Searching for Sugar Man

The reviews for this movie have been great and my brother had personally recommended it and repeatedly asked if I had seen it. Earlier today I saw it was on in the Lighthouse's ten seat boutique theatre and about to start, so I decided to call in on the way to the supermarket. Wow! What an amazing movie. An incredible story about a humble, talented man and his absolutely brilliant music. I don't know how much longer this movie will be in theatres, but if you miss it then make sure you see it on dvd. Can't wait for my just ordered Rodriguez cd, Cold Fact, to arrive.

Sounds of Summer

I heard the first cicada this morning. They haven't been a big feature of summer here in Petone for the last two years, not like the cacophony that marked some summers in the bush before the move. I googled the New Zealand cicada and it lead me to Te Ara Encyclopedia - an online kiwi resource. This morning's cicada probably spent three to four years underground before emerging last night and shedding his skin. I say 'his' because apparently it's the males who do all the chirping. This morning was his big chance to impress the ladies and enjoy the sunshine on this glorious Petone morning.

According to Te Ara: 

Predators and other threats include wasps, beetles, fungal parasites, birds and spiders. 

If it was Wikipaedia I could amend the entry to include domestic felines. I heard the first cicada this morning because it was chirping bravely between Millie's jaws after she shot like a rocket into the agapanthus to retrieve it.

The mighty hunter is now reclining on the deck, her work complete but ever vigilant for the next breech of the border.

Chorus Collection

Another in my occassional series of chorus cabinets. This one is at the entrance to Belmont Domain.

I still don't know whether these delightful works of art are just a Hutt phenomenon or enjoyed throughout the Wellington region or even beyond.  

Psychology

Yesterday and today have been set aside as post-Christmas house cleaning days. It's taking two full days because I am improving my efficiency by applying psychological principles to the task. More precisely, I am using sports psychology. Back in the olden days the good athletes trained hard, competed and won. The modern athlete is a much more complex beast. It's not about being able to win, it's about thinking you are able to win. Apparently, one must repeatedly play the event in one's head, imagining the winning sequence of actions over and over until the actual performance is a foregone conclusion. Golfers see the winning putt, swimmers image the perfect dive and so on. That's how the All Blacks got the World Rugby Cup. They won it once, then thought about winning it again over and over for twenty-five years and voila!

That's why, to the casual observer, it might have appeared that yesterday I was lolling about in my dressing gown and playing computer games.

Level 125 - a happy by-product of efficient housework. 

What I was actually doing was lolling about in my dressing gown, playing computer games and mentally cleaning each room in my house to a very high standard, not once but over and over. According to the psychologists I will absolutely fly through the actual process today. Isn't science wonderful?

Lotto and the Glitter Cannon

I was chatting a while back to a friend, saying how stressful it would be to have to go on Winning Wheel to get a prize. I wondered if it was possible to send in a proxy because as much as I would love the money, I could never do the television appearance to get it. She was amazed anyone wouldn't want to do it, but kindly offered to step in for me for a small fifty percent cut of the takings. My fears have definitely been vindicated after this week's wheel - it's not just scary, its downright dangerous.

Apparently the woman is OK, though I'm not sure the presenter was sure of that while she bravely asserted all was well. The upshot is we are now all losers - the Lotto Commission have stated that no longer will glitter cannons be used in future celebrations. The old adage- it's only fun until someone loses an eye - comes to mind. Which also brings to mind the best Christmas themed movie ever. 

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Briscoes - Apology Withdrawn

On July the first, I posted this apology to Briscoes after sourcing a reasonably priced, stainless steel electric kettle. The apology is officially withdrawn. Your prices, Briscoes, are reasonable because your products are crap. A week ago the kettle started making little electric 'fizzy' sounds when switched on. Yesterday it stopped making these noises and also stopped heating the water. To its credit, it did keep illuminating its little 'yes, I'm on the job' light. Six months isn't a long life for an appliance. So now I have a nice new electric kettle.

Rather stylish new electric kettle.

And no, I didn't go back to Briscoes to buy the new one or to claim my rights because I don't have any proof of purchase. I never keep receipts because my experience is that not keeping them is far less annoying further down the track than the alternative. The alternative is knowing the receipt is somewhere, tearing every drawer and cupboard apart and not finding it.

It's definitely here somewhere. 

