Time out. Sometimes, that is all you need. Just a little time out. To take a step away from life. A step away from all those that feel they are entitled to, or can demand a piece of you, or your time, or resources, or your anything! A brief suspension of all and any activity.

By the beginning of December, that was all I needed. I needed time out. Some of those around me felt the same, and so it was easy to convey the message. Some others are die-hards, and some serious boundaries, electric fences, barbed wire defenses and hound patrols had to be put in place.

By the first day of December, my tired was tired. But I had to soldier on, because 2023 still had a few more lessons to share with me. Just in case my year had not been challenging enough, and in case my newly fortified resilience showed a small chip in its armour. But finally, by 28 December, I reached the final straw, and the last defense mechanism was activated: I put my phone on silent and left it there. And so, very quietly, I managed to slip into 2024, where I am still trying my best to keep a low profile. This past week, my profile pic on WhatsApp was along the lines of:

• Going to bed early
• Not leaving my house
• Not going to a party

My childhood punishments have become my adult goals.

And it was wonderful. I wish I could dally there a little longer, but alas. Time pauses for no one. So then, here I am. Back with a bang. OK, maybe just a little “poof”, rather than a bang.

What are you planning to do with your month-long writing hiatus, some people asked me? Oh, I said, I will be Cape Crawling, looking for new content to share with you all. Great, one replied, we look forward to reading about your new adventures. So here goes. My December travels and adventures.

First stop. Our bedroom. That quiet, cool, and calm sanctuary, which at the best of times, is my happy place. I have always loved the idea of a fluffy, soft, bouncy down duvet on our bed. It just looks so homey and inviting. Yes, it does, until you try and sleep under it in the December heat! This December, I made a life changing decision, and banished the duvet in all its downy soft and homeyness to the top of the cupboard. And in its place: Finally! A flat top sheet and that very nice light weight cabled throw that I had sitting in a box for all these years. How long it took me to reach this point, and how rewarding the destination of a cool sleep at night.

Next destination? The lounge. Again, just such a tranquil place, to end the day. I said tranquil, not dignified, as most evenings, I end up passing out on a couch with a half cup of cold coffee beside me. I have a good idea, I said to Colin. Let’s start a Holiday Mood Board, right here in the lounge! My idea was: a long plank (a rather rustic one, saved from our building site. Colin got sent back three times to find the exact rustic look I had in mind.) And on top of this, we would pack, randomly, all the little memories of this December holiday. A seashell picked up on a beach walk, a bit of driftwood, a cuttle fish bone, a bit of seaweed stuck to a mussel shell, a rather cute little blue rubber duck to float on the bit of sea water that came home in a jar. A dried flower, an interesting grass seed, the occasional candle (to give it atmosphere) and a pinecone at the end to make it look festive and Christmassy. I was rather pleased with it. Then, Youngest Son came to visit. Do you know why we have children? To keep us humble! I ever so proudly showed of our Holiday Mood Board – the one with the blue plastic duck, paddling in his jar of sea water beside the pinecone, when Youngest Son muttered something about him thinking it is time for an intervention. I made sure that by his next visit a week later, that the whole “gedoente” had found it’s way to the bin yard, in a black plastic bag. Perhaps it was one of my lesser good ideas. Except the little blue duck. He has found a place in the bathroom – where Youngest Son will not spot him as easily. And the three white “trees” (cut off from one of the versions of rustic plank that made its way home). They got painted up and have bits of mosaic on them. Youngest Son can intervene as much as he likes. The three white trees are there to stay.

One home destination that I avoided as much as possible? The kitchen. You will thank me in January, I told Colin. When the whole world has gained too much weight from all the eating, and there you will be: slender! You will thank me. And thank me, he did.

Some of the drama that brought me to this point of exhaustion at the end of last year, was of course that flood and our unplanned move from that most beautiful farm. But, you see, to everything there is a season. And a time to every purpose under heaven. I am not a water baby, but I am a water sign, and I draw strength from being near water. (Flood water, excluded!) Our warm evenings and late sunsets are perfect for taking a stroll down to the sea. Sometimes, at the end of the road, we turn left, sometimes we turn right. Either way, we will be walking beside the sea. Last night we turned neither left nor right. We just stopped at the end of the road, and unpacked the picnic we carried down with us.

On one of our walks where we turned right (I think?), we passed a rather sad looking couple packing up their caravan. We greeted. I see you are packing up, I asked. Yes, but we do not want to go home, they replied. Another holiday maker passed us last night, as we were enjoying our picnic. That looks so nice, she said. Do you live here? And as I replied: Yes, we do, I marveled at how easily the words left my lips. Yes, we do. Ah, she said. You can do that when you live here. You are so lucky.

How true, those words from a random stranger. And how true those words are from me. Yes. I finally feel like we live here. I think I am finally home.

And where is home?

There, where you sleep under your light throw. Where the rubber duck swims in the bath. Where three little trees stand proudly where once was a holiday mood board! There, where you can pass out on the couch after a beach walk.