I was chatting to someone last night who said they weren’t happy and it got me thinking a little bit. I mean, no one can be happy for all of their life. There is just too much to get in the way of things. I’m not at all saying that it’s a bad thing, though. All these things change and mould us into the creatures we are, but I just think there are ways to make us feel better about things – like your own personal escape.

As I type, I’m sitting in my happy place. I’m on the couch of my grandmother’s home in Hermanus. I look out the window in one direction and I see mountains. In the other, I see the small koppie that once had an electric candle on it’s head before a fire changed that. I’ve been coming to this home before I was born, and Hermanus has only good memories for me. It keeps me sane. I think a lot of that has to do with my gran too. She sits here struggling to read her crossword puzzle now, sometimes commenting on the way the village has changed so much or to pass some more of her dry humour that I understand so well. It all comes together beautifully.

I have only ever brought one girl here, and even though that remembrance is always here, it is something that is now part of this place, and it’s something I’m glad is . I’ve walked around the nature reserve and driven the road staring at the houses. I’ve spent many many days on the beaches, which started out with building sand-castles and then developed into admiration of the talents that visited the white sands.

This is my escape. My calm. My place. I sit here and watch the rain fall outside. It makes me happy inside. And it’s better than any drug you’ve ever tried. I think my point here is that everyone should have some kind of escape. Whether it is a real place or a place you disappear to when you vanish into your head. The memory and the significance of my happy place holds everything I need to focus and stay sane. And I would suggest you go and do the same…