Patience

Today I posted a Christmas parcel. I've been intending to get it in the post for weeks now and was aware I was leaving my run late. When I arrived at the Post Shop the queue was long and moving very slowly. Given the events of the last week such inconveniences have been placed firmly back into the proper perspective within the great scheme of life. Fussing about waiting ten minutes seems hardly anything to fuss about at all. As I waited patiently, the chap in front hopped from foot to foot, peered ahead with irritation and sighed big sighs. Although he doesn't know me, I know him and I smiled to myself. He's the manager of a local supermarket.

Our eyes met, and it just came out. "It's the mail equivalent of your express checkout." I can't help but feel I got caught up in some retail form of divine retribution, and it was well worth it!

Two Movies

Last Sunday ...

... and this afternoon. Both are excellent, don't miss either.

I love movies, as long as they are in a movie theatre. By theatre, I mean one of the five cinemas at The Lighthouse, Petone. And preferably with a glass of wine. I pay an extraordinarily high monthly bill to TelstraClear for my television 'movie' package. This includes at least five movie channels, but I never watch a single movie. I pay the money because one can only access The Living Channel and a few others by subscribing to a package of some sort. I don't watch dvds. I don't know why, but I can't get into movies at home - they ought to be an experience, and at home they are not.

When I was a child there were lots of rites of passage along the journey of childhood. They were anticipated and enjoyed all the more for the anticipation. In my family, these included a bike (secondhand) at nine, a watch at ten. The first trip to the 'pictures' to see your first 'film' was also one of these. You had to be old and responsible enough to sit through the experience without causing a disruption to others. (I note that such niceties and manners are no longer a parental expectation in today's movie theatres, as the 'I'm special, there's no-one else quite like me, centre of the universe' children tear up and down the aisles.)

Anyway, my first trip to was to see Danny Kaye in Hans Christian Andersen. It started off an appreciation for movie-going as an outing with a special sense of purpose and occasion. You just can't get that in your own living room.

December

It's official - the first day of summer and Christmas frenzy may now begin. Last night I attended a very pleasant seasonally themed event. It was the opening of the Cystic Fibrosis Christmas Tree Festival. It's on for a week at the Michael Fowler Centre. By voting for your favourite tree and making a small donation you can help this worthy cause and get into the spirit of the season. There are lots of trees to view - well worth a visit.

The Christmas card tree got my vote, but it wasn't an easy choice.

The opening of the festival featured entertainment by the Bach Choir, accompanied an ensemble from the symphony orchestra. They sang all the great old-fashioned 'proper' Christmas carols - not a mention of a jolly fat man and his reindeer. It was just lovely!

On the way home we made a quick trip to visit Gandalf. He makes an impressive sight. I never saw any of the 'rings' movies and probably won't see the Hobbit ones, but I like the fun and atmosphere they bring to our cool little capital.

Lawn

I was at a dinner last night - work colleagues and an assemblage of their partners. The food was good and conversation flowed. At one stage I was sitting with a group whose small talk turned to lawns. By a process of elimination, I deduced that the lawn guru to whom the others had turned to for sage advice was the golf course green keeper partner of another staff member. He talked of saturation depths and run-off, while others spoke proudly of their own pristine, weed-free efforts. There was agreement as to the folly of cutting too low and the importance of grass seed selection.

I decided not to share my own lawn stories, but when out in my sunny backyard this morning I gazed upon its beauty, and remain quite sure my lawn is what a lawn should be. A bumble bee was buzzing around the clover flowers. Little white daisies were sprinkled here and there. Defiant dandelions were enjoying a quick flowering before the next mow.

I also have an impressive patch of cape daisy. This tenacious plant links me to fond memories of childhood. My parents waged an ongoing war against this invader,  spending considerable time and effort digging out every plant they could see. Every year the cape daisy, with its strong, long tap roots, remained the ultimate victor and dominated the lawn. But for the daisy chain enthusiast, there is no better material to work with. The stems are sufficiently thick to allow easy slitting with a thumb nail for on-going linking of one daisy to another.  Some possibly record-breaking lengths of chain were produced over long, lazy summer days. 

On the way home, I called in on friends. I was bustled into the garden to view their latest discovery. All through the lawn self-seeded poppy plants have appeared. Anticipation of the colour to come delights them - they know the elements of a real lawn. Their garden will look far nicer than any bowling green or golf course. I'm calling back today to dig out a few plants for myself - a nice contrast against the cape daisy.

