Escape to nostalgia, anyone?

'Five of the World's Sunniest Cities' goes the BBC website travel headline. From deep in my heart comes the whisper: "Johannesburg." And sure enough, the article features the place of my happy, golden childhood years.

I remember waking to a kiss of sunshine every morning (or so it seemed); venturing out to spend time in the garden whenever I wanted... unless there was the drama of a thunderstorm and/or cloudburst to clear the air; riding my bike to school on sparkly, frosty winter mornings that melted into midday warmth... Ah yes.

I've heard it said that, because of the mining on the gold reef, everyone breathes in homeopathic doses of aurum. Perhaps that's why Johannesburgers have the well-earned reputation of being friendly, the local populace cheerful.

Which I am not, right now.

On this April morning when the temperature at 7 a.m. reads minus ten, I'm dreaming of moving to warmer climes, where spring, perhaps, comes when it should. I think of my father-in-law, who, at the age of seventy, decided he wanted to return to the country of his youth... England. And I'm beginning to understand this longing, although, climate-wise, my father-in-law's switch would not have been advantageous. Nevertheless he had a few years of enjoying life in the depths of the Devonshire countryside, surrounded by pastoral bliss. Plus, of course, being immersed once again in that special and stimulating English sensibility.

And there, for me, lies the rub if I think of returning to South Africa. Sunshine and friends, yes, but what about the culture (in the general sense of the word)? Here in the northern hemisphere I've grown accustomed to being in the thick of things as it were. Meanwhile South Africa has moved on - in both good and bad ways.

So I'll hang tight for the time being and trust that April is almost done being so cruel.