21 Years

I honestly did not know I would survive 21 years without you. It speaks volumes for the human spirit, for I did not think I would see morning that night. It took seven years to say your name without crying.

Today a lifetime of smiles around my eyes play, when I explain about the man who gave me the name “Wenchy” before the tears come.

The free falling long blonde hair as you came into the room wearing black jeans, a white T-shirt and the smile that captured me forever when you saw me.

I hate that I know grief so intimately. I miss you intensely. Love you.

Tim Duffy
13 June 1973 – 17 March 1999

#25forever

Cat Chat

Absolutely mindless chatter. 😊

  • Lady Cayte. I have a cat who turns 9 years old this year.
  • The first few nights we had her as a kitten, I thought I should have named her “Hannibal”. Wild thing, she may kill us in our sleep, kinda cat.
  • Now, she is the epidemy of “teenage dirtbag baby” in attitude. She is exceptionally low maintenance.
  • If I forget to buy cat food, I remind her that she is a Lion and must seriously hunt for food.
  • She took this as a “hold my catnip”. Ugh. So I buy food on time now. In bulk.
  • @SirNoid has a cat of similar age. Countessa Gina. She is slutty and will climb all over anyone who gives her attention. She is high maintenance and scratches on doors to be let in or out. She will beg for things.
  • Cayte is above such, like me.

Courage.

Sometimes I wonder if it is a curse or a gift to experience life so intensely… but I do believe it’s courageous. Leaves one expose for depths of pain, but also for intense joy…oh and flight of delightful fantasy.

Happiness or sadness, disappointment or elation, joy or pain.

Ultimately I know to be vulnerable, is to be alive and therefore I would rather experience life from the core.

Look, it can make me a bit intense on occasion, I suppose… but at least life is never predictable.

To dream is to starve doubt, feed hope. 

Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

Sitting on a blanket in a field of sunflowers, typing on a retro style typewriter while eating sour dough bread with salted butter, brie cheese and fig preserve.

An ever so delicate breeze would pick up a strand of my hair. A delightful shade of purple would dance against the blue sky.

Stetched out on the blanket, I look up. I close my eyes while darkness rolls in with a gift of stars. A million flickering delights.

Are you shining just for me?

I wish you enough

Wenchy

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.

Continue reading “Closing circles”

New every morning. 

Dear friends and other interesting creatures, 

All I wanted was to live a life where I could be me, and be okay with that. I had no need for material possessions, money or even close friends with me on my journey. I never understood people very well anyway, and they never seemed to understand me very well either. All I wanted was my art and the chance to be the creator of my own world, my own reality. I wanted the open road and new beginnings every day.

– Charlotte Eriksson

I remember a time in my life I honestly believed that I got to try again tomorrow. I’m not saying be an idiot and then all is forgiven when the sun comes up. 

A new day would emerge where transgressions were not a well indexed encyclopaedia. I got to try again without question as the sun came up. I’ve not felt that way for well over a decade. 

Peace. Acceptance. Happiness. Fulfillment. Love. 

You cannot find everlasting hunger, fed and satisfied by humanity. There is no solution to be found inside others. People are flawed, they are human. Their mood and emotions blow as the wind. It is the nature of the beast. The wind blows intermittently. Unpredictable. Storm and sunshine. 

The Bible speaks about “New mercies every day”, “Come to me all who are heavy burdened and I will give you rest.” While I cannot pledge myself as a devoted Christian, I do believe that if once you were held in the palm of God’s hand, that He will not let you go. I find a strange comfort in that. A solitude. He knows my name. Inscribed in His hand, I will find rest,… eventually. 

I’ve read the Bible. I can quote scripture. I grew up with a strong Biblical background. My grandfather is a Pastor. This is not saying much as the devil is quite proficient in scripture himself. I do not often speak about religion because I do not live in a glasshouse. I am not fond of stones. 

I attempt to act in kindness, acceptance, toletance and love. I do not always succeed. I try. I am flawed. I run with the wind. I’m human. 

