It’s amazing how quickly time flies – unbelievable really – and how life has metamorphosed. The years prior to the Bug’s arrival seem infinitely removed: a stranger’s life filled with indulgent delights like mornings lounging with croissants, coffee and the Sunday papers. And the tequila of the night before!  Those priceless moments are now replaced by others (generally very very early or very very late) like baby grins, coos and that laugh! She is uncomplicated and innocent: a smile is just a smile; a cry is without malice. Children are a gift and privilege.

Click here for more photos of the Bug

And so I must apologise for past and future silences. For as I emerge from the sleep deprived haze of new-motherhood, I simultaneously retreat into novel #2.

My self-determined four months of maternity leave is over. Now my dreams are filled with plot twists, turning points, back stories and motivations. N#2 will be done by August. Another self-determined deadline. And until then, I’ll be found in the room overlooking the Plectranthus, mobile and modem switched off, as I dive back into a world inhabited by the characters none of you yet know. Because there is no way I can’t complete this book…it consumes me like, well, the Bug. And that’s pretty huge.

About the bug (and her arrival)

Like a shooting star, Flutterbug burst into our lives on Halloween and revealed herself a little girl. Annabelle Elizabeth was promptly nicknamed “The Bug”, a name that slipped of her father’s tongue and stuck. For the sake of her privacy and dignity, I shall refer to her as The Bug in cyberspace. This makes me “MOB” (Mother of Bug) and Himself, well, he’s just Himself.

The Bug arrived with a mop of dark hair, navy eyes and the most gorgeous smile. It was a divine finale to the hormonal rollercoaster of pregnancy. Weirdly, pregnancy seemed unrelated to The Bug. I somehow didn’t connect the dots: bump didn’t equal baby. The bump just was; and the Bug… well, the Bug was just a figment.

My pregnancy went fine. Ahem, that means that everything happened exactly as it was meant to and the Bug arrived healthy and bellowing. I survived the catatonic exhaustion, terrifying mood swings, sleepless nights with pillows wedged everywhere and nauseating reflux. I adopted a “what will be will be” approach, augmented with a load of yoga (more about that later!) and a bit of preparation (nursery! dog training! More about that later too!). It worked until my focus shifted from growing bug to getting bug out.

Then the wheels fell off!

It’s one thing to wax lyrical on natural childbirth without pain medication, but with 3 weeks to go, I suddenly realized I needed to, well, ahem, do it. I was terrified. I decided to embrace inherent female knowledge… and engage the help of a doula. The word doula comes from Ancient Greek and refers to a woman who provides emotional support during childbirth. They help with all the touchy feely stuff before, during and after childbirth. Basically what generations of grandmothers, village elders and wise experienced ladies have been doing when skittish new mums start falling apart like I did (grin). I’d read a gazillion books on the topic but the quote that convinced me was from a US gynae who said that if a doula were a birthing medication, it would be unethical not to prescribe it. The results seemed to speak for themselves (more natural deliveries, less complications, lower requests for pain meds, happier and more empowered mothers etc etc). But before I broached the subject with the various sceptics in my life (everyone is my family is medical!!!), I embarked on a series of surreptitious interviews to find out whether or not there was anything to this doula-business. Let”s not kid, it’s a pretty personal decision and with three weeks to go, I’d left it pretty late. Irrespective, I embarked on a series of interviews. It was hysterical! I met a wafting hippy in a kaftan, a fanatical youngster in a turban and finally the marvellous Elizabeth. Let’s just call her my tonic!

Three days before Flutterbug was due, everything was perfect: the baby was well placed, the umbilical cord was unlooped and I was fine. My doctor quipped that the baby was likely to be late… which meant we reopened the negotiations on how long he’d give me before we induced: he said a week; I said two. We hit a stale mate. I called Elizabeth and asked for ways to encourage Flutterbug’s arrival. The answer was reflexology! The next day I had a little rub-dub on my feet (very nice!), dressed up like a pregnant witch (very ironic!) and headed to a Halloween bash (the last hurrah?).

