little fluffy clouds

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

We've established then, that we'd like to live in Island Bay. Or Northland. Or Wilton, or Brooklyn. We'd even consider Miramar. But I've vetoed Ngaio, and Jack has reservations about J'ville. Just look at the amenities! I keep reminding him. Hmmmm.

Have also decided that I'd like a full-time job. Or a part-time one. Or some freelance editing/writing. Or to be a dedicated full-time mummy which apparently is the only way not to end up with an emotionally fractured child, according to that woman on the radio who nonetheless appeared to have found the time dash off an entire book on the subject.

So that's settled then. Lots of dogs. No dogs.

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it's a good job i think you're a girl

Monday, November 28, 2005

World's Fastest Indian uplifting, inspiring &c and without glutinous sentimentality in the American mode. Especially liked the way the story was presented as a straight narrative, no explanatory flashbacks or dissolves to clear things up for dumbo audience. Instead, the back story was filled in by passing references in the narrative present, with the only visual glimpse of past events provided by the photo album that appeared briefly at the beginning of the film. Anthony Hopkins thoroughly convincing Kiwi bloke, even if his newzuld accent did sound a little Cornish. Tim Shadbolt must have had a top agent, as his leering visage seemed to pop up in every other scene until Burt left NZ.

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scratch

Sunday, November 27, 2005

In all honesty, my idea of paradise is a house on a beach and a stack of books.

This weekend, we went to no open homes. Instead the three of us drove up to Jack's mum's beach house up the Kapiti coast, got the stereo working and the portable radiator and hunkered down and read borrowed books and listened to the wind and Nitin Sawhney and Boards of Canada (ours) and Ravel and Debussy (the house's). On Saturday we explored Otaki, walking from State Highway One to the beach and back again. On the hot sand I unzipped my detachable trouser legs as we waited for J to return with icecreams. Minutes later clouds closed over us and cold rain began. Walked back up the long straight road to the township, where we bought live green-lipped mussels, which we took home, steamed and ate them with bread and butter, salad, fake beer (me) and questionable white wine uncovered at the back of the pantry (Jack).

On Saturday, Rebecca spent her first night in a proper bed, all by herself, and her poor sodden-hearted mother shed tears and actually uttered the words 'My little girl is growing up.'

Net access intermittent, time and energy for writing fleeting. Hour late. Bear with me.

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she's like a city: somethings to do in Auckland

Monday, November 14, 2005

• watch obscure but inspiring sports docos and get sick from the dodgy handheld camera work. (Although it may have been the sashimi.)
  
• discover that the dank wastelands of your youth have been transformed into well-groomed walkways with helpful signage. Walk along them with your partner, hand in hand, and explain how when you were a lass, all this were fields. Realise that you haven't taken a hand-in-hand walk with your partner during daylight hours since the birth of the Bug. Be grateful for grandparents.
  
• trial patented leg-over-torso technique for toddler immobilisation during floor-based nappy changes. Surprisingly effective, although it helps if you have flexible hips. (Which I do, thanks to assiduous Pilates.)
  
• realise that the telly's rubbish and surreptitiously listen to The News Quiz online with headphones after everyone else is in bed.
  
• be horrified at the cost of books. Resolve to join a library as soon as you settle in Wellington
  
• visit old friends. Meet offspring of some of them.
  
• enjoy: flat whites*, the scent of manuka blossom, the call of the tui, roast kumara.
  
• discover to your chagrin that Phoenix no longer make melon mineral water, which was your favourite soft drink in the whole world. Grudgingly allow that the feijoa version is an acceptable substitute.
  
• after a lengthy search, find a source of fake beer!
  

*the best way to make coffee

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i wish i [were] in wellington

Friday, November 11, 2005

After a couple of extremely mellow weeks in Auckland we've decided to head south next Tuesday, breaking the journey with an overnight stay in Tokaanu (somewhere near Turangi; motel has its own mineral pools!) and arriving in Wellington some time on Wednesday. You have been warned.

Today also marks a significant and unexpected personal milestone, which I may tell you about some day. For now, I'll just say that I'm feeling very pleased with myself.

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at home

Thursday, November 10, 2005

After a week and a half I already feel as though I'm home. This may sound strange as I am, of course, home, but last year when we came back for Charlotte and Ben's wedding, I was disturbed to feel, for the whole of the first week, as though I were in a foreign country, and then by the end of the second week we were gone, back to the UK before I had time to settle to it.

This time around, a year on, the UK already seems very distant and I don't feel like a foreigner in my own country. Although I already miss all our British (and Britain-based) mates. And the Beeb. Especially John Humphrys. So saving our very small stash of Yorkshire tea for when the pangs become especially acute.

Righto, I'm off to practice my HRTIs (High Rising Terminal Inflections)?

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tick(s)

Friday, November 04, 2005

One week down and feeling most relaxed although have Got a surprising amount of Stuff Done. Such as buy a car. Brief (my doing) being a 'big ugly station wagon [estate]' we have done ourselves proud. While not actually as ugly as all that, it is a rather dodgy colour - a sort of silvery-khaki-pale-mucus. Job jobbed! For those who are the least bit interested in cars it's a Honda Orthia, which sounds like a brand of mobility scooter but isn't.

Becca's first week of being a proper Kiwi has passed off nicely - she's having a marvellous time and under her grandparents' patient, not to say relentless, tutelage, has picked up about five thousand words of vocab in the last eight days, thereby throwing my many shortcomings as a fulltime Bugwrangler/educator into sharp relief. She is extraordinarily happy, having particularly bonded with my father, whom she addresses, confusingly, as Dad/Dad-dad, in accordance with her practice of omitting the first half of words, often repeating the second half instead. (Thus 'Balamory' becomes, simply, 'Mory', and butterflies are fly-flies.) Jack is still Daddy.

Meanwhile Jack and I are enjoying being able to leave her with the g'parents and hardly any guilt and go off and Do Stuff such as buy cars and open bank accounts without having to pause every ten seconds and say Becca just a minute mummy won't be long Becca come here please Becca leave that ALONE BECCA! &c

Many thanks for all the emails and good wishes - will do my best to catch up with people as soon as poss.

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