The Rand Club…in jeans

Yesterday I had lunch at the Rand Club as a guest of the City of Joburg…wearing jeans…oops! Anyways they didn’t seem to mind too much about that although I did get a few snooty looks from some of the members, either that or their caviar smelt funny.

I thought since the Club is always seen as this ‘secret society’ and only a few are ever lucky enough to get a peek inside I would snap a million photos to show you guys. Alan Lambert, Food and Beverages Manager at the club was kind enough to take me on a quick tour of the club and impart some of his extensive knowledge of its history, I even got to relax for five seconds in the Library, which is not only the coolest room in the entire building but also the Clubs pride and joy.

different shoes

entrance

The most beautiful skylight set in the biggest entrance hall ever. And the stained glass is all made in SA!

The most beautiful skylight set in the biggest entrance hall ever. And the stained glass is all made in SA!

sky lightentrance hall 3

The library dates back to when the Club was opened and contains over 10 000 books

The library dates back to when the Club was opened and contains over 10 000 books.

The Club is filled with awesome little details like this: a row of shelves in the library has been cleared so you can put your feet up and relax.

The Club is filled with awesome little details like this: a row of shelves in the library has been cleared so you can put your feet up and relax.

Would love to get my nose stuck into some of these.

Would love to get my nose stuck into some of these.

chess

Shot of the library from the door

Shot of the library from the door.

The Club has an entire hall for snooker...it does happen to be lined with the heads of various animals so it's a little creepy

The Club has an entire hall for snooker…it does happen to be lined with the heads of various animals so it’s a little creepy.

rudyard

Perhaps my favorite part of the whole tour/lunch was the story of Rudyard Kipling and the Rand Club which apparently inspired his poem If.

Go, Love

I had to leave for certain
I like to come back now and then
Maybe I’m just returning
So I can leave again

The wind comes softly blowing
From the cold grey sea
She leans into my collar
Starts whispering to me

Go, love, if you’re going
You keep looking down the track
Go, love, if you’re going
I’ll be here when you come back

Go, love, if you’re going
Go, love, if you’re going

So go, love, if you’re going
Don’t stay on account of me
Go, love, if you’re going
If that’s the way it’s got to be

Go, love, if you’re going
You keep looking down the track
Go, love, if you’re going
I’ll be here when you come back
Go, love, if you’re going
Go, love, if you’re going

You have to be close to someone to genuinely love them, so from the jump I make that difficult.

You have to be close to someone to genuinely love them, so from the jump I make that difficult. It’s not intentional, but my deep feelings are guarded like a maximum-security prison. When meeting someone, I’m immediately hesitant to share anything other than the basics. You’ll learn of my name, hobbies, interests — and that’s about it. I don’t typically talk about personal issues, family, or stuff I hold close to my heart, not even after a while. I’ve mastered the art of changing topics, deflecting and using sarcasm to escape the grasps of any intimate or layered question thrown my way. It’s not a purposeful, focused defensive plan, it’s more of an uncontrollable curse.

The fact that my self-protectiveness occurs subconsciously means that a conscious effort is necessary to open up to somebody. It’s a matter of literally forcing myself to reveal commonly shared information that, for whatever reason, I don’t like to talk about. That’s a challenge because at times I’ll recognize that I’m being hesitant, but it’s difficult to stop. If you’re a guarded individual, certainly you understand.

Conversations with you are like palaeontology digs. Someone will excavate for lengthy periods of time to come up with absolutely nothing, or very little on most occasions. It’s rare that they discover a valuable fossil, which can be frustrating for them. Then eventually they grow exhausted from digging to no avail, and quit. That’s when it’s most evident that you’re too protected. When someone’s willing to exit your life. When a person finds the worth of potentially awesome fossils inside of your soul less valuable than their time or energy, so they pack up and vacate the premises.

Now if you’re an even more complicated case like me, a person deserting you triggers a flurry of emotions. Frustration with them for parting ways. Disappointment in yourself for not being more open, or interesting enough to stick with. Empathy toward them because you know that you’re quite the handful. It’s a very disappointing, confidence-killing mixture of feelings and sensations that take a strong mind to recover from.

For guarded people, considering that someone can talk to us for weeks, months, or even years and only learn so much about us is a terrifying concept. The possibility of never learning to be open fills our hearts with worry. It’s a legitimate concern that nobody will ever dig deep enough to do anything more than scratch our surface. In an odd way, I think we want an individual to force the issue or persevere through the tough exterior. It feels good to know that someone can sense the metaphorical electric fences, barbwire and armed guards that surround your feelings and yet they still want to break through.

