New Shoes, New Shoes!!

Every six months I buy myself a pair of 'good' shoes.

The inverted commas are to explain that I don't mean I buy just 2 pairs of shoes a year. I get through at least 6 pairs of jandals (flip flops for the non-kiwi's) every summer; but I like a pair of warm weather shoes and a pair of cold weather shoes that will not fall to pieces after just one season.

I take these purchases very, VERY seriously. Shoes in NZ are not cheap (nothing in NZ is cheap but that's another story!) and 'good' shoes can be the dollar equivalent of our electricity bill. However, I work full time, I work hard and the arena in which I work is such that delicious footwear is the norm.

I sound like I'm justifying the spend and maybe I am. Would anyone really notice if I turned up in worn shoes? Probably not, but there has to be a reason for the 6am start and the evenings on call, and here is mine...



Kathryn Wilson loafer



This week I"ll be mostly...

... writing a book!

Not really, well sort of. I'm not one of those tortured souls who lives to write, scribbling frantically at 3am. But when the mood takes me I love to fill pages, scratching away with my trusty 2B.

I have an excellent daydream where one day I'll post my story off to a publisher whereupon they'll beg me to sign a contract for a squillion dollars. I'll buy a cottage and live a simple life, writing, fishing, cooking and jetting off to Los Angeles every so often. I'll appear on the Ellen Show, where she'll stand in open mouthed wonder as I dance the audience into a frenzy. I'll also stalk Ewen MacGregor (I have a squillion dollars I can afford the court costs).

Rest easy though Ew baby... my book writing is alot like my exercise regime, often thought of but rarely undertaken!

This weekend's indulgence was a crisp apple tart from here

Meatball Problems...

What does that mean?

When I occasionally lose control of the TV remote Oompa-loompa's appear with huge eyelashes, squeaky voices and questionable taste in daywear. They seem to constantly bemoan their TV lives, always having meatball problems. Is this because they were once Italian and therefore habitual eaters of meatballs? Or is it because they look a little like carroty flavoured meatballs themselves? I have asked but received the same non-response that I had to my question, 'why do boys keep referring to other boys as bras?' (answers on a postcard please).

My interest stems from a recent conversation I overheard; a fellow commuter referred to a rotten first date as a first world problem (she was loud, don't judge me) . Rather a succinct way of looking at things, do you agree? I have a nasty tendancy to wrestle with petty niggles or slights, turning them into properly large issues that can leave me out of sorts for days. My birthday for example. I love birthday's and get a lot of pleasure out of planning and choosing, wrapping and baking so is it unreasonable to get shirty when my houseful of men makes no reciprocal effort? I would love to be the tranquil type that rises above such selfishness, but I'm not, I'm a narky old bat that gets petulant when aggrieved.

I spent last night sulking and now I feel silly. I am channelling serene but it's hard because I still feel cross and ridiculously hard done by. I'm being an egg... I know this, but it doesn't make life any easier.

Oh well, I'll keep chewing things over and hoping that a bigger person than me makes the first move.

Thank you for listening, rant over!



the breathing flower chandelier - auckland art gallery



Perspective

Today I travelled to work on Auckland's first double decker.
HUGE excitement was apparent amongst my sleepy brigade of fellow commuters. We jostled for position and I'm horrified to admit that my innate Britishness was thrown under the bus as the double doors opened and I made a dash for the stairs. There is only one seat worth it's salt on a double decker, and that is the seat by the window at the front on the left (better views... I have been giving this a lot of thought since discovering that a second storey was going to be available... don't judge me!!)

Mission accomplished I sat and marvelled at the world above bungalow level. An awful lot of useful stuff seems to have been thrown onto the roof of the bus stations I pass enroute to the office. I'm wondering if all the black shoes I spied come from the same foot? Perhaps a disgruntled business man decided to fling his workday wardrobe upward in a rebellious moment and is now parading around town in orange sandals? If so, he'll be spotted from my new favourite vantage point.

Coincidentally, I have been giving the idea of perspective some thought recently. I took this photo whilst on holiday and it has made me think that as much as I enjoy being a stay-at-homebody, perhaps my world would benefit from a trip outside of my front door. So, I'm giving myself a few "things to do" that don't involve the house, desk or garden and I'm off to take a wander around the recently refurbished Auckland Art Gallery.


Wish me luck!

The Barrier

Is there anything as relaxing as the sound of waves crashing when it's time to go to sleep?

We recently returned from an Easter break where the house was so close to the beach you could almost hit the water from the deck. We stayed on Great Barrier Island, a beautifully remote and tranquil place sixty odd miles out to sea. It was bliss...

No phones,
No TV,
No WiFi.
Solar powered with the only water available coming from a rainwater tank in the garden.

