The Score of a Year: Reflecting on 2025

If I had to describe my 2025 in one image, it wouldn’t be a graph or a photograph or some neat summary. It would rather be a piece of sheet music. A score. Inked lines carrying notes that rise and fall, shift tempo, change key, sometimes move confidently, and sometimes stumble into silence before gathering themselves again. When I am lucky, a stunning melody.

People often accuse me of being an optimist. I’ve never quite agreed and actually become irritable when they do. I don’t ignore what is hard or broken or sad. I simply refuse to let a single minor chord define the whole composition. I think I am more of a realist. Life is layered. It moves. It surprises. It angers and hurts all of us, all of the time. But it is, undeniably, resilient.

Before I go any further, a small but important truth. My life is not neat. It is not solved. It is not calm all the time. I struggle, often quietly, sometimes clumsily. I get things wrong. I hurt people I care about. I overestimate my capacity. I underestimate the cost of tiredness. I chase too much. I sit with doubt more than certainty. I do things I shouldn’t and sometimes neglect to do that which I must. And so this reflection is not a victory lap or a sermon. It is simply a snapshot from where I am standing now – grateful, bruised in places, still learning and struggling. Like everyone else.

This year reminded me, yet again, that joy and hardship are not opposites. They are neighbours. And if you’re awake, if you’re willing to sit with both, your life becomes richer, deeper and, perhaps, strangely more faithful to reality.

2025 was a year of ebbs and flows. Of crescendos and quiet. Of friends and faith and fear. Of work and wandering. Of books and bodies and becoming. Of endings and beginnings. And above all, of people. Always people.

Movement I: The Elders – Timekeepers of Wisdom

I end this year thinking a lot about older people – not as symbols of decline but as custodians of tempo. They know when to speed up, when to slow down, when to savour a moment and when to move on. As Leonard Cohen wrote in his later years, “There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.” I think older people know that line instinctively.

Ninety-one-year-old, clever, caring, inspirational, fun, funny, glorious Kate Turkington, who has shaped many of my shelves and much of my thinking, reminded me again of the gift of the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. Amongst many timeless lines in that poem, this one still anchors me:

“Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.”

This year I said goodbye to Anna Starke – glamorous, sharp, fun, provocative until the end. I am grateful to have bought a portrait of her at the Strauss auction. She will live on at KleinBlouKlip, where we are building our own art gallery. Anna reminds me that ageing has nothing to do with dullness. You can be alive until the very last bar – and play to your own beat. Long life, dear nuclear pink Anna.

And also Auntie Gemma, who knew me my whole life, who gave us our childhood poodles, and whose estate I am privileged to help wind up (by the way – if you do not have a will, or have one with a bank, you are being extremely unkind to your loved ones – sort it out, please). Death is rarely tidy, but it can be celebrated. Auntie Gemma had a life fully lived.

Old age – real old age – is underrated. There is fierceness in it. Perspective. Courage. It’s something to aspire to. Spending time with my dad recently, soon 88, he is (despite needing a walking stick and major hassles with his eyesight) active, working, interested and interesting. A real joy and inspiration. Dankie Annemarie – jy speel ’n baie groot rol hierin. My dad and I are not overly affectionate. We don’t need much stroking and rarely verbalise our emotions – least of all to those close to us. But in snatches of time spent together, I am deeply grateful for what I learn from him.

Movement II: The Body – Fragility and Recovery

Earlier this year I had a major epileptic fit. It came out of nowhere. That moment in Woolworths, with strangers helping, and then Rikus, Celeste and Anne stepping in, was memorable – and frightening. My mum’s neurologist ran all the tests. Luckily nothing serious underneath, but I am on daily medication out of prudence and care (and I am still looking for a small, antique silver pillbox if you can direct me).

I’m not embarrassed about being epileptic. Illness, like hardship, is part of the music. Some people have to hide their diagnoses. I’m grateful that I don’t. And nobody should have to. Mental or physical illness is something we all have to deal with. And wow – some people deal with extraordinary medical challenges. I remain in awe of public figures like Tatiana Kennedy Schlossberg, who died just yesterday, and who fought her battle publicly. And to my friends making difficult choices about how to beat cancer and other diseases – my prayers and thoughts are with you and your families daily.

