Things I have learnt from... car guards

On one of our local radio stations, they regularly ask people to message in their answers to a question they pose on a random topic. Yesterday the question was about car guards. Car guards are, I think, a uniquely South African thing.

They are people who guard cars from vandals, help with pushing your trolley and loading your shopping into your car, and try to direct you out of the parking bay as you reverse (usually standing in the way of the car and being a danger to themselves, in my experience) in exchange for whatever spare cash you may have. They may also offer a car washing service if they are particularly proactive. They are usually part of the informal sector - i.e. they appoint themselves - and some are not much more than glorified beggars. In the worst case scenarios, if you fail to tip them, they scratch your car as you drive away. Because of their nuisance factor, over the last decade or so many shopping centres have started appointing their own car guards, who have official bibs to identify them.

The radio station’s question was what people thought of car guards - were they offering a useful service, or were they just a nuisance? I was surprised that over 80% of those who called or messaged the studio were in favor of them. I have an intense dislike of them - not of any particular individual, just of having to be hassled by people whose services I neither desire nor need. I don’t know whether people who feel the way I do simply didn’t air their opinion, or whether that straw poll indicates that I am very much out of step with popular opinion, but it got me thinking about things.

I realized that it’s not just car guards that I dislike. I have a natural suspicion about people, bar a few circumstances. Sadly, I realized that my instinctual reaction to people is that they are out to get something from me, or to harm me in some way, so I walk around with a heightened background “noise” of suspicion, fear and anger towards others.

This is not how Jesus calls us to live - he calls us to love everyone - even our enemies. So how do I reconcile my seemingly innate reactions with this call on my life? I started by trying to determine why it is that I feel the way I do about people. I don’t know that I have a complete understanding yet, but I definitely found a few pointers.

Growing up under Apartheid, I imbibed the lie about the “swart gevaar”. Strangers, particularly those of colour (who, let’s be honest, are the only car guards I’ve seen). The lie is that “those people” ARE out to get me, and will not only steal from me at the first opportunity, but are also looking for ways to kill me. Of course, there is also the massive discrepancy between me, someone who HAS (a job, a car, a brick house that easily accommodates my family, sanitation and plumbing in said house, electricity, a university education, food in my cupboards/ fridge/ freezer), and those beggars and car guards, who are part of the populace of HAVE NOTS in the country. Faced with them on a daily basis is emotionally exhausting as I try to hold back my white guilt so that I’m not perpetually overwhelmed. Displaying anger (whether in tone of voice, or body/ facial language) is a pretty good way to make people keep their distance from you. Just don’t make eye contact....

I also have a strong reaction to adverts and salespeople - they really are out to get something from me. Somehow my assumption when anyone stops me (in the shopping centre, at the traffic lights, etc.) is that they are either a salesperson, or worse. I’m not sure where this comes from, but it’s a pretty strong reaction - even to print adverts, or adverts at the start of videos on YouTube, or in the side banners on social media. I think it’s a reaction to the feeling that I’m being manipulated in some way, because I’m generally quite ornery when I think I’m being manipulated or told what to think/ do/ feel.

Thinking back on just today, it occurred to me that working with teenagers is probably also a contributing factor. Teenagers are constantly pushing the boundaries, and can be very confrontational.  As I deal with a lot of discipline issues on a daily basis (I’m a grade head and manage the school’s discipline admin), I guess that I have become hardened and assume that any interaction I am going to have with a student is going to be one of confrontation, where I’m on the receiving end of a lot of aggression; not to mention that my assumption is always that I’m being lied to all the time, because much of the time I am being lied to.

Even knowing all of this, I think there is a deeper issue at play here though: selfishness. I have always been a selfish, greedy person. So, I suppose that my suspicion of others stems, ultimately, from my selfishness. I don’t want anyone else to take my stuff, or even get what might potentially be mine one day. While outwardly I applaud the success of others, inwardly my jealousy seethes - why them and not me? This is me at my ugliest, and most unsanctified. This is the person Jesus came to save and redeem. In his words - it’s not the healthy who need a doctor: it’s the sick!

