Tiny hearts.

Tiny hearts.

Saturday mornings seldom find me glamorous. I’m usually dressed in my gardening outfit – old tekkies with holes in the toes, Johnson-work-wear pants and bright pink flowery gardening gloves… a fashion crime if ever there was one. I don’t even mention my hair as this...
When the news becomes real.

When the news becomes real.

On Friday late afternoon, I find myself sitting with 300 Zimbabweans in a tiny hall. There are no windows and only one entrance. We’re all crowded into the small space on plastic chairs. To reach the hall, we first drove through Alexandra township, and later Berea and...
Love, loss and a lodge full of canines.

Love, loss and a lodge full of canines.

I have a very difficult relationship with my boss. He is old and grumpy, and if we are honest, he is the epitome of someone suffering from short-man syndrome. I’m not sure how someone with so few talents, absolutely no people skills, bad breath and terribly average...
Humans, handrails and holding on.

Humans, handrails and holding on.

Meet Zoe. She is a recently qualified architect and now doing her Master’s Degree. Her thesis will be around developing a sub-acute facility, and she has asked me if she can use our lodges to do her research. We had such fun when the MBA students from Gordon Institute...
When WhatsApps heal hearts.

When WhatsApps heal hearts.

If I close my eyes right now, I can almost believe that I’m in  the heart of Tuscany. All I hear around me are passionate Italian words and expressive sentences. We have a “nonna” here who is recovering after a knee replacement. She has a large family that come and go...