I wish you enough, 

Wenchy

What is a blogger? 

Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

I have found it more and more difficult to align myself with the Blogging community as a whole. It has been a struggle between wanting to fit in, run with the cool kids, or my more inherent need to be recognised for who I am and my belief of what a Blogger is. Maybe I will just declare myself the cool kid.

I have never fitted into a genre and there is no niche to my writing, except that I write my truth. My personal, human experience. Joyful or destroying.

What was an online journal to many has turned into a Digital Marketing space. In my mind Blogging is personal. Marketing is selling. Makes sense?

I have endorsed products, places and people on this blog. I have never endorsed anything that is not truthful to me, but marketing on my blog is not #wenchytude. Authenticity is #wenchytude. Forgive me as wrap my mind around being both.

Is it authentic to tell you about a show I loved or the truth about a restaurant I visited or movie I saw? What products I enjoy using or which book I think you should all read?

Off course it is. I was doing this by nature long before Twitter or Facebook came to be. Before stats,  sponsored content and rate cards.

Having an online presence and being called a “Social Media Influencer” certainly has exposed me to greater experiences, people and places. I am extremely grateful and humbled.  A tad in awe when being partnered with a brand, invited to Social Media events, meeting people I admire and visit destinations I may never have enjoyed otherwise. I’ve been incredibly blessed and I am very thankful.

@SirNoid constantly reminds me that at times my wonder at it all, has left me vulnerable to my online space being exploited, that my time, effort and personal brand has worth in the digital arena.

I acknowledge that I’ve worked hard at my personal brand. Perhaps because I enjoy being the Diva,  I do not always recognise what I do, as “work”?

I will go forth believing I am one of the lucky few who get to do what they love, and love what they do. What an exciting time to be alive!

I shall grow with the changing times, while keeping it real. I still identify Blogging as being a writer at the core. For me the tipping point remains authentic content, not forced to a schedule and truthful reflection.

I shall  stake a claim at the  exclusive word, writer.

Perhaps, it is time?

I wish you enough,

Wenchy

Comma

Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

You were my first love as a little  girl. Waiting for you to come home from the Airforce. 

A R5 tucked into my hand when nobody looked. The first man to buy me perfume.  A comfort after my father died. 

Continue reading “Comma”

42 you said?

Dear friends, family and other interesting creatures,

Some bonds cannot be broken. Not even in death.

It may be 17 years since Tim died, but I had a very real sense of him yesterday. I could not understand why he lingered yesterday. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. Usually I am able to pin point an emotional from him, a smile, a look in his eye – yesterday I just felt him here.

He always visits, sitting on the right hand side of the bed, regardless of venue. Before he died, we had never even been in a bedroom together before.

Seeing Tim isn’t scary or creepy. It can be both comforting and heart breaking. Sometimes I smile, other times I feel renewed grief.

I am not big on “speaking to the dead”, or “crossing over”. I’m merely relating that somehow Tim keeps contact. Often followed up the next day or two in a quote or a song, an item that was of value only to us.

Have you ever experienced anything like this?

I wish you enough,
Wenchy

The Nocturnal Wenchy

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Dear Tim,

I’ve told you before. The thing with death is, I have no new pictures of you. So I had to improvise a little.

As I have been preparing for my Grahamstown festival trip next month, I could not help but think of you. Do you remember?

You were in school uniform. Matric blazer. I was sitting on the steps of the church on the square in Grahamstown. I went to a private school so no uniform. I remember I was wearing a very stretched out purple jersey and brown leather shoes I had bought at the festival.

(Remains the most expensive shoes I’ve ever owned. Haha! I would much rather buy books. I had no idea at the time how much purple was still to follow.)

The sun was setting.

You came and sat next to me. I had never seen you before. You sat, silently. I remember…

View original post 276 more words

Check your mate

Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

Random thoughts:

* My anxiety is playing up at the moment and I am not loving it. My default emotion is anxiety so it does not require an event to plague me. It is not fanTy. Forgive me if I am not as chatty as usual. Although … I’ve become really good at hiding these issues.