I was sick and dying in my sin, in my selfishness, in my hatred and anger and fear, BUT JESUS stepped into history to save me. Thank God! That’s not to say that, now that I’m saved, I’m perfect or have everything sorted. Far from it! But at least now I have hope that as I grapple with the ugly side of me, I will find freedom. I will be set free from the worst of me. Not only is there grace to cover me, but there is love that will transform me, from one degree of glory to the next. Even as I identify the evil in my heart, already God has reached out to help me deal with it, if I will but grasp His hand. I doubt this is something that will be fixed overnight. Rather, I think this is part of an on-going conversation I’ll be having with God, and that the healing will be gradual.

Death and drugs

A few years ago, in our previous cell group, we had a member of the group who was living on the streets. His name was Steven. Steven was a homosexual who was infected with HIV and he was a drug addict. I saw 'was' because he died last weekend. He didn't die from AIDS, from the TB he had contracted. He didn't die from exposure from spending most of every day being on the streets. Steven died, we presume, from a drug overdose.

Steven had his 'spot' at two different traffic lights where he would sell whatever he could - jewellery he had made or second hand books. After we left that cell group to lead another one, we saw Steven at church occasionally, but we saw him regularly at the traffic lights. We would always wind down the window and have a quick chat between the light changes. It never ceased to amaze me how cheerful he was despite his circumstances. 

He was a young believer, with a lot still to learn about God, but then, if we're honest with ourselves, I think we all still have a lot to learn about God, no matter how long we have been believers.

I won't lie and say that Steven was a friend. He wasn't. He was secretive and, quite honestly, his poverty, HIV and drug addiction made me uncomfortable. I was comfortable as long as he was kept at arm's length. My kids knew who he was, but I had deliberately not told them his background, because I wanted to give them the opportunity to respond to him without my baggage, without my prejudices. I wanted them to just see him as another human being. They liked him, and for that I am grateful. I think to have the love of a child is healing, and the surprise on his face when my daughter would rush up and hug him was worth my discomfort.

But about 2 weeks ago my prejudice caused me to pull back when really I should have reached out. I was in a rush, not that that is any excuse. I just didn't want to have my "perfect" life interrupted and discomforted by him. So when we stopped at the traffic light on this occasion, and despite the little voice in my head telling me something was wrong with him, I moved on with my life. I did not help him with the small request he had of me - for a bottle of water. I could easily have done so, but I chose not to. Even had I not helped with that, I should have stopped and had a proper conversation with him, because I could see he was in trouble. He was not his usual self. He was filthy and scruffily dressed, despite living at the Salvation Army and having access to clean clothes and showers. His eyes had a feverish look to them. I knew something was up, and I chose not to stop.

A week later, the cops found him, disorientated, and complaining of chest pains. They took him to hospital, and he died there. He died of a drug overdose, we think. I don't know whether an autopsy was done, but if it was, I doubt I would hear of it.

I could wallow in guilt, that I chose not to respond to my fellow believer in need. I could wallow on guilt that I did not respond to another human being in need when the solution was so obviously within my ability to help. I could wallow in guilt that the example I set my kids was beyond poor. I could wallow on guilt over my selfishness. But I won't. I have asked god's forgiveness, and when I see Steven in heaven one day, I will ask his forgiveness too. 

Instead, I hope that in reflecting on this whole horrible mess I have learnt a lesson. I hope that the next time my fear and anxiety threaten to prevent me from disrupting my own life, that the next time I find myself with an opportunity to let my life be discomforted, I will make the right decision - the decision to be the hands and feet of Christ in a broken world.

My privileged upbringing has isolated me from my own humanity. It has bred in me a fear of others who are different to myself. I know that the journey to change all that will be a long one. I am not now suddenly 'fixed' because of this one experience. I know that this journey will be a long and difficult one, but this is a journey I must make if I am to truly become like Jesus. It's a journey I have not wanted to make, and have avoided (& excused myself from) for far too long. I still don't want to, because I don't want my nice comfortable life to be discomforted and disrupted, but increasingly I hear the voice of God about this, and increasingly I understand the value in embarking on this difficult journey.

The way of the cross is not easy, nor is it comfortable. Jesus never promised us an easy life. I hate that about Christianity. I want an easy life. I want to be comfortable and isolated. Yet, my heart is melting slowly, and I find myself moving closer to the edge of something more exciting - a life that is more than just comfortable....

Say WHAT?

I was as gobsmacked as they were.

If you missed the news this morning, you didn't miss anything, really. Miley Cyrus strutted her stuff on stage, in a nude-coloured bikini - while being totally sexually explicit.

I was horrified though, for several reasons. Let me count them for you.

