says. 'Oh', I say. Not an excited 'oh', but an 'oh' that silently screams 'does-that-mean-we-are-moving-AGAIN?? If-I-have-to-pack-one-more-box-supervise-removal-men-change-the-address-etc-one-more-time-I'll-just-die!'

Silence.

Glug...glug...glug...Wine is poured.

'B..b..but' Jones stammers eventually, 'we're talking about Cape Town here...CAPE TOWN for crying out loud. We LOVE Cape Town, don't we?'

'Of course we do,' reality dawning...'HURRAH...!!! We're going to Cape Town. People kill to go to Cape Town'. We congratulate ourselves and drink some more!

'So when do we leave?' I ask breathless and giddy.

'Erm...In 3 weeks.'

'WHAT???'

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Will ‘zumba’ help me get my groove back ?

2010-08-20T07:56:00.001-07:00

So in my fitness drive I decided to try a class called ‘zumba’. It’s a mixture of salsa, rumba, cha-cha-cha, 60s twist with a bit of cowboy dancing thrown into the mix. It’s wild! It’s fun, it’s exhausting and, all in all, it’s a much more enjoyable form of aerobic exercise than step, spinning or running! In fact, I actually smile and laugh DURING the class. Wild huh?
But let me tell you something… Now, as a black person I (of course) have natural rhythm…or… so I thought….
Picture it…my first zumba class…I carefully picked my spot in the large dance studio…close to the back but not so far back that I couldn’t see the instructor. The class started. After a few minutes of feeling a bit self conscious and after doing a quick survey of the other awkward looking participants I decided ‘sod it’ - I gave myself permission to let myself go and really got into the swing of things.
So there I was…dancing away with pure abandon…even ‘whooping’ every so often. *Gasp* How American! Then… THEN….I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror …and I was h-o-r-r-i-f-i-e-d! Is that me??? Is that what I look like when I dance with pure abandon??? It wasn’t that I was out of time or anything really bad like that…I was just…errrm….stiff…wooden…What and when did that happen? When did I stiffen up? Why don’t my hips swivel easily, why can’t I go all the way down in the twist? WTF??
So it’s either one of two things…either the image I’ve had in my head all these years of my dancing ability is wildly warped…or…somewhere/somehow I’ve lost it! Is it age? Am I being overly sensitive? Whatever it is…I’ve lost my groove and I NEED to get it back!
HELP!

Happy 8th Wedding Anniversary !!! You know who you are…

2010-08-02T03:18:00.001-07:00

My Life…

2010-07-28T00:55:00.001-07:00

Yes. I know, I know I’ve been quiet for a while. Lots going on and not much happening too – if that makes sense. Well the long and short of it is that sadly I’m not a “Trust-Fund-Baby” and therefore need to find creative ways to keep the wolf from the door…as it were…
After a couple of decades (arrgghhh…can’t believe it’s been that long…and I, of course, haven’t aged a day..) …anyway, after (just under) a couple of decades of working for other people, just over a year ago, I decided to go it alone. So far, so good. It’s actually amazing how one can really survive ‘hand-to-mouth’. Well, that was until know-ish! Right now I’m sitting in the not-so-delightful position of having work in the ‘pipeline’ but not much to show for it…yet! Problem is I don’t know how long this pipeline is and when I’ll be able to start ‘opening the tap’. I’ve planted “lots of seeds”..I’m not sitting on my laurel – as I heard someone say recently. “Laurel"…not “laurels”...plural. (Ugh! This paragraph is full of too many cliches.)
So here I sit…waiting for something to ‘bear fruit’ (sorry, I can’t seem to stop now.) The wait is painful, slow, irritating. My BP is surprisingly low. Nightmares on the increase. Mood swings like you can’t believe.
Anyway, if I need a food basket I’ll sure give you all a shout out!