Monday, December 31, 2007
Ummm that would be the presently absent Di.
And his new potatoes are being eaten, Jersey Bennies this year and that they're stunning.
His new potatoes have been stunning every Christmas since I was the smallest thing.
The weather is good and the lovely adorable Bertie Paul just turned 84, sharing his birthday with Gert ... both January 1st babies, both lovely. I asked Dad to give Bertie a hug from me.
He declined telling him he'd shake his hand and pass on news of a hug sent by Di.
Antwerpen is set to let off 100s of thousands of euros worth of fireworks in 35 minutes. We have this rooftop view that means we'll see the city panorama of non-p.c madness in all its technicolour glory.
Photos to follow I imagine.
Happy New Year
Yeniyılınız kutlu olsun
Sunday, December 30, 2007
I took this photograph inside Saint-Hadelin church, Celles.
This particular Romanesque church was consecrated in 1047 by Bishop Wazon of Liège ...
The place was so cold and silent, you could almost feel the presence of past parishioners. Then Lut discovered a door to the right of this area I photographed and she said 'Di let's have a look, this probably leads to the crypt'.
Call me a chicken if you like but heading down a stone staircase to the crypt in an ancient empty church isn't really my thing. And I can be quite stubborn once I've made a decision about what I won't do.
Lut disappeared on her own. I wandered around the church.
Suddenly there was a sound, not unlike a heavy coffin lid being lifted (or a squeaky wooden door being pushed for those less imaginative). I heard myself laugh nervously and wondered how brave I would be if she ran out, pursued by the ghosts of angry Templar Knights ...
Eventually she emerged on the other side of the building, the stone tunnel had taken her under the church, leaving her more convinced that I should come take a look.
Research this morning makes me happy I didn't ...
Below the tower remains a 9th century crypt. In this crypt the relics of Saint Hadelinus are kept in a niche. A second crypt can be found underneath the choir.
On a brighter note, the choir stalls date from the 13th century, making them the oldest of their kind in Belgium.
Saturday, December 29, 2007
A charming little town at the confluence of the Meuse, Mehaigne and Hoyoux Rivers, about halway between Namur and Liege.
And it was ...
A huge thank you to Lut, who kidnapped me yesterday and spent 36 hours introducing me to some of Belgium's beautiful places.
So did you know ... Huy is one of Belgium's oldest town.
The Romans built a castle there in the 2nd century and the name "Huy" started appearing in official documents back 6th and 7th century.
I found this shell on the cobblestones there and read that one of the hotels in Huy, the Château de Bonne-Espérance, used to belong to the Order of the Templars seven hundred years ago ... as a New Zealander, it was all just a little bit astounding.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
It's an exciting opportunity and that's all I'll say for now.
Greet called over today.
She popped in to pick up the Gnauoua Family photographs and we were having a lovely visit when Gert walked in.
Those of you unaccustomed to Dutch probably pronounce his name with a hard 'g' sound, as in gherkin and that's not quite how it goes.
Phonetically his name is more like ... 'Hierrrrrrt'.
It's said with a bit of a growl really. To pronounce it correctly, I have to sound a little bit cross with him so ... it's all a bit fraught when I'm introducing him to others.
He had never met Greet.
Sigh, so there was me, the New Zealander who struggles with 'r' rolling and G sounds as the person who had to introduce them to each other.
Yes yes, Manic, it was that amusing.
On the bright side, I've got a Gnauoua Family rehearsal to attend in the near future and one of the members has played all over the Sahara Desert and is rumoured to be a man full of stories ...
Fingers crossed that he wants to tell some to me.
I worked on and burned a cd of images for The Gnauoua Family today, enjoying a slow cruise through old work, fascinated once again by their instruments (note the piece of tin on this one). There's talk of me photographing a rehearsal ...
Next I have to write up a C.V. for an interesting job with an NGO. Let's see what happens there ... money would be a welcome thing in my life, that I am sure of.
