Paper and cheese

The other morning, when my room was still in disarray, I went and sat in my flatmate Emma's room to eat my cinnamon and grated apple porridge (I didn't make it, but it's really yum, so one day I will have to try to recreate the glory of it). The door of her wardrobe was open and the wallpaper on the inside was so great I had to take a photo of it.

My room is pretty much all set up now, which is nice. This house is so homely that I want to burrow in and hibernate all winter knitting and listening to podcasts, and reading, and watching Girls and the latest season of Mad Men. Unfortunately, I still have to leave the house to go to work. And really, I don't think I'd last long at pure hibernation, because then I'd miss things like the talk I went to by Oliver Jeffers on Tuesday night, run by the New Zealand Book Council.

Oliver Jeffers is an Irishman living in New York who writes and illustrates picture books. I got him to sign my copy of The Heart and the Bottle. He asked if I worked in publishing or wanted to be a children's book maker (because it seemed like that was the background of a lot of other people there) and I said, 'No, I work for the Government. I tell stories, but they're pretty boring.' And he replied, 'Oh. Well...good luck with that.'

He's right. I need to get out of the Government. But what will I doooooo? I'm working on it.

On Thursday night I went to Yeti Is Dead/I Am Tom which was very funny in a silly way, and last night I went to Command Performance which was impressive musical improvisation. Both were at BATS as part of the NZ International Comedy Festival.

I forgot to include this photo in one of my earlier posts. This was my Aro Cafe lunch on Sunday in between my first and second car load to the new house. It was extremely delicious fried haloumi and bread with a side salad. I decided I'd better make the most of Aro Cafe on my last day living around the corner from it.

Read it

I think I've had blogging exhaustion after my almost-daily efforts while on holiday. But records don't write themselves, so I'd better make a note of the two books I finished while I was away. One of which took me about four months to read.

The Golden Notebook by Doris Lessing is giant; the print is tiny, the pages are thin, and it is generally just a tome of a book. The book begins as a novel told in the third person but is interspersed with sections from four notebooks in which the main character, Anna, is recording her life in the first person. These different coloured notebooks record her political life, developments in her writing life, her personal life (dreams, affairs, troubles), and a novel she is writing which is very similar to her real life. To begin with, I loved it; and actually I mostly enjoyed it until towards the end, even though it got a bit confusing - switching from 'Free Women' the novel, to bits of notebooks, to Anna's novel-in-progress which was very similar to her life in the novel 'proper'. I was waiting for the golden notebook to finally tie everything together nicely, but ultimately it didn't do that and after investing so much time in the book it seemed like a bit of a let-down. Especially after perservering through the last few sections of the book in which Anna descends into madness - it became irritating because she kept saying, 'X happened and I could tell I had fallen even deeper into madness than I had ever been before.' The first few times it was fine because, of course, how would you know if things could get worse or not, but after a while it got a bit repetitive.

Lessing has said she wanted to capture a time in history and I do think she achieved that; it was interesting to read about the British Communist Party in the 1950s, the living circumstances of various people in society, and attitudes towards women living alone. Since its publication in 1962, The Golden Notebook has been hailed and condemned as a feminist work but Lessing has said herself that she never intended to write a feminist novel. She was more interested in breakdowns, the fragmentation of personalities, the effect of the world at the time on various individuals, and I think this is pretty clear in the last third of the novel.

I'm glad I finished the book - being set so firmly in London, perhaps it was appropriate that I did so on a plane leaving London - it felt like quite an achievement. I'd be interested to read another of Lessing's novels, but I think I'll wait a wee bit first.

The next book I read was completely different and perfect for reading on a plane. Tina Fey's Bossypants was pretty light reading but very funny (my lack of sleep may have made it even funnier) and seeing as I love reading about people's lives, it satisfied my nosey-side. For a memoir, Tina Fey doesn't actually give much away and that's one of things a lot of the reviews of the book comment on. But it was the same when I read Joy Cowley's memoir, you just have to accept that the writer is only going to tell you as much as s/he wants to and you just have to take what you get and enjoy it. Especially with a memoir, rather than an autobiography.

