#OMTOM2015 - Two Oceans Half Marathon - Take 2

I ran the Old Mutual Two Oceans Marathon (OMTOM) - Half Marathon event on Saturday morning. It was only the second time I have run this race - the last was in 2012 the day after returning from a Thailand/Cambodia trip - so I didn't really do it justice as I was under-trained, tired, jet lagged, had an upset tummy etc and also the weather was horrendous that year and it was very cold and raining for most of the way. I knew I had to go back and do it again. But then the next year I was in India at the time, and there was a howling gale for that race, and then last yer I was actually entered, but I was pregnant so I decided it was not a good idea to run a half-marathon more than half way into the pregnancy so I gave up my entry. So this year even though it was only 7 months (and one week) post pregnancy I decided I had to go back and do it again. If nothing else I wanted to prove that I CAN still run and do a half marathon, after having the baby. As so many people said 'but what about your running' when they found out I was pregnant, as if it was the end of the world and I'd never run again.

So I wanted to prove to them, and myself, that I've still got it, even though I am not officially a 'verteran' (i.e. over 40). My goal was to complete sub-2 hours. I have been training quite a lot, and doing more distance than before, doing runs of between 15-19kms about twice a week, and a total of about 60kms per week for a couple of months. I knew I could manage the distance, but speed seemed to be an issue. It seemed my pace was more like 2:05+ for 21kms.

Noting also that I have not even done that many 1/2 marathons. I usually only run 10km races. I think I had done 9 other halves previously.

After doing well at the Spar Ladies race 10km the preceding Sunday I was motivated though. I ran 11kms on the Monday, 17 on the Tuesday and 10km on the Wednesday. I had planned to run on Thursday as well, but by then my right hip and glutes had become really tight and I decided I needed rest more than training, so I rested on Thursday and just registered, did a little bit of power-plate stretching and had a fantastic sports massage. Where the masseuse 'Kevin the Bear' told me I was VERY stiff and tense. In his words I 'need massage, like obese people need diet and exercise'. LOL.

On Friday I rested again, and had a leisurely stroll on the promenade etc.

Come Saturday morning, despite not a great night (few nights actually) with baby N, I was up and ready on time. I left the house at 5am and drove through to Rondebosch without too much hassle. But once the traffic got bad near the Baxter, and with less than 20 minutes before my start time I decided to cut my losses and just park wherever I could. So I parked, sadly left my piece of protein bar behind, and ran to the start. I had to navigate around the Ultra Marathon start pens and get to the B seeding section of the Half marathon, which by the time I did I only had 5 mins before the start. I was already sweating and had run about 1.5kms by then. LOL.

**Slight tangent, this is one of the few running races with a proper seeding system and it is great and makes SO much difference. It is so difficult to get a PB, and so frustrating to be stuck in a mob at the start. If you are seeded, you start in a group that is pretty much the same speed as you and ahead of the people who are slower. So much better, easier and SAFER too. There's no pushing, shoving, tripping and hot stepping to get around walkers who have pushed in to the front. This year they actually started the A,B & C seeded groups 10-minutes ahead of the rest too, to allow a proper head start from the main throng of the 16000+ mob. I had a B-seeding this year and I have to fess up that I cheated a bit to get it, as I had no valid results from last year as I was pregnant and hardly ran at all. But I KNEW that's where I could and should have been seeded and so I used a result from the previous year and submitted it for my seeding. A bit cheeky yes, but unwarranted? Read on and then you decide...**

There was no time for nerves, loo breaks or much of anything. I saw and greeted Dr Ross Tucker (who was leading the sub-1:45 bus) and the infamous Michelle Cupido in my B-group pen. Before we knew it it was 5:50 and the gun was fired and we were off. We started at a gentle trot. I could have ad would have started faster but I reminded myself not to sprint off as this was a half and not a 10km and I needed to pace myself. So I stayed patient and just ran as the group allowed at that stage. As always I was running with my iPOD. I don't care what anyone says 1) I can and do hear what's going on around me and can chat to and chirp other people while wearing it. It is not dangerous, and 2) It makes running so much more enjoyable. Especially since I train and race alone. The day that iPODs are really banned and/or I get disqualified for wearing one is the days I'll stop racing. If I am not enjoying myself, I'm not doing it. SO there I was listening to music and enjoying my early morning run - in the dark - through Claremont. I felt good. The legs felt fresh, the weather was great, the seeded start meant it was busy but not congested, and the supporters flanking the route were cheerful and encouraging.

