Over the sea and far away

Ever fancied a past life?

2010-11-30T06:05:00.008Z

Now there's a bit of a kerfuffle kicking off in the Antipodes based around the content of this article http://www.thepunch.com.au/articles/confessions-of-a-young-anti-feminist/

For those of you who can't be arsed reading the aforementioned piece it is written by a "29-year-old single anti-feminist" and is based on this stunning piece of scientific thinking -

Renowned Australian neurosurgeon Charlie Teo believes men and women have different roles “set not only by society but set by physiology”.

“The current trend is for dads to be more hands on. But for all we know it may be proven in a hundred years time that that may be a negative thing for the upbringing of children,” he said recently on Seven’s Sunday Night program.

“They’re there to be protective. A man has to have a good job; he has to do well at school so he can get a good job and support his family. A woman has to be loving and caring,” he said.

Oh it gets better!

For thousands of years men were providers and protectors and women nurturers. Evolution provided each with the physical and emotional assets to do these jobs well.

Well into the last century the husband provided his family with a home and food and this sole responsibility gave him a sense of power and purpose. And women didn’t feel pressure to justify their existence with a career. They were proud home makers and mothers.

Until feminism.

Now, I can't pretend to be an expert on gender roles or realities throughout "thousands of years", but I can give a little insight into the good old days of home life in ye anciente Egypte. Any of you who may have held romantic ideas about past lives may want to look away now.

And be warned, there are going to be some sweeping generalisations, but I doubt if anyone would want to read an academically tinged thrashing of "fact" and hypothesis, laced with innumerable examples, so I am just churning out some basics. But I figure if a professional journalist can make over-arching statements about "thousands of years", then I think I should be allowed to do the same about roughly 1500 years of human activity in one particular location as I've spent quite alot of time researching/learning about it.

Hold onto your hats! We're about to check out Egypt between 2600-1200BC, the era of pyramids, temples and pharaohs!

- The average lifespan of an ordinary Egyptian was between 30-35; if you were wealthy you may have a slightly better chance of living past 45
- children were set to work (hard physical labour on inductrial sites) as soon as they could perfom viably
- Only 1% of the population were literate; the vast majority of this 1% were administrators
- the word for schooling translates literally as "punishment"; physical beating was a standard educational motivator
- 90% of population had bone deformity resultant from squatting whilst performing work
- it is estimated 100% of the population had malaria
- the recommended marriagable age for "women" was 12 or 13 years old
- 33% of pregnancies miscarried/stillborn
- 33% of children died in infancy
- Food supply dependant upon an annual flood; if flood failed = starvation, if flood too high = disease and starvation
- Fundamental diet = rough bread and gruel
- Egypt's greatest "new build" city, Tell el-Amarna had streets filled with discarded household rubbish, including food, animal and human waste and thus vermin BTW this city was built whilst Egypt was at its peak in terms of power, wealth and creativity
- Animals kept within confines of domestic houses include cattle, sheep, goats and pigs
- natural environment of Nile valley condusive to rapid proliferation and breeding of insects and parasites
- Nile = main source of water - home to numerous parasitic worms
- Sedentary and permanent settlements ideal for infestations of fleas and bedbugs
- Everyday ailments included -
Anaemia
Gingivitis and tooth loss
Dental caries (most likely caused by grit/sand in food) resulting in severe dental abscessing and exposed pulp cavity
Conjunctivitis and eye disorders
Schistosomiasis, which may lead to haematuria, anaemia, loss of infection resistance, gynaecomastia, rectal pain and bladder cancer
- it is suspected that Tell el-Amarna may have been the site where human influenza came into being.
- local fauna included -
21 different species of known snake, amongst which were the Egyptian cobra, the spitting cobra, black desert cobra, vipers, puff adders and pythons
Various deadly scorpions
Lions
The Nile Crocodile
Hippos (which can bite a crocodile in half)
Hyenas
- standard punishments for crimes included slavery, forced labour, cutting off of nose and/or ears, being burned alive, impaling. Should the accused do a runner his/her family would be punished in their place

And to think I haven't even gone near any theorising about gender-based distinction...except that wives of high officials would carry on their husband's duties, such as tax collection, should their husband be otherwise engaged; that woman ran their own businesses and raised extra income by selling surpluses/goods at market; that women could initiate divorce and retained all their own property; that infertility was not considered firm grounds for divorcing a woman; that women could raise legal cases and served on "juries"; that women owned and inherited property on an equal status to men; that their religious beliefs suggest that female deities were the main protectors - note that the main protectors of the king were ALL female deities...

Shall I go on?

In short, Egypt during this time was a harsh, viscious place to live, but the concept of men as protectors and women as nurturers, if it existed, certainly bore no resemblence to Ms Asher's deluded "good old days".

Now I am going for a lie down in a darkened room with a large glass of scotch.

Domestic goddess!

2010-08-24T09:13:00.003+01:00

Over the last couple of weeks I have become somewhat fixated on food.

Those of you who know me know that there is absolutely nothing unusual about this. I happily confess that I am one of those people who wakes up in the morning and starts wondering what to have for dinner. Since our foray into parenthood and the requisite level of organisation (ie that there are only so many times you can greet your spouse with a scowl and the words "we're having takeaway for dinner an YOU'RE collecting it") I have become quite adept at planning a menu or two. Actually what I have taken to doing is being one of those people that eats the same thing in rotation. Like an old person.

So we have a fairly regular weekly diet which is based around the nutritional fundamentals of curry, pizza and pasta. Appealing, no?

It started with America's Next Top Model. Watching vacuous skinny people be vacuous and skinny drove us to eating pizza in large quantities, hence Friday became "pizza night". Originally this meant buying pre-made pizza bases and adding my own toppings. Gradually this morphed into pre-made pizza bases with home-made pizza sauce and toppings. Now it has gone one stage further. Oh yes siree!

Now I am making my own pizza dough/bases.

That sounds truly Martha Stewart-esque, doesn't it? Before you start panicking and visualising me grinning slightly maniacally whilst wrestling home decor and brandishing a mondo huge kitchen knife, I am simply bunging all the ingredients into a bread machine and selecting the "dough" setting. Oh and adding some extra "flair" like chili, or sun-dried tomato, pesto, fresh herbs etc etc.

And it is astonishing. Tonight's pizza was a tomato relish/herb base with mushroom, red pepper, feta, bacon and smoked paprika. Bloody marvellous.

Saints preserve us, but I am planning to start a mini herb/veg garden come Spring and it's going to get out of hand.

This is what happens when you stay at home looking after kidlets. Be warned.

Oh and that photo is not my pizza. In case you were wondering.

The rant I had planned

2010-08-16T09:34:00.002+01:00

was to consider the American studio remakes of "The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo", "Wings of Desire", "The Vanishing", "Dark Water", "La Femme Nikita" and "The Return of Martin Guerre" amongst others.

I may come back to it. Or I may not.

I may simply rant on and on about something else entirely. Who knows?

Stupid American Remakes

2010-08-15T04:50:00.002+01:00

I am planning to rant on about the dubious propensity of the Hollywood studios to remake confusing foreign films, ie films that require the viewer to read subtitles and often to follow a plot, into bog awful miscast "American" movies with happy endings. However, I have been slightly distracted by Gert's rear right foot.

Now, the sharp-eyed amongst you will note the jaunty angle of one of her claws. It would appear that during her vigorous galavanting around Newtown Park in hot pursuit of tennis balls she managed to puncture her foot. Being a hard-ass she gave no indication of any such injury or incident at the time, nor when she scampered back into the car, not even when she got home and ate a hearty breakfast. It was at lunchtime when she staggered/hobbled out of her bed, left a trail of bloody pawprints in the hallway and stood on 3 legs looking pathetic. On close inspection a distinct hole was espied, still oozing blood, and so off to the vet's we went. The jaunty angle caused by swelling between paw pads.

Now she has 5 days' worth of antibiotics and is housebound for 3 days (until the hole heals up) with strict orders that gallavanting shall be avoided. Should just about make her demented. So on Friday I expect to have my arms wrenched out of their sockets by a dog desperate to RUN!!!

Oh, and...

2010-08-09T00:10:00.002+01:00

In case you thinking "Oh for fack's sake, stop bloody whinging you middle class git", I was brought back to reality whilst out ensuring Gert was getting her morning exercise (Sorry Cesar, she only got 30 mins tennis ball madness because it is BLOODY freezing today).

Gert did a stonking steaming and squishy poo; I had no poo bags; I found "emergency" poo bag in my own bag; I scooped up poo like a responsible dog owner.

Emergency poo bag had massive split in bottom and most of the triple-S poo went straight into my grabbing hand.

Start the week!

2010-08-08T23:34:00.003+01:00

This morning started at around 2.30am for me.

I woke up with a cough and a splutter, coughed a bit more, fetched a glass of water, coughed a bit more and then decided to transfer myself to the living room sofa so Jo could get a decent night's sleep before a workplace Monday morning. Unfortunately I didn't go back to sleep which means I am already 8 hours into my day and it's only 10.45am.

However, time was not a-wasting. The last few weeks have been a bit dodgy for me as I've found the slow, relentless grind of mothering a toddler is at times immensely boring. So I decided to fall back on my usual research resource and surf the net to find out if anyone had any top tips. Hooray! There are loads! Exercise, utilise family for babysitting, part-time work, don't forget your relationship.

Boo! I'm already doing all of them!

So what's the problem? The problem (I think) is that my tiny brain works like this -

"okay, I'm awake, time to feed/dress/entertain boy"

2 mornings a week = "Boy is creche, must do work, must do work, must do work; must exercise dog first...that dog whisperer bloke says dogs need 1 hour of vigorous exercise each morning. Then must do work!"

"Must collect boy from creche, feed him and get him into bed for nap" OR "Must take boy to playgroup/park/zoo/beach, feed him etc" OR "Must go to supermarket,etc etc"

"Bugger, need to do washing/shopping/empty dishwasher, then must do work whilst boy naps"

"Chores done, now to work....Sod that I'm going to read a book/surf net"

"Oh shite...I just spent whole of boy's nap NOT doing work, now I feel like a slacker/lazy git"

"Boy awake, must dress and give bottle, then we'll do something that won't cause him to go nuts"

2 afternoons a week = "Must get boy ready for nanna/dads, then must do work - only have a couple of hours"

"5.15pm - Jo home from work - must take dog out again and then sort out dinner, perhaps do some work afterwards?"

"Dog walked, dinner made, 7pm and I am knackered...and I have achieved sod all today - tomorrow will do better"

1 evening a week = "5.30pm - time to go and teach class until 8.15pm"

Weekends = MUST DO FAMILY STUFF AND BE DOMESTIC GODDESS!

I think I am doing this wrong. Perhaps a change in attitude is needed?

Imaginary hair

2010-07-25T10:04:00.002+01:00

Holiday

2010-07-25T09:57:00.002+01:00

We've been on "holiday".

This means we've driven 5 hours north to a converted post office next door to some natural hot springs and a 40 minute drive from the ski fields.

Would have been alot more fun without a toddler, chronic period pain and a dodgy back.

The good news is that Ben will definitely be a snow fiend, which means in a few years time i will be able to send himself and Jo up the mountain to do silly things whilst I sit quietly and read a book.

Hoo-bloody-ray.

American food programmes are dangerous

2010-06-14T09:09:00.002+01:00

I'm sitting here on a Monday night, Jo's out doing something community-minded, I've finished the work I HAD to get done today, so I'm sitting in front of the telly with a glass of red watching Americans eat outlandish amounts of food.

I'm watching "Man vs Food".

For those of you who haven't seen or heard of this programme, it is based on this chubby bloke travelling around the USA and eating "local" cuisine. Generally this means huge amounts of barbeque or burgers. I mean plates that would happily feed at least one adult and a couple of kids, plates that make my mum's special Christmas plates look tidgy. The scary thing is that I find myself getting quite peckish whilst watching it.

Each episode culminates with the presenter taking on a food challenge. You know, one of those "if you can eat this stupid sized burger in under 45 minutes without spewing up we'll give you a t-shirt" type challenges. That part tends to put me off food a bit. This week's challenge = 15 hot dogs covered in mustard and chilli in an hour. His prize? He gets to rename the challenge. WHY?

So that's my life right now. Rock and roll, huh?

You may be wondering what I'm having for dinner. Cauliflower curry (it's what needed using up). Go me! Go my arse!

It's been nice knowing you.

Something other than the boy

2010-06-08T09:10:00.003+01:00

That's what I'm going to attempt to write about.

This is quite a challenge, but I am determined to be one of those rounded modern mothers. You know, the ones who have interests outside their kids, which of course I do. Like watching TV and spouting on about old stuff for hours on end. Oh and moaning about my clothes being too tight, so then taking dog for a run, followed by eating shedloads of food.

In fact, the high point of the last couple of weeks for me may have been purchasing some microfleece pyjama bottoms and a thermal pj top for next to bugger all. This may not seem like much to many of you (although I know Catherine will be green with envy), but our house is freezing in winter. Bloody freezing. Not so bad as the place we lived in when I was a kid that got so cold one winter that my pet hamster tried to hibernate, but we are severely lacking in central heating, double glazing, sturdy insulation, blah blah blah. It has been known for me to sleep with my electric blanket left on low, though I do fret that I may demonstrate the wick effect of human combustion - now I think of it that is about as much motivation for running as a person could need - but it keeps me warm at night without having to attach myself limpet-like to the Mrs.

BUT microfleece and thermal jimjams, a decent pair of woolly Costco socks (bought some 11 years ago in Vancouver), and I am the proverbial bug in a rug. The Mrs still "claims" I sleep starfish style in the centre of the bed, but I have no proof and so deny all.

What else? Not much really. So here's a nice picture of Wellington.

Close up

2010-06-08T02:09:00.002+01:00

See? You can hardly see a thing! And this photo was taken last week.

Now the boy's previously scalded bonce only glows a fierce red when he is throwing an almighty strop. Like he did on Sunday when the toy I had bought him was deemed stupidly expensive and taken back to the shop. Jesus, that was epic.

Things currently making me frown

2010-06-08T02:08:00.000+01:00

1. seeing a bloke in full waterproof gear cycling in Antarctic winds with driving rain and wearing flip flops
2. how bloody freezing the house is despite having the heating on
3. that bloke that presents "Grand Designs"
4. the fact that it is only Tuesday
5. news reports that the British government are going to start sending child refugees back to Afghanistan

Worst fucking day ever - so far

2010-05-17T00:19:00.002+01:00

Thursday morning started out with a positive spin on what was essentially a non-descript day. Persistant drizzly rain. Bleurgh.

So I rugged up the boy, put on his new wellies, and off we stomped to the park to splash about in puddles. And, I must say, he's a damn fine splasher! The dog had a doggy daycare day - trust me, she has alot more fun there than she does stuck at home with us on a rainy day - and we were free agents. So after an hour of puddle splashing I managed to wrestle the small boy back into his pram (he's at that stage of wanting to walk everywhere, even though it takes hours) and splashed our way back home.

Off with the soggy clothes, on with nice dry and toasty warm thermals & jumpers, and time for a sit down with a cuppa, a few ginger nuts and perhaps a read of one of his more entertaining books. Tea made and on the bench, turned to get milk out of fridge and THUNK....ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE! Small boy had got up on tippy toes and managed to pull over the mug of hot tea right onto his head.

Boy is freaking out, I am cursing like a sailor and freaking out.