I really liked the small insight the book gave into being a female in comedy, espeically improvisation, because it's still true that the majority of roles women end up playing in improv are the wife/girlfriend, secretary, mother...When I did Politics: The Musical with The Improvisors a while ago, I came on a few scenes in and announced I was the co-leader of the Green Party because up until that point I had been an MP's wife and a private secretary and I was like, 'Hold on, I'm not having that.' Fey also makes the point that people ask her all the time what it's like being a woman in charge of a sucessful US sitcom, i.e. being female and being the boss, but no one asks Donald Trump whether he finds it hard being a man and being the boss. Fey might give very little away, but she does make some important points.

I'm going once, I'm going twice, I'm sold to the lady in the second row...*

TradeMe is dangerous. But sometimes there are treasures that just have to be bought: $37 for a boxed set of Little House on the Prairie - the editions with the covers I love most! There's nothing like winning the auction for something amazing.

Today it's exactly two months until my dream time holiday. The winter of frugality needs to kick in in the extreme from June 1st...

*Auctions always make me think of two barbershop songs, 'Sold (The Grundy County Auction Incident)' and 'The Auctioneer'. I especially like the second one, the claps get me every time.

ONE INCH

The heel flap on my second sock of the first ever pair is one inch away.

I am determined to get the pair finished in time to wear this winter. And my new frugal winter lifestyle is going to be very conducive to knitting which I'm looking forward to. I need to save all my pennies so the pounds (and Euros) can looks after themselves come August...

I'm hoping to get through lots more books while in my savings induced hibernation. Last week I read a disturbing but extremely well written book - Room by Emma Donoghue. She captures the voice of a five year old unbelievably well. All the little quirks of language, it so reminded me of my little brother five years ago, 'But why you need that?'.

I won't give too much away but Room gets pretty gripping at points. I can't handle not knowing certain things so I am guilty of skipping ahead in books to find out and then going back and continuing to read. I did that a couple of times with Room and then about two thirds of the way through I actually sat up until 2am speed reading to the end because I really wanted to know what happened without skipping to the last page. Since then I've gone back and continued to read from where I got speedy on it, otherwise I'd feel like I'd missed out on really reading the book.

On the Banks of Plum Creek

I took these photos of a random house while walking to some friends' house for dinner one Saturday evening the other weekend. I liked the colours of the flaking paint.

And the sky.

And the flowers out the front.

While in Christchurch I finished the third book in the Little House on the Prairie series, On the Banks of Plum Creek. I am loving this series, especially because I've got a bit of a system going where I read one 'adult' novel/non-fiction book, then one Little House book, to break it up a bit.

More action and events happen in On the Banks of Plum Creek than either of the previous books, for two reasons I think - one being that Laura and Mary are older and so have more independence and responsibility. Another being that they are living closer to a town/settlement so they get to go to school and church and meet other children and have more interaction with people outside their own family.

The tone/style of the book seemed slightly different from the previous two - there's more dialogue and more of something a bit harder to describe but what seems like energy, in the writing and in the progression of the plot. I had read that there has been debate about how much involvement Laura Ingalls Wilder's daughter Rose had in the writing and/or editing of the books and On the Banks of Plum Creek did make me wonder if this was one of the books in which Rose played a bigger role in the writing and that's why the tone or style seemed a bit different. But the tone/style difference isn't major and may simply be a reflection of the two points I noted above.

(I suddenly seem to be writing an essay. I think I miss studying English Literature.)

Something that has irritated me throughout has been the way Ma and Pa say each other's name almost every time they speak to each other - "'Tomorrow, we'll be settled again. The house is in a creek bank, Caroline.' 'Oh, Charles!' said Ma. 'A dugout. We've never had to live in a dugout yet.'"

"'I'm glad I had to carry them only three miles. Think of it, Caroline! Town's only three miles away! Just a nice walk....How do you like it, Caroline?'"

Also, Mary and Laura have such rigid characterisations - Mary is quiet, well-behaved, with perfect manners, and likes to stay indoors helping Ma and playing with Carrie. She gets scared easily and when she does she freezes up and can't move or speak. Laura is chatty, asks lots of questions, prefers to be outside with Pa, and pushes the boundries. Laura is always the one who acts in the face danger, no matter how scared she is.

