Not Too Shabby

For some months now, I have been pouring over Google images, watching videos and reading blogs about Annie Sloan Chalk Paint. It's the latest, greatest thing for decorators renovating old furniture to achieve the 'shabby chic' look. It has only been recently available in New Zealand, and strangely there are only three distributors in the whole country - in Rangiora, Cromwell and, fortunately, Raumati. Last week, I finally made it to Fenwick Vintages in Raumati.

The people there couldn't have been more friendly and helpful, and I was able to pick up all the supplies and 'tips of the trade' that I required to make a start. Since then I have been eagerly anticipating my holiday project. At this point I must add a word of caution. I am not advocating the painting of everything wooden. It is a sin to paint over oak, rimu or kauri. 

But I have no love of pine, and that is what my kitchen dresser is made of. I do like its shape, and it fits perfectly in my wee kitchen, holding the crockery and other bits and pieces. Given the age of the house, a 'shabby chic' makeover seemed appropriate. And there is one colour that it had to be.

Or more precisely, quarter duck egg blue. And so today the transformation began. 

Waiting for the paint to dry, before sanding and waxing.

Annie Sloan Chalk Paint is brilliant because it will cover any surface, so there is no preparation before slapping it on. You don't need to be too flash with a paint brush (which I have never been) because the actual finish is achieved with the sandpaper, then brought to life with the wax. I'm very pleased with the result. It looks much better in the kitchen now. And so thoughts turn to the next project ...

December Doings

It's been a busy month, so a wee recap is in order. There has been a major reconciliation with an old friend. I have mentioned in earlier posts that I decided to move on from a longstanding relationship, and it had been many months since our paths had crossed. A mutual friend was calling in and as I was in her car it seemed churlish not to say hello. In the spirit of Christmas, we have decided to put our differences aside and I do have to admit that though Stickman's ridiculous new covered carpark is a monstrosity, it is refreshingly cool on a hot Petone afternoon. He also had some agreeably priced Dilmah teabags, so I said I might call in again now and then.

Up close and personal with Stickman.

Although it is still a week out from the big day, I have done a fair bit of 'Happy Birthday, Baby Jesus' celebrating already, including Leonard Cohen's show last Wednesday night. 

Sublime.

He was every bit as magnificent as expected, and to have again had the privilege of hearing him sing Hallelujah is already my Christmas highlight. Amazing performance from start to finish. I hope I have his energy at seventy-nine.

Invention of the millenium.

Secret Santa really came through for me this year. No more cleaning out the compost bench top bucket for me. Biodegradable liners - the world has been waiting for these. It really is the little things in life that make the difference.

Usually a morning trip to The Lighthouse ensures me a theatre pretty much to myself, but when I arrived for Philomena it was as if I had stumbled into the Petone Grey Power AGM. Those gold card holders must have a bit of a reputation for raucous behaviour because we were reminded not just to turn off our cellphones but to also refrain from chatting during the movie. I did wonder for a while whether they intended to follow the second direction, but eventually we all settled down to a cracker of a movie. I read the book a couple of years ago so was familiar with the basic facts, but this didn't detract in the least from my enjoyment of this poignant story. Judi Dench and Steve Coogan were brilliant. See it.

And finally, a plea to all those supermarket and mall shoppers out there. It's getting busy. You can do it in the lethal killing machine we call a car. Exercise the same control over your feet. Maintain a safe following distance, keep a steady safe speed, no sudden movements and check behind before you turn - and please restrain those kiddies!

Two Gifts

I like Steve Coogan, and I particularly love him as Alan Partridge. This is an absolute cracker of a movie - a Christmas cracker if you like. Take a break and see this. It is seriously funny. Before it started there were the shorts for another Steve Coogan movie - Philomena - which also looks good, though a more serious underlying (true) story. I will look forward to that opening - I'm building a nice wee list of holiday movies.

