… at twelve, will there be a knock at the front door?

Daddy-o, you’ve got the swagger of a champion/too bad for you, you just can’t find the right companion/I guess when you have one too many, makes it hard, it could be easy/who you are, that’s just who you are, baby” blared the music as I accelerated my Mini around the Van Buren slip-road and headed onto the N3 north towards an expectant lunch date at the Fourways Design Quarter.

Womanizer, woman-womanizer, you’re a womanizer, oh womanizer, oh you’re a womanizer, baby/you, you, you are, you, you, you are a womanizer, womanizer, womanizer (womanizer)” I screeched back out of key to no one in particular with the broadest grin on my face. I was having a party of my own and I was host/DJ/and guest of honour all rolled into one.

The Highveld sun streamed through the open sunroof and the heady aroma of the no fun skinny kiddies latte with wings in my hand, there was seemingly all the time in the world before New Years Eve stuck in a few hours time and I would welcome the new year along with all the opportunities and challenges that it would bring. But as the last few hours of the old year still on my mind, I wanted to put it behind me.

With so much good that had happened there were one or two black clouds that marred the beautiful ice-cream sunset that stretched over the horizon. And while the baggage that I’m getting rid of may be Louis Vuitton, it’s baggage that’s on its way out the door.

But for now, please accept only my sincere best wishes for the New Year and all that it will unpack for you and your loved ones. All I have to say is “lollipop, you must mistake you’re a sucker. To think that I, would be a victim, not another say it, play how you want it. But no way I’m never gonna fall for you, never you, baby.

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