‘It’s a silly season and I’m exhausted’ Rubbish Day

It was my birthday yesterday. It’s Christmas in a week. The children are on holiday. The bloodhound and/or the boychild keep waking me before 5. I am exhausted. I was too exhausted even to deal with rubbish on my own this morning. I recruited a special helper.

And so, without further ado, our rules for the silly season:

1. If it is shiny and garish, wear it.


2. If it stands still, decorate it with something shiny and garish. (Don’t bother counting your grey hairs; you’ll be earning more over the next month.)


3. If it’s not still, dance with it.




4. If it’s a Barbie undress it and cover it it in plasters; lose all the tiny shoes and cry about that often.


5. Cling to your sense of humour like it is the last good thing on Earth.


6. Keep twirling, even when you get dizzy.


Happy week to each and everyone.


This is Sparta Rubbish Day

So, I am still online gaming up a storm. I am now fully accepting of what this says about me. It says I am a giant, pasty nerd and I have no social life because I have two children and two jobs and 25 villages to run. That embarrassing admission out the way, I can now tell you that I am a Spartan. Yes, people. I am a Spartan.


I do not, however, leave small children out in the cold night to die or beat young boys to within an inch of their lives. (Both kids were home today – school holidays – and survived a Spartan strut in the street with me.) It does mean that I have a new clan in my war game. We mean business. In that spray-painted on abs kind of way.


Please note the unmolested small children ignoring their mad mother with as much determination as the rubbish guys.


But later this morning, the children are going to granny’s for the night. And as I said to my charming husband 23thorns, tonight, TONIGHT WE DINE IN HELL!


Not really. We are going to the local Greek. Or should we perhaps go Turkish?

The Flintstones’ Rubbish Day

Last week Thursday we had an apocalyptic hail storm in Johannesburg. Since then 23Thorns, the two apples of our eyes and I have been living in the Dark Ages. The really dark, no-electricity, dark ages. We have power for, on average, about 8 hours a day. It is annoying beyond speech. The delightful folk at Eskom now tell us that cable thieves are causing the havoc. I want to beat both the cable thieves and the malfunctioning pylons with a giraffe bone.

And so it is, I present to you The Flintstones’ Rubbish Day. Welcome to our new, very ancient world. We have gone feral, I’m afraid.


Please feel free to drop in for dinner. The stove and microwave are on the blink but, ever crafty, we have made a plan.


Giraffe is on the menu and unless you work for Eskom, I promise we won’t bite.



Happy Wednesday everybody. May yours be filled with light and laughter.