Just two weeks into my Love TEFL internership, and my radio project was under way. The kids in the News group got off to a flying start, quickly grasping what constitutes a news story and the various ways in which that information can be conveyed to an audience. By the end of the week, they'd put together a full bulletin of local stories (the 'lead' - about new homes and jobs being created in Ocean View, where the school is - not being a far cry from what you might hear on an actual local radio station!), which we then played to the rest of the class.

During that week, it transpired that the other kids, whose groups I would see in subsequent weeks, were more than a little keen to get started on their bits of the programme. And the following week I did change things, so that I'd see a different group each day for several weeks, rather than giving them each one week at a time. But before that solution presented itself, my/their teacher teacher asked me if I would like to take a few small groups off for art classes in the afternoons, to give us all time to get to know each other. And that's exactly what I did.

After second break (also known as a lunch break to us in the UK, but not here, presumably due to the fact that most kids and teachers at the school seem to eat their lunch at first break, around 10.30am), I taught several small groups how to make colour wheels, and as they painted first the primary and then the complimentary colours, they told me about their ambitions in life: their dream jobs (soccer player, ship builder, lawyer...), the number of children they'd like, the pets they'd like to own... I can't say I wasn't just a bit envious of these 10 year olds, with their clear ideas about their lives and where they're headed!!

At home too (it's amazing how quickly a new place becomes home, even if it is a rather dingy, damp, untidy and unclean abode), I found myself having conversations with housemates I'd not yet taken the time to speak to. And, knowing I should get on board with the whole 'shared house' thing a bit more, I even agreed to go to a karaoke night at a bar called the Brass Bell in Kalk Bay. It was, as I had suspected, utterly s*** - but the local boys imitating the likes of Eminem kept me amused. As did Leonard's son Justin, who I first met hiking up a mountain called Ou Kraal - our substitute activity the day we missed out on surfing due to the shark attack at Muizenberg.

Justin has become a good friend to both me and Becca, having introduced us to his local pub and his group of friends - people who I would now count as mine and Becca's friends, too. Becca, by the way, is one of my housemates and has fast become my main buddy here (you will hear her name lots more in later blogs). There are 14 years difference between us, as there are between me and Kate, another of my closest housemates. But it doesn't feel like it. It could, of course, simply be the case that I am massively immature, or perhaps they're old before their time, but I don't actually think either is the case. I have reached the conclusion that there are just people in the world who you like, and people whose company can be a little more testing.

The latter is the reason why Kate and I escaped to Cape Town for our third weekend here. To be fair, I think most people in the Big Brother house could have done with a weekend away from one another at that point; it was never going to be entirely plain sailing with so many of us under one roof, no matter how hard we all tried to get along. Thankfully, as soon as we were on the train to Cape Town, the pressure of communal living lifted - as though it had been sucked through the windows that look out towards the sea, and scattered on the wind.

Once in Cape Town, we walked under a clear blue sky to the V&A Waterfront - a beautiful area which has no doubt drawn lots of tourists to the town and given the local economy a boost (oh god, how long will I have to have not worked as a journo before I stop saying boring things like that?!), but which kind of misrepresents the city and its surrounding areas. We took our time strolling around a craft market (where I bought a vastly over-priced headband made out of beautiful African fabric), then had lunch at the food market - a very middle class affair but, frankly, one I enjoyed immensely. And just before we left the waterfront, we sat on the harbour watching a group of musicians play the kind of music that puts a smile on your face - or widens the one you're already wearing.

We stayed in a hostel not far from the famous Long Street (but far away enough for us to know we'd get a much-needed, peaceful night's sleep), called Ashtanti Lodge. If we hadn't already planned an adventure for the evening, then the long, cool corridors, high, corniced ceilings, sash windows and wooden floors might've kept us there. But we HAD planned an adventure - a trip up nearby Signal Hill... And we weren't the only ones. Around two hundred people gathered there that night, and we all watched the sun sink beneath the blanket of cloud that had covered Cape Town, as the full moon rose up between the mountains behind us. Magic.

One man who can be found on Signal Hill every day - come rain or shine, full moon or new moon - is a painter called Ishmael, who I'd say is in his 60's. If you stand around talking to him for long enough, he tells you how his paintings directly influenced Mandela's move towards peace during the ANC's struggle for power and the ending of Apartheid. It's a long and captivating tale - and one I hope is true ('The Painter and the Revolution'!), but it was hard to ascertain just how much of what he was telling us had happened in the same mind that sees colours and shapes on the mountainsides that us ordinary folk do not...

The following day (Sunday 10th August), Kate and I went to church. Anyone who knows me will be aware that while I don't follow a particular religion, I do get off on a bit of spirituality, and I usually make a point of visiting at least one church / religious buiding when I go away. Here in South Africa, St George's Cathedral was a potent choice, having been the place where Nobel Peace Prize winner Archbishop Desmond Tutu was installed during the Apartheid era.

The service itself was a fairly standard Catholic affair, if I can say such a thing, but there are always useful elements to take away from these things, even if many of the rituals involved seem unnecessary to the uninitiated. Of particular relevance and help was the reminder that God (or, as I prefer, the essence of goodness) is in all of us - even the less desirable ones! - a sentiment which brought to mind the first section of Max Ehrmann's poem, Desiderata:

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

After the service, Kate and I (placidly!) made our way back to Fish Hoek, refreshed and more than ready for another week in the company of our housemates, our school pupils, and all the new friends we've made along the way.