I came here to write: Vida Cavendish

I came here to write.

I was immediately distracted by the internet.  I do love free wifi & feel its my duty to use it when its offered to me, since it is so seldom available in this part of the world.

As usual I start by opening a bunch of tabs; twitter, blogs, facebook, more blogs, pinterest – you know how it goes.  Vida does have limited MB use, & I think listening to Conversations with a Cobbler (by  Andrew James & the Steady Tiger a rad local Cape Townian band), may have pushed me over that limit.  All this before I even checked A Cup of Jo (my first & favourite regular blog read).  So I looked for another network, tried to reconnect, just in case I could still load Jo’s latest post… no luck.

There’s a group of 4 young Indian guys – maybe 19-20 years old – sitting around the table next to me.  Their conversation is intriguing, what I’ve caught of it over the loud vida jazz, & their accents remind me of Zim for some reason.  I think they’d have stories worth writing about, but I’m trying not to eavesdrop.

At the table next to me is a hippy looking guy with disheveled hair & a multitude of plaited leather bracelets, he’s engrossed in reading whatever is on his Kindle screen.  It occurred to me that it was the first time I’d seen a Kindle before, in real life (as opposed to the wonderful wide web).  On this realization I chuckled at myself; I’ve had at least 4 conversations in as many days recently about the pro’s & con’s of having an e-reader & often emphatically proclaim that I will stick to bookstore browsing, dog-ears & pencil marks over online ordering & a touch screen, thank you very much.  Oh opinionated me, I’ve not even given it a chance. (Anyone out there have one? Love it? Won’t use one? I promise I’ll consider all opinions.)

Now there are 3 blonde girls at his table.  They are too loud & emphatic for my liking – & don’t have a Kindle for me to ogle at over their shoulders.  I don’t like to generalize; ‘3 blonde girls’ but it does feels like teenagers these days don’t give you any choice but to lump them together.  Loooong messy hair, pulled over to one side.  Lots of rings on many nail bitten  fingers.  Loose tops are that little bit short & tights that should be under something, but aren’t.  All items black & or grey. At least they’re not all wearing the same type of shoes.  I didn’t grow up in a city, so fashion was a big part of my teenage years, still I don’t remember wearing *such* similar outfits to my peers, accidentally on purpose.

My time is up, even though I’m just getting into the groove.  I came here to write, & while I may not have spewed anything original or profound – I wrote.  The noisy family just arrived, & I have a gorgeous man waiting for me at home.  Until I come to write again.


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