And then there's a book that acts as a brilliant measurement of how I am doing with my life ... that one that I've failed to finish over months now ... David Allen's, Getting Things Done. Let's try it again, I said to myself ... it's time Di.
Tomorrow Lut and I are heading away for a 24 hours, destination known only to Lut so I'll get back to you about that one but I'm looking forward to it.
Tot straks from the kiwi in Belgie.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
It made me think that any one of us could make a difference ... if we really wanted to.
To raise money, Rosenfeld sent out hundreds of fundraising letters, sold T-shirts and offered naming rights for several structures in the school, a statement said. The $52,000 she raised was supplemented by the World Bank and the Asian Development Bank, which contributed $10,000 and $13,000, respectively, said her mother, Lisa Rosenfeld.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
We started everyone with wine and little snacky things while Jessie and I worked on the main course's final touches in the kitchen.
The gravy was stunning, she writes modestly, and tasted so good with the roast lamb, roast potatoes, kumara (sweet potato), parsnip, carrots, tiny onions and garlic, (unroasted) green beans. For those not partial to lamb, there was persian chicken and rice.
Huge inroads were made into every dish and many helpings were taken.
We rested a while, opened gifts and then Jessie's pavlova's was served, with hot coffee and more of whatever drink was required. Maybe we should have made 3 pavs for the 10 of us ... they disappeared in a flash, covered in whipped cream and a served with a little vanilla ice cream.
As kiwi christmases go ... it wasn't a bad one.
Monday, December 24, 2007
I needed this.
I lose hope when I see the reality of the fence going up between Israel and Palestine, seeing the prison being built around a country with inmates trapped inside and so few standing up to stop the 21st century's equivalent, or worse, of the Berlin Wall.
Or when I read of the FBI's ongoing attempts to alienate their country from ordinary travelers like me who have no desire to have their body searched for scars that will be photographed ... sure, go ahead and photograph my ass Mr Government Official.
How do people imagine scars are going to be searched for, found and photographed on entering the States? Think about where your identifying scars are ...
And then along comes Capt. Scott Southworth of the American military, and he adopts an Iraqi orphan with cerebal palsy ... Southworth's decision was cemented in spring 2004, while he and his comrades watched Mel Gibson's film, "The Passion of the Christ."
Jesus Christ's sacrifice moved him. He imagined meeting Christ and Ala'a in heaven, where Ala'a asked: "Baba, why didn't you ever come back to get me?"
"Everything that I came up with as a response I felt ashamed. I wouldn't want to stand in the presence of Jesus and Ala'a and say those things to him."
Sunday, December 23, 2007
New Zealand Herald
You know, I really don't want to go to the States THAT MUCH, despite having friends I love dearly there and finding the Grand Canyon to be one of the more spectacular things I've experienced.
What on earth do they imagine we're going to do once we get there??????
Oh but wait, read on ... It will allow the FBI to check the information against the faces, earlobes and irises of known terrorists and wanted criminals.
Even worse, Mr Locke said an independent audit of the US Homeland Security biometric database had found 38 per cent of entries sampled had factual errors. That left New Zealanders open to being wrongly detained, he said.
Ummm no thank you.
We ran errands all day: supplies for Christmas Day hosting Gert's family, a Christmas tree that will live on the balcony once its work is done and the presents.
The problem with this all day schedule was that I have a cold, a dirty rotten one and we were in heated shops then back out in the -2celsius temps constantly. I had planned on spending today curled up and cosy in bed but there's just this thing about Tuesday ... the thing where I'll be hosting both Gert's mum and his ex-wife, along with everyone else for that Christmas lunch I wanted to host. So ummm yeah, I want the place looking nice.
So today was about cleaning and coughing and blowing my nose and cleaning some more. The tree is decorated, the presents are wrapped, my desk looks almost pretty and the washing is all but up-to-date after days of -0 temperatures and no clothes dryer.
