Category Archives: work

worst blogger in the world award

Goes to me right?

I thought so.

Here are some random facts to entertain you for the next month. *sigh* I will get better at this I promise.

  • I currently have 8 windows open on my laptop. Of those 8 windows, one is called All About Cannibalism, and one is called Ancient People, The People of Ireland. I will let you make your own judgement calls on this one.
  • It rains in Australia. A LOT. Like, a lot a lot. So much so that I actually forget I’m in Australia until that freaking bird starts up at 5am and reminds me, that no birds in New Zealand ever sounded like that, ever and none of them were rude enough to do that noise EVERY DAMN MORNING!!!!!! I’ve never hated a bird before in my life…UNTIL NOW!
  • I got a job working at Ollie’s cousin’s dessert cafe. It’s so much fun! And so full on, and at the end of the night, they feed me dessert! This does not bode well for my waistline, but it certainly bodes well for my tastebuds and my sanity and my mental health. You probably don’t understand this, unless you’re a dessert person in which case, I don’t need to tell you anything else.
  • Now that I’ve spoken about that bird, I am imagining I can hear it barking/grating its nails down the blackboard/screaming/burping in my ear. If I had to describe its noise, that would be it. You have no idea how much I wish it would die. We were looking up buying an air gun, that’s how bad it is! Alas…these are illegal in Australia, but slingshots are not!
  • Back to the weather! Right now, it’s raining so hard I’m  having trouble keeping my eyes open. It’s also massively windy. It’s like mother nature is having a really bad trip at her rave party and crying and throwing up everywhere. *rubs her back and holds her hair out of the way for her*
  • My writing is coming along, very ponderously. Slowly does it. That’s the way. But I have a feeling its about to start picking up again soon. I can’t tell you why…because my husband is very private about things and would prefer I didn’t tell the world he just got a JOB!
  • Whoops. How exciting though!!!! He starts on Monday! YAY!
  • Oh! And I cut off all my hair. New beginnings and all that. I feel very Marilyn Monroe some days. When I manage to take a non-derpy photo, I will share it with you.

Thoughts of a Zombie Sympathiser

2012-06-21 14.17.57


Last year I was working in a high school, as an English and Media Studies ‘learning advisor’. It’s the best job I’ve ever had, and like many writers – I’ve had a lot of jobs. This one was different every single day, and I got to work with some incredibly amazing students and other learning advisors.

I taught a media studies senior paper on zombies. In the first five weeks, we learned all about George A Romero‘s films, how he used film techniques, for what purpose he used them and how they suited the subgenre of horror – the zombie film.

In the second part of the course, we looked into making our own short zombie films and movie trailers. I have never had so much fun in my life. The course was such a success and the students really got involved! It was so exciting for me to see people truly engage with my class. We had make up artists who weren’t class members come in on their free time to help us with make up. The above photo is credit to some amazing young people whose talents in make up and stage effects just blew me away.

I don’t believe in teaching and not taking part. Besides, who hasn’t wanted to be a zombie? You have to lead by example, and this was perhaps the most fun day I had at work, ever. Of course, I forgot to take anything to remove my make-up with, and it just so happened that that particular day was also a staff meeting day. Good times.

A lot of people don’t understand why I have such an attraction to zombies. I’ve been thinking about it ever since I did a course on Supernatural literature and film last year. Fantastic subject to study by the way!

A good ten odd years ago, Ollie introduced me to the zombie film by way of 28 Days Later. I’ve talked about this quite a bit in the past. I didn’t want to watch it, because zombies seemed like a stupid monster to me. But I got hooked. They’ve become increasingly popular over the past few years – and especially moreso with the introduction of The Walking Dead, adapted from the comic book series by Robert Kirkman.

So what is it, I like about zombies so much?

I think it’s that the zombie is still fully human. They don’t transform into anything like werewolves and vampires do. They remain essentially human. Just dead. Unlike a lot of people, I’m not into zombie films and books for the killing or the violence. I know that sounds pretty contradictory, since the entire essence of a zombie comes about through death. But it’s more than that. If you’ve seen George A Romero’s films, you’ll know that the zombies portrayed in his film take on a personality of their own. They become the symbol of the masses. Confused, dumbed down crowds of humans intent on one thing, consumption.