Anyone who feels the need to protect his or herself feels so for a reason. Ultimately the motivation for defence is not wanting to be judged. Whether it’s your past, your present conflicts, family business, or some other situation, the general fear is that our secrets will condemn us. That this is lose-lose. That even if we tell you, it’ll go terribly. That no matter what, the end result will be regret. Because someone will either get sick of our shutdown ways, or come to find that they hate the person we truly are, and the experiences we’ve had/are currently having.

So what’s the worst that would happen if we completely let our guards down? Not just a little, I’m talking about removing the entire security system. Treating the place our feelings stay less like a prison, and more like a retreat. People can go there, learn about you, be relaxed, and hopefully enjoy their stay. It’s not easy, but maybe today we can do away with the barbwire. Then tomorrow, or a week from now, we turn the electricity running through the links of that fence off. Keep the fence itself up until you’re a little more comfortable, then tear that down too. Eventually we’ll hand those armed guards their pink slips, along with a nice severance package so they never want to return, and then we’re open. When people ask questions, we’ll answer. Hell, we might even reveal things without someone inquiring.

That’s the dream of a guarded individual; to be as open as everyone else seems. To have people who are close to us. Today, I’m right there with the rest of you inaccessibly sealed vaults. At this moment, nobody, not a shrink or a persistent friend I’ve known for years is getting too far in here. But I’m thinking about tossing aside the barbwire today — and you should consider it too. After all, what’ve we really got to lose? If someone departs based on our past or present struggles, that’s not a loss. It weeds out any judgmental associates, leaving you with nothing but people who love the personality, mind and soul that you are.

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Is Oppikoppi still a music festival?

Surely I can’t be the only one who was disappointed by Oppikopi this year?

Over 20 000 people paid R600 for their tickets to attend the most fantastic festival in the dusty wastelands of Northam Limpopo. According to my calculators calculations that’s R12 000 0000 on tickets alone!

Surely out of that the organisers of the festival could pay a group of halfway decent sound engineers who know what a volume button looks like to handle the backline? Apparently this was an impossible task as band after band was made to sound worse than Miley Cirus minus auto-tune.

aKing, possibly one of the biggest bands in the country played ¾  of their set for their own enjoyment as even the fans standing right in front of the speakers battled to hear the words to their songs. I wouldn’t say I’m the biggest Dance You’re On Fire fan, but I do enjoy their music every now and then, even they were made to sound like they were singing from the bottom of an old rusty tin can, causing me to abandon my foot long cheese griller in utter desperation and in a final bid to save my ears drums from simply bursting to stop the pain.

The Kongos who drew a crowd big enough to rival even Seether were forced to stop playing one song into their set due to the sound being so bad…at least I presume it was due to that. I respect them for stopping and preforming their sound check once again because to most people if the sound is rubbish they presume the band is rubbish which in the cause of Oppikoppi Sweet Thing was not the case for the majority of the bands. Thankfully by the time the last bands played on the final night of Oppi the engineers (if that is infact their job description) had managed to iron out all the issues, congratulations on being able to deliver two sets where fans could actually enjoy the music.

I enjoyed you Oppi, I really did but I won’t be coming back next year if I’m paying to hear music and I would be better off listening to my favourite bands on my cell phone speakers.

Some dustbins would also be great…until we meet again.

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Sad truth about SA. Will miss your posts!

Martina in Jozi

Following on from my previous post, I thought I had better let you know…Martina in Jozi will be no more for a while.  I’m sadly packing my bags and heading back to London for a while to go earn some cash temping.  I just can’t find well paid work here in Jozi

I had known about the Black Economic Empowerment Policy before I moved here.  I had assumed I would find it nearly impossible to find employment because of this.  Rob was going to turn the offer down because of it, but Rob’s company assured us that they have partners of secondee’s coming over all the time and can help me find something.  As I also used to work for that company (yes, we had a slutty office romance) and was PA to someone senior there I assumed they really would help.  Turns out they haven’t

What this means though is that Rob…

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The Daily Fun

Being constantly bombarded with news…seeing as it’s my job to know what’s going on in the world around be can get a little overwhelming and sad sometimes. Everyday it’s more death more strikes and more hurt, so I have found a little journalistic outlet. Enter the Daily Sun.
Now I’ve had a rant about the Daily Sun Before you can read it here:. So sure I was somewhat annoyed with the rubbish that was being produced until I realised just how hilarious it is. Not to discount other people’s cultures or beliefs of course but dang it makes me smile…a lot.

Why wouldn’t I want to read about how a “Fake Zombie Stole My Songs”? Besides the obvious question: What is a fake zombie? (I’m imagining Shaun of The Dead), it really is just hilarious. On that note I have decided to start a running feature of sorts. Maybe it will help make your day a little brighter knowing that you are not being stalked by a fake zombie!

First instalment to follow soon.