It was already very hot outside. Not just warm, but the kind of hot where the air feels heavy before you even move. I think it was close to forty degrees, maybe more in the sun, and I had seen the heatwave on the news the evening before. When Fruitloop told me it was cold…
Chapter One The smell of braai smoke and cut grass hung heavy in the warm summer air. It was the perfect Saturday evening. My husband and I were sitting outside on the patio, watching the wood fire crackle down to a bed of glowing orange coals, while the faint, joyful sound of a neighborhood kid’s…
When the Mayor and Fruitloop called me to talk about my life in England, I knew immediately that this was not going to be a normal interview. With them, it is never just a list of questions. It is always a conversation that goes in many directions, with jokes, teasing, serious thoughts, strange comments, and…
When The Mayor asked me what the first picture was that came into my mind when I thought back to Halifax, I did not think first of the driving, or the ferry, or even of the practical nonsense of England being back to front. I thought of the atmosphere during the concert at dusk. That…
It was very warm here. But not warm like it should be. Only 34 degrees. Fruitloop was in South Africa with 16 degrees, and The Mayor was sitting here in the heat dome, sweating. I told her I would send her a postcard when I go back to France in September. That seemed fair to…
The strange thing is that I did not even have time to use my phone very much when I was away. That was my first answer to The Mayor, and it was true. I had been travelling for work, sitting in meetings, moving from one place to another, and the phone was there, of course,…
There is a particular kind of silence that happens in international rooms. It is not the silence of agreement, and it is not the silence of deep thought. It is the silence of people who are still trying to catch the sentence that has already disappeared. Someone is speaking quickly, confidently, fluently, perhaps even with…
Sometimes a sentence stays with you for years without you really understanding why. You hear it often enough that it becomes familiar, almost invisible. It settles somewhere in the background of your life, like a photograph hanging on a wall that you pass every day without noticing. Yet for some reason it refuses to disappear…
We went live for Issue 52 of Peeling Potatoes in what appeared to be a freezing cold South Africa, which meant, naturally, that the first serious academic matter of the day was not Relationship Balance, Digital Balance, or any other official calendar-approved balance, but tights. Fruitloop appeared dressed in black, and The Mayor immediately wanted…
Before we knew it, the conversation had already begun. We arrived at the table carrying more than coffee cups and calendars. Rosii arrived carrying a spinning room. She described those strange moments when standing up from bed felt like stepping onto a merry-go-round she never agreed to ride. Even lying down could make the room…
