For Kim

I'd like to tell you a little about my friend Kim (pictured above with her very good friend, Marco).
Kim died yesterday from secondary (metastatic is the formal term) cancers, which popped up just after she had celebrated five years of good health after treatment for breast cancer.
Metastatic breast cancer was one of the things we had in common.  She was also a former journalist, an extreme cat lover and had been romantially involved with my brother (oh no, that's not something we had in common, because that would be terribly wrong).
Kim was an utter hoot, the master of the one-liner.  She spent a lot of time online, developing a pool of genuine friends any of us would envy.  She had more than 800 friends on Facebook and on hearing of her death, these people flooded the site with their condolences.  Genuine, caring friends (many of whom she had met in person) who, if not for being scattered all around the globe, would have flocked to attend her funeral in Dunedin in a couple of days.
Kim had an operation to remove a cancerous brain tumour last summer, just a little after I'd had the same operation.  The operations left us both a bit 'wonky', especially in typing, and I remember her puzzlement when one of my messages to her ended in the words, "lots of lobe."
While she was open, funny and upbeat to her friends, she also suffered anxious times, sad times and loneliness.  Her health declined very quickly this week, minimising her pain and suffering. 
Cancer is a stink disease and I implore anyone reading this to put their own health at the top of their 'to do' list and have regular checks.  Yes it's boring, expensive and sometimes unpleasant, but cancer is all of those things, and more.
Kim lead an on-line singalong among her friends each Monday morning.  If feeling sick, she'd just "la la laa" so people could chose their own song.  Many of her friends were older than her, so she'd chose classic songs everyone knew.
I'm choosing Coldplay's "Scientist" for my singalong for her.  God bless, dear Kim.

"Nobody said it was easy
It's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No-one ever said it would
be this hard..."

With this online photo, Kim wrote, "it was early morning and I was on Skype to a friend in Peru, when I realised how damn good my hair looked.  So what's a girl to do?"

Fiji holiday

  Lured by a sunset, a swim-up bar, cocktails and the knowledge that no-one knew us for miles around, my sister Marnie and I took up the microphone at the resort karaoke night.  We selected 'Imagine' by John Lennon.  Now, we can both sing a wee bit, but the backing music was set at a low register.  "Imagine there's no Heaven," we growled.  Halfway through, I whispered that we could be mistaken for lady-boys.  Marnie went up an octave instantly, squeaking and wardling a few lines.  There were no calls for an encore.  Undeterred, Fern and I belted out Abba's Fernando.  "More," shouted an Aussie fellow.  Think he was drunk.
  Fiji was gorgeous, the all-girls' trip a gift from family. The girls and I set off with Aunty Marnie and cousin Genevieve on a Sunday afternoon.  Marnie had heard that meat was diificult to come by and perishingly expensive and because we intended to cook in our room some of the 7 nights we were there, she was loaded up with sausages, bacon, beef roast and mince.  I also had 'snacky' things.
  Fijian customs got a bit sticky over the pork products, but the officer offered to refrigerate the bacon and sausages until we left a week later, for $5.  Was this a rip-off?  We never found out, because we'd forgotten about them when we came home.  Sorry Marnie, I know we've embraced the bacon and let it go, but it will remain a quirky memory forever.
  In Nadi's main street where are windows are barred, even in shops only selling soft drinks, an old Fijian man with a bent back and feet that looked like they had been installed the wrong way around, wanted to be my mate.  All Blacks, he beamed, as it was just a few days after the Rugby 7s. Oh, and by the way, he added, he'd do a good deal on sulus for us (light wraps).  We got sulus at the market but visited James' shop to look at t-shirts.  There, he whipped out two dark sticks (and by now, folks who have visited Fiji may be beginning to nod), asked our names and engraved them, with the date.  Then asked for $20.  Why did I not see this coming?  My friend Mairi had guarded me against exactly this.  But I showed James he had not picked on a fool.  I only gave him $15.
  Prices in supermarkets were fearsome.  A King Size block of Cadbury chocolate, $12  (around $9-$10 NZ), bagful of dried pasta $7, little tub of yoghurt $5, packet of crackers $5. No fresh milk available, only long-life.  Our favourite taxi driver, Baba, asked if we would like him to take us to the airport for our flight out.  Then, head hung, he asked if we had any excess food we planned to throw out.  "Me and my villagers would be most grateful for anything." Well, we hardly ate for the last couple of days.  "Baba needs that," I'd tell the girls as they reached for jam.
  Come dawn on the day of departure, Baba and his van were not waiting.  Instead, he had sent a friend with a van to collect us and explain Baba's vehicle had broken down.  I handed over the large bag of goodies and asked the driver if he could get them to Baba.  He smiled a large, slow smile.
  So many memorable moments.  Gen and Sophie getting stuck in to some water volleyball and Gen's resultant sunburn;  the girls and I deciding to try out the sea temp in front of the resort, unaware it was just moments before the resort's daily fish-feeding activity.  No wonder the little buggers were so nibbly.  Sophie, Fern and Claire having the courage to take part in a guided, outer-reef snorkel trip well off-shore, and seeing two reef sharks cruising beneath them.  From the safety of the boat, I was intimidated. What lucky girls.  On a submarine-type trip over the corals a small zebra fish kept peeping in the windows at us, returning with a 'friend' and later, three tiny kids! When the girls asked their snorkelling guide if he ever saw "Nemo"  (clown fish), they all dived down and the guide tickled an anenome and out swam five Nemos!
  I was amused by young male resort staff who obviously tired of smiling sweetly and greeting everyone with a cheery, "bula!"  Several times, as young Claire approached, they would smile and lunge towards her, fiercely shouting "Bula!".(There's a photo below of one young man doing just that)  This mostly made her cackle and spoiled the effect.  Great way to fulfil the requirements of your contract and have fun.
  What delightful people, with so little in the way of material possessions.  We returned home with a special lesson from those with so little, yet so much, to give.  Relax, enjoy, sing, laugh and dance. 


