Greetings

As we all know, social media and Real Life are not the same thing.

After a few years of writing this blog, I've come to instinctively know when I shouldn't post and so I knew the last time I wrote that I'd only be able to pick up again if we survived until Christmas and we were still  standing on 'the other side' so to speak. The fact that I'm writing again is testament to something. We're not entirely out of the woods yet, but we can now see rolling plains in front of us.

We've had a 'big' year in more ways than one and it has, for the most part, been pretty gruelling. The next time we have a good idea like "let's go and live on a tropical island and open a bakery' I can honestly say we'd both laugh our heads off (ROTGAFLOHO - or something like that) and then say an emphatic "no thank you" and carry on with our humdrum suburban lives.

The bakery has now been open just over two years, although it feels more like two centuries. In that time we've built a solidly good business which we're proud of.  In the past 3 months we have expanded exponentially with larger premises, imported French bakers and triple the staff, including drivers who didn't drive and Christmas bakers who disappeared over....Christmas. Battle-wearied, we've had a hard look at what we believe we can and can't do and we'll be going into 2015 much wiser and more tough-minded than before. I think I reached my lowest point a few weeks ago when a customer (a doctors wife, no less) refused to pay $1 for bottled water, as we had run out of our complimentary water and she didn't see why she should have to pay. My rather sarcastic "maybe because we're a business?" didn't go down very well and Tyler had to send me off to Riteway to calm me down before I mauled any other customers.

My Martha Stewart tendencies have also finally been completely assuaged and I'm looking forward to living a future life less perfectly. We will ceremoniously burn my collection of 'Living' magazines when we move and I never want to see another iced biscuit again for as long as I live.  It is not for nothing that Martha's empire is crumbling and not MacDonald's or Walmart. It is also complete crap when someone says that 'passion' and 'integrity' makes up for either a living wage or family life. The whole 'artisan' thing needs a reality check: Journalists with safe, well paid jobs who extort 'artisans' to sacrifice themselves for some moral food crusade, need a kick up the a**  or 24 hours in a bakery to see what bollocks they are peddling and just how hard 'hard' is.

Most challenging of all this year however, has been my ghastly health. It was with extraordinarily bad luck that one of the few known (and exceptionally rare) triggers for Guillain Barre Syndrome was Chikungunya, which I managed to get. Just as we thought the nightmare of GBS was receding I got it all over again, and ended up in bed for weeks on & off, battling excruciating nerve and joint pain, paralysis and fevers. I must admit to some very dark days. My hair started falling out in chunks, my body ballooned due to all the dreadful drugs and I became scarily frail. This all coincided with our major push to renovate the Fireproof Building. There seemed no respite from all the endless negotiations with banks and contractors and shipping agents and bureaucrats and we just rolled with all the punches and blearily pushed on. What a beautiful place we created too.

In amongst all of this mayham, the boys thrived and grew. They have been nothing short of angels this year - endlessly patient and understanding, supportive, mature and amazingly calm with a mother who had clearly lost the plot most days and an absent and exhausted father who immediately fell asleep if he sat down for longer than 5 minutes.

Has it all been worth it, I hear you say. Was it a foolish thing to chuck up the security of our middle class life in the leafy northern suburbs of Johannesburg and come and live on this fickle little island in the Caribbean and start our own business, nearly totaling ourselves in the process?

Of course we ask ourselves this question nearly everyday and of course we don't know the answer. I'm definitely not going to say that the view or the sunsets make it all worthwhile, nor do I have any other snappy answers either. We had to come and see for ourselves and we really did want to do this. So we did.  Now it's all part of the story of our family and who we are and who the boys are. Don't ask me if we would do it all over again however - I may just hit you.

Having survived, we are now ready for the next chapter, which is all about the boys going back to South Africa, starting school and being reunited with old friends and family. Tyler gets to stay behind to run the bakery and I get to knock-up some air miles again, something I used to be rather proficient at. We are spending a very content and quiet Christmas hanging out in our Carrot Bay eyrie, as we count down the days until we leave. We have a new house in Rosetta to sort out, school uniforms to sew name tags into, bakkies and dogs to choose, grandparents to fuss over us, cousins to play with and boarding school life with trunks, 'free bounds' and housemasters to look forward to. We'll be swopping rashies and snorkels for wellies and snaffles and we'll be struggling with our isiZulu, just as we were really beginning to understand West Indian accents.

Once the new order is settled, I'm starting my book. I should have plenty of time on the 16 hour SAA Joburg-New York City flight.

A sad week

Waiting to leave

We've been consumed by sadness all week after the devastating loss of a friend's son. A lovely 20 year-old young man in his prime with so much to live for. Life can sometimes be inexplicable.

It has also been a hard week: The AC has stopped working in the bakery, the truck has broken down again and brown matter continues to rain down on us. This is all further enlivened by the brutal summer heat. I saw someone talking about 45C temperatures and even if this is not quite accurate, it certainly feels like it. Put simply, life feels a bit like Purgatory right now.