Luckily we have a downstairs shower right next to kitchen so boy and I whip straight in there and on with cold water. What the bloody hell are you supposed to do next!??!?! Ambulance? No fuck it, the car is right outside and the hospital is 500m away. One Dukes of Hazzard style launch out of the end of the street and we're at the hospital in 2 mins and boy is being dosed up to the eyeballs with painkillers.

4 hours of crying and screaming later (mostly induced by me/nursing staff trying to find ways to cool down his scalded scalp), he finally fell asleep on my shoulder. Luckily what could have been VERY nasty, only appears to be slightly nasty in medical terms despite the scald covering almost half of his scalp and one ear. Long term prognosis is minor scarring on ear, everything else should heal up by itself and be unnoticable.

The most deadly thing for me as his "me-me" was that whenever I randomly started crying over the next couple of days Benj would come up and insist on giving me a cuddle and his favourite book to read. Killer.

Knackered

2010-04-28T01:44:00.002+01:00

Benj is teething. Again. How many teeth does a kid need? Surely 7 is enough.

Anyway, this means we are enjoying his waking up crying 4 or 5 times a night, still waking up at 6am, and spending most of the day wanting to be comforted. Along with this going on I've been upping my running distances with the dog - 10km every other day.

Results? Aching arms from lifting up hefty kid ever 10 mins, aching legs from running around in gale force Wellington "breezes".

PS

2010-03-09T00:35:00.003Z

Is wanting to tell the 20something dreadlocked "radicals" who have moved in across the street to stop writing their cod philosophies about life, love and society on the pavement and that wearing no shoes doesn't make you closer to the earth yet another sign of old age?

I should point out that during the festival on street pitches are rented; the pseudo-hippies had a mate set up a coffee stand in their driveway (thus not paying a pitch fee) and made a quick buck flogging coffee to unsuspecting locals. Whoa. That's really showing it to The Man.

They actually make my jaw clench in irritation.

I am truly getting old.

2010-03-07T21:36:00.003Z

It's Monday morning and the sun is shining, in fact the forecast is for sunshine for the next few days which is rather lovely as summer is officially over. The baby boy is spending a couple of hours at the local ultra groovy playgroup/creche flinging himself headfirst down a slide or going digging crazy in the sandpit.

And I am sitting on the sofa with a headache, eyes like pissholes in the snow and achy teeth.

Did I spend the whole weekend partying? Raving until the early hours of the morning with our new hippy neighbours? Quaffing huge quantities of alcohol whilst recklessly lazing in sunshine?

No.

The cause of my fragile state is simply a week of parenting followed by a weekend of Newtown Fair and the Phoenix semi-final.

Newtown Fair is an annual event - usually the first Sunday of March - where numerous craft/food/knick knack/clothing/music stalls set up in the main drag and side streets of Newtown. Our street is the venue of one of the main sound stages, which is not a problem, but I've come to realise that a hoofing great big truck setting up outside our house at 6am is tedious.

Here is the soundstage and the bloke from no.5 who sings Billy Bragg-esque social commentary songs about "The Man". He was then followed by a twentysomething band who did covers of various emo tunes, a Pixies-a-likee band and so on.

Small boy happily slept through his lunchtime nap though.

Then at 3pm we headed away away oh from the festival shenanighans to the other end of town to see if NZ's only A League football team could achieve the seemingly impossible, ie to qualify for the final of the league. Now, it should be borne in mind that the Wellington Phoenix have only been around for a couple of years and that one of their best players is a Crystal Palace cast off, and were almost universally shite prior to this year. It was almost heart-warming how crappy they were. They would get into the opposition goal area and then become confused, frantically passing the ball to one another in seeming attempts to avoid the pressure of having to actually take a shot. Often, they would actually turn around and head back towards their own goal.

And somehow this year they have suddenly had a collective moment of enlightenment. Last night was their last home match of the season, capping off a run of 19 unbeaten home matches. Astonishing.

Of course, football fans being the open-minded and cockle-warming souls that they are, the Phoenix supporters - of which there are usually 3000-5000 - celebrated the sell-out 35000 crowd with rousing choruses of "where were you when we were shit?".

Although we got home at 7.30pm and I was in bed by 10pm I am knackered.

And, thus, I am old. Truly.

Are we terrible parents?

2010-02-09T23:51:00.003Z

It's Benj's 1st birthday on Sunday and all anyone seems to want to know is "are you having a party?"

Are we terrible parents because, frankly, we are both knackered and don't think Ben will notice if we do NOTHING? Plus, he has a bazillion toys anyway and our place is not big enough to take anymore stuff. More importantly having a party would involve tidying up the house, which is just crazy talk.

I'm thinking maybe brunch at a kid-friendly cafe.

Here's the man himself checking out the ladies.

Ugh.

That thing I said

2010-02-01T02:35:00.002Z

You know how just the other day I was going on about wanting to be at home?

Well after my first morning of solo parenting, combined with Benj spending his lunchtime nap screaming for 2 hours, I am over it. Where's the nearest pyramid?

laters gators.

Dear Benja,

2010-01-24T15:02:00.001Z

I love you and I miss you.

Give your mum a smooch and tell her I'll see you both on Friday.

lots of love
Meemam
xxxx

Day 9 - Luxor

2010-01-14T17:48:00.002Z

If this photo is crappy it is because I chose not to bring a camera with me to Egypt this time, thus any photos are from my phone. Oh yes, I am THAT professional.

So we survived El Minya and two nights in their only 4 star hotel, and from what I can tell only habitable hotel, and it was crap. The hotel that is. Our guide gave me the option of a room in the main building or a room in a garden chalet so, being a selfish git, I chose the garden chalet option. I've stayed in a couple of hotel garden chalets in Egypt and without fail they have been roomy, in beautiful surroundings, big comfy beds and nice bathrooms. In El Minya the garden chalet resembled a 1950s prefab in a Stephen King version of "Hi-De-Hi".

The exterior decor came in two shades - bloodstain red or H-block poo-stripe yellow/brown; I was allocated poo-stripe. Once I had managed to force the door open, using a combination of room key and my shoulder, I was immediately assaulted with a vivid aroma of damp and camel dung. I should also mention that positioned reassuringly outside my room door was one of those smash the glass fire alarms with the glass conveniently pre-smashed. The bathroom consisted of a shower delinated by a 2-3cm high cement basin edge, which combined nicely with a shower curtain that stopped roughly 30cm above ground level. Upon attempting to use the shower I discovered that the shower-head and shower-hose were not entirely connected, resulting in a simultaneous downward and sideways jet of water, and that the water temperature was a little fickle.

Did I mention that the garden chalet was at the rear of the hotel garden and only about 3m from a wall separating us from El Minya's main thoroughfare? First night a car did some astounding backfiring at 3.45am, second night Egypt won an international football match.

But the bed was comfortable, if a little short.

Now we're in Luxor and I have a room in the main building. It's lovely.

Oh, and we spent 7 hours in Luxor and Karnak temples today. Wonderful!

Tomorrow it's tomb time! My favourite.

Adios!

Guess what I'm supposed to be doing?

2010-01-10T08:20:00.002Z

yep, it's a free day on the tour and I am "working".

Well, I do have the research books open at the right pages and a pen on the desk, so as far as I'm concerned I am working. I don't have the distraction of making myself cups of tea, but I may just phone room service for some coffee.

Okay, coffee ordered, back to blogging (I have a 24 hour wireless access card).

As the tour goes, so far so good. Our guide, Ramy, is very young (probably about 28, but seems young to me), very tall and VERY pretty, so all the ladies in the group are very happy, and he seems happy enough to defer to me and let me boss everyone around, which is making me power-crazed and happy, so as I said, so far so good.

The only real drawback is the weather; freezing fog in the mornings, which clears around 9.30/10am, but it's still pretty hazy. The one big advantage of this is that the city is completely hidden in the groups photos of the giza pyramid complex, aside from that it's a pain in the arse. But, it's our last day in Cairo and hopefully the weather will be good as we travel further south.

In 3 days we've managed an entire day at the Egyptian Museum (unheard of amongst the guides), Step pyramid, Bent pyramid, Red pyramid, Giza pyramids, Hetepheres pyramid, one mastaba tomb, boat museum, Sphinx, Khafre valley temple. Not bad. having said that my legs are screwed from clambering arse-backwards down a 90cm high, 62m long descending chicken run into the Red Pyramid. And then back up again. On the plus side, it doesn't smell half as bad as it used to.

Right, off to do some work now. Will try to blog again once I am back online, maybe in a couple of days!

Egypt 2010...

2010-01-10T08:17:00.000Z

Jan 6th - Day 1 – Giza

Dear Benja,
Well, made it here in one piece; full of aeroplane meals and with a brain stuffed with in-flight entertainment (top tips = 9 – very intriguing Tim Burton producer animation, Wanted – Angelina Jolie needs to eat more pies) and somewhat hazy due to having only slept for 3 hours in almost 48hrs. The floor is a bit spinney and I feel as if I am on a ship, but otherwise good.

Tour group have been taken to duty free shop, have wandered a little aimlessly through downtown Cairo on a busy afternoon, no one got themselves run over, I’ve got the hang of the microphone on the bus and have already been given 3 free bottles of water. Go me!

Oh, and we’ve also seen some big pointy things on the desert edge. Pyramids I think they’re called.

Off to the museum tomorrow. Now it’s time for a room service meal, a bug spray of the room and some intensive sleeping.

Look after your mum for me (give her a big smooch) and give Gertie a pat.

I ‘m sending you hugs and cuddles,
Your memam
xxxx

Happenings

2009-11-20T21:01:00.002Z

So, it's been a little quiet on the blog front. I have several reasons for, some of which I will blog about in greater detail another time. For now here's a quick run-down:

1. Jo's grandfather died
2. I was finishing off my class
3. I am putting together all material for tour
4. House renovations
5. General parenting
6. Dog exercise duties
7. Being knackered
8. Jo away at guide camp

and so on...

My son is Phil Mitchell

2009-11-20T20:40:00.002Z

Don't you just hate it?

2009-10-21T08:42:00.003+01:00

When you cook something that should, in theory, be lovely, but in reality tastes like nothing much at all? Perhaps if I'd added alot of salt...but the damage is done now.

The last week or so has been rather topsy-turvy. We started the week with great plans and it all went downhill fron there. Jo had a "team-bonding" day on Tuesday, which ended up with her getting a nasty bronchial infection. We've taken this rather seriously as a good friend of mine has just spent 3 days in hospital after she started coughing up blood (she said the first couple of days was great because she could just sit and read - can you tell she has 3 kids?). So this slightly buggered our plans to get some house painting done on Friday. Then I discovered that the Lower Hutt Charity Tattoo convention was being held over the weekend.

Now, I've never been to a tattoo convention and I had strong suspicions that any such event in the Lower Hutt (think Bromley/Croydon, only much smaller scale) woudl be less than enthralling, but there's a young lady tattooist from Auckland who was going to be present. This was somewhat surprising as I thought she was in Edinburgh or London or Amsterdam, and it turns out she was equally surprised to be there. Jo, in an act of borderline self-flagellation, agreed that we could go along for a look on Saturday.

We turned up unfashionably early at 10.30am to find the local town/horticultural hall filled with a grand total of 30 or so stands, filled with many a hairy-arsed biker type. As always Ben turned on the charm and was wooing the locals and non-locals alike. Plus, he got to sample a fair amount of free popcorn and get his first helium balloon. Nice work son. Anyway, after much, much hanging about I finally spoke the aforementioned tattoo lady, who was extremely busy with "walk-ins". And what did I say?

"I've got a couple of hours free tomorrow afternoon, can you fit me in?"...what do I want, I dunno, whatever you feel like..."

Slightly stunned by my brainfart, I turned to see Jo looking at me slightly askance. And fair enough.

So the next day Jo went off to spend the day on a Guide Leaders' training course, Ben went to spend a couple of hours with the dads and I went to get tattooed.

Before this, however, I had a slight panic about the fact that I'd been so recklessly wanton with my choice of "whatever", and so I frantically tried to get hold of tattoo lady to suggest a design. No joy getting anyone to answer the phone at the town hall, I decided I would try the number for the event organiser in the hope that they coudl pass on a message. Tattoo Stu did indeed answer his mobile and it turned out he was live on stage at the convention and he happily, and much to my shame, had tattoo lady dragged to the stage so I could talk to her. Yet more proof that I will NEVER be cool. Never ever.

So now I have the outline of a lovely tattoo that will be finished off in February when tattoo lady will be working for a week in a studio in Wellington.

Oh yeah, and yesterday I had the random vomits. But I'm pretty certain the two are not related.

Another day

2009-10-05T08:38:00.003+01:00

See? This is what happens when I have to blog weekly. Can't think of a thing to write. How about some random pictures?

The building with the red roof is up for sale at the moment. It's just around the corner from our place, built at the back of the local bread factory, handy for town, the hospital and the cricket ground. Plus they are about to built a bloody huge supermarket next door. Magic.

Can't think of much else to say...today has been mostly about pens. Yep, it's been that rock & roll today.

Will try to think of something more enthralling to blog about tomorrow.

Today has mostly involved...

2009-09-28T09:03:00.002+01:00

Vomit.

Bet you're glad you read that, huh?

The clocks have shifted forwards for summer here in NZ, which of course means that it has done nothing but chuck down with rain. Luckily, this inclement weather has enabled Jo & I to maintain our family tradition of hanging out washing only to have it dry, then get soaked by a downpour and spend 3 days on the line drying out again. But I digress.

The clocks having changed I was was forced awake this morning at 6am (though the clock claimed 7am). Ugh. It was not a welcome start to the week. In fact, I was feeling supremely knackered, which may have had something to do with spending the whole weekend furiously writing/running with dog/being hearty. AND to make it worse I was facing a day without "nanna afternoon" as Jo's mum was at the beach for the week.

Now, I refuse to let such triviality interfere with my overwhelming urge to collapse in a heap of bleurgh, so the household was sent into a tailspin of activity - baby stuff sorted, dog stuff sorted, wife stuff sorted - and all was loaded into the car and we headed north. We headed beachwards. Jo was dropped off at work and we drove on towards the sands of Raumati.

We made it there by 9.30am. By which point I was starving, so I ventured to this new-fangled "drive-through" and bought a flat white and a muffin. Of course, being the day before payday my card bounced, luckily we have savings for such drastic emergencies. Onwards we travelled to nanna's house. The baby had phase two of breakfast - rhubarb, pear & apple mash with muesli, and the dog had her breakfast. Except the dog wouldn't eat. Instead the dog made nasty gagging noises and was chivvied outside, returning with a spring in her step (and presumably less in her stomach).

oh but no.

An estimated 10 minutes later the dog did an impressive barf right in the middle of the lounge.

About 30 minutes later I popped downstairs to grab the Ben's blanket from the car only to discover a secondary barf. And then Ben hurled all over his clothes.

What did I do? I left Ben with his grandpa and headed to the beach with the dog.

I'll leave it there; no doubt I'll blog again later in the week when I'm "working".

Adios!

This made me laugh so hard I cried - I apologise in advance

2009-09-24T10:09:00.002+01:00

From thedailymash.co.uk

ANGER AT EU BAN ON WANKY SHIT PUDDING
THERE was anger last night as European bureaucrats threatened to outlaw classic British puddings such as freckled ball bag and boiled arseholes.