* I love my husband, @SirNoid. He won a big ass TV and put it in our room for me toimage watch DVD’s. Not that I watch DVD’s all day long but it made me feel special that he did that. I do not want it hooked up to our DSTV! Perfect just like that.

Oh yes, dear @SirNoid gives magnificent massages. Not sure if I could return the favour in an equally fabulous manner with my lovely illness inflamed hands, but I will try.

* Before you pick up your phone to call me, think… Is this textable? I do not answer the phone (deep psychological reasons which surfaced after my Oupa Mike died. No therapy did not help). So, unless I gave birth to you, or I let you sleep in my bed, don’t phone me. I am not going to answer. Text or email. Flowers (yellow roses really do the trick) is lovely, and you are welcome to WhatsApp me. On the odd occasion that I may call YOU, know that you are incredibly special!

* I need to colour my hair at least every 7 to 10 days for the optimum #purplehairdontcare look. Been just over 18 months of having totally purple hair and I am loving it ! Even my @SirNoid loves it ….and he was very sceptical in the beginning. 💜

* After five or so years, it appears our furniture needs replacing… as does our linen. Electrical appliances seem fine but our bedroom, bathrooms, lounges etc need some attention / updating / love. How long does these things last in your house?

* @SirNoid and I do not share a bathroom. Very progressive thinking I must say. My husband says I’m odd to not share a bathroom, but why not, if you have another bathroom that isn’t being used? Would you like your own bathroom?

* ♡ I am posting my birthday #wishlist tonight, as requested. I love that I still get asked to do this. 😄 My friends are so proper.


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I’m posting this as a request from my friend Janice who tagged me on Facebook.

Four names I go by:
1. Momma / Mother/ Mom
2. Nancy / Nancy Pants
3. Aunty Stel
4. Wenchy / #MammaWenchy

If in any doubt, Wenchy is the name to go with (no surname – think Madonna, Cher – they don’t need surnames and neither does Wenchy).

Only my Mammie and Bank Manager calls me by my proper name. When my name is mess up. it annoys me LOTS. It is Christel-Michel or Wenchy. I dislike being called Chris, although I guess that would be the natural way to go for people who want to be friendly but don’t know me well. Yes, I may have some issues.

(My close family and perhaps those who would give me a kidney …call me Stel. I’m old fashioned that way, so respectfully, kids get to call me Aunty Stel.)

Four places I’ve lived:
1. In my head
2. In your computer
3. Potchefstroom
4. Johannesburg

Favoured things I love to watch on TV:
1. Game Of Thrones
2. The Blacklist
3. Chicago Med / Greys Anatomy
4. Blue Bloods

Four favourite places I have visited:
1. Victoria Falls (Zimbabwe)
2. Uvongo Lagoon where the water is forever deep (South Africa)
3. Pebble Beach at Storms River Mouth in the Tsitsikamma National Park (South Africa)
4. Grahamstown (The National Arts Festival, South Africa)
…..and as a bonus:
5. McGregor (South Africa)
6. Top of Sani Pass (Lesotho)
7. Drakensberg (South Africa)

Four things I love to eat:
1. Crème Brulee
2. Baked Cheese Cake
3. Pork Belly
4. Rare Fillet Steak

Favourite drinks I love to have:
1. Water
2. Strawberry Daiquiri
3. Cappuccino
4. Salted caramel milkshake

Four books I adore:
1. Tuesdays With Morrie by Mitch Albom
2. Perks Of Being A Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky
3. Seks, Drugs en Boeremusiek deur Koos Kombuis
4. The Fault In Our Stars by John Green

Four people I TRUST will respond ( … and not be beige!) You can either respond on your blog, or in my blog comment section, or Facebook , but please tag me :

1. Birthsay Girl Jenny
2. Our Ky
3. My #bestie Gail
4. Tayla-Jade
….and bonus, dear 5. Shell (You can also join her group (all about beads) while you at it!)

Anyone else who wants to play is very welcome! 😇

I wish you enough,
Wenchy