The sad news from my evening is that whenever I have a small sip of wine, I almost cough up my lungs. It seems the red wine cure isn't going to work out this time.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
A photograph of the city side of Antwerpen shows the pollution we're living with at the moment.
Each day, at least 120,000 vehicles use the ring road around our city, add the industrial pollution created here and the mess that was blown over from Germany and this was our today.
It's really really cold here but beautiful too ... we've been sitting at around -3 celsius for a few days. Of course, I'm full of the flu and today is the day when we do every last minute thing ... the Christmas tree, the gifts, the food for the big day.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Thursday, December 20, 2007
I didn't want to take a standard record shot of the couch ... I hope you survive this angle.
Imagine the dimensions of our elevator, the one that takes 4 people or 300kg ... whichever comes first. It's 1 metre wide, 75cm deep and just over 2 metres high.
The spiral staircase is something else entirely but we did it and the red marks will come off the cream wall ...
Anyway, this is the comfiest couch I've had anything to do with in a long while ...
Peter left the following comment: VTM-tv (www.vtm.be) just confirmed that we're not experiencing 'virgin snow' in Belgium, but a sticky mess resulting from frozen fog fallout.
Yes, these nice white flakes are in reality filthy, frozen fog particles.
I grew suspicious as there was no snow predicted, nor visible on any radar…
Living near the Antwerp harbor would have intensified the experience - and that's exactly what's happening.
Air-pollution turned into snow, this really is a first time experience.
'I want tootties, mama' ...
Closer to my ear came a more urgent whisper, 'I want tootties!'
Try replacing the 'c' and the 'k' of 'cookies' with 't's and tootties is pretty much what you get and that was what was whispered in my ear a few moments ago.
She was trying to find the balance between whispering so that her mum couldn't hear and being heard by me.
I delved deeper into what I had already suspected.
I asked, 'What do you call her?' pointing to little Miss Three's Mum and she replied 'Mama.'
'What do you call me?'
'The same for both of us?'
Looking a little bit surprised I could be so foolish she told me yes, all but arching an eyebrow.
Crazy times here ...
He was calling with news of a big earthquake back home, one that would have shaken the lives of our gift-giving friends, although it seems they are probably far enough from the epicenter to have only been shaken.
The quake appears to have done more damage than I've seen in a while but listening to the news story, you might see why this kiwi is a little edgy about things like elevators and tunnels ...
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
I'm heading off in multiple directions, questioning old directions, exploring new ones. This afternoon I sat down and worked on two articles for the new website, this morning I spent time with Peter and Veronica in this cold cold zero celsius city near the ice skating rink in Grote Markt.
It was lovely to hang out with the two blogging creatures who occasionally try for a blush from me and it made winter seem not quite so ... wintery, despite it being so cold.
Tonight I'm awash with memories of Rome after spending the last few hours writing of it ... I had flown into Rome expecting to find that the city of myth and legend had become a hollowed-out shell over-run by tourists - instead I stepped into a city where the past and present co-exist; a city where you could cross rivers on works of art like the exquisite Saint Angelo Bridge, adorned as it is with angelic sculptures created by Bernini and his students in the 17th century.
And I learned that time and light were different creatures there.
That light was golden and time seemed to bend across centuries ... cars and asphalt roads curving round the ancient Colosseum; trendy cafes next to the crouching presence that is the Pantheon.
Monday, December 17, 2007
This particular photograph was taken outside the caves, up by the castle on top of the hill.
About the caves ... Gert mentioned them yesterday and I asked if they were manmade.
He said they were.
I looked at a few photographs online and thought they were concrete, imagining them ugly however ... it turns out 'manmade' meant Roman and the caves began being 'manmade' back in 1050, when the sandstone or marl was being excavated. Mining went on between 1050 and 1886 and the result is at least 3 miles of passageway under the ruined castle.
Walking through the different market stalls was kind of like being back in Istanbul's Grand Bazaar - the same but oh so different.
Volkenburg is about 12-15kms east of Maastricht, if you were wondering.