Amidst this, James left for his 2.5 month travels on Wednesday. In some ways it was good to put him on a plane because he's off on a fantastic adventure, but I felt psychically ill as I watched him walk through Customs. He arrived safely in Ireland of course and we'll all soon adjust to the new order, but it felt like going against the laws of nature there for a while.

I've never given too much thought about whether we are "good parents" or not. I'm not sure how one benchmarks such a statement. Nobody sets out to be bad parents, do they? The term is actually ridiculous. We all want to be normal and for our kids to be happy. We all want to provide the best for our children.  We all try to protect our kids from how messy and less then perfect life is most of the time. We all try to inspire that only hard-work and discipline make for success, and even then there are no guarantees (as I can personally attest to this week). We all battle with the 'generation-gap'. We're all distracted.

I suppose the first time you start letting your children go, is the first time you start fearing about the future. You have a good look around you and it feels like the forest in the Gruffalo - monsters behind every bush.  You do a mental check-list with yourself that you have prepared the child enough for the big, bad world out there. You look at your child for the first time as the world sees him. You worry that you havn't done enough or too much or of the wrong thing. You worry that they will be frightened or lonely. That they will not be able to manage.

I hope James stays safe and is hungry to learn and has an extraordinary time. I hope he does amazing things.  I hope we've given him enough to help him on his way.

I hope there is a heaven and I hope Michael goes there. I hope he also has a good journey and that he finds peace.

.......the other side of Summer

Anegada Days

Well it's already September 7th today and Summer holidays are drawing to a close with Georgie & William back at school on Wednesday and James off on his travels next weekend.

We had a good break over Festival Week sailing up to North Sound and then Anegada, where we lolled around eating, swimming and reading our books. We did manage to do the walk from Pomato Point to Cow Wreck Bay and didn't see another living soul the whole day. Amazing.

The boys also spent a lot of time whizzing around in the rib. Even the 8 year old was gleefully tearing around (don't tell the Moorings) whilst George belted out "We're on the Hiiiiiighway to Hell". Boy Paradise.

Please note the skipper has his RYA Level 2 Power Boat certification. 

We had our usual share of holidays dramas: Props falling off, over-heated engines, anchors that didn't work and then a sudden gale-force storm which hit us with all our full sails up on the way home - but despite all of that, we did relax and re-humanised ourselves again.

We spent a couple of weeks back on Tortola as I'm still working full time at Osiris and Tyler hung out with the boys and got busy with our new premises, which are cracking along. It all felt very civilized as our alarm clock only went off at 7am instead of the usual 4am.

Fire Proof Building

At the end of August we went over to St John's, our sister USVI island.  We did a day hike on the Reef Bay Trail which we really loved. Dotted along the beautiful rainforest path were fascinating sugar plantation ruins, 2000 year old petroglyphs and valleys of land crabs.  We had forgotten just how much we enjoyed  hiking and it's something to look forward to now that the boys are a little older.

We had an excellent meal at La Tapa, a grown-up sundowners at the rather jooshy Caneel Bay  and our little hotel was perfect for us. Once you look past the flaky-hippy veneer, we really loved St John's and it's definitely our new bolt hole when we feel we may be in danger of common assault on Tortola.

St John's National Park, USVI: Reef Bay Trail

Speaking of which, September is my least favourite month of the year on the island. It's stinking hot, the humidity runs at 100% and the mozzies drive one to distraction. Tempers are short and the invisible fault lines are tricky to navigate. It is very easy to offend someone in September. Then you have to live with it for the rest of the year and perhaps till the end of eternity even. Island life does have its shortcomings, as we know. In fact Island Life would be quite nice if it was in, say London or Las Vegas, but you can't have it all, I suppose.

The good thing about September however is that the island looks beautiful. Everything is lush and flowering. Coral trees are vivid orange, hibiscus and oleanders are everywhere. It's hard to be grumpy for too long.

Our driveway

Last week was our second birthday for the bakery's operations and the week previously was our fourth anniversary living on the island. With only about 6 weeks to go until we open the new premises, the days go by in a blur. We are fiendishly trying to recruit staff, order new equipment, deal with banks and shippers, work with the builders and not lose our minds. Some days we do. Some days we don't.

It's not so much exciting as it is terrifying, exhilarating and exhausting. Lots happening, lots of change and lots of lists.

Sounds about normal for us then.

Messing around with Anderson/Brockbank, the BVI Olympic Sailing Team

Season's End

Life has been good for the past couple of weeks. This has everything to do with happy boys enjoying a jam-packed summer, working in an air-conditioned office and a busy bakery. The past year has been fraught with all kinds of challenges for us and most days we have just had to roll with it. I'm always grateful when we have a few weeks of respite and can just be normal mensch again.

Which I can't say for the rest of the world which has seemingly gone completely insane.

