@67Blankets for Madiba. A @Carolyn_Steyn initiative. cc @tbdza

Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

Since I updated my Facebook status about my involvement with @67Blankets, I have received quite a number of enquiries on how to get involved. Yay guys!

I first Googled ‘How to crochet a square’ because @TimothyMoloi told me that is how he learned . It only confirmed I can’t crochet even with a slow motion, step by step, ‘You Tube’ instructional video.

I then Google ‘How to knit a square’.  Knitting thankfully came back to me from the days of my youth once I was reminded how. Yes,  I am knitting a blanket. Yes,  a purple blanket. 🙂 

PS.  I need someone to crochet me a few small white flowers to put on my blanket please.  🙂  Any volunteers?

Madiba gave 67 years of his life fighting for freedom in his lifetime. On the date of his birth,  18 July we celebrate ‘Madiba Day’ by giving 67 minutes of our time to assist others in many diverse ways. The idea is that you are giving your time to make a blanket to keep someone less fortunate warm.

When I am given a gift,  I say ‘Thank You’. The most undomesticated person on the planet, who struggles sewing a button, is knitting squares for a blanket to say: ‘Thank You Tata’.

@SirNoid reminded me that my hands are not my best functioning body parts (Fibromyalgia is not sexy) but took me shopping for needles and wool anyway –  Thank You!!

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As @Carolyn_Steyn says,  stitch by stitch we will keep people warm! I like the sound of that.

Follow @67Blankets on Twitter, look it up on Facebook but most of all, start knitting #KnitWits!

I wish you enough,
Wenchy

VERY IMPORTANT: If you do not see yourself able to participate in physically knitting a blanket, please support the annual Twitter Blanket Drive @tbdza with collection points all over the country where you can drop off newly purchased or used blankets. An incredible project that started with a single tweet from @MelanieMinnaar. Love that woman.

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@RIAD_Band @KevvieCartman #YNWA #LFC

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Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

In truth,  sometimes I don’t know where my children end,  and I begin.  We all venture, but we never walk alone.

My biological and born from my heart children are fiercely independent. (My step children were raised differently so I don’t know how they will still react to live.) Not one of us has had easy roads but we have enjoyed spectacular scenery. We have all experienced deep,  raw painful truths but we have all laughed allowed  in the end.

My first born son Kev (named after the Fred Savage character in ‘The Wonder Years’ ) has grown up with me.  I was 20 years old when he was my baby born and it was the first time in my life I felt a true sense of belonging,  other than my grandparents home.  He has been my son, my child,  my friend,  my companion,   my confidant,  my protector,  my rock,  my joy,  my pride, a pain in my ass and my inspiration.

Kevin very quickly found his own way in the world once he left school.  Today he works in the IT industry, plays football, lives #LFC (and the tattoo to prove it!!) and follows his dream of making music – realised in a band started with friends,  Reality Is A Dream.  (Twitter: RIAD_Band They are also on Facebook,  please go ‘like’ their page.)

In truth, while it is just high school cool to be in a band,  what really inspires me is that unlike me lounging dreaming about walking long distances,  there are people like Kev who run after their dreams,  rehearse weekly and keep the flame burning.  THAT is what causes my soul to dance.  People do walk those long distances.

I love that I did not raise cookie cutter kids.  They are so different,  and with unending gratitude I have the stretch marks.  I am ‘the Mom’ of interesting creatures!

Reality Is A Dream will be playing this weekend at Jeppe Quandom,  79 Boeing Road East,  Bedfordview on Freedom Day,  Sunday at 12h00 and again at 15h45. Support local music!

‘What would you do if if I sang out a tune,  would you stand up and walk out on me?’ – lyrics from the theme song from ‘The Wonder Years’

I wish you…. Enough.
Wenchy

Posted from the second cloud on your left.

Another brick in the wall…

Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

If my nursery school report is anything to go by,  not much has changed.