Gladys Mwede, who has worked with my family for many years, was also terribly ill for almost three months this year. Her absence made it obvious, again, how much I rely on her and how important it is to care properly for the people who care for you. Gladys recovered fully. I am very grateful. To Gladys and the rest of my tight support network (Penny and Rikus), massive gratitude.

As if to underline the point of health and its fragility, I also had a fall during a motorcycle lesson in mid-December. It could have been far worse. I was sore and badly bruised, the bike has some damage, but I walked away ready to die another day. I’m still tending some wounds and will enter 2026 with some lingering pain in my leg and chest, but I am going to be fine with ongoing medical care. It was a sharp reminder of how quickly things can change. One moment upright, the next on the ground. And yes, as some of you pointed out, perhaps a very direct way for God to remind me to take a breath. Or two.

I have Carpe Diem tattooed on my leg – seize the day – not as bravado, but as a reminder. Live fully. Pay attention. Say what needs saying. Do not postpone joy or kindness or courage. I am deeply grateful the fall wasn’t more serious. It could have been.

My own health? I neglected it. I slept well, I didn’t eat nonsense, but I often ate too much, too fast, and moved too little. Many reasons. No excuses. Just honesty. I need to lose weight and become more agile, not for aesthetics but because I want to live a long, active life. So 2026 will bring a shift: more movement, more breath, more discipline. Better prioritisation and more saying no – so don’t be offended if you are on the receiving end of a few no’s. I’ve already started.

Movement III: Home – Endings, Beginnings and the Spaces We Build

After more than 40 years living there, I packed up and sold Woodburn Lodge. Generations of memories. Like after my mum’s death, I try not to sweep things under the carpet. I acknowledge the meaning, process it, and move forward with lessons. It was time.

When in Joburg (still where my heart is in many ways), I stayed often with Carolynne and Wimpie, and sometimes with Mishybelle or the Craffords – generous, stable, loving friends. Their generosity made the transition lighter and the super-busy Jozi visits good ones.

And then, on the other side of the country, KleinBlouKlip continues to rise from dust to possibility. Thanks to Ramon and the entire Dibi team, one house is complete, the Di Clementes have moved in, and ours will be ready around March. It remains a huge project, with many people helping with completion, but one filled with privilege, beauty and community. Ek was so bly toe Coenie de Villiers se konsert op die bouperseel die huis gebless het met musiek – nou in die fondamente.

My hope is that KleinBlouKlip will continue to grow into a place of gathering – concerts, discussions to make things better, long tables, vreugde.

In the middle of December, André Serfontein preached on vreugde – not blydskap, not superficial happiness, but deep joy that sits alongside hardship, not in place of it. In Greek, chara. A word that holds tension and grace. That sermon will stay with me for a long time.

I was elected to chair the Blaauwklippen Valley Security Forum, work that isn’t glamorous but matters deeply. Safety is not for one group. It’s for all of us. It requires partnership, patience and a refusal to look away. Being involved in our communities, I suggest, is something we all must do. Not outsource it to politicians or “others”. It has been so lekker to work with and for more of my neighbours and community – many exceptional humans, some of whom have been doing this work for decades in our beautiful valley. Thank you.

My identity is tied deeply to my country. And while it is a huge ache to leave messed-up, chaotic, glorious and fabulous Johannesburg behind, it is also exciting to explore more of what the Western Cape has to offer.

Movement IV: France – A Different Key, Same Song

France was a major movement this year. Months spent at Château de Montflour and Paris, supporting Christo Lindeque as he brought the Lindeque dream to life. The website is now live, the rooms ready, the place humming. Christo, Cristina, Hansie, Jane, Nico and Vee – what a team. Rikus worked tirelessly to support and assist. 2026 will be a breakthrough year for Montflour, I have no doubt. So visit if you can, and good luck to Christo and the Montflour team.

