These days have been picture card perfect; I've been endlessly in-and-out of the ocean this last week and a bit; not for a minute have I taken my proximity to the sea edge for granted, especially knowing that it could be cut short.
Sunday I finally walked down a path to the sea that I have always driven past; probably due to my aversion to crowds and holidaymakers. I berate myself for having not explored Thompson's Bay in Ballito sooner. The late afternoon sunshine lent the beach, bay and amenities a glow I've often experienced during the autumn and winter months on the south and north coasts of KwaZulu-Natal: "walking on sunshine", the lyrics describe it well; sunshine seeped through Illovo golden syrup also comes, strongly, to mind. I didn't swim though: the light was fading and I had herbs, also peas and lettuce seeds that I wanted to plant.
Right now, though, I'm cosied up indoors listening to the relieving patter of the rain on the cement floor outside, and the earth, while breathing in air washed clean; earlier there was two, just two peals of thunder, how polite.
Marking assignments, still reading Theroux, lots of things on the boil, teaching and being taught, drinking coffee, thinking: the last two weeks have been tumultuous. Busy.
I returned from Cape Town last Monday night, literally into the thick air-and-reek-of-ocean-swamp-frogs-crickets-and birds of the subtropical humid-dense-but wonderful coastline north of Durban. The interview went very well. I expect to hear about the post there within days. Yes, or No, either way my life will dramatically alter. Again (how blessed am I). But especially if yes. I can't worry about that now; I did my best, it's out of my hands.
(I would enjoy the Cape's secret season though, not to mention squawking-shrieking Seapoint seagulls.)
Dear Jonathan Livingstone Seagull, I just called to say...