Thoughts While Cleaning

I'm not sure what the purpose of the Social Studies curriculum was supposed to be in the 1960s, but for me it was reinforcing of every ethnocentric instinct that lay lurking. I was inordinately glad not to have been born Japanese as I was told the key cultural aspects of life involved the family bathing all together in very hot tubs and living in paper houses where they ate and slept on the floor. The English spent a lot of time dancing around poles holding coloured ribbons or with bottle tops attached to their legs, and for some reason could only buy pegs from gypsies who knocked at the door. I knew for sure that wooden shoes would not be a comfortable choice no matter how lovely the tulips were in Holland. Handling a knife and fork was quite enough to co-ordinate for me, so I was very glad not to have to scoop food up with chopsticks like the poor Chinese children. Worst of all seemed to be the unfortunate Masai people, who expected not just milk from their cows but an on-going blood supply as well, all mixed together into a ghastly drink. The French ate frogs and snails - disgusting, but also had strange plumbing. Apparently, according to the teacher, their baths and basins had levers to raise and lower the plugs. He tried to make it sound quite sophisticated, but I thought it sounded unnecessarily complicated even then.

Fast-forward forty-plus years, and suddenly in nice, sane, normal New Zealand these pop-up plugs have become the latest thing. I put in a new bathroom at my previous house and one was installed in the basin. It lasted a day before I asked for it to be swapped back to a proper removable plug fitting. Now in Petone, I have the misfortune to have one again. It restricts the flow of water from the basin and impedes cleaning. I think its removal will go on the holiday 'to do' list. It didn't make sense in the sixties and it doesn't make sense now.

(I now sponsor a Masai child through Childfund, and still give a little shudder when I think of her family's cows.)

Yee-ha!

Sixteen precious sleep-ins to savour. Even a Professional Development day on Monday has a nine o'clock start meaning setting off much later (in daylight!) and promises to be entertaining on several different levels. Then what adventures will unfold as the holidays properly begin? 

A Comfortable Day

Today was Wacky Wednesday at school. This was a fun day that was a celebration for our coming feast day for the school and a fund-raiser for a worthy cause. Everyone, children and teachers alike, could come in any form of 'wackiness'. There was a huge and joyful range of weird and wonderful attire. I wasn't the only one to arrive in my jim jams and dressing gown. While this is a wacky choice for a school day, it's the sign of a day well spent if it occurs at a weekend. It really is the most comfortable way dress - may wacky days become a regular event!

At previous schools I've taught at, in reasonably affluent areas, there have been occasional dress up days for a good cause. It has always amazed me that an event requiring a gold coin donation raised so little at these schools - with children demanding change if their gold coin was $2 instead of $1, or often completely ignoring the charitable purpose. I feel so glad to now teach at a school where thinking about others is at the core of the school values, and children recognise and are thankful for life's blessings. An impressive amount of money was collected for a deserving cause and a great day was had by all.

Of Tunnels

I needed to make a trip to Seatoun this afternoon.Foolishly I decided to take the quicker route through the by-pass rather than the more scenic waterfront. This turned out to be a stop-start congested drive peppered with red lights. However, I was listening to an interesting radio programme celebrating the music of Paul McCartney (post-Beatles) and was in no particular hurry, so not a problem. Now there has been considerable time and money spent on upgradingThe Terrace tunnel.

Would it have been so costly or difficult to place inside it some aerial system to provide seamless radio listening for the harried commuters who have the mis-fortune to use this tunnel every day? It's not as though this isn't possible because going through the Mt Victoria tunnel -

- no reception problems were encountered, nor did the traditional and beloved tooting from other drivers detract from my listening pleasure. All good with the Seatoun tunnel too,

although as it's so short it could be signals are not as compromised.

Anyway, a belated Happy 70th Birthday to the wonderful Paul McCartney - lets hope there are many more to come.

Solace ...

... in the solstice. Leaving home in the morning darkness and returning as night falls is dreary, but it's all on the upward journey to spring now with the solstice tomorrow. And not that I'm counting or anything, but holidays are on the horizon, too.

Paleo, Paleo

I went out for dinner last night at the house of good friends. They are also very thoughtful friends and provided a totally paleo and very tasty meal. They were aware I am trying to adhere fully to paleo principles in my eating and designed a meal I could enjoy without compromise, including the dessert.



The more I read and view about our modern nutrition the more glad I am that I switched my lifestyle to the paleo way over three years ago. This documentary I watched today is most interesting. Even without the effects of grains in the diet taken into account, you really are screwed if you are basing your diet on processed foods.