A new Brussels directive will seek to end the UK's exemption from dirty cake name laws, leaving establishments advertising old-fashioned favourites, including wanky shit pudding, open to prosecution.

Cafe owner Eve Evans said: "It's political correctness gone mad. I raised my kids on things like wanky shit pudding, chocolate hard-ons and fuck-me-tarts, they're great British treats."

She added: "At the end of the day, a wanky shit pudding is basically a chocolate brownie with a blob of double cream on it. What do you think that looks like? Exactly - a shit that someone's done a wank on. It's plain common sense."

Cafe customer Tom Logan agreed: "Wanky shit pudding is bloody lovely and wanking and shitting are the most natural things in the world, likewise wanking onto a shit. And then eating it."

Tony Harrison's grandmother Jean Trump invented wanky shit pudding, and first published the recipe in her 1832 bestseller Mr Trump's Fucking Big Book of Tasty British Puddings.

He said: "She was the first person to reject the thinly-veiled euphemisms of the 18th century such as steamed whoopsie and raspberry tinkle and introduce more honest, down to earth names like chuff trifle and fanny battered figs.

"By all accounts she was an indomitable old bird who, I am quite sure, would have been horrified at the prospect of some dirty foreigners fiddling about with her fondant beaver."

Hello? Hello?

2009-09-23T09:23:00.002+01:00

Is there anybody out there? Will anyone read this? Perhaps not, so I can WRITE WHATEVER I WANT!!!!

Except that I am too chicken, in case someone actually does read this and takes offence.

I promised myself last week that I would return to regular blogging on a weekly basis, starting Monday. Of course I didn't even slightly manage this, but I'm thinking Wednesday evening isn't too bad a compromise. And I'm trying desperately to think of something to write about.

Ummm...

Weirdly I think I may have lost the ability to spell correctly. You know how some people pick up accents when they move to foreign climes? Well I think I may have picked up shite awful command of the English language and grammar. I am not happy about it and will be delving into my enormous dictionary to resolve any qualms. Amongst other oddities is the fact that I had a new passport photo taken today. That, in itself is not so peculiar, but Jo and I are in agreement that the photo doesn't really resemble me. Normally a slightly dodgy photo leads to pleas for kindness and reassurance, this time I honestly wanted Jo to say "Jeez, that's a terrible photo, it doesn't look anything like you!". And she did. Thank god, if I did actually look like the mysterious pig-eyed fat-faced middle aged frump in the picture I would be very very unhappy.

Sorry, I've been away. The nicest thing just happened - a knock on the door and it was my friend Sam, who just dropped by to say hello and give me a bottle of wine. She was just on her way home and thought she'd do something lovely. Aren't people fabulous sometimes?

Anyway, expect more from me as I have the upcoming workload -
a new class starting
need to write study tour booklet
need to put together on-tour seminars
go on tour

Til next week...

A couple of photos

2009-07-27T01:53:00.000+01:00

This ad running on TradeMe - just about sums up the "Kiwi Chick"

2009-06-09T09:41:00.001+01:00

old clawfoot bath
Start price: $0.50 No reserve Closes: Fri 12 Jun, 9:18 am Listing #: 222635503 Starting bid: $Place Bid Auto-bid

RELISTED. WITHDREW LISTING ON UNDERSTANDING THAT BUYER WOULD BE THERE SAME AFTERNOON TO PICK UP. THEY WEREN'T. THAT WAS A WHILE AGO NOW. VERY ANNOYED AT PAYING AUCTION WITHDRAWAL FEES FOR PEOPLE WHO DON'T KEEP THEIR END OF THE BARGAIN.

PLEASE READ THE PART ABOUT FOUR GRUNTY GUYS BEING NEEDED TO LIFT THIS. TWO MIGHT DO IF REALLY GRUNTY. I AM A WOMAN, BUT AM WELL OVER SIX FOOT AND BUILT LIKE A BULGARIAN WRESTLER. I MANAGED IT WITH MY GUY BUT IT NEAR KILLED ME. I WILL BE VERY VERY VEEEERY UNIMPRESSED IF YOU'RE A TINY LITTLE FLOWER AND YOU TURN UP EXPECTING ME TO CARRY THIS FOR YOU.

Genuine old claw foot bath, date stamped 1941.

Sorry, no pic, I can't find my camera.

Surface condition is poor - the enamel is old and worn and impossible to scrub clean any more. Will need resurfacing.

It's the old coffin style, I believe it's called, like a big rectangle with flat edges, not rolled edges (but good for putting candles, bottles etc on). Very comfy and practical.

168.5 cm x 75.5 cm and about 38cm deep (not counting legs).

I am keeping the feet, very sorry, they are not for sale and will not come with the bath. The bath of course has places to screw in new feet.

Manufacturers of new baths recommend that four grunty guys move these things - they are cast iron and very heavy. In saying that, two of us managed to move this one.

Basically free for whoever wants to come and get it. Currently kept outside (since the weekend).
Please read the questions and answers for this auction.

Kitten vengeance

2009-05-05T21:13:00.002+01:00

The NZ police are trying to trace the psycho-children; strangely they suspect this may be the start of something more serious and would like to nip it in the bud.

And you all thought NZ was such a nice place...

To counteract previous post

2009-05-04T23:56:00.001+01:00

I know it's illegal to hits kids, but...

2009-05-04T23:44:00.002+01:00

If my kid did this I would wallop them into next week. Future serial killers?

Two tiny kittens are slowly recovering after having paws cut off - believed to be by children using a knife or scissors.

The kittens survived their "horrendous" injuries, but are now facing major surgery to have a hind leg and part of a hip amputated.

The children, both aged under 10, giggled when they left the kittens at a Wellington Cats Protection League foster home, saying that the kittens' "feet fell off". But a vet's verdict is that the feet were "traumatically removed".

The children and their parents left the animal foster home without giving their names.

The committee member who runs the home has informed the SPCA, but a spokesperson says they cannot investigate without more information.

The eight week-old kittens are recovering well, but need to grow bigger before they have a hope of surviving the required surgery.

Both kittens are missing their left-hind foot. A veterinarian's notes say the leg of the smaller, black male "ends abruptly at the extreme distal tibia" the kitten's ankle.

The slightly larger black-and-white male was cut across the top of his foot his leg "ends abruptly across the proximal metatarsals".

The kittens were very quiet when the vet first saw them and the stumps were "swollen and inflamed". It was thought they might die from the trauma.

The volunteer who runs the home said for a long time her children could not bear to look at the kittens. "[The kittens] don't know they don't have feet. The cruellest thing is when you see it lying on its back and it's got its little stump and it's trying to scratch its chin.

"They're as friendly as - they try and climb up you and everything. It's horrible because you can feel the stumps on you... you can feel the jagged bit at the end.

"The other day we just heard [one of the kittens] scream and it had stood on a piece of kitty litter and it had stuck into its little stump ... it got infected."

The stumps have to be carefully bathed every day. The woman, who declined to be named, said she had taken in more injured cats in the last three months than in the past nine years put together.

"I just can't believe there's so many. They're all so horrendous," she said. "It just never seems to stop."

Other recent cases include a kitten whose tail was chopped off by a child with scissors. That kitten survived, but was deeply traumatised. "He was black and white and he's now turning grey." Another kitten was brought to her after being attacked with a hammer the owner had killed the rest of the litter, but this one somehow survived.

The volunteer found a third kitten in a box at her door, tangled so tightly in fishing line it was bleeding.

"The noise it was making... I cut the fishing line off and within minutes it died. My only consolation was it had stopped howling."

The league is about to launch a campaign for owners to get their cats desexed last year 500 operations were performed and this year it is determined to raise enough money to double that to 1000.

Recent high-profile incidents of animal cruelty have included the attack last month on a sheep by three Auckland teenagers who allegedly blew off its jaw with fireworks, and the abduction of a 14-year-old dog in Wellington which was then seriously injured when used as bait for fighting pitbull terriers.

The Cats Protection League will pay for the kittens' operations.

Donations or inquiries can be made at www.cpl-wellington.org.nz or posted to PO Box 12157, Thorndon, Wellington.

Beardy Wierdy

2009-05-04T22:22:00.002+01:00

So, there I was sat in front of the TV watching "The Closer" on DVD, when I suddenly remembered my empty promise to blog teh weekend before last. Uh oh.

I immediately grabbed a pen & wrote down the things I would blog about this morning, which may go some way to explaining the randomness of this entry. Thus, the photo of Ben modelling his future beard-scratching Amish philosopher look.

First on my list is "Bad Scooter Parking". Last night I was out on a run with Gertie - exercise has been necessitated by a rather public trouser-button popping debarcle mid-class - wheezing away and carrying the obligatory bag o'poo when I came across a scooter parked on the path. Now, this scooter was not just on the pavement...oh no, it was parked across the path. Side on. No room either side for us pesky pedestrians. Nope. No choice but to go into the gutter.

I stopped & glared. Gert looked bemused. I considered pushing it over (childish). I seriously considered leaving Gertie's bag o' poo on the seat (too abstract). In the end I carried on and fumed quietly. God help that poor scooter owner should that happen when I have a pram & small boy to negotiate.

I mean come ON! Why oh why can't you park your precious scooter in the road like a normal person? (Please note, I am sitting here with teeth gritted in an attempt to restrain myself from "language" - the perils of parenthood no.1 = finding alternatives to swearing). For feijoa's sake!

In case you are wondering at my "scooter rage", I think it may be because I'm not taking the tablets any more, which means I am a danger to anyone within a 50-mile radius. Well, according to telly anyway. Have you noticed that lesbians & people who suffer from depression are always psychos on telly; so I am a double threat...watch out...

In reality a depressed lesbian is far more likely to bore you to death by analysing every aspect of their life ad infinitum.

Okay, that's today's installment. I'm saving my other exciting news for tomorrow (maybe), but I'll leave you with this - next week The Penthouse Cinema's "Babes in Arms" film choice is a film about a woman who has just finished a prison sentence for infanticide.

Adios!

Tired

2009-04-16T05:12:00.001+01:00

I know, I know, I know....don't start with me, I'm tired.

And, no it's not because I am being kept awake by Ben yelling his head off, I'm just a bit tired.

But I will blog soon. Probably over the coming weekend.

Is that enough for you?

First dog snog

2009-03-12T00:20:00.003Z

Yep. It's the first day of my new class, so I'm blogging because my tiny tiny brain can't handle the fact that I've committed myself to 2 hours of talking about the predynastic period (5000-3000BC)in Egypt.

And it's in the same crappy lecture hall I've had before where pillars obscure the view of the screens. Most irritating.

Quick quiz - is there any point in having your ipod on shuffle if you spend half your time grimacing & hitting fast forward?

However, on a lighter note it's interesting to see that the Kent police force have been told off for playing the Hi De Hi theme tune at high volume to disperse protesters. That is borderline torture.

On a less cheery note, our beloved Prime Minister, Mr Key, appears to be taking the interesting view that the best areas to cut costs during the recession is the environment & pensions. So, if we're lucky we'll survive having not quite enough money to buy all the useless crap we don't need, but we'll have f**ked the climate & starve to death as old folk. Magic. Can't wait.

Things starting to settle down in the domestic realm - Jo & I have negotiated a 3-day week, so Tuesday & Thursday are family days when we'll do exciting things like go to the zoo. Or watch DVDs rented from the library ("King of Kong" & "Mis Pettigrew Lives For A Day" on reserve), depending upon the weather and how skint we are.

I notice that the REAL IRA are up to no good again; over here people are going all White Supremacist, though I don't fancy their chances (have you seen "Once Were Warriors"?). Are we really heading back to the 1970s?

The 9 day working fortnight is being introduced here too. Basically every private company that has more than 100 employees can tell their staff to take every other Friday off (no pay) & the govt will pay the employee up to $62 (20 quid) to compensate.

Ugh. I give up.

All the fun of the fair!

2009-03-07T21:33:00.002Z

So today is the annual Newtown Fair, which means a great big lorry/soundstage right outside and lots of goings on.

For some reason Green Street seems to be designated for selling old tat; on my return from this morning's dog walk I noticed we have the obligatory emo/stoner t-shirt stand, a snowcone stall, someone selling trendy babychairs and some junk stalls. Luckily,we also have the RadioActive soundstage (playing The Cocteau Twins a moment ago).

The remainder of Newtown's main thoroughfare is jam-packed with nick nacks, "art", clothing, FOOD, coffee, more soundstages etc etc. Even the French cafe has put out extra tables! The local school playground has transformed into a fairground and, of course, it's scorchio hot, so all the stall holders will get vicious sunburn.

We're venturing into the fray in about 20 mins. Wish us luck!

I'll be brief

2009-03-01T22:59:00.002Z

Mostly because we are off on a great adventure - i.e. walking down to the Basin Reserve & back to enjoy the glorious weather, but I thought I'd treat you to a couple of photos of Ben looking 1.) windy 2.) stunned & monkey-armed.

And those of you who worry that I am neglecting my family in favour of being online please rest assured that Jo is more than capable of kicking me in the arse if needs be and baby/mother sleeping time is tres handy for office time! Plus, I'm working now on my new courses so am a little tied to the pc when I'm not walking dog/burping baby/cooking lunch or dinner/stopping noisy baby from waking up his mum etc etc etc. I promise that, despite the hoofing great tattoo on my arm, I am a responsible & sensible grown up person. In fact I realised today, whilst out on a 5km run with Gert, that I haven't even drunk more than 2.5 glasses of wine in one go for more than a year!

In fact, I think if it wasn't the tattoo thing, I'd be the most sensible person in the world.

Oh, and to save multiple explanations -

- tattoo = cover-up of old tattoo from 20 years ago
- it's a combination of winged heart/star/personal reminders
- given half the chance I'd do more (slow deep breaths Dad...it'll all be fine)
- Jo likes it
- Jo doesn't have tattoos; she's a belly piercing girl
- this doesn't mean I will let your travelling kids get tattoos whilst they are in NZ

Now we're going into the great blue yonder!

love
S

Just a quickie

2009-02-22T22:42:00.002Z

No baby photos; but do feel free to join me in a couple of weeks at this delightful history course!

All is going well, have started to test out a routine that, fingers crossed, will have Ben sleeping through the night in no time at all (we've already got him down to waking up once a night).

Jan & Chris in Wellington for a few days last week and, despite my extreme knackeredness, we managed to gad about quite nicely. A brief summary of their visit:

Indian takeaway
Maranui Cafe
Mount Victoria
Dog walking
Haircuts
Sweet Mother's Kitchen
Te Papa colossal squid
Hurricanes cha cha cha!
Camper vans

What more can I say? Off to watch the Oscars red carpet now and comment on which "stars" I think should eat more pies.

laters gators

Oh You Handsome Devil...

2009-02-15T00:14:00.002Z

Before I zonk out completely.

2009-02-13T22:27:00.002Z

No photos yet, but after an epic battle the Ben-monster, also known as Wolfie Sparks, is finally here.

Jo went into labour at 4am on 13th February, we headed to the hospital at 12 noon, by 10.30pm (yes, PM) it was decided that the baby wasn't shifting and at 12.35am on February 14th he was delivered by casearean section.

He was 4.5kg/9.2lb, with blonde curly hair and freakishly big hands & feet.

Jo is knackered, Ben is knackered & I am knackered.

And at 1pm I am going to have a word with the receptionist who informed me that only "husbands" were allowed to visit between 1pm & 3pm.

