Well, a most seemingly unremarkable thing happened recently. My Aunt sent a message saying I’d missed a fabulous dinner party in Betty’s Bay. It was a night of song and dance with the locals. And I’d missed meeting the Irish girls who believe in fairies. She also told me to visit a particular writing site dedicated to magical realism.
As I read about magical realism, something stirred in me. It was a remembering, oh my word: I wanted to write and I wanted to dedicate spacious time to it, to the exclusion of everything else. I knew of a place that was perfect (surrounded by wild nature with views of the sea) and just down the road from my Aunt. It borders on a reserve – there’s literally a mountain covered in vynbos in the back garden.
And so it is that I’m writing from Betty’s Bay right now, sitting on the couch in the cosiest room in front of the fireplace. The rustic kitchen is just across the way and my patisserie things are all unpacked. Yes, I am here to write to the exclusion of everything else… but the neighbours would love some home made bread and The Viking wants to learn how to make croissants.
As for my Aunt’s dinner parties, well, since I can’t sing, I shall just have to make the desserts 😉 .