Cape Town really is magnificent at this time of year, the mountain just about sparkles in the soft-lit blue skies- imploring you to put on some sensible shoes and come outside to “seize the day” : to be honest it’s all really a bit of a bother . Some of us would far prefer to be inside watching back-to-back episodes of Project Runway with a bit of Star Trek mixed in (for balance) than dirtying our hems outdoors. But when Cape Town is behaving in this way it’s difficult not to feel guilty about keeping the curtains drawn- even if you are having a perfectly lovely time in the dark.
If it were not for the aesthetic stream of the orthodontic sciences I would fall much higher on society’s hierarchy of beauty. A set of naturally straight teeth (well, mostly straight) is one of the very few advantages I have in the arena of attractiveness. Or, it would have been if metal, porcelain and pliers could not now be used to fashion a pretty smile out of even the most poorly arranged mouths. What a cheat! Continue reading
This week-end I discovered that the tear-jerking Dove campaign, “You are More Beautiful Than You Think You Are” will have little relevance for women wearing their own home-made snoods. I made one this week-end (my first knitting project since childhood) and I couldn’t possibly think of myself as better looking. It was difficult for me to find time to write this post between modelling it up and down the streets of Cape Town (with my best best beauty- queen- wave) and bullying my loved ones into helping me immortalise it in photographs. I have been greeting strangers, visiting old friends and attending all kinds of social events that I would ordinarily avoid- a traveling exhibition of my tube of knitting.
After you turn 30 hangovers are truly brutal. Today’s was made up of all kinds of the cruelest symptoms: shakiness, insomnia, shame induced cringing, a sort of energetic kind of guilt and the taste of how I imagine the floor of a seedy bar to taste in my mouth.
My face is an ashtray.
Boy, are these buns delicious: the subtle background of spice brings these flavours together to make for a grown-up yet sweet and deeply comforting experience. I chose to serve this to my coolest and most excitingly trousered friends because the addition of one of Cape Town’s favourite local “craft” brewery’s stout makes these buns as hip as they are delicious.
Three to five times a week I put on the ugliest clothes and shoes that I can find in my cupboard and go out into the world to make a sweaty spectacle of myself, up and down the streets of Cape Town. Yip, that’s right I am the most ordinary of all things: I am a jogger. Jogging makes a great mediator in the constant battle between my gluttony and vanity. Its is also something of an addiction. I have, truth be told, even run a marathon. Oh the things I got to eat during this time. There is nothing quite like a 32km training running to prepare you appetite for the finer things in life.
It took me about four and half hours to run a marathon, just like Oprah. This marathon time was my only connection to the Grand Madame, until recently. At around about the time Oprah was publicly but gently scolding that handsome scoundrel Lance Armstrong, her representatives in South Africa were concerned with more delightful matters- matters relating to Pretty Biscuits. I know this because I am the recent and proud recipient of an email requesting photographs of some my very pretty biscuits (pictured in this post) for “possible inclusion in South Africa’s O magazine”.
Possible inclusion, people!
Move over Posh Beckham, I’m famous!
I think that now that I am famous I will have Opes over for tea and pretty biscuits where I will suggest a dimension to the Lance case that I think her interview overlooked. These world-class athletes are apparently not permitted to eat delicious baked goods and pretty biscuits, in the interest of performace. Given these harsh conditions its hardly surprising that they should misbehave now and then. Surely, we would all be the most dreadful people if we did not have regular treats to bolster our moral courage and keep us on the straight and narrow. I know that I, at least, would be capable of the most unspeakable things if, after making a sweaty and lycra clad spectacle of myself, I was not rewarded with cakes and biscuits. Oprah will agree and our friendship will be sealed . Oprah, Gail, Lance (now forgiven) and I will get together once a month to swap recipes.
For more about my Pretty Biscuits you can visit my Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/PrettyBiscuit