Adios!

Oh I've thought of something to say!

2009-02-12T04:07:00.002Z

We saw "Slumdog Millionaire" the other night.

It was okay, but really it's just a movie about how we gather pointless information mixed in with a slightly cliche lovers in peril story. Now I know alot of folk will chastise me for not thinking it was magical, but you must bear in mind that I like watching things like "Shoah", "Tell No One" & "Bambi", so there's no accounting for taste.

2009-02-12T03:49:00.003Z

I can't even think of a title for this today.

I'm trying far far too hard to think of something to say that isn't "Still no baby", but it would appear that this is the only topic that anyone wants to discuss.

From this I can only assume that I am such a phenomenal hider of secrets and withholder of information that no one would ever assume that such a thing had happened from my demeanour alone. My semi-slacker part-time couple of hours a morning slackness job at the cafe is back on and everyday this week someone has said to me "Still no baby?" - do I really strike you as the type of person so dedicated to teh art of sandwich making that I wouldn't skip work to be with my newly first born child? Really? I think not.

So I put in this picture of a baby to keep you quiet.

Just to drive me even more insane the weather has turned to super rainy, but only when I go outside. Twice today I have been drenched - once collecting a parcel and once exercising the dog. Gert really needs more exercise today, but it is pissing down and I just can't face going out there and getting soaked again, plus she has dog day care tomorrow so she'll get tons of looning about then.

Jo is going nuthouse crazy because all she can do is one brief excursion a day before she's knackered and the rest of the time she's stuck indoors doing not very much. I know I should be relishing this pre-baby peace, but it would be alot more fun if Jo wasn't 41 weeks pregnant.

Oh, and she had the baby last week.

Just teasing.

I was going to be light-hearted

2009-02-09T22:59:00.002Z

but then I foolishly read an article about the Australian bushfires, more specifically this paragraph -

Stories of lucky escapes and ghastly deaths emerged. Elderly couple Faye and Bill Walker and their son, who was in a wheelchair, had their car packed, key in the ignition and family dog in the back. But the fire beat them – their charred bodies were found metres away, inside the house.

I have the suspicion that if the coppers do catch the arsonists there's gonna be a lynchin'.

Still no baby

2009-02-05T04:10:00.002Z

And I'm getting BORED!

Can you imagine what a great big pain in the arse I was every christmas/birthday? It's the bloody midwife's faut for saying she thought the Ben might be arriving a little early.

So now we are stuck (mostly) at home, though this morning we did venture to the beach and then to the library.

And all the dog does all day is sit and watch me in the desperate hope that I'll crack and take her for walk.

AND we've run out of Battlestar Galactica to watch. Bumflaps....

Is the UK broken?

2009-02-02T22:35:00.002Z

My oh my, it's mighty snowy in your neck o' the woods isn't it?

I'm actually quite envious in a 'not really, but it looks pretty' way. That kind of cold would probably kill me now that I am a softy ex-pat, but I could get some decent mileage out of all my ski clothes.

No baby news yet, but I did just meet Monty (the 6 week old from across the street) who is destined to become Ben's best mate and/or arch enemy. He has sideburns already, flash git.

Off to write course book now. Allegedly.

It would appear that

2009-01-31T22:52:00.003Z

I am boring.

Jo thinks I spend far too much time blogging/texting/tweeting. I have tried to explain that this is an almost unavoidable side-effect of working at home on a desk-based project, but I fear that maternity leave may be fraught with demands to "come and watch a DVD and stop being so boring".

Gert doesn't think I'm boring. She thinks I rock.

So there.

"My name is GYA and I am a first aider."

2009-01-29T22:11:00.003Z

Two days of first aid training completed. Should you fall from a great height, collapse, crash your car, choke etc etc etc in my general vicinity I am now qualified to leap to your assistance and announce myself with a flourish.

I was a little disappointed that we didn't get to practise emergency tracheotomy or run along along a corridor with a prone victim on a trolley, but I was tested with the most magnificent scenario - a man carrying a heavy box has fallen down the stairs, possible broken pelvis, severe carpet burn on thigh, and has now been jumped on by a nosy cat causing him to go into anaphylaxis. You will be relieved to hear that he lived.

Quite a bizarre group too. Most interesting/entertaining was Andrey the Russian IT guy (well Kurgistan, if we're being pernickity), who looked disturbingly like David Walliams and said things like "When I was child I was digging for worms and I cut hand on broken glass - my father cleaned with vodka; this good?". At one point I was waiting for Jeremy Beadle to leap out, but then I remembered he was dead. So I assumed Jimmy Carr would be out there somewhere. He also started quite a fierce debate about how to treat poisoning as he was having none of the new fangled idea that making the poisonee throw up was daft and might kill them. Choking on vomit obviously not commonplace in Kurgistan.

And did you know they don't recommend using antiseptic on cuts these days; just a good rinse with clean water.

So...January 2010 Egypt I'll be ready for them. Fling yourselves off as many olde monumentes as you will, I will wrench you into the recovery position and introduce myself whether you want to or not.

In other news, the midwife (just typed midwaif...the Kate Moss of prenantal care) thinks Wolfie might be a couple of days early. Will let you know.

I'm off to define the role of royal women in 18th dynasty Egypt. Adios!

The Final Countdown

2009-01-28T07:05:00.001Z

Only 10 days to go...

Dogs are brilliant

2009-01-26T21:20:00.003Z

Because they make sure that you actually get off your fat bum and do some exercise.

Unless you are the dog owner I saw this morning who drove to the top of a park, let their dog out to take a dump, sat in their car reading the paper, put dog back in car and drove off.

They did not pick up the poo.

I am starting to get a little concerned about myself.

2009-01-25T21:59:00.000Z

I’m spending waaaay too much time sat at a desk; half the time writing evening classes, half the time surfing the net. I’ve even found myself signing up to Twitter, which strikes me as vaguely pointless as I don’t think I know anyone else who is signed up to it. Though, and people who knew me when I was 17 will find this hilarious/disturbing, Wendy & Lisa are on there, so now I can share their daily trivia. Strangely, it’s not that fascinating; I must be growing up or something. Now I really want to buy myself a netbook so I can gad about and do work all over the place wirelessly. I did try the laptop thing a few years ago, but find them a pain in the arse to lug around and now they have these new fandangly lightweight mini things. After some intense negotiation with Jo it’s been agreed that I can indulge myself in an Aspire One in May when I become sole at home parent, and then I’ll be able to blog, write, and surf yada yada yada from anywhere. Allowing for baby vomit on the keyboard, of course.

The imminent arrival of Wolfie Sparks (Jo has vetoed Wolfgang Spartacus as a name, but I think a nickname will suffice), who shall be formally known as Ben, combined with summer weather in this neck of the woods means that Jo is a little housebound. Aside from going to work, of course. I mean why wouldn’t you be in the office a week before you’re due to give birth? I suppose I could go out and do my own thing, but I would feel a little disloyal/unsupportive. Instead we’ve been mostly watching ‘Battlestar Galactica’…

I swear I wasn’t going to watch it, but my fellow TV goober Kim, stitched me up by dumping 4 seasons of BG in our letterbox just before Christmas. We are now mid-way through the 3rd series and it’s all terribly serious. I would like to think I’ve simply been charmed by the presence of Mary McDonnell as El Presidente, but I am also using it to realise my current Spartacus fixation – are the cylons the slave rebellion? Will the 12th cylon be Kirk Douglas? On which note, is America such a vile place that voting in an African-American is so radical? ‘They’ keep going on about how anyone can be voted President now, but I won’t be holding my breath for a disabled lesbian. In any context.

What other excitement? Pre-birth Ben managed to kick me in the head yesterday. Ta for that. Gert & I have been continuing our outdoorsy odyssey up and down the many and varied trails across Mount Victoria, combining hearty fresh air hikes with tennis ball chasing.

Why do they always seem to use Clannad-esque music to convey pathos on these TV shows? It’s very distracting.

I am also discovering that sleep deprivation starts pre-birth, which is odd seeing as I’m not pregnant. Jo is finding it increasingly difficult to get comfortable at night despite a vast amount of pillows propping her up from every angle and that, in turn, means I get about as much sleep. Thankfully I work from home, so there’s nowhere to be at 9am (except staggering up the aforementioned trails) and I can self-medicate with coffee.

In other news, I saw a headline today stating that there’s a glut of NZ wine. I’m still wary of the booze, these days it screws with my mind and my sleep, so I’ve taken to just the occasional glass of something fancy (Beach House Syrah is my current choice) because it seems like such a phenomenal waste to live in one of the best wine-producing countries in the world and not take advantage. Still keeping my eyes open for a good local viognier in memory of Maurice Goldsmith. Reckon I’m going to become one of those parents who has the odd shandy at Christmas and birthdays? Gets a bit giddy and embarrassing after 2 glasses of sherry?

And I thought this was knackered

2009-01-24T23:36:00.002Z

I would appear that this is now working on my PC, which is great news as it means I can spend even more time avoiding actual work whilst sitting at my desk.

Only 13 days until due date and have finally finished 1st draft of new class (starts March). Determined to get it neatly finished by the end of this week as well as doing a rock n' roll 2 day first aid course. I refuse to be caught out by random injuries on the next tour. I also plan to spend alot more time in my room watching Egyptian TV and ordering room service.

New Year's Resolution = daily epic dog walk to top of Mount Victoria and back. About 4 mile round trip, but feels like more due to very steep bits. Have realised that flip flops + steep hills + pine needles + hyper dog = sliding on arse. Sliding on arse downhill = undignified. Have been running sections of it, but not at weekends because that would be far too much like dedication.

Ugh, not whilst I'm eating, please.

2008-11-26T22:33:00.002Z

There's too too much to write about. And I've got into the habit of making strong coffee at home, so I'm a little giddy. Bear with me.

I was just thinking "I must blog, there is too much excitement in the news to keep to myself", whilst drinking strong coffee and fortifying myself with beans on toast, following another invigorating run/trudge up Mount Victoria with yon dog, when I espied this headline. Brace yourselves.

'Desperately Seeking A Sex Film For Cruise'.

It seems, according to the rumour mill, TomKat are considering remaking "Last Tango In Paris". Excuse me, I've just been a little bit sick in my mouth.

And if that isn't awful enough Woolies has gone bust. Where the hell are the good people of Britain going to buy their pick'n'mix now? And their really cheap plastic stuff? Luckily in NZ we have The Warehouse, which is fundamentally an industrial scale Woolworths and the biggest branch is our local, so we can go plastic fantastic nuts should we feel so inclined.

Oh, before I forget, could those of you who so desire email me your birthday date? You see I threw out the calendar with all the relevant days marked, without copying it to the new calendar, and have already caused some hoohah by forgetting strategic birthdays.

What else was I going to regale you with? The sun is shining. Which is nice. Also it makes people very sociable. During the dog run/drag up Mount Victoria there was some very jolly "good morning" bellowing at fellow outdoorsy types, a cheery "it's much easier going this way!" to the bloke struggling up the really steep bit - luckily I was flailing downhill at high speed trying to avoid my knees crumbling underneath me and much scuffing, so he couldn't thump me for being a smartarse - and a chit chat with a local builder about how much exercise the dog gets. It seems he saw me out the other day when he was exercising his pig dogs. For those who may be confused by that phrase, "pig dog" is literally a mutt used to flush out wild pigs when you go hunting, and not a generic bad guy insult from an action movie ("Die Mr Bond, you pig dog!"). Then I got all paranoid because some people like to nick dogs to use in such pig hunting shenanighans, seeing as the pigs are quite good at mangling the dogs. But beans on toast & coffee makes all things good.

On the food advice front one tip - never eat an entire packet of prunes in one day. I'll say no more.

Antenatal class was fine; mostly about breastfeeding and first aid, so now, should the nipper start choking whilst breastfeeding we're ready! I was a little disappointed in myself because I had an overwhelming urge to snigger during the breastfeeding dvd, but I blame growing up in a country that produced both Benny Hill and Dick Emery.

Just a quick aside

2008-11-26T03:35:00.000Z

Mum, is your phone buggered? Can never seem to get hold of you.

S
xxx

Running up that hill

2008-11-26T03:17:00.002Z

I had a conversation on the phone today with my god-daughter, who is only a couple of months away from turning 13, and it would seem that she has never heard of Marlon Brando. In case you are at all interested, this came up because I told her I was going to name our almost here child Orlando Marlon Brando.

Anyway.

I've had a rather odd day, which I partly blame on chupachups. I woke up before the crack of dawn, sometime around 4.30am I estimate, and began thinking about how the house needed a bloody good sorting out. Now before you go all "Ohh, its because you're nesting", I think it is more likely to be due to the house being a tip and our friends Cathy & Geoff arriving tomorrow. So I managed to tidy part of the house (the more 'public' areas) whilst chatting to Birmingham on the phone and semi-fashioning a dog bed out of cardboard boxes.

Then I headed off to the drama school cafe, from whence I have been cruelly cast out, ie Liz says there is no more need for my sandwich making skills seeing as the students have all pissed off for summer, to say hello, but it left me oddly depressed and feeling a little off kilter. From there I headed to pick Jo up for lunch with the "dads", which would have been alot more fun if we'd actually been able to hear ourselves over the earbleeding squawking of many a person in the basement-like enclave of Rahzoo cafe. Though the food was okay and I suppose that is the main point of lunch. The is now some change afoot regards baby names, so those of you who I have discussed this topic with please ignore previous comments. The name is changing. I think.

Still grumpy, I came home. Though I wasn't as grumpy as I was on Tuesday when I managed to spill petrol on my arm. I decided to go all proactive and take the G-beast for a run up Mount Vic. It was a killer, but the downhill part wasn't too bad. Mostly it consisted of laborious breathing, staggering and cramp. Ho hum.

The reason I blame chupachups is because I ate one of their lollipops before I was inspired to go for a run and I don't think it helped.

Off to ante-natal classes now to learn about baby cpr. Fun.

Is it weird?

2008-11-11T00:57:00.003Z

that everytime I sit down to add something to the blog I have an overwhelming urge to make a cup of tea? Or is it some OCD type affliction? Anyway, I'll be back in a moment or two. Luckily now I have moved my office downstairs & it's alot easier to make tea. Well, it's not easier, that makes no sense, it's more convenient.

Would appear that I am in a grammatical mood today. Lucky you.

Of course, you know what blogging means - yes, I should be working. But, and this is a big BUT, I cannot be arsed. Though I'm sure I'll get around to it later, at some point, maybe.

I've had a couple of emails from my lovely friend Patti, whom I used to work with many moons ago when we were bright youngs things wasting our lives at EH in London, and is now very sensibly living in a lovely apartment right across the street from Trader Joe's somewhere in the USA (I'm being discreet, so that she won't get stalked). When we first met she was married and I was shacked up with an ex, something we were both far too young to be doing (oh how we wasted our youth on them!), and we bonded over a mutual streak of jaded cynicism and love of coffee. Somehow, we ended up in very different places, and we went through a couple of years of 'estrangement', possibly because we became flatmates at a point in my life when I was fucked in the head, but I still consider her one of my most reliable sounding boards. She's very cool and has a fabulous sense of self (though I'm sure she'd deny it) and one of the few people I actually want to impress.

Why am I going on about this? Because I'm about to become a parent. And I never really considered that I would be.