So, I am happy with my lawn, and every weed within. But when I mow, I want it to know it's been mowed - I force the mower blade down below the manufacturers sadly inadequate 'low' setting (this interferes with the easy attaching of the catcher, but well worth the effort) and scalp it. Try the scalped weed lawn method - you'll never regret it!

Another Weekend ...

Best served with a side salad of catnip.

... comes swiftly to an end. It's been a pleasant one. Friday night's 50th birthday of a friend was fun - a little wine, a little dancing and the chance for a catch-up with some lovely people. I think Millie must have taken the opportunity of having me out of the house for the evening to invite a few friends around in my absence. To give her her due, by the time I got home close to midnight she had cleared out all signs of feline frolics, apart from one cooked chicken wing on the dining room rug. Heavens knows how she arranged the catering, but there you go - she's a very enterprising cat.

Avoiding eye contact the best policy when questions awkward questions are asked.

All the signs are good for a long, hot summer - the cabbage trees and pohutakawa don't lie. But it would be foolish to assume it will last forever, and so the first two trailer loads of firewood have been stacked this weekend. Quite apart from the visual joy, the garage now has that delicious firewood smell.  

I've been using Google Chrome as my browser at school, and this weekend have made it the default at home, too. Safari just wasn't cutting it in the frenzied world of high graphics farming and Chrome has some great features and extensions, including a very easy YouTube downloader. I know, I was dubious too, but try it - it's great.

No, of course I'm not addicted, why I'm hardly ever on Facebook at all!

Collections

I've always been a bit of a collector, and a fan of the kitsch. As a child I collected the usual stamps, and also Easter egg foils, cigarette cards, coins and postcards. In later years I have amassed an impressive amount of duck related stuff, the major focus being retro flying ducks. In more recent times, I started on snow globes. I had always loved them, and long ago a traveller heading to France asked what I would like her to bring back. I immediately, from deep within, knew an Eiffel Tower snow globe was what I needed. She returned with a postcard featuring pictures of Eiffel Tower snow globes, but not the real thing. And so I started collecting snow globes on my infrequent travels, slowly building my collection but always knowing the catalyst for the collection was glaringly missing.

Note the snow globe on the far right - I'm hoping this Christchurch Cathedral, pre-quake globe will be a sought after collectors item!

Last night the void in my collection was finally filled. A returning traveller, though weighed down with extensive shoe and handbag purchases from far-flung corners of Europe, had brought back a very special bit of Paris just for me.

Perfection in a shimmery, kitsch-filled orb. Just shake to activate.

Sometimes collections pick you, and not the other way around. I have decorated my bathroom with a few rubber duckies. Ernie would approve I'm sure. But recently their numbers are growing. Well-heeled friends are now returning from places afar, and the kitsch of choice is rubber duckies. And so my 'rubber ducks of the world' collection takes off.

The United Nations of Rubber Ducks looks forward to the arrival of more delegates.

Time

It really would be nice if time would just stop moving on. Weeks rocket by, whether reports are being attended to or not, and every week or two another fond memory is now tinged in sadness. Some snobby sorts claim not to watch television. They are the same snobby sorts who had the first televisions in New Zealand, but once they were affordable for the masses it was far trendier to say one didn't watch. I'm happy to admit I love watching TV. I tend to watch a lot of it 'on demand' or via YouTube these days, and avoiding all the crime scene, grizzly murder focussed programmes drives me away from the main channels, but my weeks lately wouldn't be complete without a dose of Coronation Street, Downton Abbey, Survivor, One Foot in the Grave (thank you, UKTV - what a welcome return) and anything from the Living Channel. So, it was with sadness this morning I heard Bill Tarmey has died.

I was raised on Coronation Street, and though I no longer watch Television NZ's outdated supply, I keep up to date with news on the street. What a great character Jack Duckworth was. It was tear-jerking when the character died on the street, but that Bill Tarmey outlives him by only two years is especially sad.

Earlier in the week Clive Dunn died. How lucky we are that we can re-visit all the classic British comedies from the 60s and 70s via YouTube. Dad's Army was always stellar. So, though the years flash by I suppose we should savour the memories and take Corporal Jones' good advice - don't panic!