The contractions started at 2 am… but it takes ages so I let Himself sleep and pottered around the house, jotting down the time between contractions on a scrap of paper that I’m now too nostalgic to throw away. Amazingly calm for the chick who’s greatest fear was that I’d somehow not get to the hospital in time and end up giving birth in the corridor at home. Very ironic!

By 8 am, Himself was awake and rubbing my back.

By 10 am, Elizabeth was summonsed. She was on the other side of Jozi supporting her kid’s water polo match. She arrived at noon. The contractions were random and all over the place. Afterwards Elizabeth said that she’d thought it would take another 48 hours at least.

At 2 pm, Elizabeth paled.

At 2.05 pm, I was in Clementine – Himself’s tangerine orange 1968 Porsche 912 -racing to the hospital on hard shocks on a pot-holed and deserted road. Halleluja for rugby – the Currie Cup final was about to get started! Not that I saw any of this… my eyes were shut for the entire trip. Well, almost. All I heard was Himself’s voice “breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. You’re doing fabulously.” Three times he said: “we’re almost there”. The first time my eyes shot open: we weren’t even a kilometer from home! I didn’t look again. What followed was a tortuous walk into the labour ward, wide eyes from the midwife and sisters on duty, and a quick-quick turnaround. I was in the delivery ward before you could snap your fingers.

At 2.35 pm, the Bug literally bungee jumped into the world.  She flew out in two pushes, the umbilical chord so tightly wrapped around her neck that the midwife’s hand shook uncontrollably as she cut it. Our fabulous gynae missed all the excitement, arriving in time to shake Himself’s hand and comment on the bug being as gorgeous as a c-section baby. Our little yoga bug made such a determined, hasty entrance that she was utterly unsquashed!

So the thing about yoga…

Well, yoga is a big deal to me. I love it, adore it…it calms my mind and awakens my body. So the whole way through the trial of pregnancy, I did yoga.

I was pretty yoga fit anyway but I bought a preggy yoga book, understood the shoulds and shouldn’ts, and kept going to my favourite classes. Thanks Natalie, you were a star for not throwing me out of the advanced classes just because of the Bug! Like much in pregnancy, the thing about yoga is to keep doing what you did before you were confined (don’t you love that description! ha ha) and don’t over do it. Friends of mine have run marathons while pregnant, but they were runners before. I couldn’t: I’ve got dicky knees, hate running and wouldn’t dream of doing a marathon. Ever. But yoga, well, its simply my best and it works and…

….oh, how I hate peanut galleries! The banal, uninformed comments from “well-meaning” strangers who’ve no idea what they’re talking about. Like: “she shouldn’t be standing on her head, she’s 7 months pregnant”. Ahem. For the record, inversions are cool: the yogis say it, my gynae said it, the book substantiated it. And I think it’s pretty damn impressive to be able to balance on your head when you’ve got a 12kg bump throwing your balance! Anyway, the peanut gallery ruined it for me. Blame it on the hormonal roller coaster but I wasn’t prepared to fight that battle: it was all just too much for me. I hightailed it to a smorgasbord of different preggy yogas – from Kundalini to Hatha – where mums-to-be are understood, supported and, well, adored. I’d totally recommend it to preggy mums!

I believe, truly and utterly, that yoga kept me flexi bendy, kept the weight off, the blood circulating and contributed to me growing a healthy bug. I also really believe my strong yoga core helped with the birth. But then again, it could have been those 1968 shocks and the potholes on Jan Smuts!

Preparing for the bug

Well, there were a couple of things that needed preparation. Of course, there was the nursery (divine fun) and as I’ve been regailed with requests for photos, I thought to throw a couple of snaps of Bug’s Bedroom up. I love it, it’s charming and warm and absolutely perfect. And given that you spend a LOT of time there, it’s pretty much an acceptable mum’s indulgence. grin. Click here for pictures.