1. Her antics were broadcast while my kids were with me, watching breakfast TV. (Now is not the time to have the discussion about whether kids should be a) watching TV at all, b) watching TV while eating, c) watching the news.) I usually screen what my kids watch - I don't even like them watching violent cartoons. Yet, here - WITH NO WARNING about adult content beforehand, my kids got a serious dose of sexually explicit content. I am not impressed, SABC.
2. What message is she sending to career women? To me, it says that the only way to be taken seriously as a professional, as a woman, is to take off all your clothes in public, and behave like a slut.
3. What message is it sending to all the millions of young girls who idolise her? It's like the whole '50 Shades of Grey' thing all over again. This sexually explicit behaviour is not normal. Yet, our teens are being fed a constant diet of acceptance of aberrant behaviour. If you want to behave like that, fine, but do it in the privacy of your home. I still believe that sex is beautiful, but private. It's not something we splash across the front page of the news.
4. More people (myself included) are talking about this, rather than... oh I don't know - a million other issues. I mean, we could be talking about the troubles in Syria right now, where a country stands poised on the brink of a serious ethnic cleansing. We could be talking about Marikana and Lonmin. We could be talking about the impact of rising fuel costs on the food security of South Africa's (and indeed, the world's) most poor. We could be talking about the ongoing persecution of Tibetan Buddahists, or the ongoing Christian martyrdom in the East. We could be talking about the 11cm of snow (!!!) predicted to fall on Table Mountain this weekend and the impact of climate change on our endangered fynbos. We could be talking about SO many other things, yet instead we're all talking about Miley's antics.

Don't get me wrong - I'm not saying we shouldn't be talking about it, because it does raise important issues regarding the morality of famous people, the morality of programme developers, etc. But I am horrified that this was the current trending topic this morning. I'm sure that the reason she did it was to get a reaction, to put her name in lights, as it were. She definitely succeeded there.

But how tragic that her atrocious behaviour should cause more outrage than the other topics I mentioned above. Clearly there are some sins that we regard as worse than others. The fact that people in Syria are killing each other is not as morally abhorrent to us as Miley's actions on the stage last night. Clearly, sexually explicit behaviour is worse than taking a life.

Now, again, don't misunderstand me. We need to have the conversation about the implications of Ms Cyrus' actions. We need to talk about the message it has sent to young girls, to the general public, about women and the role they hold in society. That is a very important discussion. And maybe this is the time for it, I don't know.

BUT

Shouldn't we be just as morally outraged by the number of children who are addicted to Tik on the Cape Flats?

Shouldn't we be just as morally outraged by the gang violence that last week saw several schools on the Cape Flats being closed?

Shouldn't we be just as morally outraged by the ongoing corruption in government?

Shouldn't we be just as morally outraged by the number of people sleeping rough in parks and under bridges every night?

Shouldn't we be just as morally outraged by ... and the list goes on. And on. And on.

How is it that we have become so desensitized to some sins, but not to others?

I don't have an answer, and I am just as guilty. The fact that I'm writing this blog post, rather than one about the school closures last week, or whatever, means I'm just as guilty.

And yet another problem is that by the weekend, no-one will really care. There will be some other hot topic to talk about - in CT that will probably be the frightful cold and snow predicted to fall on Table Mountain. By the time the weekend rolls around, people will have moved on. News happens so fast, and there is SO MUCH of it now that we are a global village, that one is simply overwhelmed by the barrage of issues to care about.

I do care about what is happening in Syria. I don't know what I can do though, except maybe to pray (not that prayer is a small thing!). I do care about the school closures, but again, what can I do about it? I do care about the kids on tik, but what can I do about it, particularly as a whitey? I do care about so many different issues, but if I was to give myself to all of them, I would either spend my life curled up in a little ball, sobbing on the floor all the time, or I would be dead from emotional exhaustion.

Maybe the trick is to find ONE THING to care about. Maybe if we all got a download from God about one issue he wanted each of us to tackle, then all the issues would get covered, and fixed.

But how DO we respond to a world that is broken and crying out for healing?

I'm busy teaching a section to the Gd 11s on the 'Human Impact on the Environment' at the moment. We look at water availability, water quality, food security, pollution, climate change, solid waste treatment, etc. It is potentially a hard-hitting section. This is the section in which we can turn our kids into Eco Warriors, if we wanted. It definitely is an area in which we get to talk about morals and ethics and all that good stuff.

