Le weekend

Ok so number of minutes spent at Home Affairs sorting out this name situation: about 45, which actually included getting there fifteen minutes before they opened, waiting around for fifteen minutes after they should have opened for somebody to come and let us all in, and then a fairly quick and painless process in which I went straight for the person who looked like she was running the show and laid out my predicament (much to the chagrin of everyone else there I'm sure, but I'm sorry, in some circumstances my usually quite considerate nature goes out the window).

After this woman accused me having filled the form in incorrectly – because, you know, it would be impossible for holier-than-cow HA to have messed something up – she dug out a copy, discovered it was their own damn fault and assured me it would be rectified and that my ID would be reissued.

So that's that. Crises averted. Although you can be sure I'm going to be on the phone checking up on them every few days to make sure they don't suddenly drop my last name or something equally catastrophic.

The again, plain Jade Taylor has a nice ring to it.

In other weekend news, spent a rather lovely Friday night with Princess at The Mobile Boutique launch at the Biscuit Mill (working on Saturdays sort of precludes any Friday night shenanigans of the party party party variety). Some nice work by Cape Town designers, and, for a change, reasonably priced. Of course, the Princess and I got rather more worked up about an early edition of the complete works of Oscar Wilde than we did about most of the clothes, but that's English majors for you (sadly, it was only part of the display, and though we considered attempting a 'You flash him and I'll grab it and run' manoeuvre, we decided it best not to make a spectacle of ourselves).

Spent most of Saturday and Sunday working (work work and freelance work) but managed to slip in a Pickwick's milkshake (hello heaven in a glass) with Bunny, The Serbian and The Giggler on Sunday arvi. Why is it that whenever our old high school gang gets together we end up having hysterical this-could-only-happen-in-a-movie-or-to-us moments? Ah, what larks...

Then toddled off on my high heels to the Cape Town City Ballet's 75th birthday party last night for a lovely gala evening of nostalgia and theatre glamour – and, incidentally, a nearly crippling stomach ache ... was it the milkshake? Say it isn't so!