We also needed to do house alterations…a right of passage, right? We had wonderful builders who became more and more polite as more and more things went wrong. Like needing to knock the uncentred pillars down. Twice. And getting the lights to actually turn on when the power was switched on. They were also very timely and managed to get everything finished as late as feared. This meant that in her first month, the bug was well acquainted to the sounds of hammering, drilling and shouted conversations directly outside her window. And I became acquainted with being demurely addressed as “Mrs H”.

Preparing Greta-the-dog  (aka training-the-mum)

And rather than traumatise the teenage Greta-the-dog with daily building teams, we dispatched her each morning to traumatize my parents. While at “doggy day care”, she liberated the feathers from the down cushions covering the garden in snow, reconstructed the corner of the white linen sofa and scarred Sally (my brother’s German Shorthaired Pointer) in her attempt to usurp Sally’s top dog status. Aren’t grandparents wonderful!

I was also determined to train Greta to walk beside the pram. What I failed to understand was that it wasn’t Greta that needed the training. Imagine spotting a heavily pregnant chick struggling with a misbehaving pram, a “baby” in newborn gear (actually Lily-the-doll) and a German Shepherd attached to a bright-pink cross-body leash walking around the Zoo Lake. Now imagine the faces of the passing traffic as they witness the “baby” being dragged upside-down beneath the pram as the pregnant chick chatted to her dog! Darling Himself t pointed out that it didn’t particularly suggest I’d be a haphazard, hazardous mother as babies come with early warning systems. They cry!

And so about White Knights…

Well, you know my philosophy about standing on tiptoes while reaching for your dreams? Remember how White Knights was dedicated to Himself and given as a gift to our wedding guests? That White Knights was really a gift for everyone else, wasn’t about me at all? That gift has been returned a thousand fold.

White Knights has sold over 1,000 copies in South Africa. This makes it a bestseller in South Africa.  At Daunt Books in London, the sales keep rolling in. The press have been fabulous! (click here for press highlights). I’ve been humbled by the wonderful people who’ve invested time to read White Knights. And then taken the time to contact me, offer feedback and comments. I’ve spoken to book clubs and writers circles, at career days and book events. More people than I could ever have wished for came to the official launches in Jozi and Cape Town. And through all this time, I’ve felt supported, encouraged and appreciated.

So thank you. Each and every one of you. For making this year about dreams coming true.

And now it’s all about novel #2

And becuase all I seem to talk about is my new novel (which is fabulous, divine and keeps me well amused),  I thought I should at least offer a sneak peak at what you might expect….

It’s the summer before the FIFA Soccer World Cup 2010. In South Africa, the air crackles with jubilant excitement, the shower head on the president’s head grows and shrinks with a deft flick of the cartoonist’s wrist, the public bays for justice in a celebrity hit-and-run accident, politicians slither away from disclosing the sources of their income and township dwellers retaliate violently against sixteen years of empty promises. In Jozi, previously referred to as a small white town, lives still overlap.

Morris, the BEE capitalist whose Black Sash adoptive mother handed him everything on a plate, ignores his philanthropic dreams as he focuses on finally cashing in on his skin colour. He’s landed a deal that will make him as rich as everyone else. He just needs someone connected to open doors.

Nireshni, is flattered to be mentored by her networked mover-and-shaker boss, suppresses the tick-tock of her biological clock as she exchanges her unsuitable black lover for a married one.

Charles Dappling, born Kosie Dippenaar in Meyerton, intends to leverage the World Cup to make himself rich in his own right. He considers his marriage to Grace – and her stepfather’s rolodex – only the first step towards his goal of pan-African dominance.

Grace spends her time doing yoga, managing the staff and redecorating the nursery. All socially acceptable preoccupations for an heiress, just odd for someone with a Harvard MBA. Only her new friend questions whether Grace knows the rumours about her husband and is avoiding confronting the truth.