By the end of his storyline, you feel sorry for the zombie. You’re forced to see the living as the real monsters. I guess you could say, I’m a zombie sympathiser. I like the zombie – much like I like all other monsters of myth and fairytale. The creatures who are misunderstood and hunted for being different. But in zombie films, you also have a small group of survivors. A group of people who fight for their lives and their choices and the right to be different from the rest of the population. The people who don’t want to end up mindless eating machines. The people who can still think, feel and act for themselves. The people who are not just fighting to stay human, but who also end up having to fight other humans in order to keep their humanity. Something you see them struggle with internally as different groups each try to form their own new civilisations – governments who end up warring against one another until only the strongest and ‘best’ survive.

Nothing symbolises the decline of human nature and the base destruction of resources better than the zombie apocalypse. Nothing shows humanity in quite the same way as a human being stripped of both consciousness and life itself, only to be brought back as a cannibalistic, disease spreading eating machine.  The great thing about zombies is that they are a relatively new monster.  There isn’t a folkloric history outside of the Voudon practice. Unlike other monster mythology which traversed cultures, the zombie came straight from Africa to the Americas and has been shaped into the symbol of the human fall from grace. Our not so distant dystopian future if we continue to be mindless about how we treat each other, and the world around us.

It’s not the carnage and killing that appeals to me. It’s the fact that the zombie represents that human in all of us. The consumeristic, world defiling, destroyer of life. I have empathy towards the zombie because in them, I see all of us, and I’m very interested in the reactions that people have towards the genre itself. The violence they think up, the way that they simply choose to ignore the fact that it all comes down to a brutal, mindless violence. That they don’t see past the zombie make-up and pick up the underlying messages.

Teaching that course gave me a huge insight into the workings of young people’s minds. Some of them truly got it, they understood what it meant, and loved the films for both the shock factor, the horror and the uncanniness. The ‘what if’ factor. “What if this happened?” “What’s your zombie apocalypse plan?” “What would you do?”  “Would YOU survive?” Their ability to creatively think and rationalise their own humanity and how to live in a world like that was pretty fascinating. I learned as much from them, as they learned from me.

What is survival anyway? And who are the real survivors?

i’ve got to see you again

I got myself a second job. Just a part time thing to tide me over moneywise during the school holidays. What I do, is stand around in events (at the moment we’re doing the Show Week – horse racing) with a clipboard and ask people to give me their email addresses. We’re supposed to get 200 a day. TWO HUNDRED A DAY!

Did you hear that internet? Do you have any idea what that’s like? The first day I got 70, yesterday I got 100 and I’d started to lose my voice. It’s not easy! You’re not just approaching 200 people, because most of the people you approach are like “no thanks!” Which means, I’m chasing around and talking to a good 1000 odd people every time I do it. Also, this is Christchurch, and our weather sucks. The first day it was freezing, windy and raining. Yesterday it was just a freezing wind that almost blew you right off your feet.

So great for people watching though. All the girls in their tiny ill fitting dresses blowing up over their heads squealing and trying to hold them down. Drunk at 11am and falling all over the place. Terrible! They were vomitting in rubbish bins. I saw one slap another across the face and the slapped one almost fell on the ground, righted herself at the last minute and then they acted as if they were best friends and were hugging each other and laughing. It was a decent slap! I was sure there’d be a fight!

It’s quite fun, because I really like working with people, I love talking with them, they truly amuse me. It was mostly a good day. I was flirted with shamelessly, which totally made my day, since I was there in black pants, a white shirt and a burnt orange cardi and everyone else was in their most fabulous gear. “Hi!” I said to one tall good looking older man in the morning. “Hi darling! Walk with me!” He said, slinging his arm around my waist and marching me off towards the Lindauer Lawn (where all the fancy pants people go and get totally trollied). He gave me his email and finally let me go. Interestingly, it was younger men who mostly flirted with me yesterday. I’m used to having the older and not so lovely ones do that to me these days.