I loved this line, "But Laura was glowing warm. She had never felt so fine and frisky. Mary said, 'I'm surprised at you, Laura. I wouldn't go out in the rain and get all wet like that.'"

It's such a Mary thing to say.

Beehives and Joy

Broken China at BATS Theatre, photo by Almost A Bird Collective

I love my new house. But I do not love unpacking. Yes it's fun deciding where things can go and hanging posters and pictures on the walls, but I still have so many boxes piled up in my room and SO MUCH STUFF. So many books, so many tea cups, so many photos in frames, so many items of clothing that I can't get rid of even though I never wear them because 'they might be good for a costume one day' or they were bought specifically for their costume potential.

Lucky I am going to hipster camp this weekend at which there are THREE dress-up parties... A four day weekend! Camping at an old agricultural school! Random bands! Dancing! I cannot wait. And hopefully I can just forget about the mess of a room I will no doubt return to. But really, it's only been a few days and I've hardly been home to do any unpacking. I've had better things to do, such as see Broken China at BATS Theatre. I now want to wear my hair in a beehive all the time!

The other week I finished Joy Cowley's memoir, Navigation. I requested it for Christmas and my request was duly granted - fortunately this time it didn't take me almost a year to get around to reading my Christmas book.

The style of the first chapter (very dreamlike and metaphorical) made me a little wary as to whether I'd end up enjoying the book or even make it to the end, but it seemed to serve more as a preface to the book and the style of the second chapter was much more what you'd expect from a memoir and carried on throughout the book. I have a particular interest in children's and young adults' fiction which is why I was keen to read Joy Cowley's memoir - I loved Bow Down Shadrach when I was younger. Plus I am nosy and like reading about other people's lives.

Being a memoir, it's more a collection of themed chapters than a detailed, chronological account of her life to date, which made it an easy read. Some things - such as the end of her first marriage - were only very briefly touched upon and the few details dropped in here and there leave it up to the reader to work out what happened and how she felt about it. But you get a great sense of who Joy Cowley is as a person - very caring, hard working, spiritual, and with a great love of, connection to, and respect for the outdoors. She has led a very varied life - she loved motorbikes and learned to fly a Tiger Moth before she became a mother, and she trained as a pharmacy assistant (the story behind how she came to do so very much reflects the times she grew up in in terms of expectations and attitudes, especially with regards to women, and the fact that she ended up enjoying it, considering the circumstances, is quite surprising and goes to show that sometimes when you think the worst has happened things can actually turn out rather well).

Overall, the 'story' moved along at a steady pace and I enjoyed it, although I was hoping for more detail about her journey to becoming a writer and how the various individual novels came about; but she was clearly very selective about how much she wanted to share about all aspects of her life, and I guess you have to respect that.

Classic movie and reading round-up

Just in case it seemed classic movie Sunday had been forgotten, I can report that we watched the Marx Brothers' Duck Soup and All About Eve before 2010 bid us adieu. We were very, very underwhelmed by Duck Soup. None of us found it very funny at all. It seemed like so many jokes were fitted into scenes for the sake of it - many weren't particularly relevant in any way. And some of the things that were actually funny (like the scene where an intruder pretends to be the mirror image of the man whose house he's in to try to trick him into thinking he's looking in a mirror) went on too long and the humour got old. I guess it just wasn't our kind of comedy.


I did, however, really enjoy All About Eve, especially because I hadn't seen anything with Bette Davis in it before and it turns out she's great. She plays Margot Channing, a theatre icon whose place in the limelight is stolen by a younger actress who edges her way into Margot's life. Margot's biting wit and temper are so satisfying. The film also features Marilyn Monroe in one of her early roles as a young actress using all her charms to try to get work. It's quite long for the amount of story it tells and cutting some bits definitely wouldn't have done it a disservice. But we thought perhaps in those days going to the cinema was a bit of an event and people wanted to get their money's worth, so would have felt ripped off by a film that was less than 2 hours long. My only other gripe was that I do remember at one point saying, 'Well this script was clearly written by a man' because of some of the lines about what it is to be a woman, marriage etc. But such is the nature of movies of those times.