Winnie on the other hand is blatantly running away. Retreating to her favourite coffee shop in the lush green suburbs, she people-watches the tribe she’d almost forgotten she belonged to. But can she still belong, inhabiting a gilded life behind high walls, after having witnessed the xenophobic attacks just five kilometers down the road?

Judas, an uneducated man but principled, is trapped and disillusioned. He never dreamt the armed struggle would end in such mediocrity. When Judas overhears an illegal conversation, he can no longer remain silent. But can one overheard conversation leaked to the correct sources, make a difference?

At a time when the world’s soccer teams are converging on South Africa in a quest for gold, the novel pieces together the complex patterns and contrasts of modern urban African life in the ultimate gold rush town. Greed versus give backs; masks versus morals; shattered hopes versus realized dreams. As the sporting teams battle for supremacy, so each person is forced to confront the world they inhabit, the choices they’ve made and the consequences of their actions.

And on that note, I have to say adieus until August….

Cross fingers for the writing!

My dream was always to be a published author, fall madly in love with a wonderful man and have a family. It was a white picket fence with a touch of quirk. I dreamt of a gorgeous family, a dog and a home surrounded by trees, filled with love, jazz and the smells of fabulous cooking. And in this most glorious year, all those dreams came true.

And the best of all, better even than seeing White Knights on the shelves, was becoming a mother. I always knew that I wanted to be a mother, always knew it would be wonderful. I just never imagined it could be quite so phenomenal. When I saw Annabelle in Andrew’s arms, I fell into love. A deep, swirling, seemingly endless pool of love that envelops, comforts and colours everything. The sort of love that you gulp in, savour and get lost in.

She’s wiggling now, is round and plump and more gorgeous every day. The dark haze of sleepless nights is easing and the uncertainty of new motherhood is fading. The gloriousness of Annabelle being part of our wonderful home still sometimes catches us by surprise. When she smiles, I see Andrew and I love them both more than words.

And so this year, apart from finishing novel #2 (about half way done but with loads of twists and turns that still need to be sorted out!), Annabelle and I are collaborating on an African fairytale… filled with magical fabulousness and the wonderousness of childhood. It is my indulgence, a delectable project that I can’t wait to begin!

Just wanted to zap a quick post to announce Flutterbug’s arrival!

On Halloween Annabelle Elizabeth joined our family. She’s the most gorgeous, adorable little girl. Chilled, philosophical and absolutely divinely cute. Motherhood  is amazingly wonderful and our home is simply overflowing with love.

Happy holidays to everyone. Pictures and more news soon!

No news… completely focussing on getting Novel #2  out before Flutterbug (my fabulous doctor said that it was highly unlikely that Fb would arrive late, despite my absolute conviction that Fb is working with me on this one…!) but thought would post a belly shot!

4 weeks to go today… grin!

When frantically writing, it’s almost impossible (actually… utterly impossible) to remain stylish, especially when the gorgeous flutter-bug inside your 30 week belly keeps doubling in size. So while a certain career chick in Novel#2 might be flashing the red soles of her Christian Louboutin stilettos, this writer chick is wearing shoes without laces (getting difficult to tie them), her husband’s cashmere sweaters (so much for summer, our house is freezing) and my divine Shakti Shanti yoga gear.

But I’ve discovered that style can be lived vicariously. Which is utterly wonderful. And as I’m often asked where I find my inspiration… I thought to share some fabulous favourite blogs. So you too can live vicariously….enjoy!

THE SARTORIALIST

MRS TREFUSIS TAKES A TAXI

THE EMPERORS OLD CLOTHES

HABITUALLY CHIC

A CUP OF JO

GARANCE DORE

BELGIAN WAFFLE

BELLE HEIR

27 weeks (note: lace-less shoes...and this was 2 weeks ago!)