Sundays in October

October is a month of conflict. My birthday lands smack in the middle, and my thanks to whanau and friends who celebrated with me at a variety of times and places this year. The problem is it falls in a busy time of the year and looming deadlines are ever present. Back in my Teachers' College and university days, October was exam time. Now, in teaching, it's all about report writing. We are already two weeks into what is shaping up to be a very busy term. Most of the records and testing updates are completed and now the writing of reports is underway. I devoted all of yesterday, but as my teaching colleagues know, it takes considerable time to craft each report into a document worthy of each child and their unique strengths and needs. At least another two Saturdays will be needed in addition to what I can fit in during the weeks. My blogging has taken a back seat, but this is just a hiatus and it will be back at full strength again soon, I hope. It really is an absorbing and satisfying interest.

But Sundays remain mine, all mine. The Sunday paper in bed morning ritual cannot be compromised. For the last two weeks I have also enjoyed a meal out and a movie. I can recommend both the movies.

Last week's was a documentary about the Jerusalem community up the Whanganui river. Although I grew up in Whanganui, I have never been to Jerusalem. As a child, I do remember my Father's anger and disgust as the local paper detailed the goings-on in James K. Baxter's commune - tales of depravity and drugs in the hippy haven. Reading about Baxter and enjoying his poetry a few years later, I think it would have been an interesting place to know more about and wish I had taken a bit more notice at the time, and had at some stage visited the area when it was so close. The movie was about the present day, centering on the lives of the local nuns, families and school. See it.

Today's movie was a preview screening of The Sessions, which opens in early November. This was closely based on the true story of a writer and poet, Mark O'Brien. It was brilliant - a great cast and an absorbing story. See it.

Sydney

What a pleasant break in Sydney. All goals were achieved, including the original purpose of the trip which involved a lovely day meeting my aunt and taking the ferry to Manley for a day together.

A high tea cruise on the harbour was a great way to slip into holiday mode on day one.

The daily stroll through the botanical gardens to the city afforded great views as the city woke up each day . . .

. . . followed by thick buttery fruit toast at Circular Quay while people watching as the ferries unloaded the workers and tourists.

The twilight bridge climb was absolutely brilliant. The sun set as we climbed until we were viewing the city at night from the top, with fireworks in the harbour as the final bonus. I took the photo below from the top of the  bridge pylon above, on another day. Each climbing group becomes a set of ants on the huge structure.

And like all good holidays there was a good smattering of eating, drinking and shopping.

The Sapphires

A trip to the Lighthouse this afternoon. Great movie - storyline and music excellent. See it if you can. A perfect cultural segue into further posts with themes from the big country. This time tomorrow it should be drinkies by the harbour and shopping, shopping, shopping. And so to pack ...

Capital Times

I spent the day in this capital little town. It was bustling on the main street, which is in the process of being upgraded with the obligatory paving that New Zealand councils seem currently to favour. New shops have opened and travellers using the re-opened Manawatu Gorge will find it worthwhile to stop. My approach was from the Wairarapa side, so I viewed the full expanse of wind turbines covering the hilltops.

My hosts are big fans of this project. Personally, I find the sheer number and size of the wind turbines ugly and spookily Orwellian in appearance. But we didn't debate this topic. Instead we tucked into birthday cake and celebrated another lucky recipient receiving a Gold Card*.

 * Passport to the good life, between the hours of nine and three. Please, may it still be there for me. 

Six Minutes in Wainuiomata

Just like a new car, well in smell at least because it was liberally sprayed with 'new car' fragrance.

That's how long you get with the super sucky vacuum cleaner for the remarkably reasonable price of $2 at the BP.  This is the location a friend recommended a few years back, and though I believe other petrol stations may have similar facilities I'm reluctant to test the theory. Apparently, as the advertising industry can attest, New Zealanders are remarkably brand loyal and hard to re-educate. So, if my car is getting a vacuum - approximately every one to two years - I head to Wainuiomata. And so it was on Saturday (only my second visit but a habit nonetheless) - the first day of the holidays. This happy event had obviously made me just a little more daringly light-headed, because I then threw caution to the wind and tried something I had never dreamed I would be brave enough to attempt - the car wash. 

The scene from within.

I'm proud to say I managed the whole process all by myself. It was an interesting experience - very similar to that funny feeling when your train is next to another and you can't tell which is the one moving. A couple of times I hit the brakes thinking my car was rolling away, but it was the car wash rolling over me. It's very disorienting.