Two lovely Asian boys waltzed up to me after lunch, while I was standing there being blown around and looking bored. “Hi! What are you doing?” One of them asked me, so I told him. “Oh, do you want my email address?” He said, and proceeded to write it in a massive flourish. “No one can read that!” His friend said, as I handed him the pen. He wrote in lovely legible handwriting and I commended him while his friend wrapped tight around him and gave me the eye. “Get off me!” His friend affectionately said, and I thought – ‘dude..these guys are the cutest gays in the world!’ and then he leaned in towards me and said “Sorry. I’m really drunk.” Kissed my cheek and then wandered off. Probably to make other girls swoon. He must have been about 21. It was lovely, and I might have thanked him for the kiss! How could I not? It made my day.

Now I’m tired and glad I have a day off. It’s only four hours a day, it shouldn’t feel as hard as it is, but it definitely is! Especially when people are drunk and just looking to party! One girl handed me her clipboard at about 1pm and said “I’m not doing this anymore! I’ve had enough. I am NOT approaching ONE MORE PERSON!” And then she went home! I honestly don’t know how they expect us to get 200 emails. “There’s 25,000 people expected! It’ll be easy!” They tell us. Yeah, right. I’d like to see them stand out there in the bollocking wind and collect 200 emails without losing their voices!

Still, I get to go to the races and people watch. I have an all access staff pass, which means that, if I really wanted to, I could stay the entire day and get into all the areas closed off to the public. But honestly? After all that talking, all I want to do is go home and rest my poor throat and feet.


Five days and no blogging! I’m really sucking lately.  I went out on Saturday night for drinks with a friend who turned a year older and still looks five years younger than me. Which isn’t entirely fair, but I forgive her, because she’s precious. I totally said mad things, as I do when I’ve just downed my fifth beer.  Who does that? FIVE beers. And five days! Maybe that’s a new magic number for me? I’m not proud of the five beers by the way, but it was so much fun!  No, it really was. I don’t think I was as ridiculous as I could have been, but I was certainly ridiculous.  Ollie was the star of the night, all quiet and trying not to be noticed in the corner.

“Who does he look like?” I kept being asked. “Keanu Reeves?” I offered to an astounding “YES! THAT’S IT! Although, there is also a resemblance to Scott Baio.” She said, and Oliver was suitably mortified. Come on though, Scott Baio was pretty hot back in the day. I remember being pretty fond of him myself.  I later heard that the quote of the night was “How did you get Neo to come to your birthday party?” Honestly, we need to get him a Matrix jacket.  He already has the glasses.  Sort of.  And he is forever asking me if I want the red pill, or the blue pill.  I’m not sure I’m ready for either actually. Just give me the white one with lots of water. Or coffee..or actually, I’m more partial to a good tea these days. Does that mean I’m getting old?

Anyway, it was so much fun. I danced and didn’t hurt my back, and I may have found the young guy who was celebrating his 21st a little too precious for his own good.  Honestly, what a honey. He needs a girlfriend. Unfortunately Miss 19 who could also be my daughter, is engaged to be married.  I know, I was as horrified as you are. “Hang on a minute” she said to me “how old were you when…YOU HAD BABIES!?!?!”  I’m completely aloof about it. “Oh, that doesn’t count.  That was back in 1996 when you were only what 12!!  Prehistoric years ago!  That’s what we did back in THE OLDEN DAYS!”  I don’t think she bought it.

I’m sure I was going somewhere with that. Oh! Right! Cute Mr Just Turned 21!  How engaging young people are! I felt hideously old and maybe slightly pervy. It was lucky I had my husband with me, because when you’re with your husband, you’re only slightly pervy right?  Anyway! We set up our husbands. Or, she did. So mean of us. It was -flawlessly- executed though I have to admit. I’d come around the table to tell her we were going to go, because Ollie was starting to look wilted and the loud live jazz music was making him age just listening to it – it was so good, by the way – and obviously, we got talking as girls do.  Then we’re realising, that our husbands – who are both Asian, and  half of that Asian was coincidentally Chinese, that they obviously must have LIFETIMES of talk in them.  So we squeezed out, and surreptiously looked at them both, like we were setting them up for a date, and they caught on, instantly. As they would…but still, we persisted, and then were squeezed down the table towards one another, where they both played into our game and talked.  And we sat there feeling mighty and wonderful, for having successfully hooked up our marvellously gorgeous Asian husbands.