I just managed to read a book I got for Christmas in 2009 before Christmas 2010 rolled around. I always seem to have a pile of books waiting to be read and not enough time to read them, which I'm sure is the case for lots of people. This was Trust: A True Story of Women and Gangs by Pip Desmond. I was in the mood for some non-fiction and this was good because it was still very much storytelling, the stories just happened to be true. Aroha Trust was a work cooperative set up in Wellington in 1977, so I loved being able to picture lots of the places being mentioned - particular streets etc. It's pretty sobering reading about the upbringings of the women who became part of the work cooperative, many of whom had spent time living on the streets and were closely associated with gangs such as Black Power and the Nomads. The book also tells what the women involved in the Trust are doing now and some still live pretty hard lives. An eye-opening book that helps provide an insight into parts of New Zealand society, without being sensationalist or overly depressing.


On an entirely different note, following on from reading Little House in the Big Woods earlier in the year, I just finished Little House on the Prairie. It's so hard to imagine arriving in the middle of a giant prairie, setting up from scratch (with all the hard work and ups and downs that involves) and then having to unexpectedly leave again only a year later but still managing to stay positive about it all. I really loved the descriptions of the prairie, that feeling of being surrounded by grass, not a building in sight, with endless sky above. Their lives are lived so simply but they seem so satisfied - the girls are unspeakably thrilled when they get their very own tin cup each for Christmas, having had to share one previously. And the image of Pa playing his fiddle at night in the log house seems so wholesome and quaint.

I did wonder whether the way they speak about and view the Native American Indians on whose land they're settling (illegally it turns out) would make me so keen to read it to my or someone else's children. I guess because the Indians are seen by the family as this big threat (Ma is terrified of them) when actually the Ingalls family are the ones who are impinging on the Indians' territory. While killing all the settlers is not the best way of dealing with the situation (and the Ingalls call Du Chene 'a good Indian' because he stops this from happening), the Indians have every right to be angry about it and want to make them leave and this isn't really made clear in the book - naturally, because it's from the Ingalls' perspective. I guess as long as you talked about it with whomever you were reading it to it would be fine, I just don't like the idea of the countless children who've walked away from the book thinking, 'Poor Laura, the Indians made her and her family go away after all that work they'd done.' To be fair, Pa Ingalls does seem to have a pretty fair outlook on the situation and blames the Government for saying that that land would soon be opened to settlement as opposed to the Indians for trying to kick them out. But the situation isn't explicity explained and so it's definitely open to unfair interpretation of the Indians' actions.

Maybe I'm just being overly liberal and politically correct in my concerns. It's such a great book for describing life at that time and Laura is such an endearing character. Although Baby Carrie surely needs to stop being a baby now. She was already born in the Big Woods book and they're on the prairie for a year so she must be at least 2 years old.

Clearly I am overthinking these books!

Like like like

So I attempted the button holes on the baby pinnafore last week. It didn't go terrifically well, but I think I can rectify the situation. I hope so anyway. I'm going to try to this weekend and will report back.

I mentioned last week that I was reading a book that I was really loving and now I have finished it I can reveal all. Like Water for Chocolate. Amazing. And I don't even know why I loved it as much as I did. I thought the translation was a bit clunky at times (I am assuming the clunkiness lies with the translation, but maybe the original Spanish text is actually the culprit), random changes in tense do not a smooth read make and some words made me think, 'Really? Was that the best choice?' but overall it was the first book in ages I kept wanting to read and got through relatively quickly (not that it's very long).

It centres on Tita, the youngest daughter of Mama Elena, who, in keeping with family tradition, is forbidden to marry so that she can remain in the family home and care for her mother until her mother's death (I don't understand why she couldn't marry someone on the condition that they live at the family house with her mother but whatever, no one argues with Mama Elena). Tita has been brought up in the kitchen by the family cook, learning all the traditional Mexican and family recipes. She is in love with Pedro who decides to marry her older sister in order to remain close to Tita (stupid idea). Around this time, Tita's cooking starts to have powerful effects on the people who eat it, as her emotions while cooking become part of the food.

The novel is broken into 12 chapters, one for each month, with a (fictional) recipe at the beginning of each. I'm sure I remember reading a post by Alicia at Posie Gets Cosy about how she once tried to make one of the recipes from the book when she was first seeing her now husband, to impress him, not realising the recipes were fictional, and it went very wrong, but for the life of me I can't find the post. The novel's style is magic realism as Tita's food doesn't just make people feel sad or happy or wistful, at one point her sister feels a raging fire within her and rushes to the shower to cool off and the sparks from her body set the wooden shower shack on fire...

