June 27, 2012

10 tips for easy packing.

Ha! Got you there. There will be not one single tip for packing here, because I don't actually know how to pack as it turns out...
I’m sorry for the silence, guys, but I feel like a little low flying warrior these days. Which is not a bad thing per se, but if you know the posture, it’s actually quite tricky and requires lots of balance, focus, and strength. Thus no mind for writing. I am trying to prep and pack and sort everything for Zambia in time and as per usual I am feeling a bit out of my depth. Have I mentioned that ever since I was child I loved travelling, but when it came to the packing part I would freeze like a little scared bunny rabbit. Or so my Mum says…It has gotten much better over the years probably due to moving over oceans a few times, but it still gets me once in a while.
This time around I have to combine packing sensibly for a week of very mixed weather conditions, camping, and a big city weekend in Joburg (including 9-course dinner fanciness here). I also have a whole list of still-to-buy, still-to-maybe-buy, still-to-print, and overall still-to-dos. Problem being that all these are not actual lists yet, but just random thoughts in my head and a few post-its, which will be nowhere to be found when I need them. Argh.
On top of it I have a sleeping bag issue as the sleeping bag cannot completely fit into my washing machine. After stuffing it in there and washing it anyhow, it is now full of washing powder and needs to be washed again and this time properly. I am afraid if I wash it in the bath tub though it will never get dry on time in this horrid weather. Yup, I will admit the weather isn’t helping with anything. I was so happy to see the sun this morning for the first time in forever that I decided to wear a little dress (which will probably not be suitable to drag an oversized sleeping bag to the laundromat later…).

Of course not all is bad. In fact nothing is really bad, I am just a tad bit overwhelmed this week, but I am sure all will be well as soon as I am on the plane on Friday evening with a G&T in my hand (In case Kulula doesn’t serve G&Ts, please do not tell me now!). In the meanwhile I opted to ignore all my lists, written or other, yesterday and take the delectable (isn’t it a nice word?) Miss Olivia for her 13th birthday celebration to see The Avengers. Afterwards we went to El Burro for dinner and moustache fun, which was awesome. I don’t think I ever want to eat anywhere again if they don’t have moustaches to play with. They also brought us really yummy chocolate fondant with a candle to celebrate, but spared us the Spur-esque singing and embarrassing of the birthday girl. Thanks for both!

I shall be attempting the short dress + oversized sleeping bag + going to the laundromat scenario now and get back here once I am on the road. My little pink headlamp, the giraffe that I have yet to meet at our camp, and I shall be reporting live from Zambia soon.

P.S. Can some linguistically skilled person explain to me, why my spell check is adamant about spelling laundromat with a capital L??

June 25, 2012

Happy happy, Papi!

Today my wonderful, smart, funny, generous, amazing, loving, kind, and all around awesome Dad is celebrating his 67th birthday. Which is only somewhat true. The birthday part is true, the age…not so much. But when I just told him on the phone that I decided from now on to stay 28, he spontaneously said he would go with 67. Since it’s his birthday and 67 or over qualifies him for certain indulgences and follies, he can be however old he wants.

Thus I will just say:

Happy 77th 67th birthday, Papi! 
Love you loads,

Deine Kleene*
*That means your little one in German dialect as I am exactly that - his little one.
Christmas Beings. Mein Papi and I. This picture makes me happy.

June 22, 2012

A good grey day.

Over the last few days I have been slacking with following the dare because or thus I was in a grumpy mood. I know those are the days when I need it most, but alas, I have said it before, those are obviously the once that make it hardest to be a nice person.

Yesterday though was finally one the other days. One that made me feel all around content and which showed me it’s all in the details. Like starting the day with an awesome papaya smoothie. Yup, I can make smoothies now no blender or juicer necessary, just my little Zauberstab* and me. This makes me very happy. The gloomy and grey weather yesterday helped too (you know me, I get a little sick of all the sunshine once in a while here...).
Before work I finally managed to bring my favourite pants and parka to a tailor who will fix them in no time for Zambia. I know that’s such a tiny thing, but I have procrastinated finding one forever, so I came to the office yesterday with an already very sense of accomplishment.
At my desk I got a whole bunch of stuff done which was nice for a dragging winter’s Thursday. To top it all off I got an email from lovely Robyn at Greenpop with a list of activities we can do at the lodge in Zambia, you know, in case I fancy a little helicopter flight over the Falls before breakfast. Yay yay yay. One more week to go! They also shared pictures of the elephants and hippos on the camp site and an owl someone ended up sharing a room with, which I find very Harry Potter and awesome. Now I just have to find myself a giraffe friend there and it will be heaven.