Actually, they might have had more in common than their half Chineseness, but neither of us cared. We just wanted to look at them and go “aren’t they ADORABLE?! Look at them bonding!”  Did they bond?  Well, they gave it a very good go I think, and probably only so that we would leave them alone and stop trying to force instant attractions between them. It also meant that I got at least another half hour of being out with adult people, in an adult setting, which I was extremely pleased about.  But what I think I really wanted to mention was that we decided – that’s right darling, you’re not getting out of it now, because I REMEMBER EVERYTHING! Even when I’m drunk…to do NaNoWriMo together, this year. Right? Masters Degree aside, we’re going to do it!  Yes we are! I’m excited.  Course, I should be writing now. I really should be.  I will. I’m going to do it it, very soon. And then, that means, by November, I’ll have a good chunk done and can be mad and unseemly and rush through the entire month of November, by the skin of my teeth successfully writing 50,000 words in 12 days again!  That’s just how I roll, internet. You’ll get used to it.

You know, it’s been so very long since I’ve been out, not just in this city, but anywhere at night, that I was utterly struck dumb by – yes obviously the price of drinks – but also, the amount of people who go out and just co-exist outside, in the cold, wearing barely anything!  We followed out a girl who was so tall her ass was eye level with me, and I’m not sure if she was wearing a skirt, or if it was a belt and she forgot her skirt, but I was transfixed to her derriere right up until she finally lead us out of the huge mingling of people and onto the street. You know, young people wear the most amazing..and..okay I admit, sometimes downright frightening ensembles. I wonder if old people used to look at me and think the same thing. I expect they did, considering the lack of clothing I used to wear.

Also, I’m a little disturbed that I’m thinking this way.  Oh dear lord, I’m going to wake up deaf and geriatric. Wait…I think I already have.


I think, maybe I’ve had a red wine too many.

But those are the best sort of days, right? We just watched Twilight – yes, again! Shut up. I think my children are equally as enamoured as I am. Which is good.  Except, I keep feeling the urge to tell them, at random moments, that boys are really not like that.  “NO!” I say.  “They’re not like that.  Not at all. Okay?”  And they sort of groan and go “we have the picture mum.”  To which I reply “Do you see Charlie with his gun? Ya…that’s your dad.  WITH KARATE!  He doesn’t need a gun. Mkay?” And they go…”okay mum.”  And I feel tragic, and old, because did you know, Siobhan is going to college next year?

Calm down, Americans.  That’s high school for you. Although, I’m pretty sure they’re both smart enough for University already.  They should go.  I could go with them, it would be just like old times.  I never mentioned that before, did I?  That, during school holidays, I used to take my kids?  They’d take their own bags, filled with lunchie snack things and coloured pencils, and they would draw all through the classes, while we sat up the back, and I would raise my hand, tentatively…in the classes that were taught, by hot lecturers, and answer questions which made him smile, and in turn, made me smile…because you know, no one answers questions, right? And they stand there, panicking, waiting and waiting while no one dares to raise their hand.  I raised mine.  Just to see him smile.  I’d tell you his name, but I can’t.

Anyway! The point of that story was to tell you that, when we got home, the girls would be wonderfully inspired.  Even at the tender ages of things like, 4, 5, 6, 7 and possibly 8, younger than that Siobhan was a baby when I first had to take her, and they were older too because, yes, they came to one teachers college class. Only one. I never did that again. God, what an awful experience that was.  But University?  They’d come home with their pictures and they’d look up at me and they’d say, “When I grow up mummy? I want to go to University like you.”  And I felt extremely proud, and extremely grateful, for my life.  I have, one of the best lives imaginable.  Did you know that?  I really do. Sometimes I think I complain, because everyone complains don’t they? They think to themselves…”If only…” And I do that too. But the truth is, internet….I am blessed.

I have a husband who indulges my eccentricities.  Who allows me to be who and what I am, and never -really- judges me.  We have our moments, just like the rest of the world, of course, but I am currently 32 years old. I have two tweenie aged children – which really, no one of my age should have…and I have children, who constantly amaze me. Whose idea of fun, is to begin a story and then give it to me, so that I can write the next few lines, until the story is finished and we all sit around squeaking and laughing at how ridiculous we are.  Who have a white board, on the fridge, that is constantly used for “write the next word” stories.  And which, each member of my family diligently writes the next word, and continues the story.  I have children, who beg to bake, who offer to make desserts, who take out the rubbish, who love music, who sing and dance and enjoy theatre, and ballet, and Opera.