Tyler and I realised that - unlike our own childhoods - the boys are not growing up surrounded by news in the house. We stream TV and pick programmes as opposed to watching a channel and we both download newspapers online because of the lack of international newspapers on the island. We therefore consume news individually and although we chat about it to each other, the boys have remained oblivious to world events. So we felt we needed to rectify this and all sat down together on Monday to watch the BBC News before supper.

Of course the two main leads were MH17 and Gaza.The children were horrified. Amongst many other questions over dinner, William asked "if you are killed in a war does this mean you are actually dead?" To anyone over about 30 years old this would seem like a ridiculous question, but in video war games being killed dosn't necessarily mean that you cease to exist, you can come back from the dead. The boys were also bewildered why children their own age were being blown up in Gaza. It literally made no sense to them at all.

I immediately felt that maybe we hadn't done the right thing by exposing the children to such rawness. The BBC is always careful in its reporting and provides factual news as well as opinion, so nothing that they had seen was lurid or sensationalist.

Nevertheless, they were all visibly shaken by what they had seen and heard. It was hard to watch the children trying to compute such insanity. We couldn't even give them semi-coherent explanations in the face of such incomprehensible events.

On reflection however we believe that we have  done the right thing. The children are a part of this world and are about to re-enter the mainstream again, so to speak. Backwaters, whilst quiet are also murky - so we have our fair share of issues here albeit in a more parochial way. The boys also do not live in an idyllic island bubble. They've had to deal with bullying and racism and see first hand the desecration of the reefs and the near extinction of their beloved frogs. They've also seen how hard it has been to build our new lives here and so they do understand that it's not all roses the whole time.

We don't have Gaza or MH17 or hijackings though. In some ways it makes us appreciate our little backwater even more (until we have to get on a plane again, that is) but it is The World, and not a video game and William hopefully understands that now. We're also getting back to our TED evenings, which the boys loved and which focuses more on the positive and the rational.

In other news......James's team won the Premiers Cup last weekend and our 8 year old was baptised in a lovely island ceremony last Saturday. We also entertained for the first time in 18 months and enjoyed a fabulous surprise 50th birthday party.

We have ONE MORE WEEK until we close the bakery shop and take a little break ourselves. We are planning on sailing to Anegada for a few days, weather permitting and doing some hiking in the St John's National Park. Then we have to knuckle down to fixing things and sorting stuff out and get going on our new premises.

So we're stepping off the world for a week and I'm going to take a short break from the blog and we'll see you on the other side of Summer.

Hasta la vista x

The Fireproof Building on Main Street, Road Town

Fireproof Building can be seen with a little red arrow, bottom right

Our new premises - the Fireproof Building, is one of the oldest buildings in Road Town and a National Monument. It has variously been the Governor's office, a warehouse and the government archives and gets its name from having survived the riots and subsequent fire in 1853, hence the 'Fireproof Building'.

The view from the adjacent car park

It's a beautiful 'industrial' space with breezy open windows, high ceilings and stone floor. We'd like to keep this 'look and fee'l for the new cafe and bakery shop. 

We are planning both a new cafe and food store, with an expanded range of Family bread (think rye, onion, spelt and campagne...) baked goods, traiteur and regional produce -  not forgetting Christmas! We're planning a really fun 'Christmas Pop Up Shop' along the lines of some exciting places we saw in New York early this year.

Even though this kind of expansion is terrifying we believe in our product and have built up a loyal customer community over the past two years. 

We're finally going to have room for our patisserie and cakes. As the space is so much cooler than the bakery, we'll also be able to make puff pastry (think croissants!) and meringues......(think macaroons!). 

We are also currently sourcing local produce to continue our commitment to small-batch and locally produced food: It tastes better, it's carbon foot print is heroic compared to what we are used to and it contributes towards the future sustainability of the islands. As we are a family-owned business, we'd really like to see the boys and their children be able to build the business in years to come. 

Work is just about to begin and soon the building will be painted with a new bathroom and other improvements. We are aiming to open in October to have a 'soft start' before we plunge into Christmas!

Last Week Was Epic

Happy Days.

Last week the boys had a complete blast at Josiah's Bay at the Beach & Bush Camp. They were falling asleep in the car on the way home, always a good sign of a day well spent. This week it's Tennis Camp and then they're back at Josiah's Bay next week for more Boy Heaven, machettes and some surfing. Plus James & Georgie are both sailing in the Premier's Cup this weekend, which means they are staying at Nanny Cay in tents and get to hang out with teams and friends from all over the Caribbean and race. A charmed life, for sure.

Mine's not so bad either: I'm now back sitting in an office all day, at a desk, with air conditioning, wearing a dress. This is all a bit of a novelty and I'm quite enjoying it actually. I'm particularly enjoying the sitting down bit, not to mention the air conditioning.