The weather was perfect, the family well-behaved and I gobbled up three books, including A Suitable Boy which is as weighty as the Yellow Pages.

I'm feeling revived, renewed and ready for adventure.

How was your Easter?

Just the two of us...

I've been a mother for almost half my life. An extraordinary concept and one that takes my breath away if I think along these lines for any length of time.
Of course I remember what it was like pre pregnancy, but I don't really remember the feeling of being completely in charge. However, with my youngest on the cusp of his sixteenth birthday things are changing. Weekends are all about noisy days but quiet, quiet nights. The social life of a teenager is nocturnal and more often than not Slap and I find ourselves alone after 8pm. If the boys aren't out, they're plugged into the computer and babysitters have been replaced by the WiFi connection and a family bag of Dorrito's.

For too long, Saturday nights have been about staying home but we can drink wine and fall asleep mid CSI any night of the week. It's time to reclaim the weekend!



Here we are at the Lantern Festival





Here we are at a rather lovely restaurant playing "Ooh, this one's a lively one" with our napkins,
after just one (lies, lies) tiny glass of wine!!

 

And here we are under a photograph of an enormous lobster.

P.S. Slap didn't pose unwillingly for these photo's... in fact the lobster one was his idea, yep!

another one bites the dust...

I've just read my last post. All that resolute determination... it lasted slightly longer than the bus ride home. I found a half eaten Mars Bar in the bottom of my handbag and according to the law in New Zealand, once you've fallen off the diet high horse you must eat frenziedly until you remount (check out all the awesome NZ laws on the website www.i'mabigfibber.co.newzealand)

As a law abiding permanent resident of this glorious land I have stuck rigidly to the rules and I am now 3kg heavier than when I started the diet. I have also cancelled my gym membership as I found public sweatiness even more impossible than pooing in a public toilet.

Middle class... you betcha!

What should I do? What do you do? I'm desperately chanelling Kate Moss but she was wrong when she said nothing tastes as good as skinny... a kebab blows skinny out of the water. Should I just give up on diets and exercise routines? I wonder what would happen if I lived a full fat life... replace the meal replacement with a few tasty morsels and a glass of wine. Jump off the treadmill and take a walk on the beach. It can't be less successful than the diets to date.

Oooh, I'm a little bit excited! Actually, I'm going to start right now.

Yes, it's Tuesday afternoon.

Yes, it's a well known fact that the only time to start a diet is Monday morning but I'm throwing all the rules out the window and doing it my way.

Wish me luck xx



Random lemon tart photo - baked and enjoyed last month.



food glorious food

Next on the list is the diet - Man, I loathe that word!

I'm a chubby. I love chocolate, chip butties, meat pies and mashed potatoes. I can eat an entire packet of chocolate digestives in less that 4 minutes (I timed myself Sunday... don't ask) and there isn't a slice of cake out there that I would turn down.

I love red wine, white wine, fruity cocktails and icy G&T's. Cheese, pate, chicken sandwiches and family sized packets of salt and vinegar are glorious grazers. Ice cream, frozen yogurt, steamed puddings and strawberry pavlova - all worthy third courses. BUT (and it's a big butt, tee hee), it's time gentlemen please.

I'm 45 - I plan on going for at least that long again and this means the unhealthy appetite has to go the same way as the cigarettes and crumping. I'm a non-smoking, healthy eating, sensible party animal.

I am Nana... hear me roar!

my man chuck...

This is daunting... not only a blank page but it's that resolute month where all seems possible; it's just a little difficult to begin.

I have big plans for January. Sitting in the boot of my car is a gaudy backpack, splattered with logo's and motivational one-liners. It's been there since November, my prize for braving a rainy Saturday morning where I completed a direct debit form and nodded enthusiastically while a sweaty youth in lycra promised that a cross trainer would change my life.

I'm sure it would too, if I would just get on it.

So this is the month that I dig out my old Chuck Taylor's and that nasty T-shirt that has hair dye around the collar. The ghastly backpack will remain simmering in the car; I have an orange string bag that adds sartorial aplomb to my 'jogging Nana' outfit.

Struggling...

...to get everything done. Can't even complete sentences.

This time of year is nuts isn't it?!

I'm going to have a month off, play with the kids, eat cake and muck around in boats.

Have a lovely Christmas, smashing New Year and I'll see you on the flip side.

P.S. Thank you Anonymous for your lovely comments. I have tried to click on your reply but it directs me to a 'sales' website and I can't be sure that it's you I'm leaving a reply comment to? I'm really chuffed that you like the blog though, jx

P.P.S.A monster advent calendar spotted on my walk to work this morning. It blasts rather odd christmas jingles at you too, fabulous!!