don't let the bells end
Saturday, December 24, 2005
Saw King Kong last night. My word. Have decided that Adrian Brody is what you'd get if you morphed together Carter and Luka off ER. Phwoar. Fantastic film, too. And the refurbished Embassy has extremely spiffy loos.
In other news, my stoically resigning myself to our taking months and months to settle back to life in Godzone has proved a bit previous. In fact, it's all going much faster than I expected: Jack starts work on 4 January and we went unconditional on the house on Thursday. Won't be moving in until Jan is well under way for various tedious reasons I won't bore you with (for one thing all the lawyers have now gone off on their hols for the next three weeks). Still, while it may be glacial progress by NZ standards, after waiting four months in the UK just to exchange contracts, as far as I'm concerned it's all slipping past like line off a reel.
Other things I've been doing:
- spot of contract work, editing training manuals for NZ Post. Couple more days and we can afford a washing machine.
- practising balancing one-legged on my bad leg. Can now manage it with both eyes closed, so far without anything going *ping*. With any luck I should be match fit for fulltime Rebecca-wrangling by the time Jack goes back to work.
- reading Fleur Adcock, for some reason.
And, as you may have noticed, not answering my emails. Or sending Christmas cards. Sorry, sorry, sorry; much gratitude to the kind folks who have; half-baked assurances that normal service will be restored next year, when things may be less frenzied. I can't even post a wholesome family Christmas picture as all our photos are stuck on the camera until we can get our hands on the shipment, which is still on the Petone docks until the New Year. So instead close your eyes for a moment and picture, if you will, Jack in a reindeer jumper and comedy antlers, his countenance wreathed in a paternal smile, his arm around a beaming and sticky infant who is busy trying to jam a striped candy-cane up her nose and a harassed but happy-looking woman in a Weet-bix-encrusted kaftan, who is attempting to stop her. Or a scene of similar chaotic merriment. Merry Christmas!
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