Life really is like a bag of lychees...

because you bite in, and you never know what you're going to get...


sometimes they're manky as hell, they're bad inside, but you just don't know until you try...


and sometimes they're just lovely, you devour every millimetre of flesh off them with great pleasure...


but regardless of whether its good or bad, there's always a load of crap you have to get rid of at the end.

Chez Nomsa...

I'm still kind of in a state of shock. We found a house, the perfect house, in the perfect location, at the perfect price, we put in an offer, and we got it. It's actually happened, and yet it just won't sink in!

I can start making lists, deciding what photos to have blown up, what books to ship, what colours to paint things, and not feel like I'm just getting my hopes up by doing so.

See that shadow on the right of the house in the second picture? Looks like a big cloud? That's Table Mountain! Yeay, yeay, yeay, yeay, yeay we got a house!

Last night a DJ saved my life...

Fabulous, bloody fabulous night out. Saw wonderful, gorgeous people who I expected to see, as well as bumping into people I haven't seen in ages, who nonetheless mean an awful lot. All people who make me feel that who I am is ok. Good people. And just as I'm coming to terms with that idea, that I don't need to leave this place, I'm ok here, my favourite Glasgow DJ plays the most fabulous South African songs and I feel so utterly alive and happy and joyous. I realised tonight that I don't have to leave Glasgow, but I do desperately need to get back to my beloved country. Here goes one of the biggest journeys of my life!...

Bold political statement, and handy theft deterent...

I recently bought a t-shirt like Siphokazi's above, from the Treatment Action Campaign in Cape Town. I love it! Wearing it is a facinating social experiment; watching people's reactions, observing them simultaneously looking and trying desperately not to look.

Its a great stigma challenger, but it also has other benefits.

I've hung it out with my washing in my open yard, and nothing's been stolen. F and I have decided that it acts as a theft deterent, either startling people into abandoning their attempts, or making them ignorantly fear that they'll catch it if they touch my clothes. And its useful in the supermarket too. Regardless of the crowding in Sainsbury's on a bank holiday monday, I'll always have the way almost ceremonious cleared for me by startled looking people feeling guilty about reading my chest and being so shocked. My t-shirt rocks!