A week of sloth (some enforced – blackberry outage, grumph) has come to a grinding halt and Pandora’s box is once again happily spouting mayhem.
My loudly proclaimed “me, me, me” diatribe didn’t quite make seven days but it was distinctly therapeutic while it lasted. On Tuesday we had our October “be a tourist in your own town” session. We live within in a reasonable distance from this gem but have never visited, always being under the false impression that it was just a hotel or you just went there for a meal. Not so, Makaranga Lodge’s greatest attraction for us is its gardens. Initially DH was having none of it that we would be allowed to visit willy nilly but I persevered and we moseyed along. Wow, wow and wow – an oasis. They are a hidden paradise of botanical splendor in our urban (albeit green belt) sprawl.
Himself turned another year older this past week (bless, I did suggest a walking stick – won’t tell you the response :O) and we treated ourselves to a meal of splendid indulgence at Aubergine’s in Hillcrest. My favourite place in KZN to dine and they didn’t disappoint – ambience, food and service: the bees knees. They offer a prix fix menu (such a good idea) filled with such lip-smacking goodies as a cheese soufflé, falklands calamari and the chargrilled fillet (amongst many others) – oh my goodness.
will she know how much I loved her” (for interest the source is a love song is by Ronan Keating Irish Voices ). After a particularly vexing day at the salt mines, I retired to the couch last night to while away a few precious minutes immersed in a shuffle mix of Bocelli, Bon Jovi, Bryan Adams, B Gees, Beatles and Bette Midler (what a blessing the ipod is, listening pleasure at your fingertips).
In mid crescendo (DH was at a seminar so completely unaffected by my warblings – what a performance he missed), it struck me that in such a fast-paced enviroment – everything electronic and digital from birthday wishes to photographs (and the more the merrier please don’t misunderstand me, I’m a huge technology fan), have we remembered to tell those that matter just how much they mean to us? If today is your last day (yes I know the conspiracy theory is the end of 2012 we’ll all be in the hereafter but it doesn’t quite fit my point) will those whom you love know that you loved them? Do you have regrets about somebody that you’ve lost with a whole lot left unsaid? Obviously relationships are not always pink and fuzzy and there will be days where you are feeling less than kindly disposed towards that other person but in the greater scheme of things is that bond strong?
I suspect this latest emotional fishing trip is as a result of my mum’s recent operation – I’ve been enriched with supportive, caring parents who never fail to end a conversation with “love you”, well mum does anyway – my pops is a little more reserved (funny thing that, men being emotionally reserved) but can hand-write a verse that will have you reaching for the tissues. My best friend has an awful relationship with her folks (think barren wasteland) and I said to her the other day whilst chatting over a decadent piece of carrot cake and a cup of tea at Makaranga – “if your parents die tomorrow, will you have regrets about the state of play – is there anything you would do differently?” She is unequivocably comfortable with her situation and that’s all fine and dandy but regret will consume you from the inside out like some virulent cancer.
The universe is full of folk who have expressed their opinion on love and loving in a far more eloquent fashion than I so, still firmly ensconsed on my soap box and frantically relating back to the musical starting point for this thought journey, I leave it to Nat King Cole (in my opinion, one of the greatest Big Band Baritones ever) who said “The greatest thing you ever learn is just to love and be loved in return”.