I do have to fit in a few hours before sunrise to keep up with the family business and then run around like a sweaty lunatic at lunchtime. It's alright really - especially when it leads to such great outcomes namely our new premises - the historic Fireproof Building in Main Street, signed on Friday. We've been coveting it for years and it is by far one of the most beautiful buildings in Road Town. All 1400 sq feet of it.

Opening October. That's soon - 2 months!

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.

You're looking at our Summer!

Trials in motherhood

Boys In A Boat 

The boys have spent their first week of summer holidays in the adjoining boatyard to the bakery with Richard and his chaps happily fixing up 'Wasabi'. They drilled and banged away, learning how to fix the mast and the rigging. We are lucky to be surrounded by workshops with willing (and patient) friends to help out and it really has been Boy Heaven.  I worked upstairs in the Osiris's AC'ed offices and Tyler baked in the downstairs inferno.

You'd think that after 13 years of this, I'd be finding motherhood a breeze. Not a bit of it: When it's school term I think it's all going to be easier when the boys are on holiday and when it's holiday I definitely think life is easier when they are back at school (apart from the relentless morning ritual of the dreaded lunch boxes).

I find myself constantly waging an inward battle between the joys of being a mother alongside feeling bitter and twisted about the sheer everyday mayham of too many Y chromosomes. I usually lose the noisy war in my head and skulk off to mutter darkly in a corner. Then I feel guilty and attack the breakfast dishes and pack the tumble dryer, after which I feel so resentful that I have to pour a large, lunchtime G & T to cheer myself up and so it goes on and on.

Last weekend we decided to move our bedroom downstairs and William & George to move into our old upstairs bedroom.  Why did we do this? It has literally turned the whole house upside down - all four storey's of it. We never seem to have the time and energy to start and finish a job completely, so we're going to have to live with this transitional disorder for weeks now. In amongst all the under-bed-crap and cupboard entrails is the weekly laundry mixed up with damp swimming towels, tattered books, nerf gun bullets, plastic cups and sleeping cats. I feel weak just looking at it all.

Yesterday I made a fairly valiant effort trying to sort things out. This morning when I came upstairs the children had decided to pull their dress-up trunk apart, so now we have bashed-up pirate hats and knights cloaks strewn all over the soggy towels and lego blocks, along with ice cream wrappers from last nights movie and scattered board games. I just want to scream my head off and run away.

This mother is definitely on tranquilizers

After the rage has subsided I usually channel my annoyance and attack it all with sullen resignation.  "Why me?" I wail at the boys when they have driven me completely over the edge (most days) not that it makes the slightest bit of difference. The emotional cycles of motherhood are even more exhausting than the actual work.

I know that I'll soon be looking back on all of this with rose-tinted remorse when they are away at boarding school and all I'll have to do is the company accounts. But until then, I sincerely hope I'm not the only mother out there who seems to walk the fine line between sanity and being a gibbering wreck.

This poor mother has clearly lost the plot. What is she doing ?

Family Summer Playlist

Music has become a big thing in our home and the Summer Playlist is being played a lot. Very loudly. Here's a selection from it:

1. Our undisputed family favourite song now is Flight Facilities "Crave You" and I've included the Go Pro video that got us so hooked. We all love dubstep. Well maybe not Tyler so much. He's so old school. 

2. Every summer playlist has to have at least one Calvin Harris song: Summer to get you up in the morning.

3. Lloyd's "Get it Shawty' is great music but a good reason to send the boys to a boarding school in the middle of the Drakensburg and as far away from Los Angeles as possible.

4. We all need a little steel pan and island fantasy: Duke Dumont I Got U . No doubt this will be played on rotation at the 'Soggy Dollar'  this summer.

5. Some R & B from Wale: Love Hate Thing. It has an explicit warning, but then most R & B music does these days. Love the fact that Emimem is now worried about his daughter dating chaps that grew up on his music. Hubris.

6. Breezy, "everyone's happy"  summer soul - Claptone: No Eyes

7. Have to have some reggae: We love Damian Marley so these are  our two classic favourites: Affairs of the Heart and Road to Zion. 


8. This is wonderful: Madcon "Beggin". Mowtown crossed with Daft Punk.

9. Gorgon City is also fun with  "Ready for your Love" .

10. We all love The XX. It's a bit gloomy, but as a former Cocteau Twin/ Portishead fan, we sometimes need to be reminded of where we come from, don't we?

11. Mr Probz's 'Waves' looks like it was shot in Virgin Gorda.  He gets stranded on a tropical island but never fear, we know that there will be a beach bar playing Avicii and a cell phone tower just around the corner.

12. Finishing up with some Lana Del Rey even if it's not the most sunny of songs: Summertime Sadness.

The full playlist is on my Spotify account if you would like to 'follow' me.

Summer 2014

Georgie & William were both on the Principal's List at St George's

Summer has begun.

Last week was full of the boys finishing up school and graduation ceremonies. We were literally on our last legs: Lunch boxes were being duck-taped, shoes were being re-glued and William was even stapling his shirt together in the absence of buttons. We wouldn't have managed even another week of school in one piece!

