It's snow good

When things go wrong, I often say TIA. I am now experiencing TIE (This Is Europe). Mum and Dad were supposed to arrive in Cape Town, but thanks to the early deluge of snow, they are delayed until Wednesday. They are luckier than some - I have friends who have been stranded in Heathrow for days, sleeping on yoga mats in the freezing cold. At least they get to go home inbetween.
In the meantime, I will take advantage of the sunshine, the Haagen Datz, the shopping and the beautiful setting of Cape Town. Hell, I may even head towards the beach and if I get brave enough, dip my toes in the freezing ocean!

Freshly disappointed

There I was, all excited about getting into the Cape Town vibe at the 'Freshly Ground' concert on Saturday, when I hear news that they have cancelled due to some disagreement over the contracts. Disappointed does not even start to describe it! Good music concerts are such a rarity here that I would probably go and see 'Chas n Dave' if they said they were playing Kampala! That being said, I did give the riotous R-Kelly concert a wide berth last year.

Instead I will have to content myself with the Am-Dram group's pantomime - 'Shrekerella'. Penned and directed by an Austrian and starring a range of nationalities from German to American, it promises to be interesting at the very least! I will have to prep my Ukrainian friend in the rituals of pantomime beforehand I think, especially as Thursdays reputedly attract the most raucous Old Kampala ex-pat crowd.

So come on 'Freshly Ground' please change your minds and come and play afterall. Kampala needs you!

If it wasn't for my knees I'd be running that marathon ...

It's a glorious sunny November afternoon in Kampala and the frost and snow in the UK truly seems a million miles away. Friends and family often read my blog with envy when they hear about the endless sunshine and my little adventures, but of course there are times when I'd do anything to be at home, closer to my loved ones. This is one of those times, as I'm sad to say that I lost my Gran this week. Although I am far away, she is in my thoughts and I know that she was proud of what I do here. She often joked that 'if it wasn't for her knees' then she would come and join me.
A few weeks ago I when I signed up for the MTN 10km run I called her bluff on this. I noticed that there was an option for a wheelchair race. I sent a message home and asked whether she would rather enter the half or the full marathon. She replied that she was in for the full 26 miles, on the condition that I pushed her around and avoided the notorious pot holes.
When I heard the sad news I wondered what I should do. In the end, I decided to take part and dedicate the run to her.
This morning, a sea of runners, all wearing sunshine yellow running vests took to the streets of Kampala. Most of the 30 000 had signed up for the 10km, but a small and brave minority took on the challenges of half and full marathons. At 7am the sky was cloudless and I knew it was going to be particularly hot. My friends and I jostled for space in the crowd as we approached the start line. We lost sight of each other within a few hundred metres as the start was not staggered, so top class athletes had to fight their way through the throng of joggers and walkers. As the crowd thinned out I settled into the run and enjoyed the supportive cheers from standers-by and encouraging banter with other runners. Sometimes it's great to be with a mass of people all intent on the same goal of finishing the race.

 The Kampala marathon attracts runners of all ages and all shapes and sizes. Sprinting skinny legs weaved their ways through larger ladies with sizable 'akabina' (that's bums to you and me!!) The outfits on display were also a sight to behold. I spotted purple shell suits, a lady carrying a handbag, a spectator wearing a full length leather coat joined in and there were even women in skirts! I was wondering why I was the one suffering from blisters when footwear ranged from flip flops to deck shoes!

After the run we went for a celebratory breakfast, ensuring that we replaced every single burned calorie! I chatted with friends about what it's like to lose somebody when you're away and how times can be tough. I'm lucky enough to have a great support group here who will pop round at the drop of a hat, drink wine with you or do whatever you need to make you feel better. Many of us have gone through tough times in our time away and know it is important to prop each other up.  I'm missing home right now but I know that we are all thinking of each other at this time.

Gran always looked a little worried when I took control of the wheels (and rightly so!)

It'll be alright on the night ...

When it comes to Primary school plays, the works of Samuel Beckett are largely overlooked. It's a shame really, as in many ways, it could be the answer to the perfect, stress-free production! Take 'Endgame' for example - all you need is two dustbins.You could always dress the kids up as Oscar the Grouch to make it kiddy friendly. Or how about 'Waiting for Godot'? Sure, it may lack the singalong appeal of 'Grease' or the feel good factor of 'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory' but it does have many elements that would make it perfect.
After endless weeks of rehearsals and set building, like Vladimir and Estragon, I too am questioning the meaning of life. Is there a world outside the room of yellow and purple paint?
The script is perfect for even the most struggling of ESL kids. Take this exchange for example:

ESTRAGON: Charming spot. (He turns, advances to front, halts facing auditorium.) Inspiring prospects. (He turns to Vladimir.) Let's go.

VLADIMIR: We can't. 
ESTRAGON:Why not?
VLADIMIR: We're waiting for Godot 
ESTRAGON: (despairingly). Ah! (Pause.) You're sure it was here? 
VLADIMIR: What? 
ESTRAGON: That we were to wait. 
VLADIMIR: He said by the tree. (They look at the tree.) Do you see any others?

ESTRAGON: What is it?

VLADIMIR: I don't know. A willow. 
ESTRAGON: Where are the leaves? 
VLADIMIR:

  It must be dead.

Repeat ad nauseum.

 Then there's the set. One tree placed strategically in the middle of the stage and the right light and it's done and dusted. No need for the hundreds of tubs of glitter and paint that our production demands! Costumes? Anything goes, as long as you don't forget the symbolically important boot. A visit to the market to buy a suspicially carrot like turnip sorts out the props and a whip for Lucky and that's pretty much it!
I may just give it a go, afterall, I am sure there is a fortune to be made somewhere. If we just decorated the tree with glitter then it could be a winner!