A late lie-in, selection of papers, eggs Benedict & spoonfuls of fabulous marmalade. To me all these things mean it’s Sunday. A day were running on time isn’t what’s important, but taking the time to languish over everything is. And that’s what I’ve done this morning. I may have woken up early (what’s new) but I lay in bed, dozed, read my book and when I was ready for the world – rather than the other way around – I flopped out of bed. Without rushing or thinking too hard I rummaged around for an outfit, brushed my teeth and made myself presentable to the world. Letting my feet do the thinking I bumbled down the stairs and into the kitchen: time for feeding. Having previously sneakily placed the remainder of the Hollandaise sauce in the back of the fridge, out of general sight, I had a plan for breakfast this morning. From Monday to Saturday I eat a healthy, regulated breakfast. But on Sundays I crack the egg, splash out on the buttered toast and have one too many cups ...

Today I did something VERY cool, and something I can totally recommend... The call came in yesterday that a helicopter wanted to land on the Estate today and it was agreed that in return for a ‘parking space’ someone would be taken for a short trip. I didn’t expect it to be me – I may have hoped – but definitely didn’t expect it. The day had begun with a minor drama but a certain phone call definitely lifted the spirits (pardon the pun) leaving me with a smug grin that was difficult to hide – not that I wanted to – and a nervous excitement in my tummy that told me to hold off from lunch (just in case). I was going to fly in a helicopter. Me and the helicopter Due to land at 13:00, from 12:30 I’d been clock-watching and by the time the rotors were thwarting through the sky at five-to I was standing ready and very excited. After circling a few times (and while this was going on I have to admit a small worry that it would land in another field) it headed somewhat ominously – as they...

In a land far far away (+- 5 1/2 hours on the train) where no planes fly (due to the volcano) and only the sound of creaking doors keep you awake (at least I hope not) lies Caprington Castle... and that's where I am right now! Actually, to be more exact, if it were light and I was looking out the window, I'd be looking out this window: But because it's dark and, well, bed-time, I'm sitting on my rather soft, slightly higher than normal single bed. And I've got two things to worry about: 1. that I'll fall out of the single (for short people almost a bunk) bed and 2. that I'll wake up with a bruise! Plans for tomorrow: explore the Narnia-like cupboard with shiny, enticing doors at the end of my room... Lucky

Why is it mandatory for your local / anywhere Chinese to have decor that's dated. Actually to say it's dated implies that it comes from an era. What I'm talking about is a collection of 'remotely from the homeland' plants whose flowers may look slightly like the top of a temple. Plastic, gold coloured shiny cats that bob and wave. Laminated brick walls, or the ever classy, never subtle orange paint. Don't get me wrong, everyone is allowed their taste, and usually I quite enjoy the flavours from my selected boxes / plate. But there is no relaxed dining here. And it seems to be a world-wide (at least in Cape Town & London) trait. I guess it's always a good giggle! But seriously, is there a decorator who has a monopoly? Lucky

Isn't it great when a country prints money especially so you can play a board game that you previously lost all the pieces for - so thoughtful! Lucky

The other day I was hanging out in the north of London, dining on a recovery roti when this came into my life... 100 g of phallic fun Lucky

Sometimes something really small gives you a thrill. Makes you want to grin ridiculously while elevating you to the clouds you feel you're walking on. It can last for a moment or ten - and always takes you to that happy place. Yesterday I had that moment. Stepping into Trafalgar Square the first few snow flakes began to fall. Light enough to enjoy a swirling twirl in the air before landing on my coat and melting. The excitement of the anticipated, the enjoyment of the present. Filling you up with child-like delight... except this time with a beer. Lucky

Fabulous: if you don't mind being the only on at the beach in a costume and adorned with your front teeth. St. James is no Llundudno - kids run past, decorating you with the sand from their feet and babies cry ALOT. The two old women sitting under their umbrella, debate whether their sweets are sour or not. But the tidal pool is great and the beach not too big, so you can soak while keeping a close eye on your bags. Aesthetically it's quite quaint. Floating in the tidal pool, crashing waves and shrieking children in the background - multicoloured huts face the sea, weathered by the sand and wind and stickied by many ice-creamed fingers. The women sit cackling on the wall of the pool, rocking back and forth with the waves. Sometimes their bodies succumb to the push and pull of the ocean, other times just their tummies. The latest see-through purple and green plastic hat imports fashioned. Stumbling, far from eloquently, and not because of the sand, dressed in blue, a lady makes ...

If I talk about Sambuca, the first thing that comes to mind is a little visit to Borruso’s (then I’m distracted briefly by the awesome Borruso’s Special pizza – a moment...) Shots in wine glasses, swirling, lighting and the hilariality (new word) of the new shape your breast / tummy / bum becomes, varying on your choice of Samboobca / Samtumca / Sambumca. Truth be told I’ve never done one myself, but on others they look great. This last weekend also involved Sambuca. Specifically Friday night, 5 or 6 girls, a lot of juicy conversation, nominations and beer pong with life-jackets. There was even a drive-by; perhaps I should explain: we were in Betty’s Bay and felt the need to head out and check out the local night-life at King Arthur’s genuine replica – built using almost the same bricks, and definitely the same style – Camelot. The Sambuca was a gift, given with the understanding that the bottle would be finished over the weekend. We smashed it on the Friday – it was awe...

Once in a blue moon – kind of like how sometimes February has more days some years and less in others – the yearly calendar skips a couple of months. The year can start off totally normally – you won’t suspect a thing – and then BOOM! September is just having a little seasonal change, October rolls around (the shops like you to start thinking about Xmas) and then all of a sudden it’s February, you’re in another country working fervently on your tan cause at the end of the week you’re heading back to the UK! True story. Lucky