It took Shrek 2, the movie, to remind us of Bonnie Tyler. Remind me, who was she, you ask? She was that buxom blond bomb with the husky voice that gave us songs like It’s a Heartache and Total Eclipse of the Heart, and that song that so resonates with me right now: Holding out for a Hero. That was Bonnie Tyler. She was the female version of that other 80’s Idol, Rod Steward. They both had that whisky-and-smoke voice, the stand-to-attention-blond hair. The song, Holding out for a Hero, has over the years been used in the soundtrack of many films, but none as good as the Fairy God Mother (aka Jennifer Saunders) in Shreck 2. She took the song next level. Ok, so I am a bit biased here. Long before many tried to record it better than the last, it was of course partly penned and produced by Jim Steinman. And if you do not know by now how he fits into the picture…. then there is nothing I can do to help you out. Go eat your MEATLOAF (Hint!).

So, what is it with me? Last time I wrote was two months ago. I told you that we would be making the move out to Betty’s Bay (which we did), I told you we were drawing a line in the sand (which we did), I told you I needed some time out to get my new life on track (which I am still trying to do). There are times where I wonder if anyone out there actually reads my blog. Now I know who does. All those who reached out to me asking when I will be back. Well, here I am. And I will try and give it to you in a nutshell. A coconut shell.

You know how sometimes, when going through a rough patch, you think to yourself: I have been through worse, and your mind then recalls that one point of your life, which you consider that “worse”? This is it. In future, when I say I have been through worse, it will be the past three months. We have been through it all. We had bereavement, I have had to come to terms with my most loyal friend experiencing ill health, we moved into a house that – despite our best efforts to get everybody to finish the work they had taken nearly two years to do, they managed not to. It has been a rough ride. I woke up one morning, with my arms absolutely aching. Gosh, this is strange, I thought. Perhaps it is from carrying all those heavy boxes. No, Colin reminded me. You cannot blame the boxes; you did this to yourself the night before. Hmmm. What happened the night before, you wonder? Well, it is like this.

The cabinet maker that had to install the kitchen counters, like most of his building related compatriots, did not pitch at the appointed time to do his work. Instead, he chose to arrive rather late on the afternoon of the day after we moved in. By now, my sense of humour had dried up. My patience had worn thin, and my temper was simmering along with a one-pot-dinner-wonder on a gas ring. The thing with me, the more annoyed I get, the more dramatic I become. The wider my arms fly in gestures. And my voice? Oh dear. Let us not go there. I guess the melt down was big. Oh, boy. It took my arms a week to recover. But there was reason to celebrate, we had survived the first week in the new house.

Was week two any better? The weekend of week two was a wet and windy weekend. It was one of those events that remind you why it is called the Cape of Storms. A storm of note hit us and dumped tremendously much rain on us in a day. And that was when we discovered that the Roof Man thought that the Building Man had done the water proofing. Building Man again thought it was done by Roof Man, and of course neither did it. To add to our misery, Window Man did not see the need to seal off the new window just yet, perhaps he thought he could do it next century. There we were with water absolutely streaming down the walls, and through the windows. I suppose one should always be grateful for the small mercies. You know the one where the screed on the floors also did not get done on time, and where I discovered how much easier it is to sweep water off concrete floors. I can tell you this: the following week was a busy week. There were quite a few workers around with tails between their legs, an architect with a stern look and a roll of drawings and contracts under his arm, and a rather dramatic wife with exaggerated gestures behind him.

Here we are, two months later. On Sunday I asked: is it possible for us just to take a building break for the rest of the winter? I need to just for a short while come home to a home, and not a building site. I need for us to find ourselves in this house. To finally have a mess that was created by one of us, and not a stone mason. It is much to ask, given that essentially, we have moved onto a building site. And this is what brought me to Bonnie Tyler and Holding out for a Hero.

You see: I need a hero. I’m holding out for a hero till the morning light. He’s gotta be sure and it’s gotta be soon, and he’s gotta be larger than life.

And if it is not too much to ask, can he come with a truck load of bricks, a ship load of aluminum, a pot of cash and a roll of waterproofing.