I saw this one a couple of weeks ago, and it was a good watch, but I think the real clamour will begin once it is released on DVD. Every secondary school history teacher will be booking the AV room for a few periods and ticking off 'American Civil Rights Movement' in their workplan. NCEA candidates will be able to precis the key ideas, add an attractive border and 'presto' a few more precious credits will be earned. It will be the gift that just keeps on giving.

Brief Ponderings

The year is coming to a close, but the busyness is at its peak as the school year races to its conclusion. My thoughts are consumed with end of year records and reporting, and the choreography and costuming of the nativity. In the midst of it all a few thoughts still emerge . . .

I try to avoid sports as much as is possible, but some knowledge of our national teams does filter through. Clearly the suggestion is preposterous that New Zealand cricket players could be involved in match fixing. Match fixing involves changing the reasonable expectation of how a match will unfold. From what I can gather, for New Zealanders to change the expected outcome, they would have to 'fix' the game so New Zealand could win. Where New Zealand cricket has been concerned, for at least the last decade, winning has not been a significant feature. Or has the team been consistently throwing every match for pecuniary advantage, whilst the New Zealand public wring their hands in abject misery?

It was reported here in the Dominion Post last weekend that Petone was the 'fashionable and hip' suburb in Lower Hutt. This would apparently be reflected in the new rating valuations due in the following week. My previous rating valuation was already over-inflated, so I wasn't surprised when the new capital value had remained the same when I received it this week. What I'd love to know is why, on July the first, my land will magically be worth $45,000 more and my house $45,000 less. 

Why are telegraph cucumbers always wrapped in plastic? Why are regular onions unpeeled, but red onions always peeled? And who unpeeled them, and did they wash their hands?

Do I have unexplored powers of prophesy? Lately I get a strong feeling that the number of eftpos transactions in any given second on a day, sometime soon, will be a leading news story. In a month or so I predict the media will report on the high cost of school uniforms. I can see ahead a shimmering February day when the topic of talkback will be the pros and cons of moving the school holidays to coincide with the hottest part of summer. Spooky!

But most important of all - how can anyone not love Christmas? I love the Christmas cards. I love hearing and singing Christmas carols. I love Christmas trees and Christmas decorations. I love being a party to the excitement of children as they enjoy the Christmas season and look forward to Christmas Day. I love the Christmas story. So any Grinches out there - I don't want to know! Don't tell me how much you dislike Christmas, and I'll refrain from telling you how annoying I find you. And in the meantime - here's Bob ...

The Time is Nigh

It will soon be three years since I made the move to Petone. Three wonderful years, in a lovely wee house. The previous owners had left everything neat and tidy - very, very neat and tidy. I can definitely recommend buying a house from obsessive-compulsives. The house was spotless on settlement day and the quality of the finishes throughout were pristine. The walls bore just a few hooks from the previous minimalist decoration style, which were easily used. Cautiously since then I have added more and more to the walls, but shied away from making permanent marks by using those 3M Command Adhesive hooks. Today I arrived home with two lovely new pictures.

I've always loved the cupids, and these are in particularly gorgeous oak frames. Now the good folk at 3M, while happy to give a recommended weight for the capacity of each type of hook, do add a wee disclaimer and caution one not to sleep beneath anything on their hooks least they fall and concuss you in the night. For this reason I have been reluctant to hang up my most treasured of items, in case they come crashing down. Only the sweet duo ...

... and my single seagull have made it onto the walls.

I was similarly worried today about 3M's ability to look after my new cupids, so I did something I have not done in such a long time. I got the hammer and I whacked in with nails. God, it felt good! The real me was finally unleashed once more. My respect for the sanctity of my smooth walls is over. The other sixty ducks are once again going to fly as they flew before, and I shall truly, truly have made this place home.

Friends and Acquaintanes

Over the years, I have met many, many personalities through work. Some have become dear friends, still an important part of my life long after we stopped working together. Almost all were lots of fun to work with. And then there are those very few who could only be described as colleagues - you brush along because you have to. I currently am obliged to work closely with one of the latter. His name is HP.