I’ve been getting such lovely emails, facebook messages and tweets from readers, that I simply had to share! It’s been absolutely amazing to hear from readers, has made me grin and bounce around. Writing is so solitary and I think everyone thought I went a little mad, chatting about characters and places as though they were real people. And of course to me they were real. And still are. And now that White Knights is published, life has been breathed into the characters and novel. And it’s been divine to hear from readers, who feel passionately about the novel, relate to Emma’s struggles or are coping with the madness of the investment banking lifestyle. I can’t tell you how fabulous its been!

PS: Women24 sent a gorgeous review of White Knights today, and an interview with moi! It is completely divine… quite blushing making, but I simply had to share! Click here for the author interview and click here for the White Knights review.

READER COMMENTS

‘White Knights definitely gets my thumbs up!’

Karabo K, fabulous, gorgeous, chick-about-Jozi (and presenter SAfm Literature Show)

Astrid comment about next post: I just so needed to put this comment in right at the beginning, it came from one of the ladies who attended one of my corporate networking events and made me smile, grin and feel so wonderful. It’s so gorgeous and more than a little embaressing even putting it up here, but I had to! Thank you Adriana, you have made me feel COMPLETELY wonderful & utterly motivated!

‘I began reading your book yesterday afternoon and didn’t speed read a single bit – a first for me in a very long time. I just savoured each page, each paragraph and was enthralled in the way in which you captured the hustle and bustle of New York, the working environment and the development of the characters. Brilliant! You have to be SA’s most promising new writer if not the best at the moment! Your intelligence and humour shines through your characters who spring to life with such immediacy. I loved the way in which you operate on the various levels and have all these themes running through the book. If I were you, I’d drop the chick-lit category and let it just run – the workings of the investment bankers will be sure to grab a large audience. You are so talented – I really feel in my gut that you’re
destined for a great literary career if you continue to write as beautifully as you’ve begun. An international book but proudly South African! Please continue writing forever!’

Adriana, knowledge management officer, Jozi

‘Loved the depth and multiple themes of White Knights. A simple story, almost allegory, with legs. Had me thinking long after the twist was revealed! A difficult story to write but intelligently done! Loved it!’

Sarah, medical doctor, Cape Town

‘The underlying theme of the story is timeless and the novel is immediately engaging. White Knight is well written and has hidden depths. Thoroughly enjoyable!’

Lizzie, teacher, Cape Town

‘Highly readable! Super job of making investment banking understandable (not an easy task, I know).  Loved the new perspectives on NYC: the characters’ lives in the city are different from experiences and locations I’ve read about in other “chick lit” books like Nanny Diaries & Bergdorf Blonds. Great novel!’

Christina, ex-investment banker, New York

‘Mid-twenties angst personified! Readers across a variety of demographics will relate to Emma’s disappointments, confusions, twisted reasoning and deep down optimism. Loved the twist in the tail!’

Leslie, marketing, Jozi

‘Loved White Knights so much I couldn’t put it down. Have been going to bed late every night so I could carry on reading. Astrid should be congratulated on a brilliant first novel. I hope she writes another because I’ll be sure to read it!’

Rachel, tennis coach, Jozi

‘My husband jumped the queue! He finished White Knights in 2 days and said it was spot on re banking and much more than girl’s beach read! Seriously impressive feedback given that he’s such a tough task master! Can’t wait to start reading myself!’

Caroline, stay-at-home mum, London

‘Lucky my husband can look after himself as I didn’t put the book down until I had read it all…  Even my dog didn’t get her walk today…I had to finish the book!’

Gloria, the fabulous assistant behind a lucky man, Jozi

‘Loved White Knights for so many reasons – it made me laugh, I had a heap of aha! moments and it inspired me to stand up for myself. It made me realize I’m not alone and reminded me that dreams are there to be chased!’

Alex, lawyer, San Fran

‘Its 12.57am and I just finished reading White Nights!!! Thank you thank you thank you! I loved every last word!’

