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Day Five: Six places

1. KZN

The place I think of when I hear Adele's 'Hometown'. The place I crawled, walked, dabbled in finger painting and watched The Neverending Story' for the first time (at least all the bits except that super scary wolf scene which still freaks me out). The place I attended my first Natal vs. Transvaal rugby game and opted to support the Vaalies 'cos their rugby jerseys were 'prettier'. Natal won, I learnt my lesson and no matter what they rename the stadium, it'll always be Kingspark to me. Although I am rather relieved that I no longer have to own up to supporting The Banana Boys, The Sharks is much better. It's also the place I said 'I do' a couple of decades later.

2. Jozi

The place I moved to, moved away from and came back to. The place I found out my stammer was really a full blown stutter and that being held up at gunpoint in an armed robbery and a hijacking couldn't diminish my love for the city of gold.  It's also where I found out that my parents weren't going to live happily ever after with each other, but discovered that they were going to live happily ever after with someone else. It's the place I went from having two parents to four, the place I went from co-ed government schooling to all girls private schooling and learnt that there's a reason the phrase 'breed like rabbits' exists – not because there's any MTV-style '16 and pregnant' drama in my past but because the two bunnies my sister and I 'smuggled' back from the Eastern Cape in our jacket pockets turned into about 200 over the next few years.

3. London

The place I loved, then loathed, then loved again. A city that started out lonely and ended up feeling more like 'home' than 'home' did. The place I learnt that forging friendships takes time, like learning to pull the perfect pint at a railway pub in Staines or figuring out alternative public transport routes in summer when Wimbledon's in play and every armpit on the tube seems to be boycotting deodorant. It's the place where a longshot became a 4-year BA (hons) in Fine Art and I met a couple of waitresses and an art student from Guernsey who would turn out to be my bridesmaids. It's the place where phone calls from home weren't always good news, where I sat preparing for my fourth year exhibition while my family said goodbye to Grandpa Ray on another continent. It's still the only city I can confidently get around without a Garmin and the place I'll always associate with Ben & Jerry's cookie dough ice cream, vintage cowboy boots and canaster marathons with my folks.

4. No 83 Baldersani, Sunninghill

The place I got my heart put in a blender, discovered how much fun being single could be and fell in love with the boy next door, literally. It's the place I bought my first couch for, swapped shopping for paying rent and figured out how to park properly. It was the loft apartment I'd always wanted and the place that took me from a shop girl to an account exec, to a painter slash diamond dealer and then a business owner. It's where I lived with two housemates and then my husband, the place I became a dog person, started this blog and got to open my home to a couple of cousins, new friends and their two Ridgeback puppies – not all at the same time of course! 

5. Cape Town

The place my sister lives and I visit whenever I can. It's not the mountain, or the city, or the views, it's the opportunity it offers for me to be a big sister and an aunt full-time, at least for the time I'm there. It's also, conveniently, where my favourite vintage shop, Afraid of Mice, resides and the place where I can spend 8 hours straight on Clifton 1st beach because it's 100% dog-friendly and hubby can assemble his umbrella forest without anyone giving him that sub-titled look that begs to be accessorised with a straightjacket. 

6. My couch

The place where make-up free pajama days and reality TV marathons work best. In those rare gaps between deadline drama and social shenanigans, my couch (evidence of my scatter cushion inclination) is a place of calm where me and my two pavement special pooches can clock up a few sanity saving hours (yes, hours) consuming more calories than we plan to burn and making sure that my latest coat of nail enamel is absolutely 100% dry before lifting a finger to see what's next on the PVR agenda.



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