When I was a little girl, something that seems rather alien in retrospect, I spent most of time wanting to be a cowboy, a viking, Spartacus or Starsky. Oh yes, I was very very much of the gay. In fact, when I came out to my mum she said that she'd known that I was gay since I was about 5 years old. So, no sexuality crisis for me. This meant that I never really thought about having children; when people ask me if I'd like to give birth I can honestly say that it's never been something I've aspired to. Likewise I'd never really considered parenting, cos, you know, gay.

Anyway, then I managed to somehow get myself into a good healthy relationship with a straight girl from New Zealand (see how my general neurosis/commitment phobia truly tries it's best to heap me with rejection?). Almost ten years later and I'm just about realising that not only is this relationship working, that it may actually last and that I am in fact married - as you can tell I am remarkably thick for someone who teaches - but that I am about to become a parent. In about 10-12 weeks.

Stay with me, there is a thread here. In her email Patti mentioned her lack of maternal instinct and, if I am honest, I never really considered that I had one either. But perhaps I do. Here's the evidence -

- I love my dog and once got very shouty at an old lady who hit her with a stick
- I have become quite keen on the supermarket and doing domestic cookery type things (roast chicken this evening, in case you're interested)
- I bought, without prompting, some baby blankets
- I saw I baby today and thought "I want one of those", which is probably just as well, all things considered.

Actually, that's crap evidence isn't it? I'm just relieved that I didn't see the baby earlier and think "oh shit". Ha ha ha!

No, the truly important news is that there's a new Bond movie out next week. Nice.

Patti Thompson...

2008-11-07T01:16:00.001Z

you're just a maverick!

Was trying to post a photo of a puppy to calm my nerves, but the bastard thing won't work.

Bugger.

Why some people are just manky bigoted arseholes...

2008-11-05T23:31:00.005Z

I know, I know, I'm supposed to be out there skipping with joy because Obama won the presidency, but I still have some of the grump left in me, and for a variety of reasons.

However, can I first say thank fuck Sarah Palin is not the vice president of the USA. For a minute there I was very very afraid.

Right. Back to it. My current "issues".

1. Superdrug doesn't exist in NZ, which means I can't buy the only face scrub that stops my skin going beserk.
2. Superdrug does have an online shop, but they won't have any of the aforementioned scrub for a few months.
3. Since I drastically cut back on my alcohol consumption (it was making me crazy in the head) I have developed a fetish for Chew-ets Original Dark Peanut Chews - these appear to be being phased out in NZ.
4. Our fuckwit student neighbours kept launching fireworks all through the night; the dog was not pleased and kept us awake.
5. I've just made a cup of tea & realised that I am almost out of sugar.
6. A very good friend of ours has been 'retrenched' from his job.

BUT here's the biggy

7. California, and a couple of other US states, have just voted to permanently ban gay marriage. In fact some states, I think Arkansas is one, has made it law that no relationship except marriage between a man and a woman has any legal validity at all.

What a bunch of small-minded, homophobic, bigoted, not really getting the message of Christianity, badly dressed (that's a guess), scummy manky shitheads.

Oh, I do apologise for not being considered equal or human enough to be allowed the same basic rights as you.

Perhaps I shouldn't lose my temper? After all Jo & I have only been together for 10 years, marginally longer than my brother and his wife (just using you as an example, hope you're okay with that?), and yet it is obvious that our relationship should in no way have the same status as theirs. Why? Because we are dirty lesbos, I presume.

Yes, I do live in NZ and not the USA, but this kind of thing just drives me nuts. Just at a time when everyone is getting their knickers in a twist about "change", they have to go and spoil it by behaving in such a scaredy cat "gays are threatening marriage" manner. And, pray tell, how exactly are we threatening marriage? I've never even met marriage, let alone threatened it. Are they worried people will stop getting married in case we think they are gay? I don't get it. I thought the point of it was to make a public declaration of your commitment, which subsequently has evolved into a complex series of legal commitments and rights mainly associated with property & inheritance.

Or is it because married couples pay less tax in alot of places and they're worried about losing the revenue from taxing the infamous "pink pound"? Because you know all gay people are rolling in cash...

On the bright side this legislation may be overturned as unconstitutional, because fundamentally it is a small group of people denying rights to a large group of people. This explains it better -

“If the voters approved an initiative that took the right to free speech away from women, but not from men, everyone would agree that such a measure conflicts with the basic ideals of equality enshrined in our constitution. Proposition 8 suffers from the same flaw – it removes a protected constitutional right - here, the right to marry - not from all Californians, but just from one group of us,” said Jenny Pizer, Senior Counsel with Lambda Legal. “That’s too big a change in the principles of our constitution to be made just by a bare majority of voters.” (a clever lawyer person in San Francisco)

I should revel in the fact that this clearly demonstrates that the Americans, despite many protestations of the opposite, do in fact understand irony. Particularly Mr Obama who acknowledged in his Chicago victory speech that gay people were in fact alive and voting in America. Maybe he'll do them a favour and give them some other rights too.

And if I am really really lucky, NZ will embrace this time of "change" and in our general election on Saturday vote out a perfectly good Labour government in favour of a right wing twat simply because "it's time for a change". If you're interested in why he is a twat here's one simple example - he wants to sell state/council housing to the incumbent owners because he claims everyone has the right to own property. What a tosser. He also thinks increased literacy would cut crime. Wanker.

I am now going for a lie down in a darkened room.

Piss Poor Excuses

2008-09-30T23:28:00.002+01:00

Yes, it actually is October and I have many many weak excuses for not having written anything for ages.

Not that anyone will read this, except maybe Mr Bell, and I don't blame you because I haven't written anything for ages.

Karmically I am being punished for this by listening to a bargain CD I bought last week and it is dreadful.

So, my excuses -

1. I have been very distracted by last minute course writing for the class I am currently teaching. Of course, I have had at least 6 months to write the class, but its much more fun to try to put together a 2 hour long class on a variety of topics that I haven't looked at for years in the preceeding 48 hours.
2. I bought myself an ipod. And? Well, I set it up on the PC and have spent hours loading and accidentally deleting music. Not only did this occupy a good deal of my time, but it also chewed its way through a chunk of the remaining disk space on the PC. The PC then suggested I get rid of a load of unwanted files, and these included the set up page for this blog.

To cut a long story short I can't seem to access this blog from the PC and I do most of my work on the PC. Thus, no blog for a while.

3. It's been cold and wintery and sitting in front of the TV in a warm living room is much preferable to sitting in front of a keyboard in a cold office.
4. I am a lazy git.
5. I've been trying to avoid becoming a baby bore - I will attempt to keep baby news to the basics. Do NOT expect this to continue when I become a full-time parent next year and have nothing else to talk about.

I think that's all the obvious excuses covered.

Jo's Pregnancy Fact File -
- we do know the baby's gender, but are keeping it low key because the dad doesn't want to know
- it's a kicky/punchy/wriggly wee thing

Will try to get better at blogging, honest.

Especially for you, David.

2008-07-21T00:50:00.002+01:00

Firstly, WMP is Windows Media Player, ie the little fandangly inbuilt music thingy on Windows. Unfortunately it keeps butchering my CDs when I try to rip them, so not quite the rousing success I claimed.

Secondly, it's nowhere near September. You do exaggerate.

Plus, I have a good (sort of) reason for being absent. Actually that isn't at all true, my true reason for being absent is that I haven't been doing much office work and haven't really been near the computer except to check email once in a while. However, I do have news...

Jo's pregnant.

Beat that if you can!

Adios,

S

Now here's a shocker.

2008-06-23T06:06:00.003+01:00

I am supposed to be working on my evening class (which restarts tomorrow evening with a grand total of 35 attendees), but having massacred my powerpoint presentation I have decided it is time to blog.

Coincidence? I don't think so.

In fact, I appear to mostly blog when I am stuck at my desk and 'working'. FYI I am listening to David Arnold's version of "Live & Let Die" featuring Chrissie Hynde utilising my stupendous scarab design WMP. Procrastinate? Never.

In case you care, the picture above has nothing to do with anything in this post. It was added on a whim.

News, news, news. Not much. Have been mostly dog-walking, working, attemping to hill run (the downhill part is much easier than the uphill), reading alot of trashy books, watching alot of trashy tv, watching the All Blacks slaughter England, trying to sell old car, getting used to driving new car, trying to avoid driving altogether due to price of petrol and finally getting around to watching films I should have watched ages ago. Namely, "Sweeney Todd" and "No Country For Old Men", both of which I thoroughly enjoyed (Anton Sigur is my new hero, you gotta love a man with standards).

So, that's that.

Just thought I'd let you know.

S

Shirley Knott (don't call me Shirley)

2008-05-16T04:19:00.004+01:00

Yep, it's me.

What news?
1. The drugs are working, though getting up at 6.30am to get to work for 7am is killing me.
2. Winter is kicking in.
3. I still haven't figured out my PhD question, though still planning on doing PhD.
4. Have bought a new secondhand car - a 'compact SUV', so now we are those people.
5. I am wrestling hugely with my middle class guilt/principles over buying aforementioned car (even though it was my idea).
6. Have finished teaching my evening class and LOVED IT. Have been asked to repeat the class and set up a new one for August (hooray for me).
7. Jo is lovely.
8. So's Gert.
9. The Hurricanes are doing quite well this year.

For anyone who may be interested in clarification about what "the drugs are working" means, all I can say is that when I was walking the dog the other day I sang a new and improved variation of "Little Donkey" to her whilst laughing to myself like a simpleton. And then I told Jo and did a repeat performance (Jo joined in, which may explain why we are married). The dog thought it was shit and ignored me.

Speaking of great songs, I strongly urge you to go to Youtube and check out "Batfly" by Fat Cat & Fish Face. I was also singing this during my dog walking antics.

Why do I tell people this stuff? Must be the tablets...

Dog day care

2008-03-10T04:29:00.002Z

Just an update.

Have been to see the doctor. He innocuously enough asked how I was at which point I shrugged, muttered "if I was okay I wouldn't be here" and promptly burst into tears. Very cool.

I have drugs and have been sent for blood tests, just to check that it isn't anything else, and about 2 weeks to keep trudging on until the chemicals kick in.

Yee-hah.

The Black Dog

2008-03-06T01:27:00.004Z

Yeah, I know. I haven't been too available recently, but I am sincerely hoping that things will change over the next few weeks.

If I'm honest the reason for this is that I haven't been feeling top notch. Before Christmas I was driving myself crazy trying to get every single pointless fact/piece of trivia about ancient Egypt into my head before the Big Trip, then there was the Big Trip and my return/decompression period, and now there is a week of 12 hour days awaiting me at the NZ Festival of the Arts, rapidly followed by the start of my (hopefully) inaugrual seminar series at the university. Plus, of course, we squeezed in a week in Sydney and I am planning the start of a Ph.D.

Though these acted as a pretty effective diversionary tactic, I've noticed that, after an absence of almost 5 or 6 years, my bastarding depression is back. Thus, the black dog (cool picture, don't you think?).

It's taken me a while to realise that it's not going away of it's own accord. I've been doing all the right things healthwise, but still I am tired all the time, utterly unmotivated, genuinely don't see the purpose of doing anything, my temper is irrational (and foul), and there's those tricky and far too frequent random bursts of crying, amongst its cornucopia of delights. So, tomorrow morning it's off to the doctor with me to get some magic tablets (and maybe someone to talk to).

I will say this only once - I DO NOT WANT ANY SYMPATHY EMAILS/PHONE CALLS. Even if you are a close relative. All they seem to do is make me lose my temper and rant on and on.

I will be fine. I've dealt with this before and I know that's what I need to do, deal with it.

Just wait until I'm back on form and obssessing about Ph.D stuff. Oh how you will suffer.

love
S

Still tired

2008-02-10T23:11:00.000Z

But this is simply due to a lack of sleep, and not even for a fun reason.

We spent the weekend up at the beach in a bed that was too small and under a duvet that was too hot. Last night, back in my own bed (neither too small nor too hot), my plans for a decent night's sleep were scuppered by a combination of a really quite impressive thunderstorm and corking period pain. When I got to work at 8.30 I asked (and I thought I asked nicely) if it would be okay if I didn't work on the counter because I feeling a little un-customer friendly. Wrong question. So, instead of working on the counter I got sent home with a flea in my ear.

Here I am now, absent mindedly surfing the net and trying to think of a suitable topic for a PhD.

After 3 weeks of Nile madness - an immensely draining 21 days of being asked everything and nothing, cleverly combined with jet-lag, sleep-deprivation and one of worst colds I have had in years - I have been persuaded than pursuing a PhD would be in my best interests.The only problem with this is that I cannot for the life of me think of a research topic. I would quite happily follow on from my MA dissertation, but I've heard that this is not the done thing, and I don't know how viable my other ideas are.

I shall refrain from further discussion of this subject here; it's going to get self-indulgent and rambling without your assistance or involvement. But I only thought it fair that you should be warned that I am somewhat distracted.

I'm sure you'd rather hear about Egypt.

1. It was cold. As soon as it got dark in Cairo you could see your own breath. I spent a large amount of my time wearing at least 3 layers of clothing, which was rather distressing for the people travelling with me because it meant I did the "bloke thing" of wearing the same clothes all the time.
2. Eating nothing except well-cooked (not the same as well-prepared) hotel food for 3 weeks results in bloating and constipation. Why don't hotels provide good local food, instead of generic "European" food that tastes like arse and will probably give you food poisoning anyway? Bastards. You will pleased to know that since my return I have eaten a vast array of leafy vegetabales and salad. Constipation is no longer an issue (pun intended).
3. People delude themselves about their fitness/stamina. I think a few of my tour "guests" will think long and hard the next time they consider a 3 week trip to somewhere more exotic than their corner shop. BUT no one died or had to be sent to a hospital (an airport medical clinic does not count as a hospital in my book), and some of them even thanked me for dealing with their vomiting/pooing and getting them a doctor.
4. If you are ever visiting Egypt on a tight budget attach yourself to a large group and identify yourself as "tour leader". This means you find it almost impossible to pay for anything, as the locals seem to give you credit for bringing them business. I wasn't even allowed to pay for a chocolate bar in a service station. The downside is that you have to accept varying degrees of crap "gifts". At first I tried to argue and pay my way, but then I realised resistance was futile and just gave up.
5. Being a "tour leader" means that you are provided with, sometimes graphic, details of the bowel movements of members of the tour group at various times of the day. In Alexandria I had three such conversations before I'd even had a coffee (approximately 7am) - I only had toast that morning.
6. The only way I managed to get any free time was to shut myself in my room and not do anything, which wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I headed to Egypt. However, they did have "Alias" and "Grey's Anatomy" on the hotel TV, so it could have been worse. The Nile Cruise boat showed "Titantic". I didn't watch it.
7. I got asked alot of slightly useless questions (though I guess they weren't without validity) such as "Where is the cartouche reading Sety I?", erm, well there isn't one that says that, but I can point out Menmaatra Sety (meryenptah), does that help and will it mean anything at all when you get home? I sincerely doubt it.

If you were wondering, yes I am going again. Probably next year. What a glutton for punishment.

Umanek - the lost pharaoh

2008-01-30T00:41:00.000Z

This entry will be brief, mainly due to the fact that I am still shattered and recovering from 3 solid weeks of tour leading a group of 41 people from one end of Egypt to the other (see photo).

Amongst the many adventures that I will relate on this page, once I am somewhat returned to normal, are one of the more interesting massages I have experienced and my now extensive knowledge of anti-vomit/diarrhoea drugs and treatments. Aren't you envious?