Gill, Italian yummy mummy

‘I have to say that I was compelled to keep flicking the pages as I read White Knights. It is racy and leads one on. It confirmed for me all that I do and don’t like about Manhattan and certainly what I do not like about New York bankers! Emma must have had one helluva constitution to be able to absorb so much maltreatment of her eating, drinking and sleeping habits! I enjoyed the inclusion of the Prof and Siddhartha. The contrast of love at a distance, true love, internal needs both short and long term, the challenges of relationships and the distinction between men and women in their approaches to love, were very well posited. The egos of Yuppies et al. It is very impressive as a first novel. Congratulations.’

Ken, fabulously modern man

‘I just have three things to say:

1) I absolutely loved your book  and I’ve recommended it to all my friends. I ended up reading until 4am, cos I could simply not put it down ;o).I can relate to most of Emma’s experiences and it was so refreshing to hear about someone else who is going through similar issues as me.I must say though, I’m highly disturbed the following…When Brad tells Emma – “”In investment banking we look for people that are intelligent, competitive and insecure”". The worst part about reading that line -  is that it’s actually true. I work on average about 80 hours a week and I realised that I’m one of the “”insecure people that Brad is referring to.. cos I’ll work myself to a standstill in order to get approval”". Urgghhhh.. I’m still irritated… just thinking about the fact that someone has played on my insecurities and the worst part is that I’ve fallen for it…

2) Why are women in investment banking so mean? No-one is willing to mentor you or look after you (it’s irrational, given that we are a minority in the industry)?

3) When is your next book coming out? I can’t wait to hear what Emma did after investment banking and how she applied that lessons that she learned from the harsh and cut throat world to her own life?’

Miss G, Jozi suits & stilettos banker chick

To read more comments, click here

Ever wonder why, when you have the most massive deadline, the sort that is absolutely not going to shift, dissipate or vanish (like having a baby or needing to get a novel written), normal life takes on a magnetism of magical proportions that makes it impossible not to be lured into participating… everything is imperative. Everything else, that is. Like choosing new glasses frames. Or reupholstering chairs. Or cooking up unbelievable feasts that take days in the making. Or contemplating fairies and elves and their place in the world…

Anyway, despite Andrew probably wanting to avoid any responsibility for said procrastination, he did go off and buy a new car… which of course needs to be tested out, taken on road trips etc. And not just any car. A bright red 1982 911SC Porsche, which Greta (the puppy) and I consider a true thing of beauty. And she really does go like the clappers. Andrew, darling man, has said he’s going to get a baby seat in the back, which will really make him the sexiest man in the world. As though there was ever a doubt.

So, as one does when one becomes the proud owner of a new sports car, we took her bundu bashing and headed up to Timbavati for the most glorious long weekend with friends. Have included some snaps for your amusement. Also, as one does in the bush, I wore bright pink (animals really are colour blind) and we took some belly shots. Most disappointing, as I came out looking quite tiny, which completely undermines the fact that I need to sit on a chair to tie my own laces! Anyway, at 23 weeks… oops, that means I’ve got 17 weeks until our scorpio baby arrives…. eeeeeeeeeeep! Gotta dash, gotta get typing!

xxx A+

CTBF was fabulous, filled with meeting, greeting, networking, chatting, laughing and laods of bouncing. Loved the discussions with fabulous fellow writers, can totally confirm that we’re all a little mad! It’s not just me, grin. The pictures are blurred because my camera needs to be fixed, but thought better indistinct than not at all… especially considering Chris  Wadman & I were caught red handed… with his fabulous novel The Unlikely Genius of Dr. Cuthbert Kambazuma!

Highlight of course was Andrew’s birthday… and the chick’s shoe splurge!