It's basically the story of Tita's struggle to be her own person within the confines of her family, her relationship with her mother and sisters and with Pedro. At times I felt like I was reading a Mills and Boon novel, because it's set on a Mexican ranch, there are revolutionary soldiers and passionate sexy times involving a bit of bodice ripping. But I have been recommending it to everyone!

I'm going to try and watch the film this weekend. Potentially with a giant plate of roast yams next to me. Not exactly common food to accompany movie watching but I am in love with them at the moment, especially if they've been roasted with a little bit of chopped garlic sprinkled throughout. Yum. Actually very fitting for a book that features food as such a significant theme.

In my humble opinion

This park behind parliament (and about 3 minutes walk from my work) has the weirdest sculptures. To me they look like a door knob sticking out of the earth, a carrot, and a lying down half moon/a banana. But look how sunny it was today! After Monday feeling like the middle of winter again, with it so cold and wet and windy that I couldn't walk to Monday night Knitting Circle, it's so nice to see the sun again.

A couple of months ago my flatmate Tui and her friend decided to start a book club; so far we've read one book I didn't like all that much and one I really enjoyed.

The Book Thief came highly recommended by a lot of people I used to work with and some people in our book club enjoyed it, but I found the narrator (Death) patronising and irritating. While there were some well-drawn characters, I knew most of them were going to die towards the end of the book (and I'm not giving anything away by saying that, Death brings it up every five minutes - lest we forget and actually start enjoying the story) so I never really got attached to any of them. I struggled to finish it.

I did, however, enjoy The White Tiger a lot more. It's very humorous and while the narrator has questionable morals, he is very charming and has the reader on his side from very early on. It's also a pretty eye opening book in terms of the India it depicts - from the state of the villages, to the Government in general, to the rigid and unquestionable family structures and hierarchy. So much corruption in so many ways. There were nine of us at the last book club meeting (they're held the first Thursday of every month) and we had a really good discussion about this book which made me appreciate some aspects of it even more.

Right now I'm reading a book I've been wanting to read for a while; it was published in 1989 so it's not new or anything, it's just that I only first heard of it last year and have wanted to read it ever since. I am LOVING it. It's the first book I've read in ages that I can't wait to pick up again and have avoided doing other things so that I can read it. I won't give away the title until I've finished and can explain why I love it so much. But a clue is, it was first published in Spanish by a Mexican author and was made into a film in 1992.

When the storm bites, when the bee stings

When I'm feeling saaaaad; I simply remember my favourite things, and then I don't feeeeel, so baaaaad.

These are a few of my favourite things at the moment:


I just finished Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston. I discovered this book while doing some Wikipedia research on Gone With the Wind and Margaret Mitchell. The minute I finished it, sitting in Midland Park at lunchtime, I walked across the road to Borders and bought it. I didn't think they'd have a copy but they did and it's a beautiful hardcover with a design by Lois Mailou Jones who was apparently "among the most significant African-American artists of the twentieth century." Their Eyes Were Watching God is set in Florida in the early 20th Century and is essentially the story of one woman's life and her search for love and her place in the world. I loved it because Hurston creates such a strong sense of place and character. When reading it I had to get into a certain rhythm in my head because the dialogue is written with phonetic spelling of a lot of words: 'Ah'm born, but Ah ain't dead. No tellin' whut Ah'm liable tuh do yet.' Hurston's writing can also be beautifully lyrical, but above all, it's a really good story.

Interestingly, the covers of the two albums I'm listening to most at the moment have images of red headed women on them. I don't think this is coincidental.

I decided the other week I needed some new music to listen to as I don't think I can listen to some of my tried and true favourites for a while without getting overly emotional. Music can be very unhelpful like that. So while I'm metaphorically late to the musical party with Florence and the Machine, I'm glad I made the effort and turned up. I love Lungs. There are some good cathartic angry songs and some beautiful good-excuse-for-a-cry songs. And Camera Obscura are what I imagine all my new cool Scottish friends are going to be like when I go to Edinburgh next year (because yup, that's happening, one way or another...I hope). My step-sister gave me their latest album for my birthday because she thought I'd like them. She was right.