I am, internet, extremely blessed. I have the most beautiful family in the world.  And every single day, they make me proud.  Every single day, I look at them and I am amazed, and floored by the fact that, I helped create this.  That I am part of something wonderful and inspiring.  I can’t wait for them to go to college.  For them to become adults.  For this to be the house that they bring their friends back to. I can’t wait to watch them shut me out while I sit here, and be who I am, and they convene in our lounge, being who they are…talking about boys and movies, and music and just growing up.

There was a time, when I was totally afraid of this. When 9/11 happened on Siobhan’s birthday, I threw a party and it was wonderful…but the night before, or several nights…I forget now, we were riveted to the tv.  We were shocked and stunned and totally horrified by what was happening in the world.  I sat there and remembered when we went up those towers. I was 12 years old.  And now they’re not there.  And I worried, so desperately, about bringing my children into a world that so very possibly could be facing, another world war.  I was devastated. Horrified, totally and utterly terrified.  But we lived, and we grew and next year…my oldest daughter will be entering high school. I’m terrified, and totally ready for her to do it.  I’m so excited, and so horribly afraid…and do you know what?  She’s ready.  She knows, she may not get into the school she wants to go to.  Although I have done my fucking damnedest – besides forcing them into Christianity – to get her in.  I have letters from the Priest AND the Principal supporting her.

Anyway…I’ve had a wine too many, Ollie is out on conference, and has been since yesterday, and I’m thoughtful. I’m pleased. I’m grateful.  I’m happy.  I’m really content with where I am right now.  I wish I was earning money, and helping to financially support this growing family of mine.  But when it really comes down to it?  I’m happy.  And they’re happy.  And we may not be the best, or the richest, or the most fantastic family in the world, but we are fucking close to it.  I have my parents and Ollie’s parents to thank, for making us the people we are.  For being there when we needed them.  For everything.  Because, truly, without the trials, the successes and the sacrifices we have come through, we’d have never been the people we are.  I’m proud of us.

Thanks…to all of you who still read me.  Who are there for me, day after day, while I struggle to become the writer I know I am.  Each of you help to shape the person I’ve become.  Each of you make a difference in my life.  I appreciate you all, for everything you are, and everything you’re willing to share.

Kelly xxx

I Started.

I really did! I started my novel. I think, it will probably turn into a very short novel, but it’s a start, and who knows. Perhaps there will be room to flesh it out.  According to my lovely little word counter, I have achieved 2% of the words I’m supposed to write.  That’s pretty good right?  Actually, it’s crap. But it’s a start, and you have to start somewhere.

I don’t have a lot to tell you about today. I wrote way more than 2% during my day of roleplaying.  Yes, yes, procrastination much?  It’s so good though. It really is.  It’s extremely good practice.  I’ll get there yet. My fingers are very used to typing now, and I can almost do it without even thinking about what I’m doing.  It unnerves the children when I am looking right at them and typing.  Aleeya said to me yesterday “can you like, stand here where I am right now and just type without even looking?” I think, if I’d said yes, she would have called me her idol. Unfortunately, I am not quite that talented.

Today, the lady who is in charge of all the website changes came around to see how we’ve done.  I tell you now, that this has been cause for much alarm for Oliver and I. We are both, masters at the procrastination you see.  I was completely drawing a blank and he was refusing to be of any help. We had no images, and therefore, nothing for -me- to do.  I finally worked it into his head, that he needed to draft up a site so we could throw it together loosely and have something to show her.  We worked on a design, which is nothing like what she’d suggested or shown us, and the colours are bland right now, because I didn’t want us to get too into it, and have her go “um. I HATE IT!”  So we left it light coloured, whites and stuff, with a temporary image just so she got the feel for it.  I have been fretting all day and threw myself head first into roleplaying so that I did not have to think about it.