I didn’t like playing outside.  I liked reading,  story time,  music time and acting and dress up.  I didn’t like getting dirty and my mom says I use to get out the car and just go to school.  No wave,  no looking back.  At that point at least I could still count,  knew my alphabet apparently quite early and I could name the colours and farm animals.

I was in the Lion class,  which is not a farm animal.  As you know,  here in Africa we let all animals walk around freely and enjoy our backyards as they like. Terrible for traffic and the odd child being eaten.

Primary school, I remember going to enroll with Ouma Chrissie,  but on the day school started, I sommer went alone.  No shoes.  I am  an Afrikaanse meisie,  we don’t do shoes. I still don’t like shoes.  (Love pedicures btw)

In grade one or two I remember a girl’s parents asked that their child not sit next to me as my parents were divorced.  Yes,  I am sure their divorce could rub off on your child. The rest of that year I sat alone.  I remember learning to count with burnt cigarettes which we made huts with later.

I went to school a year early so I was always the youngest. I was desperate to play netball but you could only play in standard one and I was still a year too young. Being very short didn’t help! Eventually I was allowed to play but not outside of our school. I was too young. I settled in with a group a year behind me at school in the end and I loved it very much.

I did just dandy at school and  I did modern and tap dancing in the afternoons. I didn’t like ballet.  Looked very pretencious to me.  I did piano lessons,  drama lessons,  I played every sport available at school and I was on my bike constantly.  I wrote books and drew the pictures to accompany my stories.  Unless a miracle happened,  those pictures must have been terrible. Good times.

I had the same boyfriend from grade two to standard four.  Hey,  not much of a one night stand kinda girl. He did turn out to be captain of the rugby team so I did ok.

End of standard four everything changed.  My father died and I was to go live with my Mammie and my sister,  Rentia in the city. My boyfriend dumped me.

We lived in Hillbrow towards the end of it being trendy.  Some parts were downright scary.  For the first time in my life I had to catch a bus… with Rentia…. to school.  I was petrified off my surroundings and wondered if my Mom dies how am I going to get hold of my Ouma?

My final year of Primary School was strange.  The school was very poor so they would feed us porridge in the morning before school and give us a sandwich at lunch.  Meals on wheels would arrive.  Seriously.  If you said no thank you, they thought you were just being shy! We use to get vegetables on Fridays to take home and occasionally Albany would give everyone a bread!

The teachers were horrid and liked to beat the crap out of you. If you got 11/20, they would snack you with a ruler 9 times and so on. I wonder if it was an Afrikaans thing.

There was one teacher who wanted to save the world (reminds me of @SirNoid in teacher mode) who on weekends would take us out of town to see a cave or a dam or braai at his mom’s house where we could swim…. and then drive everyone back to school.  Bless his heart.

The school had no extra murals but we played baseball on the red sand at break.  Huge culture shock for me as I use to be incredibly driven physically with sport and dancing. Red sand is bloody hard to get out of white socks.

Oh I won Miss….. Beauty pageant that year.  I got fake flowers for a crown and I think some chocolate. My Mammie and sister was very proud.

I decided to go to art school more because nobody else from this school would be going there.  First day of High School my mom walked me in and I cried like a colicky baby.

Loved my time there. Sport resumed,  plenty of madness. Lots of time for acting and creating chaos.  The teacher made me class captain in an attempt to get me to behave!  Haha!  I gave my badge in the same day.  No way am I reporting on other kids.  Sorrrrryyyy!

I met my friend Vicky there when I was 12. Until today I would kill the bull for her and she has slayed a few dragons for me.  Home wasn’t great (to say I hated my then stepfather –  now dead – is an understatement) but I loved school.  Hated holidays lol.

Brief stint at another school when the English and Afrikaans Art schools joined up…. and I decided I wanted to matriculate in English.  Besides, I am not a conformist.  I did not do well with how long your dress has to be and your hair may not touch your collar blah blah.

