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A tale of two cities

Was just on the phone to my sister, she's 21 months younger than me but these days it often feels like she's the 'big sister' – so grown up, so responsible, so wise and witty and just downright clever. She's an occupational therapist at a government hospital and lives in Cape Town which is only a two hour flight away but some months it may aswell be as far as Australia... 

Right now she's sitting at home bored out of her mind on sick leave having had a minor op last week. It'd be so cool to be able to pop round with cupcakes (freshly baked by 'Melissa's') and make her a cup of tea and bring over a few chick flick DVD rentals for her to pass the time watching. It'd be so cool to just be able to help her out, do the dishes, paint her to toes – all the stuff your sister's supposed to when you're not running at full capacity.

Alas! Puddle Duck and I haven't lived in the same city since December 2000 when I packed my bags and boarded a flight for London in aid of my artistic pursuits. Shortly after that my little sister moved to Cape Town to study (where she fell in love with the mountain, surfing and the boy who she'd one day say 'I do' too). When I eventually returned home after five years in the queen's country I found myself in Johannesburg and Puddle Duck had morphed into a true Capetonian – any hope of her moving back to Jozi dissolved like a fizz ball in a bubble bath. 

I like to think of our relationship as a tale of two cities. The dream of course is to one day land up living a 5 minute drive away from eachother. We could have tea whenever we wanted, our hubbies could play golf or fix cars or do some manly bonding thing together, and ultimately when we start popping out offspring, the cousins could muck about in the sandpit together. *sigh* Well that's the dream anyway...

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