After work I went shopping and got myself a book for the trip. I also caved and bought 50 Shades of Grey. Then I went home and started reading 50 Shades of Grey. And then I read a bit more. You can tell I am still a bit embarrassed by this and I was even more embarrassed when reading certain things. No, not these things. These things were flipping hot. There you have it in writing and I will probably not send today’s blog post to my Dad. It was the writing itself which is so embarrassing that at times it made me blush and get douche chills. The phrase oh my is used so frequently that even Dorothy couldn’t resist to take the author over the knee and give her a hiding and not in the good way she describes so nicely throughout the book. Anyhow, I don’t want to trash it too much, because it was still addicting enough for me to not go to yoga. Ups.

I dragged myself off to teaching though and it was the most fun filled, giggly, wonderful class followed by chicken curry, the best way to end a day ever. More of such beautiful grey days please!

*In case anyone puts this word into Google Translate and comes out with a slightly…dubious…translation – it is just a handheld blender.

June 21, 2012

Barbie on the go.

When I was a little girl all my clothes were pink. Of course, what else? Barbie was my best friend and Barbie liked it pink. One time I fell in love with a pair of red Nike sneakers with glittery Velcro strips. My Mum refused to buy them and stood the tantrum following this announcement bravely, because she knew I would never wear anything else than pink, glittery Velcro or not.
Much has changed in my wardrobe since. My friend Katrin once remarked that my wardrobe is pretty grey. Grey as in black, white, navy, and yes, grey. The last attempt I made of wearing something pink was a light rosé knit jersey wrap thingy from Nicolas Ghesquiere’s first collection ever for Balenciaga. I got it because I thought it would make me feel and look like a ballerina. It didn’t. I wore it twice. I still have it though, because I like to think that maybe one day it will turn me into the Swan Princess after all. And of course it is Balenciaga. Almost vintage Balenciaga by now. I couldn’t bear the argument with any future daughter of mine why I gave the Balenciaga to the maid and don’t I love her and how could I do that to her (that’s how I imagine my mother-daughter arguments…).
So that was it, no more pink for me. Till now. I went to Cape Union, my new favourite shop, and got my essentials for Zambia. My very pink essentials as it turns out:
Come now! Which girl can resist a pink headlamp and of course the water bottle has to match. So it seems you can take the Barbie out of the girl’s room, but you can never take her out of the girl’s heart…

June 19, 2012

Little Anna and her giraffe.

I just had a Skype conversation with another single friend of mine in Germany. As per usual we were talking about men and eventually the question came up: where do we always find the crazies? The answers were simple: investment banking (her case, though I have been there, done that) and malls (my case only). I thought I should investigate this notion further, but the thought actually made me a bit depressed and since I was already so good with green juice instead of a muffin for breakfast I didn’t really want to go down this road today.

Instead you get…

…. a giraffe! A little one.

Yes, I can hear the collective moan, but I promise this one is different and very, very special. So special indeed that it shall grace this blog soon, but I honestly haven’t gotten around doing any major layout changes yet.
As you may know I have an amazing and incredible talented sister-in-law, Xenia, who has an amazing and incredible sister too, Serena. Back in the day when our combined nephew Jakob started talking, he called Serena his the little Aja and I was the little Anna. I do believe that Xenia had something to do with adding little to the nicknames probably just to show us, because in fact Serena and I are both a head taller than her. She still calls me little Anna though luckily Jakob has outgrown it, but it actually doesn’t bother me either way. I like being the little Anna.

Anyhow, Serena aka little Aja is not only an amazing photographer (check out her work here), but she also made these pictures a while back when she would draw a face with her eyes closed. The outcome was incredible and fun and always recognizable. So when it came to this blog and my desire to have my own little giraffe logo, I eventually asked her for help as I cannot draw to save my life (as you will all know after yesterday’s post). Look what I found in my inbox two days after I contacted her:

The best part about it, it is not only a giraffe, it is in fact a baby giraffe – just look at this cute, little face!

