Time with the grandfolk

I'm finally out of the Batcave. For the past two weeks, I've been sorely lacking sunshine, sorely overdosing on caffeine and remained sorely immobile considering my resolution to travel more this year. That, and my blog has been sorely missed. All the results of a labour of love, but now I need to remedy my behaviour somewhat.

My itchy feet haven't carried me too far yet: I finally decided to pack up and go visit the greater clan in Pretoria after a fortnight of maintaining radio silence. So, well, I'm currently staying with my grandparents. I visited their abode earlier this year, but I didn't get to write much about it because I hadn't started my blog yet.

They own a half-breed cat: half Siamese, half jet engine. Noisy bugger.

I haven't done much here so far, since I'm currently suffering from waves of caffeine withdrawal (not the “lol, I've been drinking a lot of coffee” kind – I think I've clinically overdosed on energy drinks) and it seems that I had another session last night: I arrived at my grandparents' place at about 5pm, passed out at 8pm, woke up with a nosebleed and lightheadedness at 1am, got over it and fell asleep again at 1:10am, then got jerked back into consciousness by the dulcet tones of my cousin ordering me to wake the hell up at around 9am. So yeah, it appears that my body is still operating at a level considerably below its peak. I'm denying myself coffee and drinking Milo to fool my system until this passes.

I have fond childhood memories of visiting this house: it's rather old and holds a certain charm and sense of aesthetics that newer buildings fail to incorporate.

Aesthetic point number 1: there's visible wood within the house.

Not only is the house itself pretty, but I really like the garden too. It's one of those small, pristine affairs that you see in those fancy victorian fiction movies, with vine-laden walls, natural shelves encrusted with various forms of pottery, a cobbled path surrounded by a rich variety of plants and, of course, a swinging garden bench.

Aesthetic point number 2: there's green stuff when you walk out the back door.

Now, since I haven't had the opportunity to do much just yet, I'll comment on what I HAVE had the chance to do, extensively. And that is lie in bed:

Ugh, PINK?

My grandmother has a tendency to fuss and pamper (I think it's a trait that instinctively gets triggered in any woman who finds out that they have a second generation of mortal progeny), so I have a very comfy bed. Pink, but comfy. We're talking about fluffy pillows, extra blankets and a perfectly situated wall plug for my laptop. Even if it is pink (the bedding, not my laptop).

So, with a combination of a steady foundation (floral), a glorious mattress (pink), some extra-warm coverishness (more pink), I believe that it's only fair to rate this bed as a solid 9/10 (pink).

I'll write more stuff after I do more stuff. Promise.