Hot chocolates from Pranah Cafe in Newtown. They also have amazing food. I got french toast there on Saturday morning and it came with so many different kinds of fruit - caramelised banana, poached pear, stewed rhubarb... I don't know why I hadn't been to Pranah before now, I've been to pretty much all the other cafes in Newtown; clearly I was saving the best for last.


Okonomiyaki - Japanese savoury pancakes. The ones my friend made when some of us went for dinner at her house had shrimp, bacon, ginger, shredded cabbage, spring onion and other goodness in them and then were covered in delicious Japanese mayonaise and some thick brown sauce - the label was in Japanese so I don't know what it's actually called but I know it's yum. Then these dried fish shavings were sprinkled on top. So good. I blame the pancakes for starting the consumption of wine that lead to extreme Sunday night Singstar and a Monday hangover. I think it's my first Monday hangover ever and it wasn't a fun time now that I have to get up at 6.30am. But it was worth it just for getting to witness a brother sister duo from Levin sing their hearts out to John Farnham while using the couch as a mini stage.


This is not one of my favourite things at the moment. I am so over this bag. That tiny pocket is so crooked and I just want the whole thing to be finished. I'll finish it at tomorrow's sewing nightclass. And then I'll wash and iron it and use it and like it. Or else.

Pretty things

As mentioned last week, this time of year seems to be birthday season for me. My friend Hayley is a primary school teacher and for the past few years I have bought her a picture book for Christmas and her birthday as part of her present. For her birthday this year I got her Old Hu-Hu by Kyle Mewburn, illustrated by Rachel Driscoll. It is such a beautiful book, from the story, to the way it is written, and the amazing illustrations. No wonder it won the New Zealand Post Children's Book of the Year 2010 award. It's the story of little Hu-Hu-Tu's search for understanding after Old Hu-Hu dies and while some of the ideas in the story could be interpreted as Buddhist, the conclusion that little Hu-Hu-Tu comes to (that someone lives on in the memories of others) is essentially non-religious. I definitely think I will have to buy a copy for myself.


Two weeks ago now I saw A Single Man at The Paramount. It is a ridiculously beautiful movie (unsurprisingly considering Tom Ford directed it). A couple of times I actually wanted to laugh because everything was just so attractive. All the men have chiseled bodies and when we first see the character of Kenny Potter he is wearing a creamy fluffy sweater and crisp white pants ever so casually, his hair flopping just so. In her dinner party scenes Julianne Moore's character has amazing hair (which you can see in the poster image) and a fantastic dress with what I can only describe as a cape attached. I want it. I loved the entrance hall full of orange trees in her house and in fact the early 1960s era clothing and decor in general is what I loved most about the movie. Overall, I thought the movie itself was a bit slow but I think it's worth seeing for the sheer visual beauty. For a more...considered review you can read this from The Guardian.

And that's my arts round-up for the day! (Clearly not a lot of knitting is happening at the moment)

Keep it up

A while ago Phantom Billstickers had poetry posters up around Wellington; I kept seeing this one around and I liked it. I couldn't fit the poet's name in the picture (or get a non-fuzzy one because whenever I walked past it was always early in the morning or later in the evening and using the flash made the poster too shiny and the words even more illegible) but I believe it's by Brian Turner. It's a classic example of how different types of work are valued. Here's the text in case the photo is too blurry.

A farmer asked me

if I was working

and added

he didn't mean

writing.

I said

I was sawing

and stacking wood,

tidying the shed,

pruning the hedge.

'Is that work?'

'Yes,' he said,

'Keep it up.'

And with that thought, I'm off to learn lines for the show.

Travels - in which we visit an error and find ourselves in a time warp

On Saturday I went on a drive with Mum and her husband, Dave. On the way we passed through Rangiora where I visited something I've wanted to visit ever since I found out it was located (relatively) close to Mum's house. It was perhaps a little weird, but not really.


