Megan's Head

A place where Megan gets off her head.

Category: random things

True Story

About 5 years ago I bought a Cape Honeysuckle and planted it in our back courtyard, up against the wall, in a tiny patch of sand after I had lifted one of the tiles. I also planted a Black Eyed Susan. These two went absolutely mad, took over completely and were impossible to control. I was really sad when I had to make the decision to chop them down, especially since their colours were extraordinary. The Honeysuckle had deep red flowers instead of the more common yellow or orange. But, they were becoming a big nuisance and were threatening the wall, so I chopped them down.

A year ago I noticed that a shoot of the Honeysuckle had taken hold and was growing in a tiny crack in the corner. We had a conversation, me and it, and I warned it that I was going to be absolutely ruthless with it; I was keeping an eye on it to make sure it only went upwards and more than once I chopped off big runners that went off on their own. And I have been keeping an eye on it.

Imagine my utter shock and surprise when I saw these.

These lilac trumpet like flowers have absolutely nothing to do with the original plant whatsoever. I have no idea how this happened.

I had another conversation with it after seeing the first bloom. I was, “What are you doing? Where do those come from, and wow, they are a beautiful surprise.” Bad idea. It went mad and there are blooms and runners and shoots and leaves all over. It was as if it had tried me out on this new floral expression and now, with permission, it was going to show off, a lot.

This is a true story. No idea what is going on here but it is beautiful.

PS. My accidental tomato plant has also gone totally bonkers and I harvest about 30 teeny tomatoes a day. They are delicious.

Imagining Knysna into a brand new World

(One of Ivo Vegter’s devastating images on Daily Maverick)

I have shared the shock, horror and sadness with the country as we watched Knysna burn. In a rare moment of equalising, the fire took from all; rich, poor, old, young, those starting out with first ever homes, those nearing the end of their lives in old age homes, those squeezed into desperate situations in wooden shacks, and tiny rich families in huge mansions on the hill.

The efforts to help people and animals have been heartwarming. We South Africans are pretty good in a crisis. Calls for food, clothes, toiletries, pet food, and money have been met with a resounding response.

So is this not the perfect opportunity to acknowledge that Knysna has a population who live in dire conditions in their everyday lives, where unemployment, poverty, a severe lack of formal housing, TB and other poverty borne illnesses are rife?

I woke up this morning with a dream like vision that every person with insurance in Knysna skimmed a tithe off their claim, and built a second house for someone with no house. Not a shitty little charity shack, but an actual house, a home. Two homes. So, instead of rebuilding exactly what you had in both instances, people with insurance made a conscious decision to make something smaller, cheaper and more modest, and then made another one, for someone else to live in.

I know this will never, ever happen. And because it won’t, the playing fields will never be levelled, and we will never be having the same conversations unless there is a massive natural disaster. And even then, it will be a conversation that happens in that tiny moment before everything goes back to what it was.

But, imagine. Imagine if the brave, heartbroken, wrecked, grateful, passionate mostly white rich people of Knysna decided in this moment to change the town, the province, the country, the world? Imagine.


I have a confession to make. I suffer from jealousy. It’s one of the ugliest and least useful things to suffer from, and even though I know this, I often find it hard to shift. I am so aware of my jealousy I even think about how others may be jealous of me when things are going well for me.

I am usually only jealous about work stuff though. I am not jealous about things, or money, or cars, or diamond jewels, but I am often jealous of roles, or work opportunities, or big budgets to direct plays, or full houses of people who paid R150 a ticket. It brings out the worst in me, this jealousy. It is so pointless and frustrating and rage inducing.

And when I breathe, and look inward, I am mostly able to acknowledge all I do have, and all the amazing things I do actually do. Honestly, I have absolutely no reason to compare myself to anyone else, and it is an unnecessary evil, and I try and control the impulse. But then I see on social media that someone is doing this thing that I suddenly really want to be doing, and off I go.

This is the beginning of me dealing with my jealousy. I am hoping a confessional purge will help.

Limbless without Internet

With the law of averages it was bound to happen, and now we are in it. On Sunday morning we woke up to no internet connection and a stone dead land line. The usual jumping through hoops with Hellkom is always a challenge with on-line forms pretty unworkable, phone in fault systems utterly laborious and maze-like in their inefficiency, and of course, the usual lying reply of “they’re working on it right now and will call you in 5 minutes” a kind of standard response if you ever get to speak to a human.

I can’t believe how much of my work depends on me being online. I feel completely bereft and crippled. I am currently using my cell phone as a hotspot so I can write this, because I feel like I have broken a promise I made to myself to write every day.

And I keep remembering bits and pieces of things I needed to do, or said I would do and am not doing. Even just paying my cellphone account, or sending a press release.

I am totally useless at trying to imagine what needs to happen in order for it to be magically fixed. Big Friendly is a tech angel in my life when it comes to that, only he is feeling limbless without online access too. We are like a household that has been struck by a tech plague.

So stay with me online friends, and virtually hold my hand and un social media’ed thoughts while I sit, immobile in the real world until connectivity is restored.

Death of a Girl

I knew you by the way you parked your car

And the hot little flame of resentment I felt

When I saw your black bumper messily outside the line

Of the kerb

On a weekend night when parking in our small road was a squeeze.

I saw the flash of your blue hair some days

And heard you and your boyfriend

Talk loudly and slam car doors at 4 in the morning.

I peeped through the window and spoke firmly to myself

That next time I would go out and give you both

A piece of my mind.

But when we came round the corner on Saturday afternoon

with the dogs on the backseat after a short park walk

And the road was blocked by a police van and ambulance

and the fire truck was waiting, too big to come up, at the bottom

The last thing I thought of was you.

I didn’t know which room was yours

In the student digs right next door.

But the minute I heard you had hanged yourself

I could picture it.

And now I can’t get it out of my mind.

I can’t get you out of my mind.

I can’t even remember your face

but I see the live faces of those you left

And I hope we will all do better.

A short and random thing

Who says what a blog can be? I have decided this space will also be for my short and random things.

I am queen of the mundane dream. I can spend what seems like hours of dream time looking for my watch and opening and closing drawers. last night I dreamed I got a phone upgrade. It was the latest phone; a fold open one, with a keypad, only I had completely forgotten how to use a keypad and couldn’t answer it, or find numbers, or make calls.

I only remembered this part of my dream when I got a call this morning, from EmptyN telling me I was due for my upgrade.


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