After visiting various places of education my Mammie and I settled on a private college where you went to school daily,  in whatever outfit you liked.  It was just like regular school,  minus the crap, plus lipstick.  Giving me freedom, I excelled academically.  I loved studying.  I loved trying to find my feet between Afrikaans and English in all the different subjects. History remains my favourite.  Just not ‘Die Groot Trek’. It is also here where my political believes were formed on the pavements outside and my friends of many colours. I also learned that all black men are not terrorists as I was previously taught at school.

We really are not a one size fit all education system,  we never were.

In the end it was so rewarding for me to have made this weird choice.  I matriculated with two distinctions and university entrance with English as my first language and a hatred for rassism. Smarty pants.

I was accepted at WITS University when idiotic me decided I shall marry instead so I never have to see my stepfather again.

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…. and that is where the crap really started.

I wish you enough,
Wenchy

Posted from the second cloud on your left.

@kylajeanv #YNWA #LFC

~♡~Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

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She reminded me a bit of me in never just accepting anyone else’s opinion. She thinks,  direct,  tests before making up her own mind.  She isn’t impressed by mediocre thought. 

She is funny,  tells jokes and forgets the punch line. She is innocent and sophistication all in one. Like me, when she loves, she loves completely…. which means when she gets hurt, it is in proportion with the depth she loved.

She is passionate about football. #LFC #YNWA She knows when to apologise and when to walk away. She loves proper coffee and Earl Grey Tea. Her excitement is contagious. She loves the colour grey.

She bakes cookies from scratch. She can see beauty in the smallest detail. She is independent and smart. She is loyal and committed.

She is my daughter. Born from my heart. Kyla Jean.

‘And when you smile. The whole world stops and stares for a while ‘Cause girl, you’re amazing. Just the way you are.’ – Bruno Mars

I wish you enough,
Wenchy ~♡~

Posted from the second cloud on your left.

#OneChance @sterkinekor @paulpottsmusic

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Dear friends and other interesting creatures, 

A couple of weeks ago,  I received a last minute e-mail to see ‘One Chance’ in the cinema.  I had not even Google it by the time I was in my seat.

#OneChance is the true life story of the first winner of Britain’s got talent I was to find out. 

It tells the tale of a boy who was bullied endlessly for not fitting in for years on end,  a supportive mom, a doubtful dad and the girl whom he ultimately married,  Julz…. But above all,  his love for music. Opera to be exact.

The film is a comedy but often I cried,  cheering Paul on…. From kissing Julz for the first to the pop up entry on his computer that didn’t want to close…. A literal toss of the coin entry that changed his life.

Perhaps Mr Potts prepared the way for performers like Susan Boyle as he won… and his world changed forever.

I was extremely fortunate,  blessed and excited to get a 30 minute slot to interview Mr Potts on his brief visit to South Africa.

All the questions flew out me head and we chatted about bullies,  the severe impact this abuse had on his life,  his book and what he did and chose not to divulge to the screenwriters. We discussed ghost writers and his choice to pen his own book.  We spoke about the actual Britain’s got talent audition,  how he feels about his changed life and how much he enjoys travelling. I enjoyed our time together passionately and could have spoken all afternoon. 

Paul Potts no doubt wears the scars of a painful and difficult childhood but his life,  the flight of magic his voice brings,  silences every critic he may ever have had. He speaks out about bullies,  support and empowerment for the victims.  He is incredibly humble,  sincere,  lovable and real… And yes,  he runs his own Twitter account!  You have to LOVE that!

Mr Potts completely won me over when at the end of the interview he wrote a note to my Liam whom is a huge fan wishing him a happy 18th birthday
without any requests from me.  Take the child by the hand…. And you take the mother by the heart. X

The movie is funny,  heartwarming, comical and a place where dreams do come true.  I loved every second.  The cast is brilliant,  sincere and the the film a must see for all. 

Come on… Give it #OneChance!

I will be reviewing his book next… Quite a talented fellow our Mr Potts… He CAN actually write!

I wish you enough,
Wenchy
@NocturnalWenchy

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