PS: Ha Ha Ha… seems like Ben from Book SA was taking pics on the sly! Click here to see (pps: I think the chick in the background is oggling out the magnificent pink “shoe” bag! grin)

Many years ago, when my writing was still a guilty secret, I’d periodically bombard friends with group emails. They inevitably started with an apology, sauntered into some story and crescendo-ed with an outrageous anecdote (like gate crashing the Grammys, skydiving in Brazil or being conned into perming my hair). I’d feel guilty about assailing my friends until I realized that these group emails were actually enjoyed, and when they stopped friends asked about them. Which is sort of what I’m hoping will happen with these newsletters, that they’re enjoyed! And they’ll be posted on the website, so that I don’t clog up your inboxes with photos etc, which might save frustration if you’re like me and operating on a dodgy laptop with a sticking L-key and surviving a temperamental internet connection that sometimes just throws its hands in the air and says “your home is in a dip, suffer baby!”

Sooooooooooooo… it’s our 6-month wedding anniversary on Saturday (!!!) and life has changed beyond even my wildest dreams.

In a nutshell…

I’ve kicked my corporate stilettos to the back of my closet and embarked on a writing sabbatical, this time to complete my second novel. To keep me sane, exercised and happy, Andrew capitulated and Greta (our gorgeous teenage German Shepherd) arrived to wreak havoc among my shoes. To celebrate everything we did some jet setting: Andrew for a deal in London, and me just for the joy ride (I love London) and gloriously managed to squeeze in Paris (too short!). Which had the unexpected upside of some gorgeous shopping on Rue St. Germaine for some rather lovely little things…

… which really leads to the highlight of all the gorgeous news, which is that we’re expecting our first child: a Scorpio baby due 1 November 2009. We’re keeping our baby’s gender a surprise, so my shopping in both London & Paris revolved around trying to find the cutest, sweetest white baby clothes (almost impossible as everything is blue and pink!) and really did my credit card damage in Paris. That being said the baby now has the most gorgeous hand embroidered tiny white outfit for returning home from the hospital, while I’m still cringing at the audacity of how much I spent. The greatest shopping coup was unearthing the prints for the baby room at the most glorious boutique called merci in the marais where all the profits go to a kids charity in Madagascar (click here to read fabulous FT article on the store). This was of course thanks to the uber-stylish, uber- sophisticated Ilya (my best friend from NY) who I’d zapped under the channel to see!

So about this Scorpio baby…

Well, Andrew said he knew I was knocked up when I started matching him plate for plate. Which he might have thought, but never said (lovely man!). And he smiled fit for a king when I broke the news (doubly lovely man!).  In truth it was actually the fabulous book club chicks that got me thinking I must be pregnant (clever them!) and had me delightedly bouncing into the chemist, thinking life was about to change, only to have the excitement fizzle ridiculously when no little blue line appeared. But I was still hungry (ate more than a horse, an elephant maybe?), still suspecting and still trusting home pregnancy tests (obviously pregnancy brain kicked in early!). Until 4 tests later, a tiny, weeny, almost unbelievable blue line appeared. Being a doctor’s daughter, I dashed off to get a blood test and then zooted home to tell darling Andrew (this was the Cheshire cat moment) and we drank tea to celebrate! The funniest thing is that the blood test results had to go to a doctor, so I thought quickest response would come from my dad (grandfather speed, you know). A doctor’s a doctor right? Not so, grin. The Prof of hand surgery had to ask what the test results meant, had no clue whether I was or wasn’t. I quickly found myself a most fabulous OBG…  So with much muddling, loads of excitement, and huge amounts of celebratory bubbly (not me!) it’s absolutely confirmed: Scorpio baby in November.

And so what about White Knights?

Well, its been flying off the shelves. My gift to Andrew and our wedding guests has metamorphosed into the most gorgeous surprise for me! We did a second print run at the end of Feb (wow!), had two smashing launches (Jozi & CT, pics and scoop below), have had loads of yummy press, including this month’s cosmo!

