Category: random

So, I’ve been a vegan for a week and it doesn’t feel like a decision I had to make or a lifestyle I now have to follow, but rather just what and how I am supposed to be. But that may be because I am in the honeymoon phase and all these replacement/additional/delicious meal options are exciting, shiny and new.

In a week/month/year I may be gagging for bacon, desperate for a chop or dreaming about biltong. (This is what happened when I did the vegetarian thing for a year previously.)

If that happens, I will deal with it then. It certainly doesn’t mean that my feeling of rightness now is any less valuable or real.


But why? I am asked. In the name off all red and meaty (and delicious) WHY?


Well, there is a MEAL of reasons.



I don’t want to consume all of the antibiotics and other bits and pieces injected and fed into animals bred for slaughter.

I think there is a correlation between many cancers and eating animals.

My body does not like vast amounts of meat and other flesh – my stomach rebels, I feel sluggish and tired, I am always hungry.

When I tried banting, which is animal eating in the extreme, I got eczema and gastritis. I know I don’t need to eat that much meat and animal products, but the fact that this was my body’s response made me question wanting to put any of it in my body at all.



The carbon footprint of animal products for eating is just ridiculously massive.

Grass fed, organic-style animals have a bigger footprint that feedlot ones. So, so much for that being the response to me not wanting antibiotics etc.

The Earth cannot sustain us – there are too many of us consuming too much. Eating plantbased meals simply and easily reduces my carbon footprint.


Animal Lives

This is the actual, real, final reason I just couldn’t eat flesh and other animal products any more. (Because let’s not pretend animals bred for products other than meat are treated any better than those slaughters to eat.)


It’s a story so settle down – no gruesome crying piglet images, I promise (except the one I just put in your head).


In April 2016 I made a series of decisions which resulted in my beautiful dog Pippa being hit and killed by a car. I didn’t do it on purpose but as the human in the relationship, it was my fault. I let her do something which directly and specifically resulting in her being hit by the car. So yes, it was my fault.

And her death agonises me still. I dream about her, I miss her, I feel so guilty that I made decisions which resulted in her death.


And yet I was happy to get up and chose to eat bacon for breakfast and not even think about the animal I was killing with that decisions. I’d buy wors and chops and steak for a braai and never even consider the farmyard I was sending to their death. Eggs, milk, cream and cheese – yum yum and screw the animals kept in captivity, treated like crap, separated from their mothers when still needing her milk, slaughtered at birth if male, and finally, possibly mercifully, killed


Why do we think some animals are worth loving and protecting while others are commodities to be treated appallingly and then destroyed?


We don’t need animal products to be healthy; in fact, we may well be healthier without them.


So, yeah, that’s why I am just not going to consume anything an animal suffered to produce.

Cos those random cows, lambs, sheep, chicken and even fish deserve life as much as Pippa did.


Also – I watched Food Choices on Netflix which actually consolidated all of these thoughts.

Watch it – it’s not even gruesome, just eye-opening

Ten kilometres! I walked 10 kilometres. and I wasn’t even trying to get deep into the woods to bury a body, i was walking for fun! 10 kilometres is a very long way
Charles and I did the ECR (local radio station) charity Big Walk on Sunday and we chose the 10km walk.
It was actually quite fun but it was hot and did I mention how far 10km is?
It took us 1 hour 46 minutes and my ankles hurt the same at the start as at the end – so that must be a good, right
There were over 30 000 people walking in the four options so a pile of money raised for charity
Photos are of us fresh before the walk and then at the finish. I went from pale skinned human to swollen strawberry face; Charles, on the other hand, looks exactly the same.
Let’s all collectively give him the side-eye for a second

It was fun and I am so glad I could do it, even on my no carb no sugar eating thing.
Monday will be a no walk day as I wait for my toenails to regrow

pre big walk

Fresh faced

post big walk

Fresh strawberry

Clothing maketh……

I have a friend who is pinterest mad

I don’t get pinterest really but I like to write

so this weekend we decided she would send me a pinterest pic everyday and I would write something/anything about it. It is always nice to get some inspiration or direction for my random writing.

Here is the first attempt – with apologies to the person who wore the outfit and/or pinterested it first

The jeans slid over narrow hips and over the slightly curved buttocks. Zip up and a slight wriggle and they were comfortable. The padded lacy vest added interest where nature had been unkind. Peeping out from beneath a silky white shirt the delicate bow said sexy but still innocent enough to be a girl. Yellow sparkles under the neck drew attention down from the jaw line – a trick learnt years ago and employed frequently. Narrow wrists in beaten silver and co-ordinated yellow nails shifted the attention directly from the wrist to the tips of the fingers. No jarring between.

Lipstick, mascara, blusher and a well brushed wig completed Mike’s outfit and he was ready for work. It still amazed him that no one knew.

now look again – it could be


i have a number of friends with whom i often have completely random conversations

this was one my friend Simon remembered us having online. i stole it from his blog


My boyfriend is from the USA, and I take every opportunity to teach him and his kinfolk about South Africa, leaving verbose comments beneath is status. I had an ally teacher today in Kimstories, and this is how the conversation went.

 BF’s status was:

Don’t know why people were scared to come to Johannesburg for the World Cup #wc2010. Wal Mart is SO much scarier!!!!

And so the comments beneath, for the benefit of globalisation and learning were as follows:

Simon: There’s no elephants in the USA – how can it be scary? There are loads in Jozi. That’s why I use Fourways Mall. You can park your elephant for free for 2 hours.

Kimstories: only if it has a dual saddle Simon

Simon: Hahahaha Kim are you joking? Who the hell still uses a single saddle? Durban’s not THAT far behind Joburg, surely? By the way I owe you a mail. The post wagon is leaving on Saturday. It should be in Durban by Tuesday.