He really is a surly control freak. You know the sort. Always has to be right, and incredibly petty - cunningly choosing the best possible time to be the most annoying. He sneakily changes organise to organize behind my back. We plan a lovely presentation for a lesson together, he refuses to open it at the given time. Just yesterday, I was well advanced in the writing of a report. He decides to do a systems update. No 'May I?" Oh, no. He just closes everything down and slowly ambles his way through the 23 items he only updated a couple of days ago. And where is my report when he decides he could do a little work again? "You should have saved it" he says. Well, I would have if he had bothered to mention he was going to close down - but of course he never does. He's so unpleasant I refuse to invite him home. This is a point of contention. "I have a carry case, you need me and you know it!" he says. But I have learned from past experience that it's never a case of 'he ain't heavy, he's my brother'. He's incredibly heavy for his size and takes all the fun out of my walk to school. I've told him he won't miss out on anything I do at home, I'll bring it in on a USB to share. His response is the cold shoulder, he simply refuses to recognise the USB. After a day together it's a relief to get home to the sanity of true friends.

Desktop and I have been good friends for a long time now. He picks up a lot of the slack from my poor relationship with HP. He never fusses, just gets on with the job of processing photos and updating the class website - tasks HP goes out of his way to make near impossible. We have a lot in common and get together to watch DVDs and catch up on Coronation Street. There's nothing we like better that singing along to our favourite YouTube videos of quality 60s and 70s music. We share similar eclectic tastes in comedy clips, too. We're both into oak furniture, and Desktop would no more sit on an MDF computer desk than fly to the moon. Recently we've had a new addition to the family. Desktop is cool with it all, no jealousy or resentment that we don't spend quite as much time together anymore. 

My new friend Mini and I are just so made for each other. She's into pink and blue accessories just like me. She'll go anywhere I suggest at the drop of a hat. We play Candy Crush, surf the net, take photos, Skype, visit Facebook - you name it. Mini even collects my library books and has them ready for me to read, any font, any text size. She likes to be close at hand, so I let her sleep on the bed next to me. Sometimes she sneaks into my handbag, but she's light as a feather so I hardly know she's there. Even though we haven't known each other long, I just know we'll be there for each other for ever and ever. 

A Little Culture

It's who you know. Which is how I got an invitation from the Singapore High Commission to attend the reception to open the ASEAN Film Festival on Saturday. 

That's the High Commissioner himself delivering his speech. The catering was excellent, and the people hospitable and friendly. I met the Philippine ambassador and consuls, which made me realise I had no idea why some countries have high commissions and others have embassies. Apparently it's all about whether the country concerned is a Commonwealth country. As far as I can work out New Zealand has a high commission when in another Commonwealth country, but an embassy in others. Anyway, it was a pleasant gathering and the films on offer looked interesting.

I saw Sandcastle on Saturday, and Four Sisters and a Wedding on Sunday. Sandcastle was excellent, and I learned a little about the history of Singapore. The second film was more of a comedy romp, from the Philippines - funny and entertaining. It was great to have the opportunity to see cinema from Asia - although the lovely Lighthouse shows lots of foreign language films they are all from European countries. And isn't it nice that it was a FILM festival, that word 'movie' didn't get a look in. The festival all took place at Te Papa, which is a place I always enjoy visiting. 

And so another weekend all too soon draws to a close . . .

Little Shop of Horrors

Some weeks ago now, I was in the New World supermarket in Thorndon with a friend. There was a large display of Little Shop accessories. For the uninitiated, Little Shop are wee replicas of grocery items that were given away with New World groceries - one for each $40 spent, I believe.

The friend's son was collecting these, and so we knew some of the accessories would add to his fun. There was the shop itself, a supermarket trolley, a cash register, scales and a wee tin for storing the collection.

