January writer’s block: stalking me like a monster

Posted on by nyamazela

“He was the crazy one who had painted himself black and defeated the world. She was the book thief without the words. Trust me, though, the words were on their way, and when they arrived, Liesel would hold them in her hands like the clouds, and she would wring them out like rain.”

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

never give upI knew this day would come. It’s been lying in wait, holding on for just a Tuesday like this one to pounce – writers block! One writer described it as the bogeyman waiting in the mirror. I’m looking into the mirror now, and all I see is little old me, defenceless. January is one of those months – regenerative, scary and disappointing all wrapped into 31 cold, short days. It holds so much promise, but who can carry all that pressure without occasionally stumbling at the awesome weight of the load? Continue reading January writer’s block: stalking me like a monster

St Petersburg: gangsta grannies, advice unsought and a chance to walk on water

Posted on by nyamazela

“There exists in St. Petersburg a powerful foe … This foe is no other than the Northern cold … At nine o’clock in the morning… it begins to bestow such powerful and piercing nips on all noses … At an hour when the foreheads of even those who occupy exalted positions ache with the cold, and tears start to their eyes, the poor titular councillors are sometimes quite unprotected. Their only salvation lies in traversing as quickly as possible, in their thin little cloaks, five or six streets, and then warming their feet in the porter’s room, and so thawing all their talents and qualifications for official service, which had become frozen on the way.”

The Overcoat by Nikolai Gogol

DSC_0459Like characters in a winter fairytale, we’d had our fill of mulled wine and turkey, opened our presents, wished our friends and family a Merry Christmas and gone home to pack our passports and winter woolies. Early on the 26th, we made our way to Heathrow to catch our flight to St Petersburg.

When we booked our trip to St Petersburg back in September, I allowed myself to dream of a magical storybook land of romance and wonder, covered in a foot of white, fluffy snow. This, Hubby assured me, was a given. I’d read some of the drama of Pushkin’s Eugene Onegin and could picture Gogol’s beloved frost-bitten Petersburg with all it’s delightful Russian characters. Thermal underwear, merino wool socks, earmuffs, proper winter coat and woollen hat at the ready! Continue reading St Petersburg: gangsta grannies, advice unsought and a chance to walk on water

Heat, dust and the ‘Big Four’: unlikely lessons from the Pilanesberg

Posted on by nyamazela

“The Go ‘way birds do not feed on ticks and have nothing to do with the game; you find them where there is no game, and it always seemed to me that it is not concern for the game at all, but simply a combination of vulgar curiosity, disagreeableness and bad manners, that makes them interfere as they do.”

Jock of the Bushveld by Percy Fitzpatrick

dangerous animalsIn some strange supernatural way,  the ‘bush’ ‘calls’ to me. I’m not sure that this is a concept anyone but South Africans can truly understand. When I’ve been away for some time I begin to have dreams of giggling hyena and hooting owls – both by day and at night. My heart grows a little achey and a restless feeling mounts in my spirit. It beckons ruthlessly, and eventually I must answer. Continue reading Heat, dust and the ‘Big Four’: unlikely lessons from the Pilanesberg

The story of a life well lived

Posted on by nyamazela

“The world isn’t just the way it is. It is how we understand it, no? And in understanding something, we bring something to it, no?

Doesn’t that make life a story?” 

Life of Pi by Yann Martel

kenneth pridhamLast week I attended my first funeral.

At age 17, I went to a memorial service for my Latin teacher who had died of cancer at a relatively young age, but never had I been to a funeral. The funeral was for my father-in-law’s cousin – the last of his father’s generation though far younger than his own father. Kenneth Pridham died at age 93. He attended our wedding and I’d seen him fairly regularly at lunches with my in-laws. In my limited times with him I had begun to get to know a somewhat fragile, quietly-spoken, tall elderly man who enjoyed discussing history, politics and current events, who had a lively sense of humour and loved cheese, but didn’t eat much lunch. Continue reading The story of a life well lived

Getting Christmassy on 1st Dec: DIY Advent Calendar

Posted on by nyamazela

“Bah,” said Scrooge, “Humbug.” 

… some time later…

“I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach!”

