Cat-chup

Yet another ridiculously late catch up.

Mostly because nothing has been happening. I'm a slave to my writing desk at the moment.

Also, to cooking. My hand is coming on leaps and bounds. I have full movement back, except for my little finger which remains slightly crooked, but doesn't cause any problems. My wrist is still a little tight and sore, but slowly improving. I can now do most things with ease, including cooking - which I've been doing a lot of to catch up. 

Pasta

Fruit Salad
(banana, home grown papaya, passion fruit and tree tomato)

Quiche

Despite all of this, Joanna says there's 'less of me' every time she sees me. We both agree that the UK is a terrible place for our waistlines.

I've also been having fun with fuzzy kittens.

Reminds me a little bit of Sula.

I absolutely refuse to have cats again. I've turned down both Jo and my new friend Pieter. It's just too hard to leave them behind, and without the certainty of a visa extension in January, who knows when I'll be leaving. If I get the extension, I might revisit the question, but my landlord doesn't like cats and he's my next door neighbour. 

However, I have nothing against feeding them if they're in my garden. They're feral and terrified of me anyway. No danger of them becoming house cats.

I might have accidentally bought two boxes of Go Cat at Sawa Siti yesterday.

Haven't seen the kittens since.

Typical.

Had an absolutely lovely evening meeting Pieter. He runs Thespis Consulting and got in contact after seeing my post about creative writing. He lives in Gikondo with his adopted son. I went for dinner and, as always, discovered we know half the same people. Stayed chatting until midnight, then turned into a pumpkin.

On Thursday, I went to the final presentation of a human rights organisation in Kigali. I ran the program last year. This year my (then) program assistant, Maja, was country director. She did an excellent job.

Nice presentation with traditional dancing and an in-depth chat about human rights.

It was a little strange. It feels like only last week Maja arrived in-country. The same night I burnt my hand! (She pulled me out of the fire!). In fact, it's been about three months, and other than two nights at my place, I've only seen her once during that time. Now she's leaving.

I'm off to a party at her place tonight. Looking forward to it. I've been so engrossed in writing it's like the whole world disappeared. It would be nice to visit it again.

Annoyingly, there's a guy I'm hoping might be there. He was one of the participants on the program last year, so I never really looked at him because I assumed he was under twenty-five. Turns out he lied about his age to get on. We're almost the same age. He helped me out with the second intake, and became an honorary member of the staff's Team Majoga (The Drunks) for services rendered. 

Annoyingly, I find him quite attractive.

He came out with us the night of Maja's last party. We almost talked, but I was broken, inebriated and surrounded by strange blokes, so decided just to go back inside and keep drinking. He was at the conference the other day, too. Long story short, but we walked out together and agreed to have a drink. "Call me," he said. Uh-uh. "Call me," I said. 

It's a take-it-or-leave-it tactic. If he calls, I'll go. If he doesn't, nothing missed. 

I don't like the idea of seeing a past participant. It still feels like cradle snatching after so long thinking he was younger than he is, his friends seem to think he's a bit of a player, and he just introduced me to someone as 'the boss'. I'm all for fantasy roleplay, but I ain't nobody's boss no more. Lot of reasons not to go there. 

Still, he does look good in a suit.