Running for chocolate, now there’s an idea

I’m not a runner. Never have been, never will be. At school, my PE teacher made comment around the lack of times I had actually participated in the class. Faced with this nowadays, my eyes would roll as I suggest she look at my feet and form her own opinion, which incidentally should take note of said feet not feeling the need to move faster than a leisurely walk – unless there’s chocolate involved, of course. On that, the 100 meter record would be mine any day if a Terry’s Chocolate Orange was on the finishing line. Who cares about a gold medal and a bunch of flowers, give me the sweet stuff and get out of my way.

OK, I should be more fair, I did play hockey once, maybe three times, bounced on the trampoline a couple of times, and reluctantly plodded around the track at Junior school when teams were being picked for sports day. Those who know me may well say I did more, but my defense mechanism of blocking out anything unpleasant can’t recall any more than that!

Suffice to say there are no medals in my cabinet, nor empty spaces gathering dust where trophies should be placed.

Bearing in mind the above, you can well believe my hubby rolling his eyes yesterday when I announced my participation in a 10km run in two weeks time. And bearing in mind my own acceptance of being a non-sporty-do-me-a-favour-let-me-watch-on-the-tv attitude, you may well be surprised to learn my shoulders rose,  my brow frowned and displeasure at his response was voiced.

“How dare you suggest I’ll be out there longer than 3 hours,” I said.

He backtracked. “Well, maybe 2.”

I’ll not be telling him this, but my retort was well laced with panic. What the heck was I thinking! 10 km without a car? Do I know how far that is to walk/run? That’s a long way. A very, very long way.

So this morning, at my desk, I checked my entry details for a get-out-of-this-you-idiot-clause. Relief flooded. My registered distance is 5 kms not 10 . That should be easy . . . shouldn’t it?

Did you say pubic wig?

Now I’ve heard and seen everything. An ex-stripper in the UK has super-glued her bottom to a shop window as a form of protest.

Fair enough, protest as you will. But a pubic wig? Really, they have these? Do you buy them at your chemist or supermarket?

Personally I’m a-wonder-ing if she headed to her local hair salon, swept up the trimmed hair and made her own with Velcro and a piece of felt. OUCH

Read more if you will at TheDailyMail

FERRARI PRESS AGENCY - 24/09/15 - Image of nearly naked Kay Bishop, 56, glued her bum to Debenhams in Croydon to protest about migrants and the police. Photo by @busrxoz - SEE FERRARI COPY
FERRARI PRESS AGENCY – 24/09/15 – Image of nearly naked Kay Bishop, 56, glued her bum to Debenhams in Croydon to protest about migrants and the police. Photo by @busrxoz 

Blown away by David Kramer’s Orpheus in Africa

Last night I went to see Orpheus in Africa at The Fugard in Cape Town. WOW, WOW, WOW, what a fantastic show. Wonderful sets, superb acting and amazing voices. Do yourselves a favour and see if you can get there.

This was my first time at The Fugard, and it won’t be my last.


The Fugard Theatre is one of Cape Town’s premier theatre, cinema and event destinations. Located in the heart of Cape Town in District Six, the Fugard Theatre produces and presents world class theatre alongside the very finest of world ballet, opera and theatrical cinema screenings. Named after arguably South Africa’s most famous playwright – Athol Fugard – the theatre complex opened in 2011. The Fugard Theatre is available for private and corporate rental.

Source: David Kramer’s Orpheus in Africa