The journey home consisted of 36 hours without sleep and it is only now, 4 days after my return, that the spaced out feeling and faint taste of toxins appear to have left my body. Plus, I had to endure room cleaning 'antics' that turned my bath towles into this...

Old stuff; wish me luck!

2008-01-02T02:42:00.000Z

This time tomorrow I'll be in Auckland waiting for my flight to Brisbane, then waiting for my flight to Singapore, then waiting for my flight to Dubai and, finally, waiting for my flight to Cairo.

Around about 30 hours after leaving Wellington, NZ, I should (fingers crossed) find myself & my tour group in the swanky luxury of the Moevenpick Pyramids Hotel just a short skip & hop from ye olde pyramides of Giza. At which point I plan to head to my room and pass out for a few hours.

I hope that I'll be able to get some decent internet access and if you are lucky I'll be updating from my travels - Cairo, Luxor, Aswan, Alexandria & Sinai - and not just seething quietly.

Arrividerci!

A head like mince

2007-12-23T05:56:00.000Z

And a merry Christmas to you all!

No doubt you are squinting at the photo attached. What you may, or may not, be able to see is the lovely gouge that Gert managed to gain in her bonce on Thursday - not that we know how she did it, but it is not classy. At all. In fact, I think it may be slightly common.

The last couple of weeks have been taken up with a heady concoction of birthdays, cafe work, university work, theatrical trips and avoiding Christmas. I have excelled at the last one beyond even my wildest dreams. In fact, I am writing this now and fretting about how the hell I am going to sort out at least getting some semblance of Christmas gifts to family/friends in the UK/Europe before February. I don't understand quite why this inability to organise myself has manifested; I swear I was fabulous at getting presents and cards all bought & wrapped when I lived in the UK, but now I seem to have lost that part of my brain function altogether (along with the ability to retain any information that doesn't directly relate to me). I need to sort this out and I promise I will try harder.

But enough about that.

The festive season is officially open and Jo & I managed to mark this by a evening of "entertainment" at Wellington's now sole women-only night (Wellington is seemingly incapable of sustaining a gay club/bar). It was in fact the second of these events, organised by some friends of ours, but we missed the first one because Jo fell asleep on the sofa at 9pm and I think I was engrossed in something terribly interesting on the TV. I digress, this time we not only turned up, but were by far the first people there...and "by far" I mean by an hour and a half. This did mean that we didn't have to pay to get in, but it also meant that by the time anyone else showed up we were ready to go home and eat half a box of chocolates (Cadbury's Continental - not very alluring, the creme de menthe one tastes like toothpaste). The late arrival clientele seemed to mostly consist of young people (ie anywhere between 12-24 years old, I can't tell anymore), a fair few of whom were TRASHED and stagger-y, which is strangely unattractive and yet mesmerising. And, my god, the amount of styling products these whippersnappers use makes us 80s survivors seem tame. Jo seemed to confuse and confound a fair few of them by actually looking and dressing like a woman - take that you wee Shane-a-likees! - whereas I, of course, mostly looked faintly unimpressed.

The music, again organised by a friend of ours, started off covering "classics/oldies", which terrifying included both "Total Eclipse of the Heart" and "I want to sex you up" by Color Me Badd (oh, how I wish I had never had to re-live that horror), but I managed to maintain my composure by leaning on the bar and drinking. We also managed to snag bar stools near the pool table so we could admire the youngsters take on the lesbian classic of "pool as way of chatting someone up without actually talking to them". It's surprisingly effective and completely mitigates any requirement for social interaction skills. Nice one ladies.

And now it is nearly Christmas Eve.

Have a very merry Christmas doing whatever makes you happy with whoever makes you happy - see you next week...

Spam

2007-12-07T02:44:00.000Z

I just received an email entitled "PenisFatHerbert".

For some reason that really cracked me up.

Typhoid Mary

2007-12-07T00:25:00.000Z

I have typhoid.

Only a tiny bit, fresh from the doctor's surgery, but typhoid all the same. In the form of a vaccine. I was going to use that as a really feeble excuse for not having written anything for over a month, but as I only went to the GP this morning, even I don't think it would be convincing.

In honesty the last month has been taken up with things such as holidaying in Vanuatu (not much to do except snorkel; weather was mostly rainy; not cheap; full of ex-pats/Australians), prepping for the Egypt trip (oh the joy of reading books I should have read when I was an undergrad; compiling tour booklets; attending meetings), creating playlists for my mp3 player (I really want to buy a new one but cannot justify it), and enduring the saga of the tenancy tribunal (we still haven't got our overdue rent/damages...don't even get me started). And David Beckham dropped by to wow the locals.

Tea is required.

Tea was actually some time ago now; I was temporarily distracted by replying to an email, which, in turn, led to a bit of browsing for Egyptian archaeology books online, followed by a phone call to my favourite local 2nd hand book shop to ask them to put a couple of books aside for me. The phone call also involved a chat about movies with my new best mate sales assistant; she recommends a documentary about a bloke with amnesia, but can't remember what it is called (I know...).

Where was I?

Getting ready for Egypt has not just involved getting infected with mild doses of nasty diseases, no siree. It has also consisted of buying 3 new pairs of flip flops - one the usual rubbery but comfy, one a Birkenstock rip off, and one slightly spangly for the evenings. Who needs Prada when you have slightly sparkly flip flops? Not I. I also invested in some stunning 70s-esque mirrored aviator sunglasses, primarily to hide any involuntary eye-rolling, and Jo reckons they make me look as if I should be on a motorbike. She did not clarify whether this was a good thing or a bad thing. I would like to think good thing. Unlikely though.

And I managed to snag a copy of The Jam's Greatest Hits for $12 (4 quid), not that this has anything to do with going to Egypt, but I do love "A Bomb in Wardour Street".

Before I forget, as I have developed a habit of doing (for I am old), I somehow did something technical the other day - go me! Our el cheapo DVD player finally crapped out i.e. you had to trick it into actually playing DVDs by switching the power on and off about 78 times, so we bought ourselves a new all-singing all-dancing mini system that plays anything on disc. Except some of our DVDs. Yes, I do know there are DVD "regions". And I do know that not all "regions" and players are compatible. However, the machine seemed to be quite happy to play some DVDs and not others, despite them being the same regions. Bollocks. And arse.

So, I phoned the nice man at the shop and he told me to phone the tech support company. The nice man at the tech support company claimed to have no knowledge of the model of DVD player we had bought, but gave me some devious code that allegedly would magically make the machine multi-regional. Guess what? It didn't work. Bumflaps.

Being an internet goober I went online. I found a code posted by a very nice man in Brazil that allegedly would magically make the machine multi-regional. Guess what? It worked.

To say I was stunned would be a reasonably accurate description.

Now I am able to watch DVDs until my eyes bleed (love the visual) and have indeed rented some treats for this weekend (Volver, Keane - neither Roy Keane nor the pop group, but a jolly film about mental illness - and Dreamgirls). We are also the proud new owners of My So-Called Life.

laters

Guy Fawkes Monkey Dog

2007-11-05T22:26:00.000Z

Not sure what happened, but we went into town to do some shopping on Saturday afternoon - 2 days before Guy Fawke's Night and in full daylight - leaving the Gert dog in the back garden as usual and something (or someone) managed to scare the dog so badly that she developed the climbing skills of a possessor of opposable thumbs. Yes, she climbed over a 5ft high gate. And she is not a big dog.

Luckily we found her on our street when we got home. Even more luckily, when she repeated the same feat at midnight a friend of ours happened across her and brought her home.

G now has bit of an issue about being left alone in the garden, so some major re-training & reassurance is the order of the next few weeks.

I am just about getting over the guilt, not that I did anything except be daft enough to assume people wouldn't be arsing about with fireworks during the day.

Won't be making that mistake again.

Update

2007-11-01T05:45:00.000Z

Still haven't done anything of particular interest; dog no longer has kennel cough & did not require vetinary attention; counting the days until our trip to Vanuatu; working a WHOLE 5 DAY WEEK this week (just wrong); think shitake mushrooms may be the answer to my bolognese sauce issues; weather still crap; have started running regularly again; promise I am trying to think of witty things to write about, but just not happening.

And I don't know that we have that many entertaining photos of the dog, but I will look (and why on earth would you be moderated? Strange man).

"Strong, like Angelina Jolie"

2007-10-24T07:58:00.000+01:00

This, bizarrely, is how my colleagues Kayoko & Mary chose to describe me earlier today.

After a skeptically raised eyebrow (from me) and some hints from them on how to perfect my "Jolie-ness" (pout over my shoulder and get breast implants), I chose to take it as a compliment and move on with the day. Really, I can't think of many people I am less like than old Ange. Plus, I am fairly sure she isn't that "strong", though I wouldn't say that to her face.

In retrospect I was clearly having a foxy day. My erstwhile (temporarily) cooking buddy, Sam, dropped by on a break from rehearsing her new play and told me I was looking sexy, which I can only put down to looking knackered. I have no idea why, but apparently looking shattered works for me - I swear I have most often been chatted up/hit on whilst I, personally, think I look like crap warmed up. Ho hum. Good thing I was so stupendously sleep deprived at our civil union, I must have looked like a goddess.

OTHER NEWS - Gertie has kennel cough. Word on the street (ie Julia from dog day care) is that there is kennel cough outbreak sweeping through Wellington's canine population, though I am pretty sure G only has a mild dose so we haven't bothered to go to the vet for antibiotics. So far, it's just been a few wheezy hacks and some heavy sleeping.

The only other vaguely interesting thing that happened is getting bastard sunburn on the first sunny day for ages. Oh, and we've booked a week's holiday in Vanuatu next month.

Dull, huh?

You are feeling sleepy, very sleepy.

2007-10-12T02:41:00.000+01:00

So, of course my seminar fell on the only sunny day we have had in Wellington for about 2 weeks. Even now the skies are grey and miserable, although at least the driving gale force winds and sheeting rain appear to have temporarily abated.

I didn't take the first seminar session, leaving me able to observe. I was suitably impressed that a couple of old blokes in the front row (and directly in front of the lecturer's podium/control centre) dozed off almost instantaneously. Apart from over-running a little, all seemed to go well. I even managed to rampage through Architecture, Art & Hieroglyphics in an hour, which has the huge advantage of leaving little or no time for questions. Genius.

Now nothing to do except keep my head down and get ready for the actual trip in January 2008. Think I might start justifying the purchase of an mp3 player with more memory for the trip.

But that was last week and this week is obviously not.

Having used the terrible weather as an excuse to flake out of running, along with Jo's enforced work-related absence in Auckland - if she is away I am responsible for all dog exercise (two walks a day) and Gert has more than convinced me of her dislike of jogging - the only moderately inclement conditions today meant that I got my backside into gear and actually went for a run for the first time in a couple of weeks. It was a sweaty red-faced affair, I was smirked at by a goth/arty/alternative type individual and succumbed to the pompous mindset of "well, at least I won't die of coronary heat disease, maybe, well, perhaps a couple of years later than if I don't jog". Ugh, I hate myself for that. Must be growing up if I am rejecting my instinctive super judgmentalism.

Yes, this week has mostly consisted of my voice being trashed from non-mumbling at the seminar, headaches and grumpiness that I consider to be directly related to the severe sleep deprivation caused by the bog-awful & incredibly noisy weather, mixed with a bit of scowling and bitching because Jo was on another business trip.

Oh well, it's almost Saturday and I may just go & watch "Downfall" on DVD now. If the player agrees.

for your information, David...

2007-10-10T11:04:00.000+01:00

The answer is yes, no, maybe - whatever. I am channelling my inner Tori Spelling. Could be worse.

I am in recovery from my weekend seminar at the university, where I had to valiantly overcome my natural tendencies to mumble incoherently and PROJECT my voice so a lecture hall could actually hear my fascinating insights into Ancient Egyptian mythology & religion etc etc in 2 one and a bit hour sessions. Aside from accidentally switching all the lights off (I don't know how; something to do with their high falutin' touch sensitive control panel), I was convincing and quite enjoyed myself.

Though I have been informed by sources close to me that if I insist on making my amusing "jokes" during a lecture I might want to signpost them a bit. At least I didn't say "curse-ed" this time round.

Aside from that the only other news is that my DVD player refused to play "Downfall" (Christmas gift from mum - genius), but was quite happy with "Cagney & Lacey". Who knew?

Shameless plug

2007-09-21T05:03:00.000+01:00

I forgot I was going to put a shameless plug for the new website/online shop of a friend of mine.

www.perfectlyvintage.co.uk

It's run by my friend and former work minion Cathy, who used to shame me daily with her perfect coiffure and fabulous shoes. My daily work dress code usually ran more along the lines of "can I cycle in it?" and "are there any visible stains?". Despite this constant reminder of my sartorial failings, Cathy & I had a very healthy working relationship based upon her ability to find me very amusing & regular delivery of trashy celeb mags.

Go and check it out.

Slowly, slowly summer creeps towards me.

2007-09-21T00:29:00.000+01:00

Listening to the radio playlist on David Byrne's website. It's 'pop' and I'm quite enjoying it so far.

What I should be doing is reminding myself about the use of illustration in Egyptian texts and whether the Fayum mummy portraits are true portraits, but I'm blogging instead. Why? Because I am the queen of procrastinators and Jo has dealt with all the domestic stuff around the house (except vacuuming; I am saving that for tomorrow).

I doubt that you are wondering where I have been for the last month or so, but in case you were I haven't been doing anything truly groundbreaking. Sorry to disappoint. The main bugbear of recent times has been a trying saga involving tenancy tribunals, non-payment of rent and tenancy agreement issues - yes, I confess I am a landlady. Through circumstance rather than choice, but a landlady nonetheless. The whole sordid tale should be finally brought to a crashing and definite end in the next few days (clue - bailiffs are now involved), but my feeble lefty liberal leanings have been quite bruised.

I am also fairly bruised, particularly in the area of my left knee, from my latest attempts to recapture my youth and snowboard. This time we went to Turoa, the other side of Mount Ruapehu. In an attack of over-zealousness, I agreed to test my ability by hitting a blue (intermediate) run. It was not pretty and I spent the rest of the day larking about on the training slope, where I managed for the first time to complete a full turn without falling over. In fact I managed 3 whole turns in a row - once. I also realised that snowboarding/learning to snowboard is quite knackering, so by early afternoon I was shattered. Jo headed off and did some fancy schmancy black/blue runs, just to make the trip worth her while and then we headed back to our motel. The return journey was fairly heavily laden with me going on and on about being far too old for this shit and we have now reached a semi-compromise for next year's efforts = doubtless I will be knackered by lunchtime, so I should just head back to wherever we are staying and then drive back up to collect Jo when she's done. If, by some freakish turn of fate, I manage to master going downhill on snow on a slidey thing without maiming myself, I can of course join in the fun. Otherwise I'll just go home and read/cook/play with dog/whatever.

What I haven't mentioned about my most recent mountain hi-jinks was the amount of swearing and at least two incidents of rage-fuelled snow throwing. So, so undignified.

However, I did return home to find a letter containing some photos of my most recently acquired godchildren, Joe & Fin, who (just like my other godsprog, Megan) appear to be two of the most lovely babies ever. Hooray for Funnell genes!

Adios.

If you want to look at all the photos (I only published the ones that makes me look good)...