We had a lovely time over in Valkenburg.
The Kerstmarkt, or Christmas Market in the caves is surely one of the most interesting markets I've visited.
The merchandise isn't your run-of-the-mill market stuff, it's really quite stunning and had I had money for 'stuff', there were a few bits and pieces I would have bought.
The village itself is quite lovely, full of buildings made of that pale gold sandstone I like so well and at this time year, Christmas music is playing out on the streets.
It was 1 degree celsius and cold but we stopped for coffee, we stopped for wine and we stopped for tea ... we got by.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
The most fascinating feature of this pretty town is the maze of underground corridors both under the town itself and the surrounding area. From Roman times, the soft yellow marlstone has been mined resulting in over 250km of passageways and caves. During World War Two, the caves sheltered such Dutch masterpieces as Rembrandt’s The Night Watch and other treasures that were hidden away from the Nazis.
More when we return.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
I finished writing a sentence and looked round ... ahhh, the oven-glove and the tea towel were burning but of course.
We just did that.
We're about done with our second reorganisation of the shelves having moved EVERYTHING again.
The guys were kind enough to throw the couch into the teensy weensy elevator and get it upstairs but it was there, on the spiral staircase, that it got stuck ... really stuck, and it was about there that I realised Gert had the little purse with my 10euro in it too. And it was there that the couch had to stay until my Belgian came home ... pulled out of a meeting by his quietly panicked kiwi because letting go of the couch could mean death and destruction for unsuspecting neighbours below.
It's rarely dull here and when it is I complain.
I guess today was my punishment.
He came home and found me resting, having run up the 100+ stairs because the elevator was full; having shown the guys were the garage was for the table; having done all I could to help move it.
There was me, the forlorn creature sitting on the spiral staircase, holding the couch so he could exit the elevator.
We lifted and shifted and twisted the thing but there was nothing happening.
I had removed two couch legs earlier, we pulled out the tool kit and contorted ourselves, removing the 3 screws holding the difficult-to-clear back leg and by something akin to a miracle, we twisted and lifted the couch up the stairs.
I may be booking a hip replacement next week though ...
So I put the couch back together while he raced back to his meeting.
Photographs to follow once the room has been suitably adjusted.
Shanti, we need you!!!
Friday, December 14, 2007
When you begin to accept that maybe you're going to spend the next few years living in a country not your own, there are certain psychological hurdles to leap across. Don't even ask to me to explain why it's taken me two and a half years to reach this point of recognition, I have no idea but I've been feeling the overpowering need to stop giving away all of my traditions and celebrations, along with everything else that I've sat back and let slide or stand - like Gert's blue Ikea furniture and learning to drive on the wrong side of the road.
Christmas Day in New Zealand is a huge day and it's been a little bit of a non-event since I started wandering. In Istanbul, we were given the day off work but Muslim countries tend not to celebrate the birth of Jesus ... and in Belgium, well Sinterklaus comes on 6 December and the 25th seems more like a lesser feast day between 6 December and 1 January.
I'm looking forward to food not tasted since Christmas 2002 - they don't do Christmas cake as we know it back home, I'm not sure that Fruit Mince Pies have made it here either. The pavlova is becoming known to almost everyone within the extended family but I'm not so sure about trifle.
I think we'll have to go with roast lamb, although the New Zealand cuts of lamb sold in the supermarkets here are a strange shape and very small as compared to back home. I'd like to roast all the vegetables but maybe we'll see what we have space for in the teensy weensy oven.
Even just writing of it here takes me back to the last Christmas I spent in my childhood home; memories of a summery Christmas afternoon sprawled on a couch outside in the backyard, too full to move, too content to do anything more than exchange mild mocking with the people who have known me forever.
Let's see what we can do over here, now that I finally have some kiwis here with me in this Belgian life ...
Thursday, December 13, 2007
So this is what we, the kiwi women of this Belgian household, are dancing to before the Belgian bloke arrives home for his dinner of Persian Chicken with rice.