She came over and we showed her, and she really liked it.  It was so good, like so wonderfully good to know that we have something now to work with AND a load of images as well, so I can actually start to put together the graphics and we can try to figure out the right colour scheme for it.  I’m so, so glad she liked it.  I told her that we should be able to mesh it together and send her the url to look at in a few weeks time. She was excited.  She said “when will it be ready?  Say, January?” And I tell you, we almost quivered and died. January? That’s still two months away. She said, it would be nice to have it up and running when the new year classes begin, around Jan 31.  Oh, the bliss. BLISS!  Not that, I plan on procrastinating of course.  *sideways glance*  But it does mean that I can still write. And you know, I will hit 50,000 words if it kills me.  It’s the start that is the most difficult right?  Well, I have overcome that. I wrote, 1251 words in less than half an hour.

Don’t tell my dad.  He gets awfully grumpy at me when I say things like that.

Has Anybody Seen My Girl?

I consider myself pretty qualified to talk about short people. I am one you see.  I’m a short person. I have been short all my life. I’ve been in the front row in every single class photo.  Wait, that’s not true, one year I was in the second row!  That was a good year. I was small for my age, and my mother, bless her..used to make me shoes because she couldn’t find any to fit my wee baby feet.

So yes. I am a short girl. Five foot two in fact, and I have never had a problem with this.  At least, not much of a problem.  There are some things about being a short girl that do not equal goodness, but those are few and far between, they really are.

It is very, very seldom that I meet anyone who is shorter than me, and when I do, I will surreptitiously stand next to them.  It doesn’t matter if I know them or not.  I hunt them down, I will hurry through the mall to be close to them, I will follow them down supermarket aisles bright eyed and excitedly pointing to myself and eyeing whatever poor unfortunate sod that happens to be with me whilst mouthing “Look!! I AM TALLER THAN HER!”  Because, seriously, there are too few men in the world who are shorter than me.  They’re out there though, oh yes, yes they are. I have seen them!

Anyway, what I want to talk about today, is the fact that I truly believe that there are two kinds of short people in the world.  There are the over compensators (short man syndrome) who must be rude and abrasive and extremely powerful and angry in order to be taken seriously, and there are the ones who never grow up, who are often not allowed to grow up because people will forever treat them like children – the Peter Pan’s of the real world, if you will.

I, fall into the latter category. I am a little girl at heart.  I love to be taken care of, I love being the little one that people want to squeeze and help.  Because they do, internet.  People love short girls.  And you must learn to deal with this, or die of the shame.  I don’t see the point in over compensating for my shortness.  I am short.  “Hello!  Yes, I am down here and yes, I am an adult thank you, even though kids jeans fit me better in the leg than adult jeans do and yes, maybe I -do- sometimes buy kids shoes. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t think that because you’re taller than me, it gives you the right to walk straight into me.”  That, is the one thing that I truly hate about being short.  Why do people always assume it’s okay to walk into short people, like they don’t exist? I had Siobhan on my hip when she was a year old, and I had someone WALK INTO HER!  I mean…seriously??  I have grown to be one of those people who does not move.  You can walk around ME thank you very  much!  So rude.

But that, really is my only complaint.  That and concerts, or anywhere where there is a crowd, is not fun.  I always, always end up with tall people in front of me.  But, in saying that…tall people look out for me.  It’s like, the unspoken code between the exceptionally tall, and the tragically short.  We must love one another, because we understand things on a different level.  “I see you up there, and you know you see me down here!”  Tall people go “look at the cute minature person down there! OMG I want one as a pet!” and they look out for you. They just do.  And I love it.  I will never, ever grow tired of people being terribly excited by my ‘cute shortness’.

I have never been too embarrassed to ask tall people to reach something for me in the supermarkets either.  They light up – it’s true! You ask someone to reach you that can of beans on that shelf up there and they just melt. It totally makes their day.  Sometimes, I’ll climb the shelves…I will!  I kid you not.  I will climb those shelves just like I climbed the shelves of my sister’s dresser so I could touch her makeup! These ones don’t fall down on me, which is a bonus. But sometimes that’s not possible, and I must wait for a tall person to come into my aisle and I will go “um, excuse me but…could you please get me that bottle of shampoo up there?”  And they are all “awww, will you look at the wee lady!”  Do I find that exacerbating?  No. I don’t. I really don’t, and that is because, I’m a Peter Pan. I do not feel ashamed by my limitations…often.

