Last week I wrote about our rather traumatic journey to the city of gold, thanks to kulula (once again) delaying then cancelling our flight. A few days later I received an apology from the airline and a discount on our next flights.

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After Alistair and I tweeted about our horrific Kulula experience on Saturday, Kulula asked me to email them. Below is the email I sent detailing the nightmare of cancelled flights, airport sprints and complete lack of care shown towards fur children.

Basically I’ve asked them to sort their shit out. I used to be a fan, but until they fix their planes I’m regretfully going to be supporting the de facto parastatal that is SAA.

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After a trip to the hospital that was less Grey’s Anatomy and more Nurse Jackie, I spent the past week in bed not doing anything interesting except annoying my husband with a nagging cough. Apparently there are degrees of bronchitis and it doesn’t “just go away”.

I believe bed is for fun and sleeping, not convalescing, which is why in my sneezing, sniffing, stomach-crunching coughing misery I still felt vaguely amorous. Maybe it’s that whole affirmation of life thing. I certainly felt like dying.

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* Sharing a bottle of wine with a friend while watching the sun set over the Atlantic.

* My mom’s crush on Paraguay striker Roque Santa Cruz.

* Dad complaining that my mother now watches more soccer than he does.

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