bleached and beached

Brilliant white clouds stare at me from outside my second storey window. It's squint-tastic out. A truely faded and washed-out day.

Is winter really back with a vengeance? I am sitting in my lounge room, with my overcoat on wondering what to do next. No agencies have called, so no work today. Shopping is an option, but do I really want to hit the town, without having earned anything for six weeks?

Greece and Italy are looking rosier and greener every moment. Lonely Planet guides call me from their pile beside the sofa. How about climbing to the awe aspiring acropolis or a vaporetto ride down the grand canal. I can't wait :)

These holidays have not been unfruitful, I have learned that:

Exploring London at dusk is amazing, especially from Tower Hill underground station, grab some grub and walk down to the water beside the Tower of London, on a beautiful clear day the sunset is amazing.

Dover is a delightful little place, and the chalky cliffs are quite impressive.

When booking tickets for the Globe Theatre, one can register as a Lord, Lady, Duchess, Princess etc., wonder if I will have to prove it when I collect those tickets!

In my home town

There's no place like home, no matter where I go, there's just something about Cape Town that draws me in and I struggle to escape it's clutches.

From visiting Lion's Head, Signal Hill and Table Mountain, to walking on the beach in Camps Bay and cafeing in Glen Cairn. My family try and entice me to remain. I cannot deny that the people here are absolutely amazing. Strangers help you and the camaraderie is unique, everyone is happy and greets you with a smile. The weather is absolutely fabulous, high twenties and it's WINTER!! Londoners eat your heart out.

But family and friends are my greatest magnet and when I'm here I am not sure how I coped without them at all.

ooooooo Jamie Oliver

White knuckled fists gripped my stomach. I awoke with groans and rumblings. But my memories of Jamie's Italian are completely pleasurable. Breakfast was almost forgotten because of the sheer quantity eaten last night.

Antipasto starter balanced on tomato tins filled the table's centre. Crusty breads dripping with sweet olive oil and balsamic along with large-creamy-fresh-green olives. Order something simple I repeat to myself and order a burger. Amazing tower of freshness and delicious flavours, I almost couldn't finish it, but determined to enjoy the last morsel I forced those last few bites. Dessert was more confusing, each option screamed to be chosen. But when the chocolate brownie arrived it was the envy of the table. Warm and moist, a crunchy amaretto dusted crust accompanied by bourbon vanilla ice cream.

Excellent.

So how are you really doing?

Since living in London, I have answered that question in a variety of ways: just fine, very well, enjoying it. So here's the whole truth.

Tonight I had a long bath. I read a book. I watched TV. In my home with frames and doors that hang at a slant, an inconsequential fireplace, windows that don't open and somewhat imperfectly finished.

Living in East London is mostly delightful, with cosmopolitan inhabitants, I'm always inhaling the sweet, spicy and fragrant, bubbling cooking. Although parks are few, they are well tended, especially suited to young children (of which I have none). There is a wealth of transport, buses on my doorstep (next street) and tube lines are in abundance (our favourite District Line is continually down).

Gazing at the sculptures and paintings at Tate Modern, exploring shopping wonders in Oxford Street, being part of the vibe in Hyde Park or visiting Greenwich and ferrying to London Eye never tires me. Central London has so much to offer that I soak in as much as possible as often as possible.

My pick of international airports Gatwick, Heathrow, Stansted, London City and Luton are at the ready to flutter me off to my next destination. I am looking forward to Greece and Italy...

Fault finding reminds me that going home to Australia is imminent but enjoying all the wonders is absolutely essential.

Growers Market in London

Fresh, raw milk, in its creamy, silky natural state. Thick globs of pure cream floats on my coffee and my five year-old self calling it icecream - so terribly naughty and wonderful. Freshly baked carrot cake and crispy crunchy organic apples.

Friendly faces and lovely, clean, pure air swirls around me as I walk through Marylebone Grower's Market. "I can choose my own eggs?" I ask the vendor, dumbfounded, and smile as I reach to choose gorgeous farm fresh chicken eggs and load my egg boxes. I go back for a second helping to the stall of baked items, then green salad items, watercress and spinach, aubergine, rosemary, leek, cucumber: grocery items deluxe.

I convince my husband to return with me every Sunday after that... I cannot imagine buying these items from a supermarket with its bright florescent lighting and isles of processed, packaged, chemically enhanced goods with it's magnitude of plastic, tin, cardboard and paper that will empty into my trash...

"the twisted heart"

Peeling myself off the lounge, the book drops to the carpet. Finished. Ah the feeling of walking in another's shoes is freeing and it's therapy is deep and long lasting. Rebecca Gowers extends herself in this fictional piece exemplifying life's cruelty amid the beauty of a growing confusing relationship.

I am reading my way through the Europe...

IKEA is a country

Without the privilege of travelling outside your home country, one can have a distorted view of the world. Comparing your quality of lifestyle or the differences in culture through exploration and adventure can give an enhanced awareness of humanity.

I am not speaking from experience however, I have only explored but a tip of the iceberg, if that. True explorers vary the cultures and continents they visit, from South America to Central Africa, Europe and Asia.

I do however, especially pity all those who have not visited the country of IKEA. It owns soil all over the world and offers relief from stress and boredom of normality. No matter where you are from, your currency will have a strong buying power.

The styles in homes of this nation follow rigid patterns, but the inhabitants are arty and creative. They love candles, with sweet scents, like apple & cinnamon pie, or vanilla ice-cream. The food is delicious and very affordable, my favourite delicacy being the Daim Cake.

Leaving IKEA today I carried the customary blue bag filled with a host of curios ready to take me back to my experiences there, like any good tourist.