And then… London! Amazingly, wonderfully and fabulously, Daunt Books in Chelsea are stocking White Knights. Which is simply too glorious for words, as essentially the gorgeous, forward thinking (and totally dishy) buyer for the store, Max Porter, gave me a break! He loved the wedding story, loved the novel and said YES! Which in the huge, concrete, metropolis of London was akin to having a stranger giving you a flowers while you’re standing amongst a bevy of supermodels! So if you’re in London, and are looking to lay your hands on White Knights, you should scoot over to Daunt Books at 158-164 Fulham Road SW10.

And timing couldn’t be more perfect as White Knights was reviewed in The South African newspaper yesterday (grin grin). You can check out the article (it’s very cool) or the newspaper (also cool, what can I say!).

The other really fun thing that we (that’s me and White Knights) got up to was the Women & Home Photo Shoot, which was pretty mind blowing. Frith Thomas and Kerry Phillips, the utterly stylish and gorgeous W&H editors, came to the Jozi launch and asked to include the story of White Knights story in their August issue (you’ll have to buy a copy!). After a divinely fun interview with charming Kerry P amidst thrown together packing on the afternoon of our departure to London, she mentioned to expect a call about photos. Divine, I thought, I’ll rummage up my passport photo. I’ve never been so thrilled to be so completely wrong! The wonderfully organized, gorgeous stylist Cleo (even her name is perfect!) calls me up, fills me in and on Friday last week I find myself on location in Kramerville, with Cleo introducing me to the hair and makeup guru, cameraman, stylist and Jill-of-everything. Ahem! Three hours later, I’m trying to keep a straight face as I pose, leaning languidly against a wrought iron gate, with shiny slicked back hair, enormous khol-lined eyes (think Sienna Miller in Layer Cake!) and wearing the most ridiculously gorgeous black pleated chiffon Max Mara dress (click here for sneak peak of the dress!) with white vintage shoes (model’s own!) and fishnets… and understanding why our Scorpio baby simply needed to have a French designer outfit for its first major outing. It’s in the genes!

So, it’s all been super fun and White Knights has been doing fabulously well. And there is one last hurrah, which is the Cape Town Book Fair. Which I’m very excited about, because last year we couldn’t attend as it was a big birthday for Andrew and I threw him a surprise birthday party (which was gorgeous and had a big chocolate cake that said “Fabulous Fo…” oops!). But essentially I’m bunking out because…

… well, I’m officially back in my writing hole, squirreling away on my next FABULOUS novel!

So about the next fabulous novel…

Which I’m having so much fun with! It’s modern, set in the converging worlds of current Jozi, London and New York and is all about the perceptions, money and power which drive decisions in the new scramble for Africa. Because really, how can a chick live in such a thriving, gorgeous, multidimensional city and not write about it? How can one not record the deal making, schmoozing, politicking, wangling, networking, socializing and backstabbing of the wanna-be’s? And the love affairs! Whew! I am having a ball… and the book is going to be fabulous. It’s all about the seen and the unseen. And society crashing into itself, interacting, sorting itself out and carrying on again. The novel weaves between different people, their lifestyles, their choices and the masks they wear. For behind these masks, it the personal experiences, values and goals that dictate the decisions they make when their worlds start disintegrating. Which is precisely what happens when a love affair ends, a government meddles and someone disappears…

grin grin. bounce bounce. until next time! loads of love…A + bump

Ok, well, it’s not as though anyone actually needs a reason to visit Paris. The fact that I had two amazing reasons, only meant that I really had no excuse NOT be in Paris. So the first reason was that my darling best friend from NYC, the utterly stylish and totally sophisticated Ilya, was there for the Labour Day weekend. And the second was that BOTH my Parisian cousins got married last year and it was an opportunity to crack the bubbly. Which of course, we did!

So Paris disappeared in a whirl of glamour, style and indulgence. Enclosed in a bubble of phenomenal, special, wonderful company we explored, discovered, adventured, feasted and returned exhausted but radiant to our sublime hotel feeling like… well… this is how life should really be lived!

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