
I’m stumped. I’m not sure what to write about and how to put a humorous twist on it, so here goes one of my more boring posts. Game plan is just to go for it and see what happens :)
This past weekend I went to a barbeque in Pasadena. Pasadena is pretty much a city on the outskirts of Los Angeles. The suburban working class that work in LA will live in Pasadena. That said, it is very… Suburban. Upon my arrival on a light summer’s Saturday, children were playing in their ‘front yards’ (a.k.a Front Garden), swinging in tyres hanging from beautiful big trees that could probably tell a tale or two. I felt like I was back in Newlands or Bishopscourt, except for one vital difference. There were no fences. (Let me repeat that again) NO FENCES. Not even any white picket fences. Imagine no walls and fences back in South Africa. Maybe a bit of a security threat. But not here, where the children are giggling, the wives are inside making lemonade and Pops is working on his childhood dream car in the driveway. Although the neighbourhood seemed a little generic, it was incredibly calming. No police car sirens, no fire trucks sirens and no helicopters flying around overhead. I didn’t want to leave. The fresh air was rejuvenating – I was all set to handle Hollyweird again.
The party consisted of a bunch of people (who clearly never drank) playing “beer pong” and some serious studs doing pull-ups on a sturdy tree trunk in the garden. Really? REALLY!? Needless to say, I sat on a chair and never moved the whole night. I think I spoke a whole 9 words - and there it is Ladies and Gentlemen – how to get Ashleigh van der Hoven to shut up!
My Shopping addiction.
My cooking addiction.
Don’t even get me started with Abercrombie and Fitch. They have live –yes-live – models standing at the entrance to welcome you. Lets attempt to look at this realistically: I am from Cape Town - Model City, I’ve seen my fair share of male models, topless even – frolicking like painfully happy human beings on the beach. Even my brother-in-law used to be a model idiot. But they stand there, smiling and shirtless in perfectly designed jeans and immaculately chiselled abs and kindly “welcome” you. So I do what any 19 year old, innocent girl that hails from the South of Africa would do. I walk in, blush crimson red when welcomed and buy a thing or 2.
Talk about enticing!
My cooking addiction however is not so counter productive and under normal circumstances I’d be cursing it due to weight intake, but its fits in perfectly with operation get fat. I have worked my way through Ainsley Harriot's book (Chef from ready, steady, cook) and am looking to find another book to inspire me. Cooking is so calming and gets my head in a great space. Yea, cooking for one isn’t as much fun, but I see this as my training period. A quiet and mistake friendly environment where I won't be embarrassed about messing up. So far my specialties are my Famous Chips (yes, those that have had the pleasure of tasting them have now dubbed them – Ashleigh’s Famous Chips) baked in the oven with plenty of garlic, rosemary and olive oil. Right up there is my steak with an amazing assortment of spices and of course my Paella. Its official. I am domesticated. AND I clean up after myself!
Something I have found incredibly surprisingly is that it seems the time spent on the yacht with my dad has become incredibly valuable. I like to reflect on it as Domestic Boot Camp. The Wolf taught me intensely efficient ways to wash dishes, clean my bathroom, and most importantly “Don’t put down, put away!”
Three days and I am on my way home! Spending the first weekend in Tshwane (oh yes, I did ) and then soon onto Cape Town. I am beside myself with excitement. I cant wait to see my family, friends and boyfriends… I mean boyfriend. No “s”. (Phew – close call ;) )
Lots of Love,
Ashxxx