A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

1 December getting ChristmassyIf you have read even a handful of my blog entries, you will know that one of my favourite writers is Charles Dickens. It was extremely difficult for me to select just 2 quotes for this 1st of December blog. Almost every line is quotable and re-readable.

Did you know that all over the world theatres, book shops and book groups do live annual readings of A Christmas Carol? Continue reading Getting Christmassy on 1st Dec: DIY Advent Calendar

Itchy feet: the suspense of saving, dreaming and planning

Posted on by nyamazela

“Akaky Akakievich was taken away and buried. And St. Petersburg was left without Akaky Akakyevitch as if he had never been there. Vanished and gone was the being, protected by no one, dear to no one, interesting to no one, who had not even attracted the attention of a naturalist – who does not fail to stick a pin through a common fly and examine it under the microscope.” 

The Overcoat by Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol in The Collected Tales

Planning a holidayPoor Akaky Akakievich, I thought, while reading this story. A copy clerk with nothing in life, but the excitement of skimping and saving every possible rouble he could spare in joyous anticipation of having a new overcoat made with chintz lining, small silk double seams and a cat fur collar.

Oh, the happy months spent, in an otherwise dull life,  dreaming of such an overcoat!

I am sitting in my usual coffee shop drinking tea. Continue reading Itchy feet: the suspense of saving, dreaming and planning

Hibernation fever setting in: short dark days, comfort food and blobbiness

Posted on by nyamazela

“Every few minutes I would reflexively check to see if my gas mask was still in place and, more importantly, if the holster still contained the self-injectable 10-mg canister of diazepam that had been given to me in Kuwait. The diazepam was to give me a happy death in the event of an Iraqi chemical attack… what they wanted more than anything else in the world was exactly what I was trying to avoid: a fight.”

War Reporting for Cowards: Between Iraq and a Hard Place by Chris Ayres

An I ready for this?It feels like it’s been a long time since I wrote a blog post. Somehow the past week stretches out long and fuzzy.

My memory of the details is a nightmarish blur: work, church, Christmas bags, writing, wind, rain, bombs, shooting, news, Paris, websites, vessels, Spectre, Doctor Who, Downton Abbey, gym, restless sleep, hospital appointments, emails, study, French homework and general life.

Tonight is our office Christmas party. Continue reading Hibernation fever setting in: short dark days, comfort food and blobbiness

Rest, Respite, Repose, Reading and Running … how do you do it?

Posted on by nyamazela

“A thousand kinds of hats, dresses, shawls – gay-coloured, ethereal, for which their owners’ affection sometimes lasts a whole two days –  will bedazzle anyone on Nevsky Prospect. It seems as if a whole sea of butterflies has suddenly arisen from the stems, their brilliant cloud undulating over the black beetles of the male sex. Here you will meet such waists as you have never seen in dreams: slender, narrow waists, no whit thicker than a bottle’s neck … And what ladies’ sleeves you meet on Nevsky Prospect! … they sometimes resemble two airborne balloons… Nowhere do people exchange bows when they meet with such nobility and nonchalance as on Nevsky Prospect.”

Nevsky Prospect by Nikolai Vasilievich Gogol in The Collected Tales

Ice hokey in CanadaPeople watching on Nevsky Prospect must resemble something like trying to follow several games of ice hockey at once – pucks flying across the ice at high speed, sticks clashing and players swapping in and out every few seconds while you shiver in your furs on the sidelines trying to focus. Continue reading Rest, Respite, Repose, Reading and Running … how do you do it?

A Halloween post-mortem from Germany: pumpkins, people, the ‘principle’ & the power of imagination

Posted on by nyamazela

“Then suddenly a change, the passing of something – I knew not what – and then a stillness that could be felt. Nothing but this gaunt quiet. London about me gazes at me spectrally. The windows in the white houses were like the eye sockets of skulls. About me my imagination found a thousand noiseless enemies moving. Terror seized me, a horror of my temerity.”

The War of the Worlds by H. G. Wells

spicy, hot pumpkin soupDon’t be afraid.

This is not another pointed missal about whether Halloween is right or wrong. At this time of the year spirits are high and opinions are emphatic. Despite not growing up with it, I’m learning to welcome strong debate. Continue reading A Halloween post-mortem from Germany: pumpkins, people, the ‘principle’ & the power of imagination