France is one of my heart’s homelands. I love the language. I start my days with Wordle, Connections and French Duolingo. My intense French lessons with the stunning Therése begin again soon. La langue est une musique elle-même.

Travel is not escape. It is expansion. Or as I wrote earlier this year, “travel is the privilege of walking through the world with your eyes open.” Voir le monde, c’est se voir soi-même.

Movement IV (interlude): Stillness, Trees and the Gift of Nature

I am writing this just after returning from Mashatu Game Reserve. Time in nature always recalibrates me. And Mashatu is a magical gift, like playing bridge, that my dear friend Michele Sparkes introduced me to.

I love trees. Always have. They do not rush. They grow despite storms, drought, fire and human indifference. They remind me that strength is often quiet and that time works differently when you stop trying to control it.

Being in wild places restores something elemental in us all, I think. It slows the tempo. Lowers the volume. It reminds me that my worries, while real, are not the whole story. That I am small, held and passing through something far bigger than myself. Whether watching the famous Mashatu leopards, finding an elusive porcupine with her baby (thanks Takara), sitting with baboons watching them feed their young, marvelling at the veins in the huge ears of a steenbok, watching iridescent green dung beetles roll their dung, or hundreds of other unique moments in the exquisite landscape, a week in Mashatu recharged both mind and body.

Nature is perhaps a gift we too often underestimate. One we should protect more fiercely and enter more humbly. Prince Davey at KleinBlouKlip, alongside our owls, mostly harmless snakes, frogs, ducks, birds, duiker, butterflies, chameleons, squirrels and so many other forms of life, brought me immense joy this year.

Movement V: Books, Words and Festivals – My Lifelong Companions

2025 pulled me back into words.

The Thursday Next Book Club, started by Colin, kept me reading. Not enough, but more than I would have without it. I can feel how my concentration has slipped in recent years. Reading restores depth. I miss that depth. So, this holiday, 20-plus books have been devoured and are being devoured – many from the Stellenbosch Woordfees writers. I cannot wait to unpack my library at KleinBlouKlip.

Reading, for me, is not a hobby. It is a way of staying human. A way of widening compassion and stretching imagination. This year I returned to old favourites and discovered new ones again, Afrikaans and English, local and global. The kind of books that don’t only entertain, but quietly shift you. I’ve been thinking about how Nadine Gordimer and JM Coetzee make you sit with discomfort until you see more clearly, how Damon Galgut’s sentences can be restrained yet land like a punch, how Antjie Krog makes language feel like both prayer and protest, and how writers from elsewhere on the continent like Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o remind you that story is not escape, it is evidence. Books help me notice people. And when I’m reading well, I’m usually living better too.

Movement V (continued): Educators, Mentors, Guides

This year Pieter Fourie reconnected me to Lettie, my old French lecturer – part-academic, part-magician. We had a superb lunch in the Western Cape platteland. Lettie reminded me how profoundly teachers shape us. Moenie vergeet om jou onderwysers te bedank nie. Encourage kids to become educators. It is a vocation that forms nations. As a lecturer, Pieter himself inspires – and having just finished his novel ’n Hart is so groot soos ’n vuis, I can highly recommend his books.

I think also of the many mentors in my life who support and grow me. We are built by the hands, hearts and intellects of others. Be a mentor if you can.

Matthew Charlesworth’s homilies, Father Isaac’s online reflections and the Jesuit community continue to challenge me positively. As do the engagements at Stellenbosch Gemeente, thanks to André, Pieter and Deon. Faith, for me, is not certainty. It is curiosity. Wrestling is part of the prayer.

Movement VI: Work – The Professional Chorus

Professionally, this was one of my busiest and toughest years – if not the hardest ever.

At EasyEquities, I took on the HR portfolio as an added role, a responsibility I take seriously as part of my Chief Enablement Officer function. Enabling people is core to my identity. Our staff in South Africa, the Philippines and Europe continue to grow, learn and build. My trip to Manila in November confirmed again that Easy is building something exceptional in the Philippines.

