Aging is an extraordinary process, where you become free to be the person you always should have been – David Bowie.
I have a fascination with Little River/Awa-iti¹ on Banks Peninsula. It may stem back to when my older sister worked on a farm near there in her older teen years, and I used to stay with her during school holidays. I loved it. Every so often, but not often, we’d drive into Little River for …
Our visit to Wellington wasn’t supposed to be either wild or for the weekend, but the weather wizards threw a wobbly, so that’s what we got. A couple of weeks ago, sis and I tripped off to Wellington for secret women’s business, and got a lot more than we bargained for. Cards on the table, …
Some time ago, more than a year from memory, I was at the dentist being seen to by a young man who wasn’t my regular charming dentist-man. I’d have to say that having a charming dentist does make a visit there somewhat less unpleasant. Although, having suffered ‘torture-house’ ministrations from school dental nurses in my …
Continue reading Dealing the death-blow to the weird wee thingy on my lip
Sis was slapping some gunk on her face which she’d been gifted by a friend – the gunk, that is, not the face. She was staying with me for the week, and we were in my bathroom doing morning getting-ready things. “Supposed to fight the seven sins of ageing” she said to me, reading the …
It was supposed to be a nice weekend away. Instead I had a meltdown halfway there, and stormed off in a very fine fury. I’m not normally a tantrum-thrower. I’m too much of a results-orientated person who prefers to find a resolution rather waste time on having a tantrum. I do realise that throwing a …
Continue reading A once-in-ten-years tantrum – and then a nice day
I was talking to my friend, Trish, the other day, and she spoke of the catch-up she’d had with an elder woman in her early 90’s with whom she’d also become friends. Trish much admires this elder lady, and describes her as having a life “well lived”. I was envious, to say the least. Not …
I am now moved into my new flat. And I don’t want to move house again. Having said that, I haven’t taken my last breath yet, so there’s a good chance that my desire might not translate into reality. The last couple of house moves my bro and his wife – for whom I work …
Continue reading “I never want to move house again” – said for the umpteenth time.
Scott is my builder, and doer of all things that require tools and a bit of practical nous – something distinctly lacking in my own toolkit. I don’t consider myself entirely useless with a screwdriver and hammer, and I have even been gifted a sledgehammer by my sister¹, but the truth is I’m tool-challenged for …
There’s been some new things going on in my neighbourhood in recent months. I live fairly close to the Avon River, where much of the land alongside it got ‘red zoned’ after the 2011 earthquake. Land which was red zoned was deemed too badly damaged to make remediating it for building on again an economic …
Continue reading Fungi, chooks, shipping containers and coffee in my neighbourhood
Last Friday I met a fella named John. I met him quite unexpectedly as I was cutting through the lovely grounds of the local community house - a converted mansion - whose location has to remain secret for now (I’ll explain in a wee while). Being a nice autumn morning, I was walking the long …
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