Now it's 2 months holidays for Georgie & William and a whole 6 months for James, as he will not be returning to school here in September before starting boarding school in January. 

James with his Gr 7 class at Cedar

In August the bakery shop will be closed although I will continue to work at Osiris. We are going to have some family holiday around the islands and go sailing and such-like. At the end of August James is off to stay in Ireland & London for 6 weeks.  October, November and December remain unplanned - so if any one reading this has any good ideas or feels like hosting an engaging 13 year teenage boy in their part of the world for a few weeks, please let me know!

The Secret Project is nearly signed. We even did our first big order for stock today. A little bit exciting, but soon to be mad, no doubt. 

We' are definitely shifting gears this year. This is our fourth summer in the islands and the boys are getting older and are more discerning in their choices and views. I'm conscious that next year things will be very different and that we need to make the most of our time now. 

Here's to happy island days then and Summer 2014.

Main Street, Road Town

Island Crusaders

My Friday Night Gluten Free Bread 

I'm pleased Tyler is back and he has promised not to go away again. Ever.

It was a hard week and I was left feeling quite un-hinged at times. Must have been something to do with the 4 jobs I was trying to do all at the same time.  Me and the Coke Fridge have a special relationship these days. I have also joined the movement to ban bottled water. The high point of the week was being parked in every morning by the taxi's in the delivery zone at Riteway and the special negotiations that ensued afterwards. These always entailed being lectured at loudly for at least 5 minutes, despite the fact that I was actually doing a .......DELIVERY.

Summer is back with vengeance. The heat is seering and the humidity is up to it's 100% level again.  Judging by the insane driving and everyday interactions (charming as always) the island is also feeling the heat.

I can now understand why it is necessary to have Crusades at this time of the year. The Almighty needs to be begged for mercy and some respite from the relentless toil and general misery that is our island lives. I just wish it wasn't every night at a million decibels and that the screeching mike could be sorted out. It also doesn't really matter that we cannot understand a word as we do get the general drift of the message anyway.

So, we've made a few changes in the bakery and I am really looking forward to getting back to my office job again. The kids are finishing up school this week and we have the Summer to look forward to. The kids have  some great camps lined up, 'Wasabi' the new boat to fix and sail and a few months of boy-stuff. We will still be working but will also have time to do some sailing ourselves and spend normal family time together .

James is away at his last international Opti regatta, but judging by the results so far, his mind seems to be elsewhere too. He's going to be killer in Lazers.  Georgie and William have worked hard to keep their Mum sane this week and were also indispensable in the bakery. We shall probably be getting a visit from Child Welfare soon, no doubt.

I'm going to spare you photos of children in boats and show you my gluten free bread instead, which I baked at 1am on Friday night.

Don't say we never have any fun.

Whizzing along

Children in boats. William sailed in his first proper regatta last Sunday and got a medal

Life has become hectic again. The days pass by in a blur of children, bakery, heat, trust work, driving, shopping, cooking, frustration, school lunches, yet more shopping, online banking, queuing up in banks, Sahara Dust, even more shopping and yet more driving. I barely notice the beginning, hardly touch sides and only see the end when I hit the pillow. Who knew island life could be so....stimulating.

Tyler is away again on a charter and I am running solo. We're all just about hanging in there. The children hear far too much for their own good and get to see their mother in melt-down mode way too often for any future stability in their own relationships, but yet we all survive. We practice our deep breathing skills and try to remember some mantras that do not involve anyone's demise.

We are moving forward at a rapid rate and grind through the days as fast as the driver in front of us (20 mph) or the 6 week/never turnaround on emails. I received a response to an (urgent) insurance inquiry today made in November last year. It wasn't even the quote. True story.

We are now into the 4th week of the Carrot Bay Screaming Crusade which has left one without the will to live some evenings. We seemed to reach an almighty crescendo tonight of very hoarse frothing and ranting with feedback, only to have the sound turned down dramatically - so maybe someone finally reported the public nuisance. It wasn't even me.  We give thanks for small mercies.

The kids are mid exams and tomorrow James is off to St Thomas for his final Team BVI international Optimist regatta - a slightly bitter-sweet reminder that he is growing up and moving on. I sadly can not make it as the bakery is busy on Fridays & Saturdays and there is payroll too. We're going to try and go through on Sunday, if I'm still standing.

It's just a matter of hanging in and holding on at the moment. The kids finish up school for the year next week and August is shimmering on the horizon. We're just trying not to lose sight of land or reality or sanity.

Dad and D Day

                                     
We are now into our 12th day of a very loud Crusade being held in our little village with it's perfect amphitheater acoustics. We are being spiritually harangued with fire and brimstone night after night and I must admit to a deepening sense of island fatigue. It is time to 'get off the rock" for some R&R. Tyler, the lucky B has arranged just this and is away filling in as a chef on a charter for 5 days.  It is yet another long weekend and the boys and I are chilling at home, after a busy week which I am just about managing.