The women ... 3 generations, the 3 year old, the 21 year old and me ... she whose age might not be admitted to, despite her relief at getting this far.
It's the whole Christmas and summer holiday thing at the moment. How do European folk stand the cold at such a happy time of the year; one that should be all about new potatoes and strawberries, the first cherries and the great outdoors ...?
He writes Yes, I had a delightful time in Dunedin, with its odd architecture and steep, hilly streets. I had an even more delightful time in Owaka, staying in the country, and by the time I left Owaka on Saturday afternoon, after exploring most of Central Otago in wonderful company, I drove off down the coastal road, heading west along the south coast of the South Island, with not a cloud in the sky. It felt good to be alive.
Thanks Mark ... and Mum had a key.
Midnight swims were the best.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Last night, with a new project in mind and a need for wise counsel, I had dinner with a lovely couple here in the city and you know how it is when you get to spend time with people you like and respect, discussing an idea you are quite passionate about ... it was a really good evening for me.
I came away with a belly full of lovely food and that buzz of energy and anticipation not felt in a while.
Of course, today I have to smile at the potential for book and paper avalanches here on my desk. I'm still working on the photographs from Saturday's concert and 'the' website-in-development-forever is about to go live and just needs loaded. Somehow all the recipes that don't fit in the book have found their way onto my desk and there's an ever-growing pile of tissues here too. I have been sitting so quietly, hoping my immunity was up to scratch while I shared my space with all these sick people ... let's see how that pans out in the days ahead.
I had an odd craving for chocolate and a drink full of fizz ... but it didn't help, just for a moment maybe, meanwhile there's this huge pot of cleansing-type soup sitting on my stove, demanding my attention, and my body's not too happy with my apparent disregard for it in recent months.
My knee, despite ignoring it since Flanders Fields, is having some kind of tantrum, so yes ... the net is about to be cast both far and wide as I head into winter and projects.
The photograph was taken at the beginning of the Gnauoua Family concert, they came on stage and danced around this while playing their music. It was a little bit of magic ...
Monday, December 10, 2007
And so, having earned a few euro working as a volunteer photographer for the integration office here in the city I went out and bought the happiest little red couch you've ever seen.
It started out as a joke, as we have a blue Ikea lounge suite, nice lines but not a cosy curl-up-and-read kind of suite. On Saturday while visiting the local secondhand shop, I spotted a little red couch and joked about buying it.
Sunday, still reading Eat Pray Love I realised that I needed to accept that I'm here in Belgium for a few years, or at least until Gert's kids are older and so ... I've set about making my mark on his apartment, furnished man-style before I moved in.
And in the interest's of having something resembling a real office, I've decided to break all the rules about why you should never set up office in your bedroom (because that's only place we have space)and I picked up an extraordinarily nice, very reasonably priced oak table for dinner parties - freeing up an Ikea table as that extra desk now required. Old and battered oak tables are much more me and it expands to more than 2m ... it may be we'll have that Italian dinner party out on the balcony in the summer now.
I've always lived lightly here, not expecting to stay and not in the habit of living in the same house for more than a year or two but now I need to make a strong base, with the hope I can wander and come home to a place that I know is mine too.
Photographs to follow on arrival of little red couch.
Sunday, December 09, 2007
Quoted because it is so true in many cases. She's talking of an Italian/American couple:
In case you're wondering why he couldn't just study English with his American-born wife, it's because they're married and they fight too much whenever one tries to teach anything to the other one.
Gert corrects about 80% of anything I attempt to say in Nederlands.
I 'love' being corrected like a 3 year old, which granted, is often about where my pronunciation level is located. One has to be fairly correct with pronunciation, unlike in English. Terrible mistakes can be spoken in Nederlands ... Turkish too actually. I'm a creature of terrible linguistic mistakes.