Our sponsorships – Woordfees, Otter Trail Run, Born2Run, Pablo Clark Racing – reflect the diversity of our community and the passion of our people. If you enjoy events, support the brands behind them. Purpose is a two-way street. In 2026, PR and using these sponsorships to drive even more value for our community and shareholders will be one of my key focus areas.

Sparky’s, where I am a minority shareholder alongside founders Michael and Nic, is expanding – the fourth store opens in Waterfall soon, and we have big plans. I back them fully and remain deeply impressed by and grateful for their hard work and vision. Support them, and all entrepreneurs, please. Even if small. Even if quietly. One way is Kiva: https://www.kiva.org/invitedby/carel7586

Boards? My year as a director of the Comrades Marathon Association was busy, frustrating, challenging, rewarding and meaningful. We got some things right and others wrong, but the purpose remains unchanged – runner-focused and strong governance. The 100th running in 2027 approaches, which is hugely exciting. I think of my friend Cheryl Winn, former chair and winner, whom I had breakfast with exactly a year ago today. She died this year. Her legacy is massive. Good luck to Alain, Sue and the team as you move this iconic and vital South African institution forward.

CN&CO – events, recruiting, helping businesses grow, publishing and producing content and a whole lot more. As a founding partner, I am still involved, but with an amazing team who take ownership and drive their own way forward. My role is mainly one of advice, support, guidance and challenge. 2026 has a few lekker CN&CO surprises up its sleeve, including the Simonsberg Wine Festival with the unstoppable, smart and visionary Rose Jordaan.

I was elected chair of the St Stithians College Endowment Fund Trust. The Trust owns and protects the long-term assets of the school – land, investments, institutional memory and the Methodist ethos woven through it. Our job is stewardship: ensuring that future generations inherit stability, value and direction. It is a quiet but profound responsibility. Governance, not glamour. Legacy, not noise. I am grateful to serve.

Feedback from the Easy team and others I work with throughout the year was consistent: positive, warm, appreciative – and also clear that my directness can sometimes hurt. They’re right. I am direct because I care. But care is not an excuse for collateral damage. So in 2026, I will remain direct, but I will work to slow down more often, listen more deeply and choose timing and tone with intention.

My Enneagram 7 wiring means I chase possibilities, sometimes too many. The task is not to be less enthusiastic – it is to be more disciplined. Breadth is a gift only when it is matched by presence.

Movement VII: Friendship – The Choir Behind the Soloist

If the year has a true motif, it is friendship.

I cannot begin to list everyone. You know who you are – especially the small group who I know will literally do anything for me. Weddings. 21sts, 40ths and 50ths. The arrivals of babies. The losses of parents and loved ones. The meals, the laughter, the late-night messages, the small kindnesses that become big anchors. The generosity. The help when I most needed it and least deserved it.

Finale: Hope Without Illusion

I end this year more aware of my many flaws, more conscious of my limits, more grateful for my people and still very much a work in progress. I do not have this figured out. I am trying, sometimes well, sometimes poorly.

2025 was not perfect. Neither am I. I made mistakes. I failed to show up where I should have. I said things too sharply. I rushed. I overcommitted. I exercised too little. I lost people I cared for. I watched friends bury parents and partners. And yet, vreugde – deep joy – remained. Not as a reward, but as a companion.

The older I get, the more I see that life is not a single melody. It is a score. A full orchestration. You don’t get to choose all the instruments, but you do get to choose whether you show up for the performance.

In 2026, I will try to show up more. Slower sometimes. More discerning. More grateful. More deliberate. But fully. EasyEquities remains my main business focus as we deliver on our strategy and promises – as much to ourselves as to our fellow shareholders and the broader community. I continue to choose supporting roles elsewhere as part of the diversity and joy of my broader life.

To whom much is given much is expected.

Thank you for being a part of my score in 2025 and, in anticipation, for the notes you’ll add in 2026.