On Friday it was the 70th Anniversary of D Day.  For the past 3 months we have sat gripped every evening for our 30 minutes of 'Great British Menu' on BBC and we watched it right to the end with the banquet at St Paul's Cathedral. I'm also currently reading an excellent but harrowing book called 'The Good Soldiers' by David Finkel, about US troops in Baghdad. It is similar to 'The Foot Locker' and reminds me a lot of Michael Herr's 'Dispatches'. I'm not a pacifist but I do hope never to have to send any boys off to a war.

My father would have been 92 this year, but died 9 years ago. I only found out this morning when I was chatting to my Ma that he was also part of D Day. As a first generation Post-War baby I've grown up with 'The War' very much part of my family life. My father volunteered as a 18 year old boy straight from school in 1940. He joined the Royal Air Force and became a wireless operator in 120 Squadron flying Liberators.

A Liberator wireless operator. This even looks like my father, but it isn't!

Like most veterans he rarely spoke about the war, apart from the odd anecdote. I knew he was based in Iceland and was a 'U Boat Hunter' in the North Atlantic/Baltic and later flew 'Special Ops' such as Resistance fighters (mainly women) into the South of France below radar at night. He always shook his head with wonder at how brave they were and was still in awe of them over sixty years later. He also told hilarious stories about spending most of his time either fixing his wireless or having his gun in bits, no use to man or beast.

Some old photos stuffed into battered boxes in the attic of his plane attacking a U Boat used to get regularly hauled out by me to impress my teenage boyfriends, which they never failed to do. Big chunks of my childhood were spent at  RAFA family parties and I vividly remember my father making the decorations for the annual Battle of Britain Ball held every year at the Rotunda in Camps Bay. He wasn't a 'When We" type at all though and my parents used to find all the reminiscing quite boring. Even this morning, when I asked my mother where Daddy's medals were, she said a bit dismissively "even my mother got a medal. My dear, everyone got medals".

Coastal Command Liberators attacking a U Boat. We had photos just like this in our attic 

I showed this amazing 2 minute  Pathe movie  with incredible footage about "what Grandpapa did in the War" (except these are Beaufighters not Liberators) to the boys and they were mega-impressed, whilst I was faintly horrified. Makes computer games look pretty lame by comparison. I knew that my father's skippers were awarded the DFC twice, so they must have done some pretty hair-raising stuff too.

Anyway, two days before D Day on the 6 June 1944, his squadron was moved down to RAF Stoney Cross  close to Southampton to provide air cover for the landings, which they did for the duration. I'm busy reading up about it at the moment (God Bless the Internet) and am finding it all quite fascinating.

Even since I was a student I've worn his "flying scarf" which he had on his missions as the planes were unheated and noisy. Later in life he developed tinnitus as a result of the latter. I've realised today that the scarf must be about 75 years old already.

I'm struck again how we are the sum of our parts. Like my parents, I'm not a backward looking person at all but this is such a big part of me and I am rather proud of my father and his legacy. How lucky the boys are too, to have a real hero for a Grandfather.

My Fathers  'flying scarf". It struck me that it must be about 75 years old  now

PS: All the photos of my father in the RAF are in Cape Town, so the minute I can update this blog with them, I will.

We're on the up and up

We reached the top of this mountain anyway!

I'm very much up and about now. We even went to two parties last night! I'm doing a little bit of driving already and am working in The Family Office and planning stuff.

Boy do we have a lot of planning to do.

Summer holidays. Kids schools in SA. Passports. Bank accounts. Leases. Bakery expansion plans. New suppliers. The end of the Season. The start of the new Season. Christmas. Lists, lists and more lists. And forms. I've filled in a helleva lot of forms recently and scanned up a storm.

It's almost the end of school here, only another 4 weeks. The kids are tired and fractious after a long year which has had a few bumps along the way, but seems to have ended well.  William & Georgie will go back to school until Christmas, whilst James gets to have a 6 month adventure. This also needs planning otherwise he will just lie in his room and read his book for 24 weeks.

James has definitely ended school on a good note. A new part of the school curriculum is 'experiential learning' through travel. Without wanting to sound churlish, but these must be some of the most well-travelled kids on the planet. We would have preferred for him to have stayed in the classroom and learnt some basic skills like cursive writing for example, but Lucky Jim got to learn how to scuba dive instead. Nice. He has, of course, taken to it like a duck to water. Maybe he should take up polo back in SA - adding it to his list of "world's most expensive sports I do" and we can then just plan a Lifetime of Penury and add that to our list.

Photo by Cedar International School

First dive as a qualified PADI.  Next stop a Go-Pro for Xmas, no doubt

I'm also starting a bit of exercise this week. Not scuba diving, sadly, but gym. This is partially because the only thing I felt like eating for the past 2 months was Nutella toast which has had a rather devastating impact on the waistline, but I really need to get stronger again. The nerve damage has left some residual pain and a few weird after-effects which drives me to despair.  Tigers, of course, don't cry - so I just need to get out there and fight this bugger. Plus I'm going to need as much energy as I can muster for all the impending moves and empire-building we're lining up.