2007-08-15T07:34:00.000+01:00

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=10832&l=1fc67&id=550072789

I married a guide leader

2007-08-08T08:06:00.000+01:00

And here are the photos to prove it.

A life lesson learned early

2007-07-23T04:08:00.000+01:00

I was told this morning about an unfortunate smart arse kid who took it upon themself to commit the (current) ultimate social kid crime. The aforementioned kid read the last page of the new Harry Potter book and then proceeded to tell all the other sprogs at a large family party what happened.

Apparently the kid was shunned after that.

Lesson = it's all very well being a smart arse, but it's usually better to look all high and mighty after the event. Or crib information, but pretend you know nothing and are just disturbingly insightful.

I'm a ninja, not a ging-ah

2007-07-19T06:24:00.000+01:00

The "ging-ah" thing has absolutely no relevance to what I am about to say. Thought I'd better clear that up before we got started.

What I am actually referring to is the recent acquisition of various sleek and secret agent-esque black things. It all started after work yesterday when I headed into the hustle and bustle of Wellington to buy myself a new pair of running shoes. You see the weather over here for the last week or so has been so vile that the only way I can bring myself to take Gert out is if I go running - I know she hates it, well finds it tedious, but it is less tedious than staying at home doing sod all (if you are a dog). The vile weather has been taking the form of southerly winds and rain, so I decided to fish out my old trail running shoes, which in turn made me realise how knackered my running shoes were. And thus I headed off to the shops.

Once I got to the fancy running gear shop I informed them, for I know these things, that I overpronate, particularly on my right foot. So they made me whip off my shoes & socks, roll up my trouser legs (drawing to my attention how hairy and in desperate need of a good moisturise my legs are) and run up and down the shop and over some high tech sensor pad thing. It will come as no surprise that this led them to the conclusion that I overpronate, particularly on my right foot. Now I have a super duper printout to prove it. Eventually, after much shoe testing, I, of course, discovered that the most comfortable shoes for my freak feet were the $250 ones. Then I moved on to choosing some fancy running gear, for I had been most recently been seen running in a pair of 3/4 leggings (pale blue), 3/4 shorts (dark blue), a fleece jacket (grey) and a tricolour cagoul (blue/yellow/white). Not a good look.

I think I tried on almost everything in the shop and, despite constant repetition of my allegiance to the colour black to the sales staff, even ventured to test out a rather garish grey/peach Adidas concoction. Eventually I opted for some rather delicious black leggings/tights, black t-shirt and a black vest/waistcoat thingy (all with reflective bits, which stymies the stealth thing but may stop me being mown down by a car). I had a very intense discussion about what kind of jacket would protect my mobile phone should there be a deluge whilst I am out running, but we finally came to the conclusion that I should just put my phone in a zip-lock plastic bag to waterproof it - seems obvious in retrospect, admittedly. I either look like a running ninja or Max Wall. Hmmm...methinks ninja. But the good news is that I spent so much money that they have given me a $50 voucher.

Plus, I found "Stick It" and "Zulu" in a nearby DVD sale for $10 each. That's only £3 in real money.

The mobile phone debate was inspired by my very recent (i.e. today) acquisition of a very lovely black slidey-open yes I am a rock star/secret agent phone. I have it next to me now, so I can gaze upon its beauty.

Oh, the irony

2007-07-15T05:11:00.000+01:00

Just re-read my previous post and the grammar is just terrible. I do apologise.

Happy birthday to me.

2007-07-15T04:23:00.000+01:00

'Tis the season to be jolly, mainly because it is July and that means it is also my birthday. Actually, it was my birthday at the beginning of the week, but I have been dragging it out and wringing out every last drop of self-indulgence. If it is any consolation to you who are not celebrating their birthday along with me, I appear to be getting to an age where any conspicuous high jinks results in me feeling feeble and knackered for days. This is no exaggeration.

Last Saturday (the 7th) I held a birthday knees up, whereupon I proceeded to forget two of the most fundamental and fairly basic rules of alcohol consumption. 1 - do not decide that, after an evening of quaffing white wine, there is no harm in changing to red. 2 - do not do this on an empty stomach. The results are not pretty, but luckily I was too smashed to notice too much (Jo dealt with the messy parts & and the pathetic grovelling from me afterwards). Suffice to say the next day was spent prone on the sofa watching The Food Network, as it was the cloest I could bring myself to eating for several hours.

Even now, over a week later, alcohol holds little appeal. Perhaps I reached my karmic booze limit? Could I have met my quota for wine consumpton during this lifespan? Or have I just completely knackered my throat? Such mysteries...

A rather more subdued luncheon was held yesterday for some friends who were, for varying reasons (some more glamorous than others), unable to share in the previous weekend's embarassments. It was significantly more subdued by a guest list that combined factors such as pregnancy, accidental hangovers and jet lag, and if you're not yet convinced of its lack of rabid excitement, we managed a full game of Trivial Pursuit. I did not win, but I did correct the grammatical errors on the question cards because I am a pedantic pompous ass. Though I think I did win the unofficial "Who can eat the most?" competition, good for me.

On the birthday gift front I got some corkers. I had almost forgotten how good 'Sign O' The Times' was, but the double CD is reminding me of the days when Prince was just fabulous (he should never have got rid of Wendy & Lisa, foolish foolish man), I also have a lot of money to spend on clothes, a quite endearing Ugly Dog doll, a celebrity scandal pop-up book and Herodotus' Histories, which are providing me with slightly disturbing insight into the ancient Greek mindset. Jo also got me a couple of laser pointers, allegedly to indicate points of interest during my evening classes/Egypt tour, but I am sure I can also find a use for them on particularly provocative/aggravating "students". I also opened a couple of Civil Union gifts, because they arrived on my birthday and I decided it was thus acceptable, and have a gorgeous new clock (thanks Jez & Chris) and the 1st season of Cagney & Lacey on DVD. In keeping with my new found old fogey-ness, I caught myself admiring one of Mary Beth's cardigans during an episode the other night, but in my defence it was freezing and the cardigan was retro-cool (from certain angles).

For no apparent reason my keyboard keeps trying to make everything UPPER CASE, which is just annoying.

So the weeks ahead. Less than two weeks until civilisation now. I would wax lyrical, but frankly I am still slightly faded from last week. I did have a moment whilst getting my haircut last week when I suddenly thought to myself "this is the last haircut I'll have before I am married", and then I REALISEd (see?!?!) that this made no difference to either my life, my upcoming civil union (except that my hair will be in reasonable condition) or my hair cut. Just one more factor in my descent into adulthood: driver's licence, dog, mortgage, decent hair cut, glasses that actually suit me, ability to wear/walk in heels, "marriage", grey/distinguished hair. Luckily I have managed to retain my juvenile sense of humour, reliance on sarcasm and unfounded judgmentalism. Go me!

minutiae

2007-07-04T07:09:00.000+01:00

It's still reasonably chilly in this room. I am just about to go to the supermarket to buy items such as washing powder. For dinner I'm thinking of making pasta with pork, lemon and parmesan.

Uh? But she only blogged this morning?

2007-06-28T05:02:00.000+01:00

I am BACK! To stop your incessant going on and on and on...well, that's only one person, I'm sure everyone else has given uo and gone off to do more interesting things like try to manage triplets or twins.

And now, to celebrate my return, I am going downstairs to make a cup of tea.

I'm BACK! again.

So, the work meeting was just fine, aside from the fact that it was actually at 1pm and not noon, and I not only managed to find a very tiny valid parking space when I got home I also managed (after several attempts) to actually park the car in the aforementioned space. I was so impressed with myself I almost took a photo on my phone, but would dent my cool and sophisticated image. So I decided against it.

Life is all about civil union at the moment - we've got the booze sorted, are half-way through organising food, have hired glasses from whence to drink booze, have confirmed our skiing accommodation, have bought rings etc etc and tomorrow I will be flinging myself around the city with gay abandon and doing things like getting our civil union licence, buying fancy underwear, re-registering the hellbeast with the city council, buying thermals (I've taken to wearing them to bed - most foxilicious - but does the trick). Obviously the last two have nothing ot do with civil union, but I thought I'd throw them into the mix. After all that it'll be off ot Martinborough for a family friend's wedding and the first full gathering of the Tarleton clan since May. All of us in a 3 bedroom house. With only one bathroom. And the dog. Should be fabulous.

On the civil union front, we are now only $500 off having everything covered financially and I must admit I am pretty pleased that we've managed to pay for it all ourselves. We are fiscally aware and responsible, how mature.

Aside from that it seems to be birthday season, again, with mine looming ominously on the horizon. I seem to have been adopted by one of the students at the drama school (my boss reckons it is some kind of lesbian mentoring programme that I don't know I've been signed up to) and last weekend we were invited to her 21st birthday party. Luckily there was a fairly random cross-section of guests, so I didn't feel too old and haggardly, but it did make me realise that I don't seem to be able to remember my own 21st. Weird. If anyone out there does remember it, please feel free to let me know what happened. I do remember my 18th and my 22nd, and even my 30th, but 21st has completely gone. Can't have been that interesting, I suppose.

English recipe Heinz baked beans

2007-06-28T00:32:00.000+01:00

It's been a day of ups and downs. Surprising only because it isn't yet mid-day.

UPs =
1. Was told yesterday that I didn't have to come into work until noon, and then only for a meeting.
2. It's cold, but the southerly has stopped blasting us (there was ice on the windscreen, a first for me since moving to Wellington).
3. Got to stay in bed a little bit longer.
4. Gert & I enjoyed a refreshing trip to the beach.
5. Stopped off at the supermarket to deal with a sudden hankering for beans on toast and noticed, for the first time since moving to NZ, that they were selling the mythical 'English recipe Heinz baked beans' (bought 4 tins).

DOWNs =
1. Alarm still went off at 6am and Jo kept talking to me whilst I was desperately trying to stay asleep until at least 8am.
2. It's very chilly in the study (note to kind reader - number of lesbians it takes to warm up a room in Wellington depends on multiple factors: size of room, size of lesbian, etc).
3. Staying in bed longer means listening to Radio NZ longer and their crap arse journalists. Today's earth-shattering revelation was that it's taken over a year to investigate and prosecute some bloke who sub-let his council house...for god's sake find something relevant to talk about. And as an ex-civil servant, I think a year is pretty good going.
4. The beach was also freezing.
5. Having flitted about in the car got home to find nowhere to park within a 3 street radius of our house (trust me, this is not good). Spent 20 mins looking for a space and finally gave up and parked in residents only (though we are residents, we haven't coughed up $90 for a permit, so aren't allowed to park there). Last time I did that I got a parking ticket.

But the baked beans were worth it. For those of you who are curious the difference is in the quantity of sugar - NZ baked beans have about 8 or 9g of sugar per 100g, whereas English ones only have 5g.

I have to go to work now, for my meeting. I am very important.

Excuses, excuses.

2007-06-15T09:48:00.000+01:00

I came up to the study with every intention of blogging, but have not because it is arse-numbing and finger-incapacitatingly cold. I am now going back downstairs where there is a decent heater.

But I will blog soon. Honest.

Coffee, gorillas & James Bond - not necessarily in that order though.

2007-05-19T00:35:00.000+01:00

The coffee I drank about 30 mins ago is just kicking in, and combined with reading The Guardian online and listening to The Propellerheads version of the theme from "On Her Majesty's Secret Service", I'm feeling a bit jittery, and strangely compelled to watch "Casino Royale" again. But I'm also a little over-excited by the prospect of the new "Bionic Woman" tv series - Lord alone knows why, it'll probably be trash. Actually that's most likely EXACTLY why, particularly as "Alias" is no longer with us and I just can't resist super-heroine chickaflicka tv, it makes me giggle. Very uncool, but I'm coming to terms with it.

Just read the story about the gorilla rampaging about Rotterdam zoo, much to the confusion of the zoo keepers who can't figure out how it got out of it's enclosure. Not great timing as one of my regular dog-walking routes takes us past Wellington zoo's lion enclosure and just the other day I had a moment of "I wonder how hard it would really be for one of those lions to get out?". So now I'm a little uneasy.

Oooo, "Thunderball"!

Anyway, news...I've been very very busy in my new career as chief counter svengali at the drama school cafe, generally having fun, making small talk, telling students that they need to eat properly and trying to make drinkable coffee. Oh and eating alot, but I'm counteracting that with dog walking and running. Dog walking has taken on a slightly less active aspect though as Gertie has become fascinated with a new game which simply involves me kicking a tennis ball, her chasing it and bringing it back to me and me kicking it again, endlessly. It would appear that a kicked tennis ball is much more interesting than a thrown tennis ball.

Bikini burns...it's what happens when you jump onto a lilo too quickly

2007-05-06T06:09:00.000+01:00

That is a "location" joke (i.e. you had to be there to find it amusing), but at the time it made an absurdly good friend of mine and myself laugh harder than I have in quite some time.

My Buddha Machine has arrived. It is small, orange and repeats a series of noodle-y slightly ethereal noises endlessly. Reminds me of a David Sylvian album.

How many ways can you spell "uncoordinated"?

2007-04-23T07:39:00.000+01:00

Well, not many. Depends on hyphen use, I guess.

Today I started full-time as vice-president in charge of glaring at students at the drama school cafe. My glaring skills were significantly enhanced by it being the 5th anniversary of the opening of the cafe and, thus, my being made to wear a cone-shaped hat bearing the legend "Happy Birthday!" (but I did get one of the students to inhale alot of helium from one of the balloons before getting their order).

I managed to burn myself twice on the coffee machine, blast steaming milk all over the place, make everyone listen to The Smiths and forgot the names of almost everyone there. I also repeatedly forget their coffee orders almost instantaneously - go me!

But, as Scarlett O'Hara famously said, tomorrow is another day. Tonight I shall be numbing the pain with a microwave meal & red wine.

Calm deep breaths

2007-04-20T00:31:00.000+01:00

In...and out...deep cleansing breaths...

I'm fine. A bit tired and I think drained from the emotional trauma of having to speak publicly in front of almost 100 people, plus sleeping badly because this house is f***ing freezing and NZers don't seem to grasp the concept of central heating, and blah blah blah. Plus, I am cancerian, which is my excuse for being excessively moody at times and lack of sleep makes me evil.

So there's no need to panic. I am not going to die of grumpiness or swoon away in a fit of despair at the state of humanity. Honestly. Though the story on the news last night made me wonder - a bus driver over here has been accused of killing an old guy by bonking him on the head with his wing mirror as he pulled away from a bus stop; apparently the driver recalls hearing a thud, but by the time he stopped he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. Question - how far away did he stop? Does his bus have the stopping distance of an oil tanker? Or was the old guy really really small? As long as it's a slow news week I'm sure we'll hear all about it, repeatedly. Although bus drivers over here can be a bit dodgy on occassion (and I can say that safe in the knowledge that some of my best friends are bus drivers - well, one of my best friends).

Aside from that they are FINALLY getting around to showing the final "Prime Suspect" on TV here this weekend and "Fear Factor" is on as well so I can watch dumb asses doing stomach churning things to themselves all for the grand honour of winning $50k. Idiots. This week they seem to be making them eat live spiders, which seems a little unfair on the spider, and almost made me squeak like a total girl when I saw the ad. Hope the spiders bite them. Right in the face. Harsh, I know, but justified.

Hang on folks, I'm having a bumpy week.