Soon enough we hit the dreaded Edinburgh Drive. Yes it's a hill and yes it is quite steep, but I really don't find it THAT bad, not on the Cycle Tour or on the OMTOM, it's just a steady climb. You get into your own rhythm and just plod up. Now that I am used to the REAL hills of Fresnaye, normal hills do not scare me. ;) Once at the top we started the decent down to Constantia. I love downhills, but from previous experience I knew this section is completely dark at that time. The sun is not up yet and there are no street lights. Even though you are running down an even surfaced freeway, it is hard to run freely when you cannot see where your feet are falling. And downhills are my thing. I like to let go and just let gravity take me. This year I was smart and I wore my peak cap with LED lights. I turned them on and was quite happily bombing down the hill passing people as they carefully ran their way in the pitch dark. I did not see one other person with a light at all. I am surprised no one else has twigged to this. I did notice one or 2 people falling in around me and catch my 'light bus', realising the bit of light really did help.

Before I knew it we were at 7km and leaving the M3 for Kendal Road already. And then there was Sean Falconer at the Spaansemacht Corner. I yelled and waved and he announced my name. It's silly how motivating that is. You feel like a bit of a hero. On I pressed down Parish Road and on to the dreaded SOUTHERN CROSS DRIVE. I did not remember Southern Cross being bad last time. I think it's because I was so tired and disoriented I didn't actually know where I was in general last time, and also it was so cold and raining that I just kept moving to stay warm and was looking down to keep the rain out of my eyes so most of the race was just 'one foot in front of the other'. This time I was string, aware and looking up and wow it is actually quite a ill isn't it!? As per Dr Ross Tucker's race advice and commentary the 12-13km section is indeed the toughest and was my slowest KM of the race.

Once on Rhodes Drive  I checked my thigh tattoo, which I'd got in my race pack which said 'Dig deep, you got this' and I told myself that yes I have got this. I have been training on Rhodes Drive for a few months. This last section is Mine. I know it, and I know I can do it. No holding back. So I carried on, pounding down the hills and plodding as strongly as I could up the inclines.

It was a bit disconcerting seeing a few people collapsed on the side of the road. Pushing too hard, or under-trained I guess..? I could feel my legs were getting a bit tired but I otherwise felt good. I was literally smiling and thinking what a wonderful race it had been. The weather was great, I felt good, the support was great and the water points plentiful and well stocked with water, coke and powerade.

On and on I went. Once I passed Kirstenbosch main gate I started feeling weary for the first time. Anticipating the end, but knowing I still had 4-5kms to run. I sucked on one of my sweets for a sugar and energy boost and pushed some more. Someone asked me for the time and I honestly told them I had not idea. I was not watching the time at all, and had my Heart Rate showing on my watch. I wasn't even tracking that, although each time I glanced at it it said 163BPM. The whole race I just ran. No thinking, timing, I just ran as fast as I comfortably could at each stage. I was starting to wonder if my sub-2 hour was in reach but had no idea.

As I turned into Newlands Avenue and the renowned Chet's Hill I had my first real thoughts of being tired and wanting to be done. Again I knew this section though and have been running up there a few times a week, so I dug deep and pressed on. The university seemed to have moved further away for the day and the rain had started now so it was cold and wet too. This section of the race is mental. SO many people seem to give up (or are just spent?) and start to walk. It's so close and yet so far to the end. I refused to give up or slow down and kept on. And on. And on. And just when I really thought it would never end, suddenly and finally there was the off ramp to UCT and the rugby fields and the finish. YAY. 

I surged forward even managing to pass a few guys at the beginning of the field and ran around the field to the finish line, scanning for the clock, which I couldn't see at first. When I caught sight of it it had just ticked over to 1:50... What!? Wow. I raced forwards and managed to cross it before it ticked over again and went though at 1:50:49. I did it! My first post-pregnancy half, and first in 2 years and I did it well under 2-hours. I was thrilled.

I had hoped to stay at the end and socialise but due to the rain and cold I just went to my club's gazebo and chatted there for a bit, and then decided to go home to get warm and dry.

It was a fabulous race though and I thoroughly enjoyed it from start to finish. I will be back.

