SHOWCASE & BLOG

Strange things sometimes happen at the writers’ groups. Here’s one of them ... A basket has magically appeared in my living room. Please,...

There are romance writers, and then there are people who can write about romance, which is not necessarily the same thing. Belinda...

This week I’d like to pay tribute to Nicky Handfield, a brave, positive woman who was already very ill with cancer when she came to do a...

Several members of the writers’ groups do well under pressure. Calene Kruger (she of the knitted mittens) can cut things particularly...

It’s a joy to me that my grandsons love books. Daniel, nearly 12, reads voraciously; James, 10, has a growing appetite and Michael, 6,...

Much of what a writer produces never reaches an audience, but we keep working anyway. One of the great benefits of writers’ groups is...

The writers who meet in my home each month are a constant source of inspiration and delight. There are novelists and columnists, a poet...

John O’Donohue, who writes with such wisdom about the human condition, says: “There is a kindness that dwells deep down in things; it...

My first magazine article, published 30 years ago, has a picture of me, the wannabe writer. There I stand: a young, suburban mother of...

An email arrived the other day, offering me access to three short presentations by a well-known teacher. Sign up and enjoy this FREE...

By Cathy Eden At 8.30 on this perfect morning, low tide offers a shining expanse of sand as a mirror to the mountain. There’s no sign of...

By Cathy Eden Every year I go to great lengths to plan a daily programme; one that includes household chores, meditation, exercise, time...

The vans are lined up on Kalk Bay pier. The catch is in, and it's a big one. Silvery snoek lie in a glistening heap, but not for long....

By Cathy Eden My walk this morning takes me over Belmont bridge and up to Rondebosch common. At the crest of the bridge there’s an...

My walk this morning takes me over Belmont bridge and up to Rondebosch common. At the crest of the bridge there’s an apartment window...

Twelve months seem to have flashed by and here we are, preparing for another trip around the sun. I'm not one for new year's resolutions,...

'Come to dinner,' Elizabeth said, 'I want you and Jean to meet each other.' To be fair, I have to point out that it was hellish hot that...

By Cathy Eden Autumn is, without doubt, my favourite time of year. The debilitating heat of summer is over; the smog-clearing wind, for...

By Cathy Eden I smell him before I see him: feral, dank, his scuffed denims exuding the mustiness of last night’s inhospitable subway....