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.

Food

I've been to Circa lots of times before, but it turns out I'd actually always been to Circa One. I didn't even know there was a Circa Two until last evening when I was ushered into a much smaller theatre than I had been expected to be seated in. I was there to see Red, a play set in the very year I was born,  in the New York art studio of Mark Rothko. I'd never heard of him before, but he was a contemporary of Jackson Pollock. Rothko was an 'abstract expressionist', producing the sort of artworks that would have had my father foaming with fury at the audacity of the artist and the stupidity of the purchasers.

An actual Rothko

The theatre was an intimate space and perfect for the two actor show, which they performed very well. Rothko was played by John Bach and he played the role with passion and a pretty authentic sounding american accent. Younger audience members would be at an advantage however, because as one of those who was exposed to Close to Home in the early days of New Zealand television drama the transformation can never be complete.

John Bach, in paint splattered role in Red

Close to Home. Feel free to watch episode one here

After an arty experience, food and wine was called for, and so my companions and I arrived at Ancestral in Courtenay Place. It specialises in chinese cuisine, only trendier and more expensive, with far less menu choice. I'm always up for pork belly, so I was happy to see it on the menu. 

Now I'm no master chef, but I'm fairly sure the sauce was inspired by Fancy Feast Gravy Lovers or similar feline cuisine. At the moment Millie continues to decline, and I am having to administer her food with a syringe. This is a messy business and we are both splattered by the end of it. My nostrils are now highly attuned to the not so subtle flavours of mushed up cat food. Millie and I were at one in respect to our opinions of our last night's dinners, only I didn't get to spit mine out all over the sofa.

Just missing chunks of pork fat, then set for Ancestral diners.