Here are my results:

Spar Ladies Race 2015 - My come back Post-Pregnancy

I ran the Spar Ladies Race on Sunday. It was my first race in a full year. I 'ran' this race last year at 21-22 weeks pregnant. I had planned to run the Sundown Race in December, or the March Moullie Point Race but due to circumstances I missed competing in both of those, so had not had an official post-pregnancy come-back yet. I have been running pretty consistently for the past few months and as I have entered the 2Oceans Half marathon too I have been doing a reasonable amount of distance running. So I knew I could handle to run 10kms pretty easily. I just didn't feel particularly fast. When I run these days it feels like a comfortable plod, more than competitive running. But as it is principally for my own fun, relaxation and 'me-time' so I am ok with that.

I generally enjoy the Spar Ladies Race. It's a big, fun, festive gathering. This year I entered the 10k event and I entered the boys for the 5km event. Griffin was away at school camp though, so Quinn's friend Josh came along in his place.

I managed to get up in good time and we arrived at the stadium nice and early and got a good parking spot (at the gym) used the loo and headed to the start with about 45mins to spare before the start. I wore my club kit - as this race finally has a club runner's 'seeding' section in the front so you don't have to fight with thousands of other participants who are WAY more enthusiastic than capable when it comes to running so they push to the very front and then just walk slowly after the race starts. It would be funny if it wasn't so darn irritating if you are trying to compete for a PB.

Sean Falconer (of Modern Athlete and Runner's World fame and who commentates a lot of the running races now. And so much better than whiny Neville(?) did) knows me and I'd chirped him about this being my comeback race on FB, so as I arrived he said 'And here is Jane Fraser just arriving'. I felt like a minor celeb, even though no one besides the 2 boys with me heard or knew me. LOL.

I got into the club pen (I had to climb over the fence as the idiot security guy said I was too late - 40 minutes before the race started!? Dimwit), and felt ready. We waited quite a while and the start was a bit delayed but finally the gun went off and we were off. Despite being about 20-30m from the start line and with the club runners there were STILL slow people in front of me who I had to dodge and pass but eventually I found my place and pace and got into a good rhythm. Having waited so long for the start though I found I needed to pee after just 1-2 kms. Argh. So at the first water point I dashed into the port-a-loo, wasting precious minutes peeing. Oh well, one does what one must.

Once I'd pee'd I felt much better and got going again. I got into a steady rhythm and started enjoying the run. I'd told A where the route was going and that the turning point was down the hill from his house near the Seapoint swimming pool and sure enough there he and Nathaniel were as I got to the turn. I was tempted to stop and say hi, but because I was trying to get a decent time and prove that I was 'back' I didn't want to lose time and smiled and waved as I passed but pressed on.

My aim in this race was to get a sub-60 time, my stretch goal was to get a sub-55. My wildly ambitious goal was to aim closer to sub-50 but that seemed completely unrealistic as it took me years and year to crack sub-50 the first time, so I didn't want to aim too high. (my fastest ever 10km was at this race 2 years ago when I was fit and strong and blasted out a 47:48!). Anyway buoyed by the support of the boys I continued onward and tried not to slow down even though the legs were starting to feel a bit heavy.

Before long I got back to the stadium, entered the grassy area and headed for the finish. I was delighted to see the clock tick over from 48 to 49 minutes just as I got there and I passed the line. My watch recorded 48:58, the clock said 49:06 and my official time is recorded as 49:12. I'll take it thank-you very much!

I must say I felt really impressed with and proud of myself. 7 months to the day since giving birth and full year since my last race and even then I was not competing, it's closer to 18 months since I ran at full pace. There's still life in this old body, and now I am officially a veteran (over 40), if I keep it up and can improve I have a chance of potentially being placed in the top 10 of my age category.

The results are out form Sunday:

- I came 107th out of 3321 10km running finishers. So in the top 3%.

(There were another 7000+ 10km walkers and about another 10000+ who did the 5km)

- I came 15th out of 690 in my age category. So top 2%.

I bumped into my colleague Wendy-Joy at the end of the race.

 On Saturday is the 2Oceans Half Marathon, and I am really hoping to manage a sub-2hr for that.

Losing Anqelique

My birth stories were all hosted on the Earth Babies web site. I was devastated to discover that after being sold all the stories were deleted. I don't seem to even have a copy of Quinn and Griffin's stories any more so I will need to rewrite them from memory. :(

In the mean time here is the story of my first born.

My precious baby angel girl. Born too soon....