Kimstories: In Durban our elephants are smaller so we do the single saddle thing. I know – its so embaressing! I iwll look out for the post wagon – i think it will be behind the milk delivery cows

Simon: I tried sending a letter with the milk delivery last week but they get a bit gumpy (it’s not really their responsibility, I suppose) so I went with the July post wagon. I am so excited. You know that big-ass building in Joburg where them silver things come out the sky to? They carry post too, but it’s expensive.

Kimstories: the milk delivery doesn’t come from jhb to durban – they tried that once and now the zuzlus think maas is on purpose

Simon: The post wagon was delayed last month because the zebra that pulls it got sick. It was so hectic. We couldn’t send out our financial papyrus. The Durban hunter-gatherers owe us three fish and two cows in interest.

Kimstories: you guys charge some scary interest rates. i have been asked to negotiate a sugar cane settlement (and thats not a place people live)

Simon: Last time we went down to the sugar cane fields the elephants wouldn’t go into it because of the cane rats. Why do we use animals who are scared of rodents as transport?

Kimstories: don’t blame the rats for the elephant neuroses
the elephants are such girls


And this is why the Yanks think we have ellies running down the streets of Joburg. Don’t be surprised when the next tourist asks you where the parking lot for them is.

Smoky people

This is a blog inspired by a random wiki article
read the article first if you want the story to make real sense
or don’t

Once, a long long time ago and far far away a group of small mountain people lived in the trees on top of a very very high mountain. No one else lived near the top of the mountain so the Smoky people lived alone in harmony.

They made their homes in the holes in the trees. The mommies and daddies collected feathers and bits of fur and made warm places for the children to sleep. The children played on the branches of the trees, jumping and skipping and hiding.

The Smoky people were small and light green. They had big dark eyes, like melting chocolate. Their ears were tiny and flat against their heads. They all wore trousers made from soft silky leaves. They had hats which looked like the flowers that grew on the trees. Their feet were broad and flat with toes which could grip the tree branches like monkeys.

They could not hear very well though, but they did not need to. They talked to each other in high squeaks and sang like bells tinkling in the wind. The only danger they faced was that from birds. And their ears could hear the high pitched sound a bird’s heart makes as it flies. When they heard a bird coming, they would crouch down, under their flower hats and sit very still under the bird flew away.

The Smoky people were happy all the time. But they were most happy when they could hear god purr. Sometimes the sky would be lit up with great big flashes of light and water would fall from the branches above them. When this happened everyone got excited and would all gather on a branch and look up at the sky. Their little ears would strain to hear the distant rumble of god. They would clutch each other in excitement as they got drenched and saw their world in flashes of light.

And when the rumble of gods purr reached their ears they would leap about it joy, slipping and sliding on the wet branches, grateful to hear the joy of god.

And then one day a strange tall person arrived. He arrived below the Smoky peoples’ trees and brought with him strange large animals that rumbled too and ate all the grass. The man started to cut down the trees to make more space for the strange, chewing, lowing animals. And the happy people had to leave their trees and move to other trees further down the slope.

And still the man cut down the trees and still further from the top of the mountain the little people had to move. The flowers on the new trees looked different and the birds found and carried away some of the Smoky people. The trees were different and some children slipped and fell, vanishing into the green below. The happy people were now sad and lost.

Then one day the water fell and the sky lit up again. The sad people once again sang with joy and gathered at the edge of a branch and listened. They listened more carefully than they ever had. They needed to hear their god purr; they had lost so much else already. But the water fell and the sky lit up and there was no purr. Their god did not purr for them anymore.

And still, to this day, these little people live too far down the mountain to hear the thunder with their little ears. And they think they have lost their god.


Birthdays are funny things really.

44 years ago I did nothing heroic. My mother did all the work. And in my case a few doctors were involved and we both nearly died and my non-emotional dad told my mother he loved her for the third time only. Ever! (odd man he was – he said he told her once and that was the state of being and he would tell her only if it changed. Which in some weird way I get.)

I do get that it was a big day.

But the point is that of all the people involved, I did the least. Mom pushed and was sliced, dad paced and was worried, aunt looked after brother who was overjoyed at a sibling. All I did was get yanked out and screech. And I managed to be a girl which was the plan all along.


But again – I did nothing


And yet, every year on the 2nd November I get gifts and treats and congratulations. ‘Well done’ says everyone, ‘let us all celebrate the day on which you did the least you have ever done in your life.’ And at the same time let us not even consider the people who did all the work. Or really, the pushing, sweating, in-pain mother who did everything.


So, while I love the gifts and never want them to stop coming, today I sent my mom flowers.

‘Thanks for having me’


I think we should all do this on our birthdays – cos we should really be thanking them


It is so unbelievably good to be home. I left on the 23rd of July and, barring a short stop with a pile of people, have not been home since.

I have lived in lots of places and in lots of circumstances. I have made a home for myself in an upstairs room in a mansion; in a closet sized hole in London; in a hotel room in Tanzania; in a loft in Mile End; in hostels and boarding houses; alone and in groups; in good  times and bad. I am good at making a home, but i seldom have much attachment to the home.

I move, i wander, i flit.


But this home feels like i where i need to be. And it is where i want to be.

It smells like me; a mixture of perfume, deodorant and cooking.
It feels like me; soft and warm and comfortable with all sorts of interesting bits and pieces lurking in the corners
It looks like me; generous and abundant, nestling in a flourishing garden, surrounded by growth and promise
It sounds like me; silent with loud splashes and random splurges
It tastes like me; toothpaste and garlic in equal measure

  I love my home
It envelopes me and makes me feel safe

 I am SO glad to be home!