Yet, I remember when I was at varsity, being taught about the evils of dams - how they destroy natural vegetation, even entire ecosystems; they disrupt the food chains and webs, they reduce biodiversity, they completely mess up EVERYTHING. I remember walking away from a 2 week block of lectures with an aching heart, coming home, and crying about it. I wept over the destruction that man has caused to this planet, all because of our greed. I wept at our blindness to see how we were only creating MORE problems for ourselves in the long run. I wept over the lost biodiversity, the fynbos species that we will never even know we lost because some of them might only have had a range that was smaller than the dam built over them. It sounds silly now, but back then, I can't even begin to tell you how heavily it weighed upon my soul. We are supposed to be the custodians of the earth, after all.

Then, just as clearly, I remember thinking to myself that if this was how much it affected me, I simply could not walk around thinking about it any more. I assigned my grief and pain at the impact of humans to a little box that I have never really dared to look at again. Because I felt so dis-empowered to fix the problem, or to do anything about it at all, I dare not allow myself to get emotionally involved with the problem.

I find myself reacting in a similar way now. I can't physically care about all the issues. I know I should be outraged by all of them. I know I should be on my knees beseeching God to INTERVENE in all of them. I know I should be lobbying my local counsellor, raising awareness, fighting the good fight, ... But I can't, and I don't, because I've already had so much pain in my life I honestly can't bear the thought of actively opening myself up to any more.

And I think that's why so many people have reacted as they did to Miley's antics. Here's a quick 'little' issue we can all jump up and down about, yell and make a bit of noise about, and then congratulate ourselves that we are good people because we said something about it. Maybe that's an oversimplification. Maybe all the yelling and outrage is because it enables us to point fingers at someone else for a bit. If all it takes for evil to flourish is for good people to do nothing, then each of us is, in a greater or smaller measure responsible for all the evils of this world - climate change, intolerance of other's religious/ political views, pollution, poverty, etc.

It feels good to rant and rave about someone else's failings and mistakes. It's a lot harder to acknowledge that I am responsible for X or Y, and to take ownership of trying to fix it.

And maybe that's the lesson we learn from Miley - she's our scape goat, because we're too cowardly to own our sinfulness and really do something about it.

How to end poverty

Amongst the people I follow is a guy I knew way back when I was still involved in camping with Scripture Union - Brett Fish Anderson. Today he posted a link to an article he had read years ago by Peter Singer that really challenged him on the issue of giving, and ending poverty.

Now the name Peter Singer should ring a few bells with some of you - he was the guy who really got the world thinking about vegetarianism and animal rights. Anyway, you can read Singer's article on poverty here.

As it happens, God has been raising the issue of giving with me again just recently (ever since I completed my tax return last weekend, in fact). He's been challenging me again to think about how much I give, and why I give. I was, therefore, massively challenged by Singer's article. Essentially, Singer's premise (back in 1999 when he wrote the article) was that if everyone gave $200 to an aid organisation of their choice, they could save the life of a child (pay for food and medication from age 2 to age 6, which is past the worst danger zone for children in poverty). He then argued that it would be very easy to raise this money by simply doing away with luxuries - not eating out for a month, not going to the movies every week, not buying designer clothes every month, simply doing without something for a short period of time.

Now, $200 in 1999 is roughly equivalent to R2720 today. That's a lot of money, I know. Assuming that a meal out costs R300, that is 9-10 meals. i.e. if you eat out once a month, then across the year, by simply not eating out you can save a child's life. That's a pretty profound thought, isn't it?

When I shared the link to the article on Facebook it sparked a lot of debate, about whether Singer was advocating giving out of guilt, or simply saying that it was the right thing to do, and whether the fact that he didn't seem to be a Christian made a difference to what he was saying and whether we should listen to him or not.

For me though, the issue I was left debating was how much is ENOUGH to give. At what point do we draw the line. No-one disagrees that giving is good - for the giver as much as the recipient. Certainly, God expects us to give. 'Freely you have received, freely give." Matt 10:8 "For as much as you have not done it for the least of these, you did not do it to me." Matt 25:45

But how much should we give? Is it a percentage of what we have? If so, what percentage is the 'right' one to give? 1/10th? And should that be counted before or after taxes?