There is a man who works in our office.  He’s about 7 foot tall, and I am not exaggerating. He really is.  He is not just tall, but big.  Like, built.  He’s like..a footballer who has stopped playing and hasn’t turned to fat, but isn’t quite the muscle house he probably was 5 years ago.  Everything about him is oversized…and I am fascinated by him.  He, much to my chargrin, never speaks to me.  He’s hilarious, and interesting and the head accountant.  He comes around to pick on Ollie sometimes – which I fully condone.  But he never speaks to me, in fact, he barely even LOOKS at me.  It is as if I don’t exist!  And I, like a ridiculous puppy cannot help but be drawn to him.  “Oh go on, just say hello, say hello!”  And he refuses.  He gives me pained smiles sometimes, and I sort of stand there dumbfounded and completely intimidated by the hugeness of him and reply with nothing but this sort of, retarded stare.  I can’t help myself internet.  I must stare at him because he does not seem real!

I asked Ollie why he wouldn’t talk to me, and Ollie’s response went a little like this: “He’s Christian.  I don’t think he really gets you.”  Is that not hilarious?  I laughed so much.  “What do you mean he’s Christian?” I said.  “Am I not Christian too?  Do Christian people look at me and go – ‘ooooh, no, that one is trouble. Satan himself wouldn’t touch her.'”  It was so wonderful.  I am tainted internet!  And Christians are wary of associating with such wickedness!

Today we had a retirement function.  And do you know what happened?  He came up and he talked to me! I’m straining my neck to look up at him and he is hunching down to talk to me and it was so hilarious and wonderful.  It was like meeting Santa Claus and sitting on his knee for the first time.  I felt like a kid again. Except, we had a normal adult conversation and he just ruined the whole unreality of himself for me.  He is now a real person and not Santa Claus at all. In fact, he is just some guy that the company paid to dress up like Santa for the Christmas Function and I have seen that his beard is not real.


It is friday evening, and I have had one of those days that you just totally wish had never happened. I’m fairly sure that I would scare off the secret male readers I have out there. Uncle Derek, I’m looking at you! Yes, that’s right! My mother dutifully tells me you are reading and my father cringes in horror that you might be! So you know, let’s just say, it was totally worth the entire bottle of wine I have consumed all by myself.

You definitely should be reading Aleeya’s blog. And if you’re not, shame on you! She is very talented and totally has a knack for her mother’s sense of humour. Alright, and her grandfather’s. I must admit, this is why she and I butt heads so often, she is so like me that I find it completely frightening. Also, it’s hard to type, but I am forcing myself, and I’ll tell you why.

Rachel and the Rabbit have ABANDONED me! Can you believe it? Just because I am a day ahead of them, they think that it is okay to go to bed and ignore the fact that I have had a day totally worth forgettting about just so they can sleep while it is 1.30 and 2.30am respectively for them – or something…I mean, the NERVE, right?

Today I did more talking and gossiping with workmates than I did real work, and I love that. It’s just unfortunate that no one shares my inability for a good work ethic. I said to my boss today (Ollie is sick you see, so he has been home, pretending to rest but really spending too much time on MY COMPUTER even though he has his own) “I’m not in the mood for working, It’s not a day for working, let’s do something fun!” To which she replied “I”m going out for lunch!” And to which I was just slightly mortified. I mean, I was invited after all..but the truth of the matter is, I don’t know the lovely little pregnant girl who was leaving…and as much as I like a good lunch out, I could not justify my presence there. I just couldn’t! But oh my god, you should see how beautifully pregnant she was.  Every time she turned the corner and I was face to face with her it was really hard not to squee and touch that delicious belly of hers. She was my height and almost as wide as she was high. It was STUNNING! I will miss seeing her loveliness walking around the office looking like she is about to burst.

So I did not reply the email which was given to me second hand by the sweet half Malaysian girl who works in the accounting section I work at *dies for just a moment, because did you people here that? ME? working in accounting anything? I don’t do numbers..for 13 years every time Ollie looked like he was about to talk numbers at me, my eyes would glaze and I would tune out* when she asked me to go.