Safely out the other side - why is there still bird shit on the window?

I'm a convert. It's as close to a perfect clean as my car is ever likely to get, even in the unlikely event I actually got out a bucket and hose at home. I look forward to my next visit, vacuum and wash, probably sometime in 2014.

The Horse's Arse

I got a letter yesterday from my bank. It was explaining that I need not fear the final stages of its merger with ANZ - strangely everything would be exactly the same, yet also better. The only change I will notice will be blue where once there was green. They didn't risk too much early exposure to the colour blue, with the theme very much green, green, green - including touristy shots of expansive green pastures and cabbage trees. They didn't cover the whole horse logo aspect. I have long been aware they had effectively rented the horse logo from Lloyds and time was running out, merger or no merger. I for one will miss this the most.

I was never a 'horsey' child. I didn't play with little ponies or pester my parents to supply the real thing. Nor did a fall from a donkey at the age of about four dispose me to dislike equines. I never really thought much about them. A television item about the trainer and horse for the New Zealand ads was mildly amusing - they used a not especially black horse for the shoots, painting him black for each occasion. No, my real appreciation for the horse came via a friend. We were in Queenstown and I was fumbling with my card, trying to orient it successfully into a money machine (quite possibly to withdraw money to load into another machine at the casino). My friend, another National Bank customer, remarked briskly, "For God's sake, everyone knows it's arse first!". This was truly one of those moments, what Oprah would term 'lightbulb moments', when the stars aligned and the universe made sense. How could I not have known this? How could I have fumbled for so long? 

And so, for many years I have been a slick, arse first money machiner. No long lines form behind my inefficiency.The horse's arse and I are in and out in record time. I will miss the horse.

Spring Forward

Spring has been well underway for a few weeks now and even the late planted bulbs pictured above are putting on an impressive (some might say arty) show in the garden. Daylight saving begins tonight and the mornings will arrive with even more hideous earliness. This year at least my body can adjust over our just begun 'non-contact' teaching break. Last year we were still plodding through the term due to the need for all of New Zealand to schedule themselves around the Rugby World Cup and Auckland's transport system limitations. 

The weather has certainly cast aside winter temperatures and the days have been mild at worst, hot at best. This then was the cue for my woodburner installation to be finished yesterday. The plaster surround was apparently at last available from the supplier and my installer, who has been plagued by an extraordinary series of funerals and family emergencies, completed the job. Thirteen weeks of on-going mess, dust and disorder is a challenge for one who is programmed by the 'fusspot' gene. It has been an exercise in patience, but ultimately the result is excellent. An upside of now not needing it for another six months is that it will stay clean and tidy - note the carefully staged, matching clean and tidy firewood!

Up North

I've been away at a conference. It was held in a fine old school - Takapuna Grammar. It opened in 1927, the same year my wee house was built. The original building is an impressive sight and a lovely one to enter.

It's been a fairly intense but very interesting couple of days - a full programme of keynote speakers and seminars, all very relevant with exciting (though at times daunting) possibilities. I am also now sure of these things - three days is a long time for me to be entirely dependent on a PC, laptops are dreary and heavy to drag around, iPads rock. I was going to update the blog while I was away but it's actually a chore uploading and resizing photos without my Mac. Having to tote a laptop around is like tramping with full pack. I heard there is a lot of lead in computers - an awful lot in my HP. Lots of tech savvy, innovative people were using iPads for some aspect of their ICT work.

My next toy - let the saving start!

The motel I was staying at was also in Takapuna and opposite "The Block". I watched the programme through the whole series so it was really interesting to actually see the houses. They were much smaller than I imagined and on a very busy road.

They all looked rather sad and abandoned. Rachel and Tyson's one looked particularly neglected with much of the planting already dead and the lawns long and unkempt. 

I'm not surprised now that they did so poorly at auction. It would have to be a bargain for anyone to choose to live there. I understand the winning couple's house is going to be used as business premises, which makes more sense.

The flights there and back were both smooth, on A320s. The return flight was in this rugby themed one. I've no idea what the significance is of this (it's not as if it's a particularly big year for rugby - you'd think this would have been an idea for Rugby World Cup year) but the interiors were new and relatively comfortable.