This topic has been dealt with by many greater academics than I, in much greater detail and much more clearly than I can express. But one image keeps returning to me - that of the poor widow, standing at the Temple, giving her last coin to the Temple coffers. Jesus sees her, and commends her. It wasn't the value of the coin that she gave, it was the faith that she demonstrated. It was the fact that she chose to put the things of God before her own needs.

How many of us can say the same - that in our materialistic culture we are willing to sacrifice for God? Are we willing to sacrifice a new pair of jeans, or a meal out, or a box of chocolates, let alone our last anything, for His sake, to save a child? Yes, we have necessities, but is going to gym one of them? Couldn't we exercise more cheaply by running on the road, or buying a bike? Yes, we need to eat, but do we really need to buy the most expensive foods, or shop at the most expensive shops (or at Woolies)? Yes, we need to cook, but do we really need that 7 plate gas burner stove top? Yes, we need to get around, but do we really need to buy a new car, or will an older 2nd hand one suffice?

So, how much is enough to give back? I don't think there is a figure. I think that the question should rather be turned around - not, have I given enough, but, what else can I give?

One solution that might actually work?

Every so often, I've blogged about my mixed emotions on dealing with the poor. Now, I think I've found one possible solution. It's called 'The Broccoli Project'. Essentially, it's a reward scheme for the poor. In the same way that Vitality rewards Discovery members for living a healthy lifestyle (buying healthy food, going to the gym, etc, etc), the Broccoli Project works with various NGOs to create reward schemes for the poor - including things like having regular HIV tests, attending skills workshops, staying in school, or taking prescribed medication. Non-participants can also buy books of vouchers to purchase food from places like Pick 'n Pay to hand out at intersections or to car guards.

For me, this is a break-through. It means that I can always hand something out that I know cannot be used for drugs, and that does not require a lot of space in the car (as actual food would). I will investigate further, me thinks.

'The poor will always be with you.' Jesus

Moving back to SA from the UK made me realise how much I had enjoyed not being accosted on every street corner by the extreme poverty that exists in this beautiful nation. The difference between the haves and have nots is stark. No doubt about it.

Like many Saffas, I've found it so difficult to deal with. I've tried the blinkers thing (ie choosing NOT to see it, ignoring it completely), but wound up being hard-hearted and arrogant. I've tried the Saviour thing (ie giving to everyone in need that I see), and wound up being broke and wondering whether I'd actually made a difference at all. I've done the Responsible thing (ie giving to a charity so that I know the money doesn't go on booze and drugs), but still wound up feeling guilty every time I drove past someone in need.

Then the other day it struck me. Even Jesus admitted that 'the poor will always be with you'. As long as this earth continues, there will be haves and have nots. That doesn't give us licence to just ignore the poor, or turn a blind eye, but it does release me a bit from the cloying guilt I feel of being one of the haves. I didn't ask to be born a have. As long as I'm trying to make a difference, I don't need to feel guilty about having.

Does that make sense, or am I just trying to delude myself again? Not sure. But it's made it easier for me to just accept that I have money, and others don't.

Where does the time go?

Can you believe that it's been nearly 1o day since I last blogged?? That tells you how busy I am!

Each of us is making their own slow adjustment to life in SA. It seems we've left one lot of rain for another. While it's been flooding in the UK, it's been storming in Cape Town. The township dwellers are stuck because if they evacuate (which they should) then their homes are perfect targets for thieves. We've had the coldest winter I can remember (and that's not just me - most Capetonians say so too) for years. Being back here has brought home to me just how poverty stricken this country is. It really is a 3rd world country. But having said that, I've been so heartened to see how every one has rallied round to help their fellow citizen - blanket drives have brought in thousands of blankets and food parcels and money for shack repairs. I was expecting there to be an attitude of 'when will these people get themselves sorted; this happens every year', but there has been such a spirit of concern and genuine sympathy. I've been so proud to call myself a Capetonian again.

One of the other things I'm loving about being home again is all the old cultural cliches - using colloquial Afrikaans again, without having to worry about not being understood. Like talking to the pikkies, or talking about robots. I'm also loving rediscovering all the old SA adverts that have become part of the culture - Lofty; Ja Swaer; a can of the best; it's not inside... it's on top; it's hot today hey Hennie?!. And I'm really LOVING being able to get FANTASTIC quality biltong and SA Smarties (which taste different to every other type) at every shop I go to!!!!