Stuff like this makes me ridiculously happy. Thank you, little Aja!

Now we need a name - suggestions please.

June 18, 2012


Sorry for the silence, but I spent the weekend in Betty’s Bay and only used my airbook to watch DVDs and next to me on the car seat as radio substitute. I would show you a picture but as per usual I had only managed to remember buying new batteries, but not to take my memory card with. Ja, ja, bad blogger, I know, I know. The airbook scenario was a bit tricky though because as my little car stretched her legs and flew over the N2, I managed to push a wrong button and my carefully selected playlist was all gone. As you know an airbook ain’t a radio so the playlist couldn’t be recovered while I was driving and my ears were graced with whichever song iTunes fancied.
Luckily I believe in going with the flow, at least when road tripping, so I didn’t mind too much. Once arrived I didn’t even mind the missing memory card, because once arrived, I went straight into a sort of holiday haze of eating, sleeping, and chatting. I realized sometimes, even when you are long grown up, you need parent pampering. Or a good substitute, which I had thanks to my aunt and uncle. Thus I was lazy, but since it’s Monday now, look what I made for you:

The ocean with some typical Betty’s Bay dunes. Beautiful, right? Just fyi the top right thingy is a seagull and not a wave. Just thought you should know, I thought of it all!
I think I remember really well how it looks like there, tough this time around I was so lazy, I didn’t leave the house and I didn’t even see the ocean all weekend (except from the car when driving there, which even I know doesn’t really count). Let’s not dwell on this, let’s just say the weather was really kak *wink*.*

*Did the wink work? I am not a good winker, though sometimes I wish I was. I usually end up looking like an owl or like something got stuck in my eye and I’m trying to get it out. Thought it might work on paper, but you tell me!

June 14, 2012

Me & my donkey.

Yesterday was all around awesome. We had our company outing/road trip/pre-holiday lunch and drove out to Babylonstoren. I have wanted to go for ages and as you know sometimes when you have wanted to do something for ages and then you do it, it’s a let-down and not nearly as great as you imagined it to be. This was not the case yesterday. Within 5 minutes of our arrival we had even forgotten that we were initially quite pissed off by having to pay entrance fee to get in. Everything was just perfect. The dips, the bread, the wine, and the food which they had colour coordinated. Just like my colour coordinated bookshelf that made the little organizer freak in me very happy.

I had a perfect vegetarian lunch and only for my desert did I cave and had the one that came with a slice of crispy parma ham on top, which was strangely satisfying and made me feel quite like an adventurer.
After lunch we walked around in the gardens and Mark made me jump up a tree and pick a naatjie. I think it would have made a good picture, but he didn’t take one, alas I just have the memory now of my first ever freshly picked naatjie from a tree.

Then we tasted and bought wine. Which was great – how else? - but the highlight was yet to follow when we went to the donkeys. You will probably think So what? Have you never seen a donkey? What’s there to get all excited about? And I will say that yes, I have seen a donkey before, but I have never

 ….heard one scream (is that how you call that sound they make?) for real. I think it was happy to see me.

….padded a donkey.

….known that their ears are so humongous. They look like someone stuck Playboy bunny ears on them and painted them donkey fur colour.

….known that donkeys like wine just as much as I do.
Bad donkey! Shiraz and Viognier not for little donkeys!

….had my favourite scarf nibbled on by a donkey.

That was the second after the nibble when I had barely rescued my scarf from the donkey's mouth.

So, yes, that’s what happens to me when there is no boys in sight – I get excited when I can play with donkeys.

June 12, 2012

Trick or treat.

These past few days the dare has been hard. My weekend was utterly uneventful except for my niece’s birthday party on Saturday and the new week started with an auto repair bill of more than I can afford right now and a big, weird bruise on my knee. I guess it was to be expected to be tricky some days, but it is just damn hard not to mope on the days which are most mope-worthy.
I also think by now I have behaved so nicely for so long (or so it seems) that I really deserve a treat. Like a nice date. Not one that I have to stalk in the mall. If he were to stalk me that would be fine though, but no psychopaths please. It still scares me a bit that the last one knows where I live. So no, thank you, I need someone a bit more…normal. Though Nele says normal translates to boring and who would want that? Yes, I know it ain’t that simple and things usually don’t go this straightforward, but why actually not? Stomp my foot here and pout.
Fine, I shall stop with the moping now and just hope that one of my happily married/engaged/committed girlfriends reads this, will chat with her awesome husband/fiancé/boyfriend, and maybe come up with a plan to set me up with one of his equally awesome/non-psychopath/yet non-boring friends. Anyone?