“You had so much fun at the last one, I thought you should come to this one too.” She said and I just fell in love with her a little bit at that comment. And today, she said to me “he’s 48” in reference to her husband, and I just fell in love with her a little bit more. Because 48???? She looks younger than me! Oh alright, it’s inexplicable the 48 year old partner thing, and that’s what I love the most. (Ollie was asked for ID today when we stopped at the supermarket for my wine. The strange little not all there lady kept giving us shifty eyes. That’s right, US! Not just him but me too! YUS! I am young again!!!) She ate yoghurt, and we all ate hot pastries and chocolate fudge and it was BLISS! So, yes. I remained in the office and made up for the half hour I was late, by writing a response to the vulgar person I am currently sharing a storytelling line with, and Don’t tell.

I had a real reason for this post I really did. But I’ve completely forgotten what is right now, and typing, my darlings, is getting much harder, so it is probably a good time to sign off.

Thanks for reading. Do I say that often enough? I mean it.
Now go read Aleeya…because she is hilarious beyond words. Oh and while you’re at it, Siobhan too, because she wants to be read as well now that she knows people actually take notice!


I wanted to capture the grey so you could see it with me. Somehow, I’m not sure it looks as grey as it really is in real life, but here you go!  This is my walk to work every morning.

When you enter The Square from the main section of the city, this is what you see. The chalice thing is relatively new, as are all those grey cobblestones. There was a lot of debate about putting them down, the council won of course, despite the residents of this city complaining that the entire area – a very popular and the most central part of the city, would be too grey.

Looking away from the cathedral is the rest of the Square, the building on the far left? Nice brick and cream?  Yeah, that’s a Starbucks. It’s just wrong, but I admit, when we had the bomb scare, Ollie and I had a coffee in there, and it was so lovely to sit there looking out onto the rest of the Square.  You can just, hopefully…make out the people setting up their stalls.

How stunning is the cathedral? I mean really.  Most of the stone masonry around Christchurch is made from Halswell stone – the Halswell Quarry is an amazing walk. I don’t think I’ve blogged that yet! Soon my pretties, soon.

This photo betrays my grey bleakness.  The buildings there are not grey! How dare they!  Where I am standing though, is where the man with the Australian hat stands with his collection of flutes. I forgot my phone on my way home, which I was sorely disappointed about, because he had the most luscious yellow jersey on that I have EVER seen. Maybe one day when I am feeling particularly bold, I will try to capture video footage of him.  He is worth the effort.

Now this is a little more grey right?  I took these last friday (15 August) the day turned out to be one of the more beautiful ones we’ve had, so of course, the blue sky tells you lies. I walk right up that street you can see in front of you, all the way up and over a bridge, where I follow the Avon river along Oxford Terrace to work.

I don’t know about you, but I really love this photo. This is my Christchurch, bleak, busy, always being revamped.  They cannot leave anything alone in this city, they tear down what little history we have and replace it with bigger, better, faster, warmer buildings all the time. The buses go around the Square every two minutes or so.  This is to the left of the Cathedral.  I really love this statue. It’s one that I never pass up looking at when I walk past.  Sometimes seagulls are perched on their heads, sometimes it is perfectly pristine. A deep dark jade green bronzed statue against a slate grey sky that speaks to me every time I see it. You can’t see it very well, but the central figure is an angel holding a sword over her head and she has three or four others at her feet. It’s really beautiful..and I cannot for the life of me remember what it’s called. You have no idea how gloriously bright he was standing here fluting in the yellowest jersey you’ve ever seen! Truly! Right there in the left hand corner. I wish he’d been there that morning.

Past the Square is Victoria Park.  There is a statue of Queen Victoria at its entrance, and it leads up to the Town Hall.  It’s one of the most stunning parks ever. The tram stops there every day and yes, that really is a red phone box.  Try as I might, I have never found either a Tardis hiding in one (okay, so they’re blue sue me!) or the way into the Ministry of Magic. *sigh*

You can’t see how beautiful it is sadly, the statue is Queen Victoria, and right there, where that tiny red roof is on the left?  That’s a tram stop. Fascinating, no?

And that my dears, is my daily walk to work, minus the delightful river and work itself, the Town Hall, the Band Rotunda and many other things that you just cannot capture on a cellphone camera.  I am quite pleased with how well they came out though.

Thank you for reading me, for the comments, the love and the support. You guys are making that step from creative hobbiest writer into working writer that much easier. <3