I made Dave drop Mum and I off at the Anglican Cemetery in Rangiora where New Zealand poet Ursula Bethell is buried so I could see her grave and put some flowers from Mum's garden on it (Bethell was an avid gardener and wrote much of her poetry about her garden in the Cashmere Hills in Christchurch so I thought it was only right I took her some flowers). I studied Bethell in an English Literature paper at university but most of the research I did on her was for an essay I wrote on her relationship with her companion Effie Pollen for one of my Gender and Women's Studies papers. Did I agree with recent arguments that the relationship was a lesbian one? You'd have to read my essay to find out....

Anyway, I wasn't going to mention my grave visiting time but today while looking at my photos I noticed something I hadn't when I was at the cemetery. Her name is spelled incorrectly on the plaque! There's an extra 'U' in 'Ursula'. I'm not the first person to have noticed as I Googled it and the mistake is noted in a newsletter of the International Institute of Modern Letters but I've emailed the Waimakariri District Council anyway to ask who arranged for the plaque (as it doesn't look like the original one). If it was the Council then surely they should get it fixed. Her parents' shared grave is located directly behind hers and they have the same style plaque, but thankfully their names are spelled correctly as far as I can tell.

And yes, I did wonder if it was a bit improper to take a photo of the grave, but then I thought, hey, I took a photo of Shakespeare's grave so I'm sure Bethell would be happy that she was afforded similar treatment to Shakespeare.

After appeasing my grave request, Mum, Dave and I carried on to visit some of their friends who have just bought a farm in Springfield. On the way we stopped in Oxford at Jo Seager's cafe and I got a hot chocolate that is unlike any I have had before.


You tip the chocolate buttons and chocolate sauce into the hot milk and stir it up. Its an interactive hot chocolate! It's also very yum.

Oxford also has a cool wee shop called Emma's at Oxford that is housed in a former hall built in the Art Deco style (I'm pretty sure it is Art Deco anyway). It has a great curved stage inside and lots of lovely books.

The house on the farm that Mum and Dave's friends have bought also has it's own particular style. The original rooms of the house retain some beautiful carpet (I told them that if they pull it up I'll have it...not sure what I'd do with it, but I love it).

Bedroom One (my favourite of the two)

Bedroom Two

Many of the rooms in the house are additions that were built in the 1970s. And they haven't been touched since then...

The wallpaper in the bathroom and the laundry were favourites - apparently it is being painted over ASAP.

And every room had its own special crocheted lampshade. Mum and I said if they soaked the lampshades in some Napisan (some of them are a bit dirty after 40 years hanging from the ceiling) and sold them on TradeMe someone would surely love them!

Now I am back in Wellington, where the temperature indicates that summer is truly over in this part of New Zealand.

Ashford adventure

Yesterday I arrived in Christchurch at 9.10am after a smooth flight. Mum and I got some brunch and then visited the Hands Ashford craft shop in Christchurch which has all kinds of crafty goodness. I bought some proper eye buttons for my rag doll and Mum bought my little cousin a kit set doll's house that was on sale for her 3rd birthday coming up in June. I'm going to buy her a little Sylvanian family to go with it and maybe some furniture. Sylvanian stuff is SO cute (again with the tiny things, I just love them).

Then we headed to Ashburton to the Ashford craft village.

I think my expectations were a bit too high because I wasn't hugely impressed by it - the yarn in the Ashford craft shop was all pretty much the same as you could get anywhere else but their own brand, Ashford Tekapo, had some cool colours.

The other two shops that were open in the little 'shopping village' weren't very exciting and the cafe's milkshakes were pretty much flavoured milk with froth at the top. A disappointing milkshake can really bring you down. I'm glad we went though because what I loved was the big old house which is home to the craft shop, museum, and cafe. Built in 1914 as the Mill House it is huge as you can see here:

It was full of beautiful wood and I'm a fan of old houses anyway so I was very impressed.

There were a wealth of spinning wheels and some cool examples of weaving:

The biggest surprise of the day was that Mum decided she might like to knit something again - for the first time in at least 22 years because I have never, ever seen her knit. She tells me she knitted my Dad a jersey when they were first married and it took her forever and then he came home one day and had lost it. Mum said, 'If he didn't like it he could have just told me, he didn't have to pretend to lose it'. She said she didn't knit anything again after that because she didn't want anyone else to lose something she'd put so much time and effort into. Probably lucky because I was a very fussy child, for a couple of years when I was at primary school I suddenly refused to wear undies because they were 'too tight'. A strange and fussy child.