In the meanwhile I shall practise my patience in addition to everything else and will be patiently awaiting the arrival of my non-mall date on my yoga mat. *

*Though we all know if that actually happened, I’d probably be really pissed off why there is a person I don’t know on my yoga mat.

June 11, 2012

Blue, baby blue.

If I ever get myself a kitten (I know a baby giraffe would be cooler, but let’s be real – it is less likely to fit into my little place. By the way what is the proper term for a baby giraffe? Does anyone know?) I will probably end up with a really ugly one. Given the task to pick one from a litter, I will feel so bad for the ugliest one and will be so scared it might be left behind or has to live through a whole being-picked-last-for-the-team-in-gym-class scenario that I will have to take it. I think everything else i.e. being reasonable and picking a cute one would make me feel just awful. I could actually cry just thinking about it. I seem to have a big heart or something after all.
So last week I went to Cape Union to use my upcoming Zambia trip as an excuse to buy myself my very own headlamp. While I was browsing I ended up in the backpack section and took a closer look as I also had one of those on my list. I almost ended up buying every single one of them as the same hormones/insanity kicked in as described above: They were all so ugly, I couldn’t bear the thought for them to probably stay in the store forever and ever, because who would want to buy such ugliness if not me and my big heart?
Luckily I stopped myself in time and realized that a backpack ain’t a kitten and that there are probably many people out there who value functionality above looks and all the little backpacks will find a good home eventually. Thus I didn’t buy a backpack for all the wrong reasons, but decided instead to ask Kim Gray for advice on where to find a backpack that would be more soothing to my eyes. Usually when getting shopping tips from a pro, you (or is it just me?) end up spending way too much money. I know that because I have been the advice giver in this regard many times and still have upset emails from broke customers to show for. This time was no different as she recommended Chapel. After a much exciting hike through a construction site in Woodstock in heels I found the shop and I chose my new baby, which unlike any future kitten of mine is ridiculously good looking:

In case you wonder, I do not know whether it is indigo or electric blue and I don’t care. I simply call it very blue or so bright I can’t get lost in the forest blue. I think a colour this bright is an added feature, sort of like extra pockets or waterproof lining for regular backpacks. Surely worth the intense workout my credit card got and the trail of potentially neglected feeling backpacks at Cape Union I have left to cry.

June 9, 2012

13 going on 30.

I have not ever done a post for someone's birthday before, but today shall be a first, because today is very special someone's very special birthday. My beautiful, funny, smart, kind, all around talented and simply super niece Olivia is turning 13 today. Though it might as well be 30, because she is so beautiful, funny, smart, kind, talented, and super that you ask yourself how someone with just 13 can be this awesome. But she is and thus I count myself quite blessed to have such a niece. Technically she isn't my real niece as she is my cousin's daughter, but with my crazy family relations we have given up on finding proper names for the connections and so I am simply proud to be her aunt.
Obviously it wouldn't be a proper Happy Birthday, now you are a teenager! post without a tiny bit of embarrassment for the newly turned teenager. Therefore I have to share these pictures, they are just to good...
Little Olivia.
Big Olivia
Can we talk about the heels??

Wow - time flies! And now I am allowed to get a little bit soppy and just say: 

Olivia, I love you. I think you are so special and I am so happy whenever I get to spend time with you. I wish you a beautiful year ahead with sunshine and little giggles and music and dancing and learning and exploring and laughter and walking into the world with some nice high heels, enjoying who you are and who you are becoming - an amazing young woman. 

Now I wipe a little tear away and shout from the balcony:


June 8, 2012

A heartfelt retraction.

Yesterday when visiting my uncle I got in trouble. I wasn’t even inside the house when I was told he had a bone to pick with me. Immediately I realized what it was: I had forgotten to give him proper credit for having jumper cables in my car in Monday’s post. And as he then added, without him I wouldn’t even know what they are called. That might be true, but to be fair I got my driver’s license in Germany so would have only learned the German word. Starterkabel in case you wonder and should ever get stuck with an empty battery in Germany.
Though he declared that it was all too late and I just had to patiently sit in my dog box, I promised him I would print a retraction*. So here it goes: My wonderful uncle is not only responsible for my pretty decent driving skills as he taught me in Lesotho…
It's quite hard to find little me in this BIG car, but yup, there I am.
…he also taught me how to fish (not sure how that fits in with the cable part of the story, but I thought it noteworthy enough to mention and I really like the picture of me and the trout)...