Angelique 

I was thrilled when I became pregnant for the first time in October 1997. I initially had a textbook pregnancy with no problems at all, to the extent that I had been planning a midwife assisted home water-birth. I loved being pregnant and was thoroughly enjoying the experience.  

When I was 25 weeks pregnant we took a train trip to Johannesburg to visit my family for the week-end, having been told that it was safe to travel at this time. It was to be our last trip before we became a family of 3… 

We arrived at my parents' house feeling elated and happy. That evening we had a huge family dinner, we mainly spoke about me and the baby and how well I was doing. We went to bed quite late on the Saturday night after attending a music concert. I woke up several times during the night feeling a bit uncomfortable... I got out of bed at 6h30 because my tummy felt a bit crampy. I noticed my stomach was a bit upset, but I wasn't really worried. When Richard woke up I told him how I felt. He told me to phone my mid-wife. I didn't want to trouble her early on a Sunday morning, but eventually did phone. She told me she was sure it was nothing to worry about and that I most likely had a tummy bug, as there were several going around. She said I should be fine to make the journey back on the train.

We boarded the train at 12 that afternoon. I wanted to sleep, so lay down on the bunk immediately. I found I couldn't sleep though because my stomach kept cramping up. I decided to try time the cramps. Richard even joked that I must be one of the only people who have ever timed intestinal cramps! 

I noticed that I was having the cramps every 3 mins, lasting about 20 seconds. They seemed to be too regular for my liking, but I kept assuring myself that everything was fine. I was starting to feel very uncomfortable though, and started having to breathe through the cramps. I was getting worried because I realised I hadn't felt the baby move since the evening before. Finally at about 4pm the baby kicked several times. I let Richard feel, and we were both assured that everything would be fine. 

I still couldn't get comfortable though as I was still cramping, but kept forgetting to time them since I was dozing between them, they did seem to be lasting longer though… 

By about 7pm I was starting to moan a bit during the cramps, Richard assured me that stomach bugs can be very painful, he managed to get some medicine from the tourists in the cabin next door to us. After which I sent him off to go have dinner in the dining cart. 

By the time he came back I was visibly in pain. He asked me if I wanted to get off the train – something that stupidly hadn't occurred to me as a possibility until then. I immediately said yes. 

We were still about 1 1/2 hours away from the next station. Richard managed to contact a Doctor in the next town, and arranged that we would go into the hospital so that I could be checked. 

We arrived in De Aar at about 12h30am, an ambulance was waiting for me. I was taken to the little hospital, and taken straight into the maternity section. This concerned me. I had to change into a hospital gown, a nurse checked for the baby's heart beat, and it was loud and strong. I felt so relieved, everything would be fine! She did an internal, and then told me to tell her when a 'cramp' started and stopped. She timed 3. They were about 3 mins apart, lasting well over a minute each. I had to breathe deeply to cope with the pain. 

After that she looked up and told me that I was 6cm dilated, and I was having an 'inevitable abortion'. I was stunned with disbelief. Richard burst into tears. A doctor was called. He confirmed what she had said, and told us we had 2 choices; either they could deliver the baby there, where there would be no chance of survival, or we could transfer to Kimberly hospital (around 350km away) where they have facilities for premature babies. 

We of course chose to transfer. I was put on an Ibrodol IV to try to stop the contractions – which gave me heart palpitations - and put back in the ambulance with a rather reluctant driver, Richard and all our luggage. We set off on the 3.5hr trip, with a sleepy nurse in case I delivered en route. I had about 4 contractions in the ambulance, but they finally stopped, and I was able to doze a little. 

We arrived in Kimberley after 5am. We were greeted with extreme reluctance. The Kimberley staff wanted to know why we were there and kept saying that they couldn't admit us, and that we must go back to De Aar! Eventually Richard insisted that they at least let us go inside, as I was now lying on a stretcher in the hospital driveway!

After a debate was held about where I should be admitted (they wanted me sent to the casualty room) I was eventually taken up to the maternity ward, without any assistance from the Kimberly staff – the ambulance driver and Richard had to get me out of the ambulance and wheel me to the maternity ward themselves.  

On arrival at the maternity ward we were met with more resistance and reluctance. The nurses wouldn't admit me and told me to go to the trauma ward. They were obviously not in the mood for dealing with another case, and I think their shift was due to end shortly. When we explained that we were there because we needed access to the neonatal ward, they rolled their eyes and told us that 25 weeks was too young, and that the incubators are expensive etc. They also said that they had other ladies in labour, and I would upset them if I was in the ward. The whole attitude was that we were an unwanted nuisance and irritation to them.  

By this time I was feeling ill and asked for a bucket. No one responded and when I vomited, they again started sighing and rolling their eyes. I kept feeling I had to apologise for disturbing them. 

After much persistence we managed to convince them that we were staying. They then tried to make Richard leave, saying he was not allowed in the labour ward, but he stayed anyway. A doctor was called and I thought that, being a trained professional, he would know the right thing to do and would take charge of the situation and help us. I was wrong.

This doctor also said that 25 weeks was too young and that he could do nothing about it. His words were, '"We'll have to take it out of there". I was devastated and offended by his words. As we had been planning a gentle home-birth, and this was not at all what I had been envisaging as a birth scenario. I asked him if he meant he wanted to do a Caesarean. He said no, I could deliver vaginally if I wanted. 

All this time the baby had been fine with a strong healthy heartbeat, my membranes were still intact and the contractions had stopped. After that things happened VERY quickly. I wasn't consulted about anything, and kept having to ask what they were doing. The nurses were very abrupt. The doctor ruptured my membranes; I remember feeling so very sad then, feeling all the warm fluid leaking out. I was taken off the Ibrodol IV I was on. The doctor then proceeded inserted a Pitocin IV. He was INDUCING me! At the time this seemed strange, but I thought he knew what he was doing… I didn't think to question him. I never saw the doctor again...

When the nurses came back, they were very rough and terse. They started doing things to me without explaining anything. If I asked questions, they seemed annoyed and when I told them I did not want a catheter, I was told I had no choice, it was hospital policy and I had to have one. 

There wasn't any time. The Pitocin caused a massive contraction, which felt as if it was going to rip my legs off, I did not know what to do with myself. The nurses started walking away, leaving Richard and I alone.  I started to panic a bit, I didn't want this to be happening, I didn't want the baby to come out, it was meant to stay inside me!!! I remember saying to Richard 'I don't want to do this now...' 

I was frightened and in pain, the nurse told me to push whenever I wanted to and was walking away. The baby was crowning, I was scared and desperate, and as she walked away I called out; 'Come and HELP me!' She came back. 

I was trying to keep control, and use what I had learned; I was pushing, and using the yoga-breaths I had practiced. She shouted 'PUSH, STOP breathing!!' I tried to ignore her, and just concentrated calmly. 

At 6h30 on Monday 23rd March after just three pushes I gave birth to my baby. A small perfect little doll of a baby girl was born. The nurse immediately cut the cord, and said 'It's a girl'. I tried to sit up to see her, but the nurse grabbed her and started walking away. I had no idea where they were going and if I'd ever get to see her. So I asked to hold her. All I heard was 'incubator', so I let her go. Richard, who had held my hand the whole time, was crying again. I held his head, I felt numb... The nurse came back minutes later, and handed the small bundle to me, she said, "865 grams, too small" and left us.  

A beautiful little girl. A perfect little angel. She was so perfect, and so sweet, pink and very much alive. She was trying to breathe and was even blowing little bubbles through her nose - they hadn't helped to clear her airways or anything. This was extremely heart wrenching to watch, and I felt desperate and anxious that nothing was being done to help her - but we knew that it was already too late... both Richard and I unspeakingly chose to treasure and nurture her with love and caring and not trauma or angst.

We think she died after about 20 minutes, while I held her in my arms. They did not even issue a birth certificate. 

She was taken away from us and I was wheeled out into the corridor. I was exhausted, shocked and numb after the arduous events of the past day and was dozing off. I was left in the corridor for a long time, while Richard was trying to make arrangements regarding our baby. Eventually he got them to move me into a ward. It was the maternity ward, which had about six other women with their babies in it. I was pretty much ignored. I gathered that the hospital was being inspected that day and the nurses were hurrying around trying to neaten the place up, tie curtains back, etc. 

Richard was told to leave and that he was not allowed in the ward outside of visiting hours. He ended up walking around in the streets of Kimberley, on his own, for most of the day. 

When the hospital inspectors arrived they were paraded around the ward. They then stopped at the end of my bed. They obviously had not been told anything, so they tried to make idle chitchat with me, saying things like "you must be very happy". I was too numb to respond at all.

The hospital was filthy (even after the inspection clean-up). There were cockroaches everywhere. The toilets were grimy and smelly, and there was no toilet paper. The bath had no plug and no soap. 

Apart from one sympathetic admin lady, who managed to arrange to get our baby brought back to us later, so we could say good-bye to her, the nursing staff were unfriendly, unsympathetic and uncaring. 

We named our baby Angelique. She was all I had ever wanted. I loved her from the second we found out I was pregnant. It was the most difficult and emotional time of my life, and yet I was made to feel that I was in the way and was being an inconvenience. Richard was also affected by the cruel and insensitive treatment. We were made to feel that we were interfering with their routines. 

At the time I didn't know any better, but I now know that the primary reason for losing our baby was incorrect medical intervention. The fact that the De Aar doctor had managed to stop my contractions, that my membranes were still intact and that the baby was not distressed in any way, meant that I could have been kept on bed rest. Angelique very possibly could have stayed inside me for another few weeks, during which time she would have grown big enough to be viable. Or I could have been transferred to another, better-equipped hospital. Instead I was treated like a problem, which needed to be eliminated before the hospital inspection in the morning. 

I felt so very empty afterwards and couldn't believe what had happened. For weeks I expected to feel her kicking, and for everything to be fine.  My milk came in, and my breasts got engorged. I was given medication to make the milk dry up, but I didn't want to take it, the milk was for her! 

Nothing will ever replace Angelique, or our memories of her, but my hope is that my story can help to prevent anyone else from having to endure a similar situation. 

Many people have asked me why I have not pursued the doctors, nurse and hospital for the poor treatment I received…

The reason is that early on in the experience I realised that I wanted to use the experience as an opportunity to grow and learn. I wanted my memory of her pregnancy, birth and death to be special and meaningful, not sad and bitter and resentful. I would never chose to go through what I did, but once something like that has happened, you do get to chose how you are going to deal with it, and how you are going to let it define who you are.

I chose to let the experience teach me of the fragility and transient nature of life. To appreciate things more, to be more aware, more compassionate and more loving. It has also made me want to work to help even one other mother not have the awful experience I had. Being left alone and treated like an inconvenience. I know first hand how much of a difference support and empathy can make. 

I believe Angelique made me who I am today, and for that I am grateful.

My boys know about her, and talk about her often as their Angel Sister who looks after them.

 

Jane

Mother to

Angelique (23rd March 1998 6h30-6h50) born at 25 weeks.

Quinn (3 Jan 2000) a wonderful healing midwife assisted water-birth at 41+3 days.

Griffin (12 November 2001) a midwife assisted land baby at 39+6 days

and

Nathaniel (29 August 2014) conceived, grown and born for Andrew. A perfect unassisted home water-birth. at 41+2 days.

Happy 17th Birthday Baby Angel

Today marks Angelique's 17th birthday. My first born, my girl child, my baby angel. My biggest teacher and guide. It was because of her that I am so drawn to birth and so compelled to assist other in their journeys and so determined in my own to be aware, and to 'do it right' and with meaning and intention - and indeed without intervention and interference.

It feels like a lifetime ago that she passed through my life for such a short time.

She changed the course of my life and catalysed the me I am today.

I love you baby girl. Thank-you for all you have taught me.

I didn't think they were coming this year...

But here they are.

The Christmas Elves of 2014!

One Plus Two

I really want to spend more time with my boys and connecting with them on their level, as they want to. Which means not on MY schedule or level or frequency but on theirs!

I need to not always be tired, rushed, stressed and impatient when dealing with them. I need to notice them. And love them for just who and what they are right now.

"A baby is born with a need to be loved - and never outgrows it." - Frank A. Clark  

I read this passage on Laura's blog this week-end and it reasonated so strongly with me that it made me really cry. It's EXACTLY how I felt all my life. My mom never made me feel loved, special, or wanted at all.... I realised all I can do now is make sure NOT to make my children feel the same about me...ever. I hope it's not too late!!!!

“Because she knew that something happened to you when your mother didn’t hold you close, or tell you all the time that you were the best thing ever, or even notice when you were home: a little part of you sealed over. You didn’t need her. You didn’t need anyone. And without even knowing you were doing it, you waited. You waited for anyone who got close to you to see something they didn’t like in you, something they hadn’t initially seen, and to grow cold and disappear, too, like so much sea mist. Because there had to be something wrong, didn’t there, if even your own mother didn’t really love you?”― Jojo Moyes, One Plus One

The day the mountain burned...