But I digress... back to the rain. There are several rivers that run through Cape Town - the Liesbeeck, the Black, and Elsies River all run near to (or through) the suburb we're living in. In all my life, I have never seen the Liesbeeck overflow its banks as badly as it did a week ago. I wish I could show you the photos I took on my phone, but I don't have the necessary cables or software (we're still waiting for our stuff to arrive and it's in there...). It was truly incredible. I stood and watched a parking lot flood - with the water flowing in at a rate of 10cm crawl in about 1 minute. It was like standing on the beach and watching the tide come in. Scary! It was the second time in my life I've been truly worried about being unable to leave a building because of flooding.

I'm still very happy teaching - which is incredible. While it's taking me time to make friends on the staff (one of the drawbacks of teaching in a school with a long and distinguished history is that most of the staff have been there for over 10 years - some as long as 30 - so the cliques are well established), on the whole I can say that I'm loving my work. I can't really remember the last time I felt that way. However, the downside is leaving Nellie and not seeing her during the day. I hate that. I miss her terribly. She's starting at play school (daycare for the under 5's) soon - Graeme will be spending time with her over the next few weeks helping her to acclimatise to the new environment and children before she starts properly. I wish it were me helping her to settle in. I want to see what her routine will be like, what the other kids are like, what the teachers are like. I want to be sure that she's going to be happy. I also want to be there to say goodbye to her as she takes this next step of independence. I guess that's parenthood - constantly saying goodbye a little more. I know that this is what she needs - the stimulation, the friends, the independence - but it sucks for me.

Nellie's godparents are also expecting their first baby! We're absolutely thrilled for them. They're going to be such fab parents! A few hours after they shared this incredible news with us though, I sat and wept for Zoe. She would be 4 months now. She'd be holding up her head, babbling, grasping for things and playing with her toes, possibly even sitting supported. I miss her. There's a constant ache in my heart. I think about her at the drop of a hat, in the oddest of places - like walking to my classroom - and promptly want to burst into tears.

While I could never replace her, I do want another baby. But I can't even think about getting pregnant until I've found a gynae, midwife and medical aid, so that dream is temporarily on hold, which is frustrating. Thinking about Simon and Heather's baby being born in a few months was hard. It came at a time when I seem to be surrounded by other people's babies. My step-brother and his wife are scheduled for their c-section on Wednesday. My cousin is due with her 2nd in a few weeks. Other friends at church had a baby girl on Friday. A school friend is due in a few months. How I long to be part of that very blessed group! My time will come, I know; I just want it to be now.

Church - there's another thing that we seemed to have slipped into. We had planned to find look around at churches before settling on one. However, after visiting our old church, we decided that we may as well join there again - at least that would be one less 'new' thing to get used to. Going there though feels like being in a time warp though. Everything's the same, but everything's different. We're at the morning service now, which we never were before. We have very few friends still there, but the ones we do have are still doing the same old. same old. We feel like strangers (which we are), but everything is so familiar it doesn't feel strange to us at all. It's this odd dichotomy. We feel displaced in some way. We'll probably still look around, but in a few months' time. For the moment it is important to reconnect with old friends, especially for Graeme.

I think he's finding the transition from full time work to house husband difficult. I remember how hard it was for me to make that transition. It's lonely and can be very boring too, and he's very shy so is less likely to make the effort to get to know people in similar circumstances. I had the benefit of a day time small group and a regular play group to take Nellie to. He has nothing like that at the moment. When we move into our own place again in a few weeks I think it will be even harder for him - at least now he has my folks around to talk to during the day.

I miss our friends from London... it's amazing how often I catch myself thinking, "I must remember to tell so-and-so about this later...", only to remember that in order to do so will mean an expensive phone call, or a late night of emailing - neither of which is desirable at the moment. Like today - Nellie was up at 3am and I wanted to share the story about it with Sarah - only to remember that Sarah was miles away. As it happened, she emailed me later in the day, and I finished work early enough that I had time to send a proper reply. But I miss that daily contact with people... I nearly said 'back home'... ! with people back in London. Guys - please know that I'm not being silent because I couldn't be bothered or because I don't care. I really do miss you, and I want to keep in contact. But all this getting used to new routines (and working out new routines) and balancing work-life balance is proving harder than I anticipated.

Nellie is growing fast - but I'll put all her news on her site (the link is on the right). I realise this post is enormously long. Sorry. That's what you get for not blogging regularly. I will try hard to blog shorter bits more frequently. Really I will.