2007-04-19T02:49:00.000+01:00

If you like mood swings, then you've come to the right place! This week I seem to be veering between chipper, aggressively pro-active, weepy and borderline maudlin. I think there may be a number of reasons for this, but I think it has mostly been brought on by buying my twin nephews an Evel Kneivel Stunt Bike kit for their 7th birthday. I haven't seen them for a couple of years, due to minor inconveniences like them living in Poland and me living in New Zealand, so I buy them weird stuff off the internet and send the occasional package of random gifts from NZ. But it makes me sad not to be around them more because I think I would be/am a rockin' good aunt. Thus, I am feeling glum.

Jo phoned me and asked how I was and I did the dreaded long pause followed by a snivel. I really freak out if people do that to me, but she has assured me an evening of undivided attention and mollycoddling. I should try and find a really depressing movie to watch and bawl at. Preferably something Disney-esque seeing as cartoons seem to do me in emotionally. Don't even get me started about Bambi's mum.

I am sure there are other reasons too, but I won't bore you with them. Plus, Gert isn't feeling too hot either today - barfed up yesterday and has done nothing but sleep today. We can be pathetic together.

With luck the twin blokes won't launch Evel out of a window (they live in a block of flats) the same way my brother and I did when he had the exact same toy in the 70s. I recall that he landed in the garden pond, which was quite skillful because the pond wasn't very big.

I am now going to make a stupendous effort to cheer my sorry arse up. With internet shopping. Even though I've already pre-emptively spent my museum gig money (on tickets for the All Blacks v.s France in June & sprog twins presents). So, I've just bought myself a Buddha Box - a kind of ambient noise machine, in an attempt to reach a zen state - that I've been contemplating for ages and ages. I'm going to put it on my desk and calm my troubled mind/smooth my furrowed brow. I'm making good use of the NZ$ being all high and mighty, even if it is screwing the economy up. Bloody economy, always getting in the way.

Fingers crossed.

grumpy yet tedious

I'm here now, isn't that what matters?

2007-04-16T01:48:00.000+01:00

Apparently 2 weeks of non-blogging is simply unacceptable to some of you. So I'm back and desperately trying to think of witty things to amuse you - if I'm not funny, it's all your own fault for pushing it. Okay? Just wanted to get that clear. Feeling much better now.

So here I am, supposedly doing constructive things such as long overdue volunteer paperwork, some bits and bobs for the Vic University tour (like approving the itinerary) and drafting a paper for a 'lecture/talk' I am giving next month. But I am also multi-tasking by practising walking in my civil union shoes. For those of you who have not had the pleasure of actually meeting me, I am just shy of 5' 10" and I am going to be wearing heels for the civil union. I don't usually/ever wear heels as they tend to make me about 6" and I already have one friend who calls me "Godzilla', but the occassion and outfit demand it, so I have to practise. As my study/office/spare room is upstairs this means I also have to negotiate the stairs of doom every time I want another cup of tea (which is often), so I'm getting quite good. Not yet convinced I'll be able to bust any moves to fine disco tunes on the big day without breaking something, but there's still 3 months + to go. By then, I may be able to Ginger Rogers it with the best of 'em...maybe.

News, news, news - yesterday was the museum tour. After a 2 hour dog walk and only one weak coffee, just to make sure I didn't over-caffeinate and have a minor panic attack during the tour, I arrived sweaty-palmed at the museum armed with a plethora of fascinating yet pointless information about ye anciente egyptianes. Jo, her parents and Lesley, the fabulous masseur, had given me their vote of confidence by coming along and for a while I thought it might just be the 5 of us. Then Tina, my glamorous PA system assistant for the event, went into the exhibition and announced that my tour was about to start. A couple of deep breaths and in I walked - to be faced with a quite large room full of people. All staring at me. I was later informed there were about 95 people, which is almost 100 and just quite ridiculous. So I just started talking and finished about an hour later. No "curse-ed" this time, but they did find out that Tutankhamun had a camp bed. I also did some pointing at things, pacing backwards and forwards, staring at the floor and addressing my commentary to whoever happened to be standing in my sight-line. Jo reckons no one except her would have twigged how nervous I was, but that I did over use the word "important". Well, it is all important.

Apparently I was pretty good and Leslie now wants to come to Egypt with me. I think I wore out any good feelings from Jo by asking how I was approximately every 30 seconds for the hour afterwards, but she did better than I would have by not getting all snarky and sarcastic with me. Plus Jo's folks bought me a dress-up King Tut fridge magnet kit to say "well done" and Elise (the lovely Te Papa employee who got me the gig) let me buy a book on her staff discount. Not sure if the fridge magnets say "well done" or something more sinister.

Oh, and the exhibition shop is selling plastic ancient Egyptian figurine pens of "Nefertitit", or so it says on the packaging. I kind of want the display...might ask Elise if I can have it once the exhibition finishes.

Ugh. Just trying to figure out how the hell I am supposed to change the toner cartridges on our home printer. And I have no arsing clue. Which sucks, because it's taken me approximately 2 months to decide to buy new toner and now I can't even get into the bloody thing. Bollocks. I'm going to have to phone Jo and demonstrate how technologically incompetent I am. Arse.

So that's what I am going to do right now. I'll write again later in the week. Honest.

On a similar theme

2007-03-28T06:04:00.000+01:00

To my English friends, think American for this one.

"Who do ancient Egyptians go to when they have problems with their plumbing?'

"Pharaoh Fawcett Majors"

Well, I thought it was funny when I heard it. Still do.

Ha ha HAAAAA!!!

2007-03-28T05:57:00.000+01:00

Oh yes, this one deserves many exclamation marks. Read 'em and weep...

I. AM. GOING. TO. EGYPT. FOR. 3. WEEKS. ON. VICTORIA. UNIVERSITY. AND. THEY. ARE. GOING. TO. PAY. ME.

Ha ha haaaaa!!!

Just in case you're not getting this I quote a very wise friend of mine -

"So that would be like someone asking me if I wanted to be paid to go to New York and have a bar crawl followed by loads of free gigs?'

Yes.

More on t-shirts.

2007-03-27T00:08:00.000+01:00

I saw someone yesterday wearing a t-shirt with a silhouette of NZ and the words "Born Here".

I am thinking of getting a t-shirt made with a picture of the maternity ward at Pembury Hospital on it and the same wording. Or maybe never wearing a t-shirt again as an act of defiance.

Ouch, there's something in my eye.

2007-03-26T05:36:00.000+01:00

No clever metaphor, there is something in my eye.

Fellow contact lens wearers will understand my distress and the really bloody annoying phenomenon by which the aforementioned "thing" miraculously disappears by the time you reach a mirror. But only after you have stumbled, half-blind, down a corridor/hallway, clutching at a very unattractive red & watering eye socket. Then, of course, people assume you are hideously upset by something. Annoying, like I said.

Things have been all go in this neck of the woods. It's been so hectic I don't possibly have time to record it all here, but I will give you taster of THINGS I COULD WRITE ABOUT, BUT I'M NOT GOING TO just to be aggravating: WOMAD, me slidng/falling down the stairs naked whilst drunk (I giggled alot & Jo scowled), making school lunches with a bona fide surf chick, Jo's parent's new bathroom, the wonderousness of the food at the annual Indian fair, Ghost Rider at the flicks, CDs I have bought. That last one sounds a bit crap, doesn't it? Actually, the bathroom doesn't sound too enthralling either. Indeed today you have the high honour of reading all about my blossoming career in archaeology, and only 15 years after I completed my undergraduate degree - who says I have no ambition/drive/sense of purpose? Not me.

I believe I mentioned that I had an evening being all "expert-y" on the subject of mummies in museums at Te Papa (v. important museum over here, just thought I'd throw that in). Well, I survived despite the horror of having to do the public speaking thing. My voice finally settled to a normal pitch after about 5 minutes of blathering, I didn't swear, I don't think I rolled my eyes at any of the questions (though some were asking for it), I did wave my hands about alot, but that was it. Good for me. I even masterfully deflected the question that somehow managed to reference Anna Nicole Smith. And I said "curse-ed" in a piratey manner, just to amuse myself.

Well, inspired by the fact that I actually enjoyed myself and got paid for just talking the usual guff that people who know me/complete strangers can get for free if they have the misfortune to either a) ask me what I do, or b) mention anything vaguely relating to archaeology, I decided it was time to get this show on the road. Despite my antipathy for anything that could be classed as proactive (my enormous, yet frail, ego demands everyone/thing come to me), I went batshit crazy and sent out some emails. I know! I mean that involved looking up addresses and actually writing stuff. Sometimes I don't know how I fit it all in alongside my tea consumption and singing along to music most other people would frown at (Rufus Wainwright at the moment - so camp he makes the Scissor Sisters look like Einsturzende Neubauten, but I just love the show tuneiness).

First port of call = Victoria University of Wellington - chasing up their not outright rejection of my offer to help out with their proposed study tour to Egypt in 2008. Progress to date = one meeting to look over their possible itinerary (only two days in Luxor. Gah!), a second meeting this very afternoon to meet the bloke heading the tour. No talk of any actual work as yet, but I am guessing they'll be doing some seminars/classes prior to taking this trip and might just have something for me.

Second = Te Papa - still on for giving a guided tour of their current Egyptian exhibition in April. Did have a moment when I wondered whether they might cancel in horror after my "expert" session, but since then I have watched "the Antiques Roadshow" and realise that lots of people get paid for appearing to know something about a particular subject whilst not actually giving any proof that they do.

Third = Newlands College Community Education Centre - I noticed that, bizarrely, they teach an evening class in hieroglyphics (I should go along, I can only remember about 3 phrases and I'm pretty sure I am butchering them). So, a couple of emails & a course outline later and I'm officially booked in to start teaching an "Introduction to Ancient Egypt" evening class as of August.

Fourth = Wellington High School Community Education Centre - emailed them too. They are checking out their schedule and will get back in touch once they have found space for my class.

HOW COOL IS THAT? I am going to get paid to talk to other people about ye olde egypte. Ha ha haaaaaaa! I am very excited.

It also means I get to spend alot of time going over old notes/reading and thinking "oh yeah, I remember all this now", which is surprising considering how much I faffed about whilst I was at university. Except for when I was a mature MA student and took it all very seriously, and did quite well as a result even if I do say so myself.

Other news - "Rich Girl" by Hall & Oates is on now, I am joining in with the backing vocal parts. Jo & I have changed our civil union venue, mainly because the place we had thought of wouldn't budge an inch on anything and now we have the whole ground floor of a house. I have officially given up trying to take Gertie jogging with me, but have realised that I am now used to running as very slow unco-operative dog speed and am unfit (again).

Adios...

Magic trousers

2007-03-09T05:39:00.000Z

Jo has just informed me that my new trousers enhance my English accent.

Apparently it's because they look very "Carnaby Street". I checked that she didn't mean very "Austin Powers", she didn't.

Maybe if I get some other 'nationalistic' trousers I'll be able to do more accents? Or perhaps I should just get some 'able to sing in tune and not constantly spout incomprehensible drivel' slacks? Oooo...do they make 'darn fine tap-dancer' kecks? I've always harboured secret (not so much anymore) yearning to trip the light fantastic - too much Gene Kelly as a whipper snapper.

On t-shirts & car number plates.

2007-03-09T03:49:00.000Z

It's really sunny outside & that is where I should be, but as I said I would write today I am indoors WRITING. Lest you should think this means I will scarper outside and lounge listlessly in the sun as soon as I have logged off, let it be known that it is almost 5pm and there will be butt-crack all sun in the back garden by then. Feeling the guilt yet? I thought not.

But first - a cup of tea.

Sorry, that took longer than I thought. Got interrupted by a couple of phone calls. Busy, busy me.

To set the scene yet further, I am listening to my new iTunes car/travelling mix, mainly because I realised yesterday that I only knew about half the words to most of the songs and if I am going to inflict my tuneless caterwauling on others I think I should at least get the lyrics correct. Though the rock n' roll nature of this playlist is somewhat in contrast to the little old lady nature of our car: most NZers insist on driving either silly silly SUVs or boy-racer Japanese thingies with enormously loud exhausts. After me, "U. G. L. Y. You ain't got no alibi...". My ramblings on this subject are semi-inspired by a very cruisy drive up the coast yesterday and some general observations about the folks in these parts. I have become a little fixated on two strangely (to me) common features of NZ life, namely NZ/NZ locality themed t-shirts and personalised number plates on cars.

Personalised car number plates are so common over here that I once spent more time than I should have trying to figure out one particularly cunning example. Was it a phonetic combination of letters and numbers (such as "BST M8" = best mate), a straightforward abbreviation, or something more sinister? No, it was just a random meaningless jumble of letters and numbers. How dull. Yesterday I saw this legend upon a fairly nice car - BEEYATCH. Now, wouldn't you be thrilled to have that adorning your vehicle? Tough, someone classy has already nabbed it. Other recent classics = PRPLE CR (it was a purple car; thanks for sharing), YAIS M8 ("yus mate", which I love because it was a favoured catchphrase of my great uncle George) and WNK 3R - actually I made that up. It was TSS 3R. Made that up too.

But I do know of someone over here who changed their middle name to "Danger", so they could say "Danger is my middle name". A sibling won a name change competition on a local radio station and had it changed to "Dangermouse". That'll learn 'em.

Similarly, but not really linked at all, there is a really big thing for wearing NZ themed t-shirts arounds these parts. I recently read that one "guest" of NZ suggested that perhaps there was a legal requirement that every resident had to own at least one, to be worn once a week (bare minimum). Hmm...it could be true.

If you don't believe me then check out www.billitees.co.nz.

One commonly worn motif depicts the two main islands of NZ accompanied by the legend "home". Um, yeah? I kind of know that seeing as we are both in NZ, and you're wearing a geographically specific t-shirt in the typical Kiwi fashion. Bit of a give away.

I wanted to get a t-shirt made with a portrait of the Queen and emblazoned with "I'm the boss of you" just to see if I can provoke the locals. I have been advised this would not go down well. Damn.

Not only can you buy generic NZ t-shirts, you can get more detailed and have a city-focused motif, and then go further and get a suburb/neighbourhood themed design. Anyone desperate for a "Newtown" t-shirt feel free to call, they sell them in the shop on the corner of our street. It reminds me of that irritating thing we used to write when kids i.e. Grumpy But Amusing, 6 Bloggins St, Newtown, Wellington, New Zealand, Australasia, Oceania, The Earth, The Solar System, The Universe. Maybe I could get a t-shirt with that on it? In ascending order! Now, that's an idea.

If you are being pc (or simply want to confuse non-locals) you could go for the Aotearoa design. Aotearoa being Maori for "Land of the Long White Cloud", that being what we colonials refer to as "New Zealand".

If you are being obtuse you can go for any one of numerous motifs that liberally make use of kiwis, paua shells, sheep, koru, or NZ catchphrases, such as "choice", "sweet as", "bro" etc etc.

See? It's a national obsession. To paraphrase Ozzy Osbourne, if you really want to be original in NZ don't get a NZ themed t-shirt. Fight it. Fight the urge.

I have one. But it's discreet. And it only shows the Bucket Fountain in Cuba St, so it's pretentious too. Right up my street.

Tomorrow is Wellington's annual Lesbian & Gay Fair. It rocks so hard it can entirely contained in the playground of the local school. And the headline act is someone/something called "Boyband". Think of me and weep.

Luckily we have an expert margarita maker coming over in the evening.

Bonsoir.