Paying the Housekeeper

The house is sparkling and so it is off to get the cash to pay the housekeeper. Last year I employed a housekeeper. Just once a fortnight as a wee treat. I leave home soon after seven each morning and get home between five and six, so it seemed an acceptable extravagance in a busy week. She did a perfectly acceptable job for two reasons. The first being that she was a fastidious cleaner. The second being that I would rush around like a woman possessed the night before she was due to make sure the house was presentable. Herein lies a warning. Never employ a cleaner you know. I don't know her well, but sufficiently well for her to know other people I know. I have no idea whether she ever mentioned she cleaned for me or if indeed she would discuss it with others. But the fear was ever present. This year she fired me. Better options were available and she took them. So, I took over the job myself. Once a fortnight, I pay myself the same amount I paid her and squirrel it away. It's given cleaning the house a whole new sense of purpose in addition to the actual clean and tidy part. Later in the year I will delve into my wages fund and treat myself in some way. In the meantime, I'm enjoying working for such a cool boss.

Inheritance

I was cold called last night by a pleasant woman tasked with selling insurance. I agreed to listen, hopeful of an attractive house and contents deal. But no, she was selling funeral insurance. I explained that I won't be at my own funeral, so I really don't have any interest in its organisation and certainly not in paying for it in advance. Actually, I find the whole idea of funerals quite distasteful. This idea of 'celebrating' the life of the departed by turning up too late to be part of it seems most odd to me. I know one or two hearse chasers, who jump at the opportunity to attend any funeral, no matter how spurious the connection. Frankly, if you are not celebrating life with someone actively, why turn up at the funeral? Not deterred, the pleasant woman moved on to the possibility of life insurance. Now, I have spent many hundreds of dollars gambling and have derived much pleasure from it. But I play and pay in the hope of a win - though at least the losing is fun. Life insurance involves the insurance company betting I will live and me betting I will die - this does not sound quite as much fun at all, I get to lose either money or my life. There didn't seem to be a 'win' for me at all. We agreed she might be better moving onto the next lucky FlyBuys customer on her list.

All that is an aside however, so on to the post topic. Earlier this week the cat of some good friends died. He was a very handsome, black fellow and a much loved family member. I knew him well, but Millie had never met him. It came as a surprise then to discover he left the bulk of his estate to her in his will. Today his supply of dried cat biscuits, long-life cat milk and flea treaments were delivered. Pets really are a blessing, if only they were with us longer. RIP Skinso.

"The little furry buggers are just deep, deep wells you throw all your emotions into."

    -Bruce Schimmel

Thank You

Two words, but so uplifting and hearing them is one of the fun things about taking the bus home. It's a real melting pot of people, but almost without exception there's a "Thank you, driver" from each of the passengers as they alight. Now that I'm a regular, I'm getting to know a few of the drivers and many slip in a 'thank you' themselves at each drop off. Riding the buses is a great way to restore one's faith in the essential goodness and friendliness of the population. The trick is to allow the glow from the camaraderie to remain by not switching on the television news once home.

Luckily, for today, the thank yous weren't restricted to the buses. I popped over to the mall at lunchtime and on the way back to school checked my Lotto ticket. The $8m didn't come my way, but $95 was very welcome just the same.

To be prudent with my finances, I reinvested heavily in this week's $10m draw!

Queen's Birthday

How nice that it has coincided with her 60th Jubilee this year. The British really know how to do both ceremonies and parties well, and they are really going to town on this one. All those thousands of street parties look amazing - a whole country partying together. I'm looking forward to the procession down the Thames on TV tonight.

Here in the colonies, the day dawned clear and bright. The Chilean 'torture ship' has been anchored in the harbour for the weekend and looked particularly magical in the sun today. It was a good opportunity to clean up the front garden, as always an easy task in the Petone sand.

A stroll later in the afternoon was to meet friends at The Lighthouse for the movie 'Trishna'. Splendidly well done, though an ultimately harrowing tale. It is Thomas Hardy's 'Tess of the D'urbevilles' translated to an Indian setting. I have never read the book, but clearly old Thomas did not have great faith in the male of the species.

These three day weekends seem to go faster than a regular one. Never mind, this time tomorrow it will be hump day eve!

Spoil-Sports

Last night I had a bit of a sore throat. Today the sneezing and runny nose would appear to be arriving. Nothing major, a simple cold - will be gone in a day or two. But it's times like this one gets nostalgic for times gone, because once this would have been the time to swallow an Actifed. This was such a wonderful remedy that getting a cold bug was almost a treat. It induced a lovely wooziness of sleep, yet one was awake enough to be able to appreciate the dreamy state. Then magically you would awake the next morning ready to face another day. Regrettably, one of the current government's first acts upon being elected four years ago was to ban this product in its original formulation. Some enterprising members of the community were apparently enjoying the pleasing effects of its pseudoephedrine without actually having a cold. So, to make life difficult for the few who manufacture drugs from the pseudoephedrine for another few who buy it, the whole population were deprived of an effective means of managing their sickness. So, some time tonight I will awake with a scratchy throat, dry mouth and blocked nose, toss and turn and curse John Key, a pastime I normally only enjoy in the light of day.

Good News

What a delight to see protests on the streets on the news tonight. I had thought the modern university student just didn't seem to have the social conscience that has been the hallmark of the past, and a potent influence for chance. Maybe, at last, our complacent population might finally voice support for the increasingly large population of marginalised people in New Zealand. If the proposed education changes are the catalyst, then great.