…and he fetched me one night after a yoga class in Constantia and jump started my car as silly me had left the lights on and did not at the time have my own jumping cables. Before he grudgingly helped me out, he made me promise I get some cables immediately. Which I did two days later. Though Mark gets credit for actually buying them for me, because I wouldn’t even know where to look (Clicks maybe?) and he knew, if left to my own devices, I would never be able to fulfil my promise. 

Girls, I am telling you, if you don’t have a boyfriend/husband, an uncle like this really comes in handy and I love him dearly for it. Thank you, uncle, for making sure I have my own jumper cables!!

My favorite two men: Uncle left, my Dad right. Aren't they cute?
*Yes, I am aware that this is in fact not a proper retraction, more of an addition and an apology, but I just really like the word. It's makes it all sound like very important newspaper business and All the President's Men and such...

June 7, 2012

Any & the elderly.

As I have established the Garden Centre is not only excellent to run into ex-boyfriends, but also flirting with potential new ones. Though that might be a bit of an overstatement as I have actually never turned a flirt into even a date, but I am working on it… For any tips how one can take a guy charmingly from a shop queue to a bar I’d be grateful.
Yesterday seemed to proof my theory on it being an excellent hunting ground though, only this time at PnP. Which I will now admit I generally prefer for this purpose (and sorry for calling it that!); the other day I was just grumpy since the Frenchman walked out of there. And no, don’t worry, I do not pick my shop by the amount or attractiveness of men, it is just something I’ve realized over time.

Probably inspired by my new found blog love Mayor Gia who has a boyfriend which is apparently older, but as she replied upon me raising a concerned eyebrow: It's all legal and consensual and whatnot. Just a bit weird. So that’s fine then and again, I was apparently inspired, because there I was flirting with an older gentleman. By older I mean…I actually don’t know exactly what I mean, but he was wearing proper pants and not jeans, which is always a sign of a certain age. He was also wearing a sleeveless cardigan. Now you will immediately think hipster, but let me assure you, he wasn’t a hipster, which is good, because I don’t do hipsters. He was wearing the cardigan because that item of clothing actually belongs to his age group.
I realize I make him sound really old now, but he was also handsome and had a nice butt, which I could see in these proper pants of his. Overall good enough reason for a little flirt on a random Wednesday afternoon and so the flirt continued outside the shop. I even went upstairs after he did though I didn’t need to and ended up in the book store. While I was trying to look like an inconspicuous book browser the unbelievable happened: the guy had turned around and was coming towards me on the other side of the gallery. For one second I was naming our future children and then I saw him hugging and kissing a beautiful brunette on the cheek. Which could mean only one of two things:

1. He is married. No need to elaborate on this.

2. He has a daughter who is older than me, which even with the nice butt makes him way too old for me.

Thus I went home alone and watched True Blood which was way more satisfying than stalking older men in a mall. So I actually take it all back what I wrote earlier as this proved my point once more – I am not made for malls!

June 6, 2012

Dashing and daring.

What is this song and where did it come from? Ever since I started the dare it has been on my mind and it has been a week, so you can imagine how annoyed I am getting even more so because I am not supposed to get annoyed. Then again it also reminds me of my friend Sam, who initiated the word dashing into my vocabulary. Probably because he himself is quite dashing. Just like Mr. Darcy or Sean Connery. Luckily the combined image of Sam, Mr. Darcy (did he even have a first name??), and Sean makes the whole song in my head a bit more bearable.
Anyhow, technically the dare is over, but yesterday I decided I shall add another week, because the results have been quite astonishing. I was thinking about it last night when I was taking my make-up off. Usually I think about such random stuff in the shower, but yesterday I was just busy with a cotton pad. While I was thinking that my life is by no means perfect (yet!), but has just gotten a whole lot better already, I put nail polish remover on the cotton pad and luckily realized this before swiping my face with it. I started to giggle, which is always a bit weird when on your own, and thought it was in fact a nice metaphor for the results of the dare: No perfect life, but a better one. Now I seem to at least realize it when I am about to figuratively put nail polish remover on my face, which is a lot more than I can say of my life before.