Onwards and upwards.

The Atlantic

The Atlantic has featured heavily in our lives this week.

The dark cloud of the missing yacht 'Cheeki Rafiki' hung over us all week as we waited anxiously for updates, helped with the petition to get the Coastguard out again and sifted through satellite pictures looking for the life raft. The news on Friday was heart breaking.

Mid-week we heard that James has been accepted into Michaelhouse, a boarding school in the foothills of the Drakensburg - just about as far away as one can get from a tropical island in the West Indies. Much of the week was also spent soberly pondering our new Trans-Atlantic lives.

On top of all of this, the boys also acquired their first boat, a Lazer Vargo and are planning on sailing it around the islands during the Summer holidays. Georgie has been busy drawing up charter maps of their planned routes a la Swallows & Amazons. I was a bit alarmed when I heard them talking about camping on Fallen Jerusalem.

Many of the yachts and catamarans here in the Caribbean are built in Cape Town and are 'delivered' across the Atlantic by young crews. Given that the boys are about to live in South Africa for half the year, are avid sailors and live in the Caribbean,  it is probably not too far-fetched to expect them to be sailing across the Atlantic in the future.

The skipper of Cheeki Rafiki was only 22 years old, nine years older than James. I could so easily imagine  his mother anxiously pouring over blurry satellite pictures and saying stoical things like "he was doing what he loved best". How brave mothers have to be.

Being the parents of three boys, we've already encountered our fair share of concussions, knocked out teeth  and black eyes. We encourage adventure and independence. Nothing prepares one for a broken keel in the middle of the Atlantic however.

This week has haunted me.  I have keenly felt the mortality of my own children. In the very week that we know we have to start letting them go, it has also been the week that I've wanted to hold them tight and never let go.

Rest in Peace

Climbing mountains

Watching the BVI Dinghy Champs from Emily's balcony and Nanny Cay (Photo Credit: BVI Beacon)

The boys have been racing all weekend as it's the BVI Dinghy Championships and Tyler has made over 200 rolls for lunch. I've ventured down both days and it has been good to get out a bit again. Hardly a hardship, as you can see.

James's first Red Fleet race. Photo: BVI Beacon

With fellow team member Amalie Clark. Photo by Ed Childs

It's been an up and down week.  I'm getting stronger by the day but am still left chronically tired after the smallest exertion, which frustrates the hell out of me. I am going to have to start back at square one to build my core strength up again which had me feeling pretty depressed this week at the thought of it all. Since I don't find exercise or gym easy to do even when I'm fighting fit, this feels like a steep mountain to climb. Anyway I've given myself a stiff talking too (several in fact) and I'm going to start by walking up and down our hill once a day  with some very loud music on the old Shuffle.

I also feel completely saturated by the World Wide Web. It's enough! I don't think I can look at another Pin Board or read another food blog or scroll through endless artisan websites anymore. The relentless number of kale and quinoa recipes becomes mind-numbing after a while and there are only so many Habitually Chic lives I can look at before I want to run off and join the Baader Meinhof gang.

I almost felt compelled to knit this week, which tells you how bad things were getting as I despise knitting.

I've now tidied up the study and my desk. I even sharpened some pencils. I'm going to try a bit of work in town on Tuesday which will also take my mind off things as we hear about James's school application this week. There is no Plan B so it could be an interesting week.

On a positive note I feel rejuvenated on the bakery front. I've spent time trying new recipes, redesigning our packaging and sourcing potential products and stuff for our 'new' venture, if it ever comes off. It's quite easy to get burned out by it all, but I seem to have reconnected with my inner Domestic Goddette with all this time spent at home.

I promise not to Instagram any of it.

My Mother

Barbara, April 2014, Cape Town. Photo by  granddaughter Paula Mills

Don't you think that too much emphasis is placed on youth and 'start-ups' nowadays and not enough at the other end of the spectrum? Old age seems to be synonymous with the ghastly state of old age homes, Alzheimers (which my father had) and "old people" as opposed to people who are just older doing interesting things.

My mother has recently turned 85 and lives on her own in Cape Town. She is a testament to how vital and relevant and independent one can be at her age. She is passionately engaged with global news, political debates and the latest trends.  Her most common expression is "I saw an interesting programme on BBC the other day..." She cuts out news articles for me on stock prices, old friends and restaurant reviews and sends them 9000 miles to the other side of the planet along with a coffee mug for my birthday with "I love cooking with wine...Occasionally I add food" on it, as it reminded her of me.

My mother grew up during the war on the outskirts of London. After an unexploded bomb was discovered at "the bottom of the garden" her family moved into a rather grand country house hotel along with a coterie of eccentric Polish countesses and other colourful Mittel  European refugees. As her convent school was also bombed at much the same time, she spent her days playing snooker, golf and bridge with all the old dowagers and became particularly good at darts.

