That spot in the afternoon sunshine at FSC. Cats, or the impression of cats, wonder through the house turning themselves inside-out, before curling up in the shafts of sunlight. Champagne dancing. Franschhoek, for the Literary Festival. A lunch stop at the Tuk Tuk Microbrewery. Tapas, those tiny excuses for food that leave you hunting for a pizza delivery. That said, the variety of Mexican
Review of the studio'Obsessed with this gallery. The man with the yellow shirt is the artist and the paintings are done with his magical fingers. I bought a postcard printed with his paintings to support him It's been like he was living in his gallery' The Forest is asleep. An unnatural quiet. Drought. Sun relentless. Tentative shoots after the last rain, crisped. Fungus dried
The last of summer afternoon jazz at Blend. Bougainvillea flowers sparkling in the sunshine. The cool wind kept away from the cozy seating by the screen of trees and the pizza oven. Oyster Catchers preening in the morning light. The wet beach sand a mirror for their 'runway' strutting. Feet a tad frozen on the cold beach sand. Hopefully there are not too many gaps
My collarbone a tad unhappy. Never a good idea to fall off your bicycle, particularly at the bottom of a decent. Only made a tad better by it being into soft sand. Legs a tad wobbly after an East-Head jog. Sea freezing. B'fast stunning. The painting 'A Moment in Time' is crated and heading to Atlanta. A few splinters from building the crate, and