This is Mum's pattern and wool choice, a simple one-button cardigan and a really nice teal:


I bought one ball of wool, but I can't reveal its intended purpose just yet because it's closely related to something I bought for Anita. Here's the colour though, just a nice blue.


I found a book I would have really liked to get, Vintage Knits for Modern Babies, especially as when Mum was looking through it she said, 'I had a pixie cap just like this one!' and it was very very cute. The book has really clear patterns labelled beginner/intermediate/advanced and so many cute things to knit. I think it will have to go on the birthday list as it's about $50.00.

Overall a nice day out. It's really hot here in North Canterbury, tonight I'm looking forward to Project Runway and I might try to enthuse myself about picking up some more stitches on the Baby Shrug.

It's a kinda magic

Last night at Monday night Knitting Circle, I finished the main body of the Baby Shrug! Now I just have to do the ribbed edging, sew it up, and voila! One super cute (and quite tiny) baby shrug.

Naturally, I'm slightly worried about this ribbed edging business as I have to pick up stitches that I have cast off. I re-read the last part of the pattern and inspected the edges of the Baby Shrug at 10.30pm last night to try to ease my worries, just as I was about to go to bed and read a little bit of my latest book, Little House in the Big Woods (I just had a real craving to read it a while ago, I've never actually read it, I read These Happy Golden Years a few times when I was younger because my Mum had it from when she was younger, but I never actually went and got the other books out from the library, even though I liked These Happy Golden Years enough to read it several times).

I have also done some research today and found this explanation of how to pick up cast off stitches quite helpful. So when I get a chance sometime this week or this weekend, I will get down to business. Quite exciting.

Sometimes, I wish I was quicker with my camera. Last night Anita finished her attempt at making a bigger baby bootie. She had doubled her pattern and at 8.30pm last night, displayed the result: The Big Foot Baby Bootie. It was cute...but big enough to fit a five year old. So also quite hilarious. Sadly she hid it away before I could take a photo.

Finally, today I am loving this playlist over on Posie Gets Cosy. As someone says in the comments, she's clearly a 'boys with guitars' kinda gal.

The 10pm Question

Yesterday I finally finished a book I started at about the end of January. I've been pretty slow at getting through books over the past year or so, I just never seem to have time to read them. I think I've also been suffering a case of reading fatigue after finishing my Honours in English Literature at the end of 2008 which saw me reading an adult novel, two Young Adult novels, and a New Zealand play or two every fortnight for months. I spent all day most days reading and even though I love reading, it can get a bit much when you're forced to do it for hours on end no matter whether you like the book or not (thankfully I liked most of the books!).

Anyway, yesterday I finished The 10pm Question which is a Young Adult book by New Zealander Kate De Goldi. I love Young Adult books, I'm not entirely sure why. One reason is probably that they are shorter than most adult novels but more often than not (if you choose well) are just as engaging and well-written. Also, some of my favourite books are YA novels simply because I read them when I was younger and therefore was reading books aimed at that age-group. Maybe also because according to the Wikipedia definition, I've only been out of the Young Adult age category for a year... though I wouldn't entirely agree with their age range.

The 10pm Question was great, I loved Kate De Goldi's style and her cast of quirky characters. I feel like everyone would recognise at least one or two of the characters from their own lives - for me it was Frankie's great aunties who live together in a big old house and have all sorts of hobbies and interests, and Dr. Pete because my Dad's friend and my actual Dr when I was younger was called Dr. Pete. I got a bit teary in the second to last (or 'penultimate' for those of you so inclined) chapter because one of the major themes of the book is anxiety and this chapter is where Frankie finally confronts the '10pm questions' that plague him and has a heartbreaking talk with his mother about her agoraphobia/crippling anxiety and his fear that he is 'wired' like her. The book is also about friendship and family relationships and all those good things we learn about as we grow up.

I would definitely recommend it, although apparently, according to this review, it's a book you'll either love or hate. I know lots of people who've loved it though so give it a go if it sounds like your cup of tea. And don't be put off by the YA categorisation - like age is just a number, YA is just a label.