Cape Town gets very hot and dry in summer. Prety much a tinder-box actually. Yet people still flick their cigarettes around carelessly. 

Yesterday some moron did just so, without a second thought I am sure. However thanks to a critical mix of hot, dry and wind it was not just a case of careless littering, but rather gross neglegence, and arson actually.

The mountain rapidly went up in smoke, literally. I was driving home and saw a big brown billow of smoke come over the mountain behind Lion's Head. I actually almost called home to ask if they'd set A's house alight. Just a few minutes later I got a call to say the fire was indeed right there right by the house. What!?

The house is right at the top of Fresnaye and literally across the road from the mountain reserve which was on fire. The house actually has a fire hose. Which Quinn took out and 'hosed shit down' as he told me via whatsapp. Apparently the neighbours were doing the same. Thankfully the houses are not very flamable and there's not much garden or flamable stuff that side appart from the grass and bush across the road. So the fire stayed on the other side of the road.

It is a very narrow road though, 2 cars can barely pass, you have to stop manoever if anyone drives the other way while you are on it, and it is steep and has a sharp bend at the end. The fire was right at (and I think caused by the labourers at) the building site at the end of the road. So when I tired to get home there was just no way I could get there. The road was blocked by trucks, people, cars... A Lambourghini was making a swift get away when I arrived. There was no visisbility it was baking hot and so smokey too. I'd wanted to get home asap, get baby and boys and get the hell out of there, but I couldn't get anywhere near the house or within 3 roads actually.

I ended up going back down to Seapoint to watch from afar and went to a coffee shop and was chatting to Q on Whatsapp to keep up to date. He sent me photos and a running commentary. He said they could hear the fire crackling and roaring. They had closed themselves inside at that point and were ok. Although the house was full of smoke and ash.

I think every fire-truck in Cape Town was there and they had 2-3 choppers bringing water from the sea too, but they were being buffetted and thrown around in the wind, so I think it was quite dangerous...

The wind was something else. There are some stainless steel railings which were put around the pool for chil-proofing for the Thanksgiving dinner on the week-end. They are HEAVY. They were blown across the balcony, blew over and some blew into the pool!

It is so sad to see the damage on the mountian. And the poor firemen were there late late, and I saw some this morning too, so they maye have been monitoring it through the night.

It actually could have been a  lot worse. But it still makes me sad to think about the desctructiona nd decimation of such wonderful nature. I hope it rains soon so it can start to heal.

This was the smoke I saw on the way home.

The house is just down the other side of that mountian right in the smoke...

This is the view from the side of the house... hence why I was so worried...

 

Would you do this..?

As per my last post, every year (for the past 4 years at least) A and another American friend arranges and host a Thanksgiving dinner for family and friends and especially any American 'strays' in Cape Town on the day.

It is usually like 50-60 people. So quite a thing to plan, coordinate and stage. It's a really fun, social event, even though it's a bit mad trying to wrangle all the people and get them fed and drinks filled and all the dishes and clean-up etc.

So it's very hustle-bustle and noisy.

Last year this couple (friend of one of the other Americans) brought their DOG. It's a big pavement-special rescue dog. I was a bit WTF? They said the dog was 5-months old and had just been sterilised and they didn't want to leave it alone. Fine, whatever. After about 30 mins it was clearly not working out though. The house is on the side of a mountain with the small garden 4 stories down... so the woman took the dog home and left her hubby to stay for the rest of the event.

This year I was in charge of planning and co-ordinating, and they got invited again and would you believe they brought the dog again?! As a result the kids were all running away screaming when it arrived, we couldn't put any hors d'oeuvres on the tables, the dog was rushing around just about knocking things over and was probably freaked out to be there actually... and we have a CAT!

Is it just me, or do you also think it is highly inappropriate to bring a fully grown rambunctious dog to a big dinner party?

I mean kids were invited, but even then most parents checked that it was ok to bring them first, and we arranged a nanny to be available to ensure they were ok, since it's not a very child friendly home (yet).

We had to make a plan to get the dog down into the garden and barricade it there to keep it away so as not freak out the kids, eat the food and knock things over etc.

They said it seemed to be fine that they brought her last year so they thought they'd bring her this year! Wow. Ok.

Next year the invite will state 'NO DOGS'!

Would YOU take your dog to a stranger's home if you'd been invited to an event there???