My friend was pleased to see the display because the local Hutt store had run out of these items. She bought two, from memory a tin and a cash register, and the total was somewhere in the region of $11. On the way home she mentioned there was a lot of activity on TradeMe with people buying and selling Little Shop items. I checked when I got home, and sure enough it was going crazy. The same two items were listed as an auction, and had already reached $52. I considered going back, stocking up and making my fortune, but lethargy got in the way and by all accounts word soon got out that one supermarket still had accessories. By the next day all was gone. This did set me thinking, however. If people were so keen to buy Little Shop at inflated prices, then could all those stickers I was getting from Countdown, to buy cut price cutlery I didn't want, have any value? A check on TradeMe and definitely - yes!

A few of us are now clubbing together. The last sale of two sheets of stickers sold for $38. The current sheet is showing a lot of interest so far, and we have another ready to list. This is an amusing diversion, which is funding a few coffees along the way as we marvel at it all. And remember, it's not too late to spend a lot of money so you can save a lot of money to buy that lovely cutlery you didn't even know you wanted until Countdown told you you did. 

I really must watch Little Shop of Horrors again soon. It really is a great musical. In the meantime, enjoy the dentist scene!

Triumph over O C D and G

Last weekend a family brunch marked another successfully completed year of my life. This particular birthday necessitated the renewal of my driver's licence. This would mean an eye test, and it would appear I am related to a genetically weakened lot in this respect. Younger or older, they all had licence endorsements requiring the wearing of glasses.

Lots of my friends and associates also wear glasses and without exception look just fine, but for some reason I really don't suit them. I've tried on all sorts of shapes and sizes and I just look awkward. I don't achieve the sophisticated look, the wise and thoughtful look, or even the chic geek that is currently so trendy. I also don't like the way they feel, the way the frame is always in the view and the way wearers end up with those nasty little grooves on the sides of the bridge of the nose. I do actually own both regular and reading prescribed glasses, and sometimes I wear them. The reading ones are useful, the others make little difference. When I do wear them it is because I want and need to. I don't want to be required to wear them. 

So it was very important I do well in the eye test. To this end, I arrived at the opening of my local AA when my eyes were well rested, unwearied from a busy day of looking. Most of the letters on the test line were obliging, unblurred and obvious. No mistaking a V, S, T or K. But O, C, D and G were clearly colluding in order to confuse the unwary. I took my time, studied the full line, counted the occurrences, weighed up the odds and looked for the subtlest of cues as to which letter each round blur would be most likely to be. And so it came to be that for the next ten years I'm good to go! 

What I Did In My Holidays

Well, what I didn't do was blog, or indeed get my due days. Practically the whole first week spent feeling very ill, most of it in bed. There was one upside to this, in addition to the soup and sympathy, in the re-discovery of Laurence. I always enjoyed Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen many years ago on Changing Rooms, long before The Living Channel delivered home improvement programmes almost 24/7. So delicious then, and still delicious now in a lovely programme called House Gift. It's on series link for the future, so I can enjoy him on a regular basis still, even though I won't be reclining, wan and weak, at 11 o'clock each morning.

I've always been a great reader, but buying books is not a budgeting option too often, and the charm of library books was finally extinquished after a social occassion some years ago at which the host had his reading supply of library books nicely stacked on a wee table next to the toilet. Library books often have suspect stains, but until then I had just hoped those brown smears one sees came from the consumption of a vegemite sandwich rather than anything more sinister. But now I am once again free to read, read, read as many books as I like, unsullied by previous borrowers. I can choose them from the comfort of my home, change them immediately if they don't hook me in and read comfortably without the need for glasses thanks to text sizing options. My iPad and ePukapuka are an absolutely wonderful combination - a brilliant holiday discovery.

I did manage to see three movies, all of them excellent. Michael Douglas really was Liberace and the story was highly engaging. I enjoyed the book Mr Pip and the movie did a faithful retelling. Apparently much of the graphic violence of the original cut was removed before general release, but the horror of that episode in Bourgainville's history was still vividly portrayed - we don't know how lucky we are. I'm not into 'boy movies' at all, but I do find things about space travel fascinating. Gravity was an enjoyable romp, though when I win Lotto I will no longer be signing up with Richard Branson's 'out of this world' travel options, as previously planned.

