My favourite street.

After three weeks of painful separation, BF – who went to visit his home country of Mauritius – and I are finally reunited. And with nothing to do besides enjoy each other on Women’s Day, and do whatever I wanted for a change (since it was MY day after all) we set out for Parkhurst to go look at things for the house and get inspired.

That’s what I love about Parkhurst, particularly 4th Avenue. You don’t have to have a particular mission in mind; you can just start at one end of the street and move your way up, enjoying all the fantastical boutiques and décor shops until your man starts annoyingly pulling at your sleeve because he’s tired and wants a beer.

And then begins the next wonderful task of picking a restaurant to sit at. There are so many, and between BF and I, I don’t know who’s more indecisive. It’s like the blind leading the blind, up and down 4th Avenue, until someone starts to cry.

I think of Parkhurst as a little bit of Cape Town [I said little]. It’s other worldly – and you can do everything from decorate your house, antique it out, clothe shop, drop the kids off at art class, and eat ’till you can’t anymore. You can even go to church. And if you’re one of the really lucky ones who jumped on the real-estate bandwagon when the time was right, you can do all this, and then walk up the road to your quaint, ultra-stylish house.

One day I will live there. Watch this space.