In case you feel bad now, you could either try it too (and don’t pretend you don’t need it, I do know a few likeminded people and I tend to call them my best friends…) or I could share with you my failings from last week:

1. I swore frequently. Though not at other people, which I guess is an improvement.

2. For a week that was supposed to be pasta & wine free there was quite a bit of both and only one night the pasta was gluten free and not by my choice.

3. Though I didn’t tweet snotty replies, I still thought them out in my head. The whole 140 characters.

4. I got really upset at the video store when my booked movie didn’t come in on time. But that was after I had just seen the Frenchman so I think it only counts half as I was already aggravated by him.

5. Forget about no. 3 – I just tweeted the snotty question whether the Grand Café can really be considered fine dining these days. Though I do believe that is a valid question and the answer is no.

So there you see - my life and me are still very far from perfect, no need to be envious. And in case you miss my disastrous stories about me & men – don’t worry, I have just playing it safe and staying away from them as best as I could. Knowing me, I shall get bored soon, approach a male human being, will manage to mess it up royally, and boom! great post for you. You just be patient…

June 5, 2012

A winter's summer feeling.

Thanks to me not shouting at my little computer when it refused to work on Friday, I seem to have accumulated lots of good karma so it came out of the shop early. Thus I have actually no excuse not to work. Except that there is a beautiful, wintery drizzle happening outside, which makes me a) sleepy and b) reminds me of what it’s not – yesterday. Yesterday was one of those perfect winter’s summer days that was in a way a lot more special than a summer’s summer day. Or is that just me? I usually can’t really enjoy them as they should be enjoyed, mainly because the German in me still gets very confused by a summer day in winter. My body clock switches season and it doesn’t like to be disturbed it seems.
Yesterday was different though. My body was more than happy to lounge on the sunny balcony with a book after work and I drove home from yoga with the window rolled down. The breeze on my face and the view on the moon gave me a beautiful tingling down my spine, promising good things to come. Or as Marie would say: the sex is waiting in front of the door. Though this feeling was a bit more than just that. Also if sex were to materialize and take a concrete shape and wait in front of my door…oh mei. I don’t think I could appreciate it fully and grab it by the balls as deserved, I might just get scared and slam the door back into its face. That is assuming it has a face. Okay, never mind all that. All I wanted actually to say is that yesterday was a great day and today is a great day so the weather situation is neither here nor there. I just think my dare is working. Life is getting better and I am slowly but surely turning into an annoying little happy person. Deal with it.
Yup, sorry to report, but an inspirational quote has found its way into my lounge.

June 4, 2012

Sunday expedition.

Sunday morning was less than ideal. My car battery had died Saturday night which I only discovered after a night of frivolities in Obz. It was also less than ideal that we still thought it a good idea to push my car down a oneway with no lights on in an attempt to get it started. Now the little car was parked far away from my friends' house and as I realized when in bed – without gear lock. Thus I had horrible dreams, completely convinced my car would be stolen, and already tried to come with financing, unsuccessfully I should add, for a new car while trying to fall asleep.

Reality came crushing down in sunny Obz when my car was not only unharmed, but we also managed to get it started within two minutes. Then I took the little car for a spin and to town and gave it all around lots of TLC. Though it seems I was the only one with a sleepless night for all the worry, the car showed no signs of suffering from any abandonment issues.

We – the car and me that is - went to the Garden Centre for some shopping to calm my nerves only to almost run into the Frenchman with now-not-so-new-anymore girlfriend. Does it ever pass? This feeling of how much one hates running into an ex without make-up after a sleepless night? They were coming out of Pick 'n Pay and luckily I was able to dodge the bullet, eh, the awkward hello and lying how good it was to see him. I quickly nipped into the movie store and then off to Woolies. There the magical thing happened. In the queue which was very long which was great, because there was: me, a really cute guy, lots of looks and little smiles, and some more looks and little smiles.

And so the equation goes:

Caudalie moisturizer, which makes you look glowing: R 350 
Woolies groceries: R 280
Flirting with a cute guy when not wearing any make-up and after almost running into an ex: Priceless

And this is why I like Woolies so much better than PnP...
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