There was much sadness in Petone last year when Gusto closed its doors to dinners. I am happy to report that its replacement, Taylors on Jackson, is an excellent replacement. The interior of the old building is a treat in itself, and I can personally recommend the grass fed Horowhenua beef fillet (slow cooked for twenty hours - how did they know I would want it?) and the spiced vanilla creme brulee. The restaurant was doing very brisk business on a Wednesday evening, and I gather bookings are pretty much essential at most times. As Mr Dilmah would say - do try it!

I've always loved the look of Havana Bar and Restaurant, those two dear wee houses nestled between the high-rises, and finally I have made it inside. Until now I have never been a tapas fan, but Havana has won me round. A friend and I had a delicious lunch, and I discovered a treat that I am apparently the last to find out about - peppadews. 

I can't get enough of them, and am now becoming a bit of an expert in the relative merits of peppadews sourced within the greater Wellington region. Other than the delightful ones at Havana, La Bella is currently in the lead.

Thanks to all I caught up with in my truncated break, happy term to all those teachers out there. And remember - it's only 72 days until Christmas!

Alone

I'm a reasonably social person. I enjoy the company of family and friends. My bank statements certainly suggest an almost reckless attitude towards towards discretionary spending on social activities. I think I have made a significant contribution to the health of the hospitality industry during the global financial crisis, as companions and I have travelled, eaten, seen movies and shows, and consumed many, many beverages. My work life is extremely busy, and an endless series of interactions. My home life by contrast is peaceful and quiet. That's the way I like it and I don't need or desire constant human company on a day in day out basis, but just the same I do not like living alone. And I have rarely been alone, always there has been at least one feline flatmate. But alone I am now. On Thursday Millie was gently released from life. She had been unwell and the time had come to put her needs before my own.

"I love cats because I love my home and after a while they become its visible soul."

- Jean Cocteau

It is strange to come home with no one to greet or be greeted by. Millie was described as 'middle aged lady looking for a lap to sleep on' when her photo called out to me from the paper one Saturday morning. I'd recently lost the last of a family of four cats. I'd managed a month or two on my own, but my home lacked its visible soul. It was just a house. And so Millie came. How she came to be abandoned to the SPCA I don't know, but someone's loss was my gain. For just over five years she has been a sweet, gentle and loving companion. 

Since each of us is blessed with only one life, why not live it with a cat?

- Robert Stearns

Timely Thoughts

What a lovely, sunny morning. The whole past week has been mild and mostly sunny. I wonder if weather forecasters have performance appraisals? I think not, because then they might be expected to get the forecast just slightly accurate most of the time. We've all heard the 'it's not an exact science', 'small islands in vast seas are harder to predict weather for' excuses, but really they could put in a little more effort or at least give a percentage estimate of how likely their predictions are on any given day. I've seen this for other countries - '70% chance of rain' sort of thing. As one of those attracted to the temptations of a little gambling, this would suit my mindset well. Meantime, if we planned our lives around weather forecasts in New Zealand we would get very little achieved.

Cloudy with rain increasing.

Last night I was in the company of two friends. They were discussing fashion, and one grabbed a book, possibly Trinny and Susannah, and flicked to a chapter, saying to the other, "You and I are the hour glass." My chapter was not specifed. The conversation moved on, but I pondered what category I might fall into, in keeping with the theme.

Am I a sturdy carriage clock? 

Everything old is new again, so the going says, and I really think the humble shower curtain needs to make its return. We have become slaves to our glass showers. Everyone has a theory about how to keep the glass gleaming, and the sorry fact is many of us spend as much time cleaning the shower after its use as we did cleaning our bodies. Our fear of shower glass damaged forever is as ingrained as the lime build up will be should water drops be allowed to lie and do their dastardly work. Back in what I know realise were the halcyon days of showering, I merely chucked the shower curtain in the washing machine now and then, or if I wanted a bathroom makeover simply purchased a new one.

You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone.