One thing about being South African that I love is the different ways we all speak.  Yeah we’re all from the same country, but have you noticed how many accents we have?

Blade from Caaaape Town, mayan: So like, ja hey, I climbed the mowwwwntin this Ay Em.  It was awesome, duuuuude.

Cedric from Soweto, but the larnie MINI Cooper driving kind: Eish marrra, ncho nchi click click isiZulu her ayaass wuz FLY, dawg. [See what I did there?  The way they mix up the languages to confuse both English and Zulu people?  The poor dutchmen, they don't stand a fucking chance!]

So I never really got a chance to tell you about Valentines Day.  Lemme just say that it was awesome.  We both cheated, we were both cheesy.  You can make fun all you like, but I loved it.

I created little photo print outs with – hold yourself – poems and pictures of us on them, with clues at the bottom.  In my defense, the poems were funny as hell and not completely moosh.  The clues sent Jon around the house hunting for more clues which ended in the bedroom.  Where we, uh, had tea.  And I was given a fake beaded rose.  Nawww.  Jon knows I hate receiving real flowers – to me they’re just so much prettier and useful on the bush they grew on, not wrapped in cellophane.  Anyway, he bought a beaded rose in true Hoburg style, from a dude at a street corner.  Nice.

I’d love to say “small packages” but I’m not really small, weight wise…

This week I’ve had a few surprise visits from people online who’ve heard I’m at Aqua now.  Some of them I’d met before, briefly, others I’d only interacted with online.  What’s prominent in most of the people I meet in person for the first time is their surprise at my size.