Cold. Like... seriously...

It's cold. Really, really cold. Winter has struck with a vengence, very suddenly. We've had a long, prolonged autumn. It's been wonderful. The leaves changed colours slowly, given time with the warm weather to display the most beautiful, wonderful hues. It's been warm. T-shirt weather. I've been walking around barefoot (which I do anyway... but at least without my legs seizing up from the cold), wearing short-sleaves with a jacket that I'd take off halfway through the day. The temperatures haven't dropped below 25 degrees (I'm talking Celcius, mind you).

But then, on Monday, the cold fronts hit. Fronts. Plural. The entire country has gone from warm and balmy and the collective ponderances that we were going to have an extremely warm winter, a deadly hot summer, and global warming this and that and blah blah blah.

But then, one Monday, the cold fronts hit.

The temperatures plummeted. From 25 degrees over the weekend to 12 degrees on Monday. Twelve! We were walking around, shivering our rear ends off, losing feeling in our earlobes and nose hairs. Three layers of sweaters or jerseys or jackets were not enough. Our legs froze through our jeans.

All in all, the country was locked in the new collective ponderance of "Oh my GOD".

All watched the weather on Monday night, last night, hoping for a reprieve from the bitter cold (because it was causing havoc with the washing machines - all those layers!). But it was not to be. Simon the weatherman on SABC 3 predicted temperatures a maximum of 9 degrees in Johannesburg. This morning, as I walked into varsity, I saw the puddles in the grass with a layer of ice more than a centimeter thick on the surface, icicles hanging from the trees in pretty sparkly splendour, and I thought to myself, "No FUCKING way..."

Because it was cold. Seriously cold.

And people are all going on about "Coldest winter ever" and "I've never seen anything like this" and "Not in twenty years of living here...." which happens EVERY year, but this time even my DAD is saying it (which never happens, so I KNOW it's an interesting year!)

Because it's all over the country. Good old Joburg is MILD in comparison. There's snow as far as Plettinburg Bay and close to Durban, which can always be counted on to be the country's single warm spot.

Not any more. Here's a photo a friend of a friend took, from Plett:

Snow! In Plett!

But anyway, like I've said, it's cold. I'm tired. I want my nice warm electric blanket and duvet and knitted blanket and my dog and cat that snuggle up with me.

And a nice cup of hot chocolate.

Why I Don't Drink:

My mother has atrophy of the cerebellum. The cerebellum is a small part of the brain, situated at the back of the head, which controls balance, equilibrium, co-ordination, and I think some parts of the brain that control speach and rationality are affected as well. Mom struggles to walk, her memory is affected and a lot of the time her rationality is akin to a small child's.

It's hard for all of us, especially for Dad and me. I think Bron doesn't feel as hopeless because she lives in her own place with Brett and the baby, but for Dad and me, we see it every day, we live with it constantly. It's hard. I can't really talk to her because she doesn't really "get" what I tell her... I have to take care of her, more than the other way round, and it's been that way for a long time, even before she was diagnosed when I was 16. Even when Dad was sick when I was 14, I was already taking on adult responsibilities, trying to keep my life together.

What makes things even harder is that Mom used to be an actress, she was amazing and beautiful on stage, and later she became one of the best known radio and voice actresses in South Africa. She had amazing tallents, she used to read to me, and it was like watching a play, there were different voices for every single one of the characters. Thanks to her stories like Narnia, the Secret Garden and Railway Children became alive to me.

But things are different now. She's been getting steadily worse over the last eleven years, noticably.

By now, anyone reading this may be wondering how something like this happens. The answer is very simple: Mom is an alcoholic. She drank very heavily for a great many years. She doesn't any more, she's been sober in AA for 16 years, but even then the damage was done.

My uncle, Mom's brother, Christie, has wet brain, so I guess my cousins are worse off. Their dad doesn't even know who they are. Also caused by long years of alcohol abuse.

And I almost lost my own dad, back when I was 14, to cirhosis of the liver, also caused by many long years of drinking. He's been sober for 6 years though, thankfully with no lasting effects.

But this is why I choose not to drink alcohol. I don't want to, one day, put my children through what my sister and I, and my cousins, have been through. I don't want to become completely reliant on my family to get around, cooped up at home constantly, sinking further into depression. I don't want to slowly lose my mind. I don't want to die like that.