A weak week

This past week was a tough one for me. On Monday, I wrote out my To-Do list at work, and it filled 7 sides of an A4 book. The thing with a To-Do list is that it doesn’t stop new things, all of which are urgent, from cropping up!  I have a simple philosophy – I’ll start, I’ll do what I realistically can, and then I’ll come back tomorrow, and do whatever I realistically can, etc. etc. There’s no other way.

However, on Monday afternoon I started feeling strange, and by the evening, I was really ill. On Tuesday I stayed out of work and went to the doctor. I was diagnosed with gastroenteritis, which my doctor said had reached epidemic proportions in Cape Town. This seems to be linked to our water shortage - a scenario we’d feared would happen, but had hoped we could somehow avoid. At least I was able to get medical attention and general advice on the do’s and don’ts. Many others aren’t that lucky.

In this state of feeling sick, and armed with my meds, I returned to work on the Wednesday, and tried my best to stay focussed and productive. In fact, I was so aware of how missing one day impacted on my workload, that I worked right through, without taking a break. (Why do we do these things?!)  Somehow I made it through the week, as well as the Saturday morning part of my job – at Sekunjalo Delft Music Academy – and even managed to do my gig on Saturday night. Thank heavens it was just two sets, and not three, because I struggled to keep my energy up. Having said as much, I actually enjoyed the gig. It’s a no-pressure kind of thing for me, and I love being able to perform in public.     

During the week, while driving somewhere on my own, I was listening to a piece by brilliant guitarist, Jonathan Butler, on a compilation CD I have of South African musicians. I turned the volume up, and allowed the sound to envelope me. And then, seemingly out of the blue, I was overcome with sadness. Before I knew it, I was crying. I thought about the great guitarists I’ve worked with, most notably Keith Tabisher, Wayne Bosch and the late Errol Dyers, I thought about how happy I am when I’m making music, and how fulfilled and transported I feel when I’m singing my own compositions with an accomplished guitarist who ‘gets’ me, and respects my work. I thought about the many songs I’ve written, the stories my songs tell, and how important it is to me to tell them. It struck me that I basically do very little with my compositions. I put on one original concert a year, and even then, I feature younger artists in the first half. The last time I did a full concert of my original work was in 2011, at the Nassau Hall. That’s SEVEN years ago!

I felt that awful feeling of life passing me by, while my songs gathered dust. I felt like I was mourning a music career I wish I’d had. I felt a sense of wanting to stop everything else, and just make music! Why does that sound both extremely appealing and unlikely? As soon as the wonder and magic of the thought start to fill my being, that other “be realistic’’ side rears its head. I can’t deny that this is a huge sadness in my life.  And maybe when I’m sick, and not feeling on top of things, my physical vulnerability opens the door to these other feelings of what else is missing from my life.  

But, imagine how much worse it would have been had I not had my weekly restaurant gig and the other once-off gigs I get, like weddings and other events. Even though I was feeling under the weather on Saturday night, I actually enjoyed my gig at Sabria’s Restaurant. I did not sing any of my originals, but stuck to the crowd-pleasers. Despite that, I enjoyed singing and playing, and I felt blessed to be able to do this very special and magical thing, at this stage of my life.

Maybe I’m luckier than I realise.

                         Pic taken by my daughter, after my Sabria's gig on Sat 3 March 2018.