Sometimes, just to watch his hackles go up, I correct his English - it's rare that it's required, and when it is, it isn't appreciated ... unappreciated to the point where I fall about laughing over his reaction.
Belgians are probably the proudest mult-lingual people I've met but yes, they usually have reason to be.
Actually we've argued about my English a couple of times ... his pride knows no bounds. He was correct once. It was terrible.
Picaresque versus picturesque dammit.
If you read Dutch, here's the information from the flyer: 'De Gnauoua Family op met traditionele Algerijnse muziek. De Gnawa, Sufi uit het zuiden van de Maghreb, bieden een rijke fusie van Maghrebijnse en Afrikaanse ritmes.'
You can probably work out most of it, I'll leave a direct translation for a morning, when my translator is available again.
I can still hear their last song in my head ... sleep could be a long time coming.
An evening of stunning music ... I could have stayed listening all night!
The Gnauoua Family play traditional Algerian music and I was there playing photographer tonight. I can still hear the music, she writes, smiling at 1.16am.
Saturday, December 08, 2007
Liz, you must be very polite with yourself when you are learning something new.
And I thought it was something I should remember, since I'm my worst and most evil critic.
The odd thing about this book was that I've wanted it a while.
I waited for money.
Earlier this week I thought to myself 'I should go to De Slegte and see if it's there'.
Then throught 'No, it's newish and it's popular. There's no way it will be'.
So some money came in and I ordered it online.
Yesterday I was visiting De Slegte, my favourite secondhand bookshop here in Antwerp and voila, the book really was there.
I smiled about the universe, was a little cross with myself for ignoring the whole 'feeling' I'd had about it maybe being there and put it back on the shelf.
This morning Gert announced that the online shop couldn't ship it, and suggested I go back into the city and see if the secondhand one was still there.
So I did and it was ...
I'm off into the dark and wet Antwerpen night to photograph a band soon ...
I came to my desk to work, situated in lounge-central ... it's not really working out.
Friday, December 07, 2007
I blogged about the first one here and discovered that the link changes each month so ... it was there, now it's not but you can read of it on my blog if you follow the link.
(Note: this isn't the photograph that Soldier Magazine used but it's the one I prefer from the interview session.)
I can however, tell you that anything journalist Karen Thomas writes for Soldier magazine is well worth reading, as per December's music review.
The magazine version is someplace here in the house, I didn't realise I didn't know where. It will be somewhere safe, I just need to remember where 'safe' might be ...
The magazine that arrived today was Practical Family History and they used my photographs in an interesting article titled 'ANZACS identified - and descendants traced!' as per photo.
Images for newspapers or media chains tend to disappear into the ether and you're never sure what appeared where, and websites are lovely but they don't always present your work in quite the same way that you would.
Anyway, quietly happy about publication.
I might have said to Gert, 'Oops, where's Belgium?' ... innocently and inoffensively.
We're a little competitive on whose country is better sometimes.
Thursday, December 06, 2007
It was held at the European Parliament in Brussels and 85 people attended, including MEPs Paolo Casaca (Portugal), Richard Howitt (UK), Gay Mitchell (Ireland) and Jean Lambert (UK); Vladimir Sucha, Head of the Culture Unit of the European Commission; and the Director of the European Network Against Racism, Pascale Charhon.
The launch brought some interesting groups together and having the freedom to work with my camera without restrictions reminded me, yet again, of why I love working as a photographer.
If curious, you can read about the launch here and view a slideshow of my images here.
And yes, the bus is the bus I wrote about here.
I find myself more and more attracted towards ngo work and have been researching various projects in a field I didn't know much about until recently.
Let's see where it leads ...
The weather has been borderline appalling and I have sick people in my house. A few things went wrong yesterday and made the day fairly miserable however ... there's always tomorrow and it has definately been a better day.
I've been digging through an old journal that has been traveling with me ...
I began it back in June 2000, when my life was quite different and I had no inkling that by June 2007 I would have spent two years living in Turkey, married again and moved on into Belgium to live with a multi-lingual guy who speaks a language that often makes me feel like I'm mocking when I attempt it.