After the war, there was "no point in going back to school" so off she went to Wimbledon School of Art  where she met my father and promptly married him at 17. They lived in a gypsy caravan next to the Epsom racetrack with yet more old duchesses and 'real' gypsies until she had my first brother, Paul.

Despite my suburban childhood, my mother always retained this slightly bohemian quality. She dressed me in pink and navy tweed when everyone else was in Seventies dungarees with heart patches. My father gave her beautiful Persian jewellery and she had her hair done by the bouffantted 'Mr' Piaonni himself, the last word in Cape Town Sixties chic. She always wore Arpege perfume and put on red lipstick ("it's important for yourself, really") before fetching my  father from Pinelands Station promptly every afternoon at 5:30pm.

She taught me how to read silver hallmarks, made all my clothes and scoffed at shop bought biscuits. We collected pine ring mushrooms on the winter slopes of Table Mountain and ate them with real crumpets dripping with butter in front of our fire at 5 Rheezicht, with the ersatz 'river stone' wallpaper on the chimney piece.  We ate bacon and egg sandwiches wrapped in greaseproof paper on Bloubergstrand every Sunday morning before going for a "good walk" along the lovely, hard sand and she made me homemade play dough before it became a symbol of Pinterest Good Mumminess.

As I write this, I realise how keenly I am like my mother. How her 'everydayness' has become me and how I am in my own home, with my children.

We are both strongly opinionated and unsentimental and we argue like sisters, trade harsh words and drive each other to distraction. We admire and respect each however, which I think I prefer. I love her so much it aches.

My mother is the only one of my family left in South Africa apart from my brother who lives on the other side of the country on an isolated farm, miles from anywhere. The rest of us are sprinkled to the remote corners of the globe.

What a difference the big tech companies could make if they invested in teaching computer skills and internet saviness to the over 70's. Imagined if they opened up social media to this generation and gave them access to all the wonderful information and ease of communication out there. Think of all the possibilities and good use that such stylish, wise and interesting people would put it all too as opposed to the infinitely shallow and narcissistic culture of 'selfies' and 'My Perfect Life'  which is so all-pervasive.

No doubt as the twenty year old Silicon Valley techies age we will see this shift, but I want it now. I want my Ma on Twitter and Pinterest and FaceBook. It would be hilarious but it would also mean that I could hear her say "did you see that programme on BBC after the news last night? You must, it was riveting. Here's a link".

In a pickle

Balcony sundowner sans Gin & Toto

I had way too much excitement yesterday as Cessie and I cooked up a storm trying to re-stock the bakery with our traiteur range (in one go, it seemed) so I'm back in bed today. No lecturing please. I keep thinking I'm stronger than I actually am. Found to my horror a few days a go I can't even open a bottle of tonic (I can manage a can) so no sundowner G & T on the balcony, which was pretty shocking.

The Guilty Culprit: Piccalilli

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Hrmph

Polka on Rotation. At least he's reading the music here

I am getting stronger day by day now and can even feel mozzie bites again which I havn't felt for weeks (as my skin surface is numb) and best of all I've almost got my sense of taste back, but in the process seem to have lost my sense of humour. Such a weird feeling not being able to taste. Mealtimes became quite joyless without the pleasure of eating. I'm also walking unassisted now around the house and can maneuver the staircases - which has been a big leap, well totter maybe, forward.

It was my birthday on Tuesday. Thank goodness for Facebook, otherwise the day would only have consisted of bed, a good book and 12 hours of complete silence apart from a few lovely long-distance phone calls. Not exactly celebratory, but peaceful all the same.

The crap truism of being too weak to make the most of all the downtime also frustrates the hell out of me. The omnipresent Baby Books, for example, are always there to haunt me. I've so far managed James's first year, which only leaves me with 31 years to catch up. My fine motor skills are shot however and we don't have any photographic developing on the island - so I've got quite a good excuse this time round. The deadline has to be the first grandchild I'd imagine, so a few more years of self-abasement and guilt to go.

I've now watched just about everything there is to see on the iPlayer and have used up my social media quota for the next 5 years. I'm am getting up every morning now and on Thursday was able to help Georgie prepare for his RCM piano exam. Although I plonked back into bed completely exhausted afterwards, I did shed a few frustrated tears at not being able to accompany the boys to their exams.

It's been nearly 6 weeks now with this ghastly 'thing' and I am the worlds most impatient person. The severity of it has been all encompassing, but recovery must surely be on track if the personality is starting to default back to type? I start physio next week and am looking forward to re-building this rather broken body. I'm also working hard on keeping the serenity but regaining the sense of humour.

In the meantime though I'll just keep  hrmpphing like Eyeore in Winnie The Pooh and ignoring the plastic chips which are meant to be made into beanbags.Uncompleted Project Number 350.