The silence that is me.

Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

“…and, for that little while,
the darkness was kind.”
~ Stephen King

The past year has been filled with contradiction. Life changing decisions which lead me to feelings of elation, dread, hope, happiness and despair.

Perhaps that is life. Not being stagnant is positive. Change is the one thing we can count on. How we deal with change is the game changer I’m told.

Right now I’m dealing with my blue eyed wonder, Liam James having relocated permanently to the UK. Anyone who knows our story, know that a chunk of my identity and heart got on that plane. I am very happy for my boy. I want him to do things I never did, see places I’ve never been. It is however painful to not have him with me.

I was ill for over four weeks with a crazy case of bronchitis and for the first time in my life, fainting. Ovet-rated for sure. Three antibiotics, wheezing and feeling unsteady on my feet. For weeks. We really should place more emphasis on celebrating our health.

I could not meet my media obligations. I feel like a failure. I’m behind in my writing course, my reviews and attending events was impossible. I don’t like doing the bare minimum just so that “something” was done.

I also realised that I over complicate writing, as well as blogging. I want it to be my idea of perfect. I read other blogs and I feel dissapointed. It seems simplistic. I expect more. There is nothing wrong with their posts, but I always expect it to extraordinary. I’m being unfair. Stop the search for perfect. Just be dammit. Just enjoy things for what they are.

I decided to return to basics. Write. Come on Wenchy. Just be you. Write for you. Even when it isn’t perfect….. because darling you are far from perfect. Writers write, so WRITE!

It is 4h36am. I’m going to post this because my friends miss me just writing about every day kinda stuff, and me being just being me… and writing is one of the few ways I know will assist me with the murky waters of the taunting depression I feel lurking.

I wish you enough,


Closing Circles

The Nocturnal Wenchy

One always has to know when a stage comes to an end. If we insist on staying longer than the necessary time, we lose the happiness and the meaning of the other stages we have to go through.

Closing cycles, shutting doors, ending chapters – whatever name we give it, what matters is to leave in the past the moments of life that have finished.

Did you lose your job? Has a loving relationship come to an end? Did you leave your parents’ house? Gone to live abroad? Has a long-lasting friendship ended all of a sudden?

You can spend a long time wondering why this has happened.

You can tell yourself you won’t take another step until you find out why certain things that were so important and so solid in your life have turned into dust, just like that.

But such an attitude will be awfully stressing for everyone involved: your parents, your husband or wife, your friends, your children, your sister.

Everyone is finishing chapters, turning over new leaves, getting on with life, and they will all feel bad seeing you at a standstill.

Things pass, and the best we can do is to let them really go away. That is why it is so important (however painful it may be!) to destroy souvenirs, move, give lots of things away to orphanages, sell or donate the books you have at home.

Everything in this visible world is a manifestation of the invisible world, of what is going on in our hearts – and getting rid of certain memories also means making some room for other memories to take their place.

Let things go. Release them. Detach yourself from them.

Nobody plays this life with marked cards, so sometimes we win and sometimes we lose.

Do not expect anything in return, do not expect your efforts to be appreciated, your genius to be discovered, your love to be understood.

Stop turning on your emotional television to watch the same program over and over again, the one that shows how much you suffered from a certain loss: that is only poisoning you, nothing else.

Nothing is more dangerous than not accepting love relationships that are broken off, work that is promised but there is no starting date, decisions that are always put off waiting for the “ideal moment.”

Before a new chapter is begun, the old one has to be finished: tell yourself that what has passed will never come back.

Remember that there was a time when you could live without that thing or that person – nothing is irreplaceable, a habit is not a need.

This may sound so obvious, it may even be difficult, but it is very important.

Closing cycles. Not because of pride, incapacity or arrogance, but simply because that no longer fits your life.

Shut the door, change the record, clean the house, shake off the dust.

Stop being who you were, and change into who you are.

– Paulo Coelho

Spur – A taste for my throbbing ovaries. 🦒

Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

Something very few people know is that @SirNoid and I have been considering having the vasectomy (I insisted on seven years ago – again… what is with the seven that keeps popping up in my life?), reversed.

Playing the role of the supportive husband, @SirNoid said if you can go three months with not a single doubt, we can investigate having another child.

Well, tonight my husband is at a gala dinner and I decided I shall go to Spur for supper by my own self. Not just any Spur mind you. The Palomino Spur at Sun City! Go big or go back to your fine dining experiences Wench.

When my kids were younger (25 YEARS ago!) it was their favourite hang out. This visit should seize my ovaries and induce menopause, or have me arranging reveal parties as there were no Pinterest when I was vomiting and having severe heartburn.

I asked to be seated in a booth towards the back so I can observe. I did not ask to seated near the children play area as my memory is not that poor.

It wasn’t long before a birthday song was sung. Not a proper song. Plenty clapping and few lyrics. I don’t like that.

With great excitement, I spot a Strawberry Daiquiri on the menu. Must be a pre-mix-job I decide, but order it anyway. After it arrived, I asked for a glass of crushed ice to try to revive it. It works enough for me to feel a small kick. Small, but I’ll take it. Don’t order this if it is your signature drink. You won’t be living your best life.

I’ve not seen the steak with prawns and cheese on the menu before, so I order that. I think there may have been garlic involved. With vegetables. I’ve been ill. My body needs butternut and spinach.

The steak was done as I asked (rare) and the prawns and cheese topping was not bad either. The garlic lingered as it should. Vegetables were good, I love the onion rings but the chips were a little sad. Main meal was a win then?

Another birthday clap. The birthday kid gives a loud cry. Hates ageing that kid does.

There are two men sitting behind me. Swearing in Afrikaans. They speak as if all the woman of the world is lining up to give them a bit of that. I picture what they look like in my head. Eventually, I turn around to see what these sex gods look like… Congratulate me again on never having sex in Afrikaans. I’m clearly a winner. Ugh.

The waitress has been fabulous. I always ask for water with ice and more often than not it is forgotten. She kept it coming. I may love her.

I order Peppermint Crisp tart with ice cream because it reminds me of my son Liam James… and I’m a sentimental sod. Oh and a Cappuccino.

Good job on dessert. Truly. It had that homemade touch to it and tasted lovely. The Cappuccino was okay.

As closing time approaches, the now overtired parents and sleeping children have left. Thankfully so has the wanna-be sex gods.

The staff starts cleaning up around me. Loudly in voice and mop action. That annoys me.

There is a man loudly discussing breast milk, and I quote “warm from the nipple”, I kid you not, at the Spur counter where I am supposed to exit the restaurant. It appears this man is waiting for one of the staff members. He spoiled my nostalgia for sure.

Spur served a much better meal than I expected. Yay! I do wish they would go back to singing “Happy birthday!” without the clap. The ambience was family orientated as expected, the music was toned down and my waitress, Blessing, was just that! Outstanding. Attentive, friendly and knowledgeable. I did tell her that she was lovely and tipped accordingly.

I spoke to the Manager, Dumisani about the breast, nipple braai fire talk and that perhaps friends waiting for staff to finish their shift should do so silently or elsewhere. He apologised and thanked me for bringing it to his attention. I felt heard. His eyes when I said the word nipple confirmed it. Thank you, Sir.

As for my ovaries, rejoice beloved. I don’t think I will be out this late at night by myself, in a town other than where I live, doing a review with a babe in arms! Besides, a clap for my birthday child won’t do.

I wish you enough,

#MamaWench 🦒