Just hear me say 'sneeuw'.
It's not deliberate,I hasten to add.
Back then though ...I had been missing lectures because my daughter was ill but I was going into my political anthropology exam with 22.8 out of 30, I was waiting for essay results in Modernism and Literary Research, was studying James Joyce's 'Portrait of the Artist' and had picked up an A+ and 94% on a webpage I had designed in Literary Research(oddly enough).
I had two Golden Labradors back then, Sandy my ancient soulmate was 15 and I was carrying her on and off the beaches we were wandering, and I had inherited Ellie, a companion pup gifted to my father.
I was deeply concerned about the fact that books would never be the same if I didn't have the superb Prof Ackerley to reveal all those things we miss when we read alone and I was thinking about working on a Masters thesis about Michael Ondaatje whose work I still love.
A quote found in amongst the mess of writing and photographs on the worn out pages ... The first moral is that human life is 'metamorphic'. Metamorphic here is a term of art meant to capture the incessant mutability of human experience, the temporality woven into all human institutions and relationships.
Carrithers, from The Great Arc
Thanks Dona for a starting the trail that led to the little blue man :) and the weepies.
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
IT’S ALSO FINE
It’s also fine to die in our beds
on a clean pillow
and among our friends.
It’s fine to die, once,
our hands crossed on our chests
empty and pale
with no scratches, no chains, no banners,
and no petitions.
It’s fine to have an undustful death,
no holes in our shirts,
and no evidence in our ribs.
It’s fine to die
with a white pillow, not the pavement, under our cheeks,
our hands resting in those of our loved ones
surrounded by desperate doctors and nurses,
with nothing left but a graceful farewell,
paying no attention to history,
leaving this world as it is,
hoping that, someday, someone else
will change it.
Mourid Barghouti (translated by Mourid Barghouti & Radwa Ashour)
A Small Sun (2003)
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
This creates a need to find that fine balance between the intake of red wine and the output of perfectly cooked roasted food.
I'll let you know.
I camped in-between the poplar trees here ... Pippa and I escaped from university life, filling my funny little car with the important things like the tent, the coffee maker, sleeping bags, warm pyjamas, freshly ground-coffee and the wine before starting out on the 2-3 hour drive from Dunedin.
It was grand.
See the lake edge ... and straight ahead, the view was of stunning mountains.
Mmmm, so this wasn't the wisest post when prone to ahomesickness but it was a truly grand memory.
To get some idea of the place, take the English Lake District, heighten the mountains, file their edges, fold them more tightly, cover most of them with snow, iron that snow, enlarge the lakes, intensify the brightness of the light by a factor of ten, banish all drizzle and shoot fourteen out of every fifteen people.
Joe Bennett, from A Land of Two Halves.
Monday, December 03, 2007
Our little petrie dish formerly known as Little Miss Three seems to be couriering kindergarten germs home in her pure little southern hemisphere body as it adjusts to life in the northern hemisphere.
So Gert is coughing, as is mother of the petrie dish - our place sounds like an emphysema ward and me, well slightly more healthy, it seems I have been assigned the role of the cleaning/cooking house-slave.
Fortunately I am a woman and therefore, immensely satisfied by the above role, born catholic, I also do a nice line in martyr.
So Amsterdam will have to wait for another healthier day.
Sunday, December 02, 2007
I sit on the couch, laughing sometimes, more often than not saying 'Grief! I can't believe they just said (or did) that.'
It's followed by Long Way Down and I'm completely into that, writes the woman who rarely watches tv.
In strolls Jon the Computer Guru and he worked with Jessie from his place back home in New Zealand and lifted our store out of 'okay' and into something a little bit special.
A huge thank you to you Jon ... and that song you're rumoured to like.
Actually, that reminded me of how much I love Old Schoolyard
President Dwight D. Eisenhower,
Founder of People to People International