You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world

They arrived with cheery smiles, wheelbarrows, shovels, and we had not even a cup of tea to offer.  Undeterred, they began shovelling the ghastly grey sand the earth throws up.  They were members of the "Farmy Army," which my sister misheard as "Barmy Army" so I hissed a correction in case they were offended.
As the three men and one woman trooped into my sister Marnie's Avonside back yard, I noted that one man was trailing another, clutching his mate's elbow.  Peeping out of the window while wrapping and boxing ornaments, I saw this man was plainly blind, his eyes closed. He shovelled.  With sister Mary and family having already done much shovelling on the site, the group soon moved to another property. 
I felt very sad that with no water and no power, I could not whip up a reviving drink.  As well as offering a small thanks, I would have loved to hear their stories.
Just over a week after the devastating Feb 22 earthquake, Christchurch is a city of countless stories.  Some are funny, some heartwarming, some shocking (and I'm thinking of the looters) but most are heartbreaking.  Like many Cantabrians, I know someone who didn't come home for dinner on Feb 22.  Again, I am reminded that life is so often not 'fair' and that every day it is good to smell some roses.
A friend has been smelling the roses and has set up a fan site for Jeremy, the guy that provides sign language services on TV.  Within four days the site has around 16,000 fans! Even the mayor of Christchurch, Bob Parker, pointed out that people think Jeremy is 'hot' and poor Jeremy had to 'sign' his own complement! Then, he had to 'sign' that something was 'buggered.'  Truly, the mind boggles.  Wish I'd seen it.
My Mum said she likes Jeremy.  I didn't want to know if she found him 'hot.' She referred to him as the deaf guy, and was surprised when I pointed out he can't be deaf, on account of him having to hear what to translate.  Sharp, Ma, sharp.

As our thoughts turn again to those heroes involved in the recovery efforts in the city, I think of these words from U2's I Will Follow.

"I was on the inside
when they pulled the four walls down,
I was looking through the window
I was lost, I am found..."

Come on....we can all play this game.  What were the highlights of your summer?
Yes, I know it's still summer but with many of us now back into school or work routines it feels a wee bit nose-to-the-grindstone-ish.  I love having all day to potter about, planning and making meals and prowling about in the garden, but I'm not expecting anyone's sympathy about that!
Personally, my summer started pretty badly but since then I've been counting plenty of blessings!
On my 43rd birthday, arriving in Auckland to be met by David and Elly for a sightseeing tour before heading out to the fabulous U2 concert...what a treat.  Lunch on the foreshore, the lissome Bono, a birthday never to be forgotten!  Thanks so much for such a memorable and generous outing.
I've had so many lovely visitors! Being in Amberley means people can pop in on their way to and from somewhere and use the loo or have a cuppa.  Please, everyone, keep calling in.  If it is before 9am and I am slow to answer the door, it's because I'm dashing to dress.  Don't go, and don't expect high couture.
I've met so many nice new people.  As well as friends and family so willingly carting me and the girls here, there and everywhere, I've had Amberley's volunteer Cancer Society drivers take me places.  I relish the friendships of my neighbours on either side, the Youles and the Rickerbys.  I've spun my washing in their machines when my pump broke, had my lawns mowed, Pepsi's been fed, tasty treats been exchanged, the world sorted over coffee...the very best kinds of neighbours.
We've trekked to The Lakes - and yay!!  I got to drive off-road! - as I've mentioned, and we've had days in town.
Very memorably, Auntie Marnie's Xmas treat to us all was The Big Day Out, where she took me and the girls for a couple of games of 10-pin bowling (awkwardly, we happened to go during Professionals night but we doggedly high-fived if we knocked down a single pin, while around us were long faces from Pro's who failed to score a Strike).  We went to a mall where the girls scoffed icecream and I was treated to a pedicure, eyelash and eyebrown tint, then it was off to the Arts Centre where the girls and Counsin Genevieve made some jewellery at Beads Unlimited.  We capped off the day at a restaurant.  What a fabulous treat.  Thanks, Marnie and Gen.
Also got to spend time with my other NZ-based sister, Mary, who joined us to see the Ron Mueck exhibition.  Were you there in spirit, Trisha?
There were lots of other lovely things, but my fuzzy brain still isn't retaining everything.  Nic Huxford took us to Amberley Beach where five girls piled into the sea fully clothed and had fun.
There was Christmas, of course, hosted so magnificently once again by Sue and Charlie and family, at which the annual tennis matches took place, along with the Booker/Buttle band.  Earlier, the Barrells gathered to feast which took such of the travelling stress out of Christmas Day itself.
Now, plenty to look forward to.  Biggest item on the Exciting Events list is the wedding in a coupla weeks in Nelson of Hannah Baxter and Jon Thomson.  Thereafter, joining a couple of other families for the Spanish dancing horses show.  After that, it's birthday season for the girls.
Who will join me, and reflect on the summer months?

"Summertime,
And the livin' is easy
Fish are jumpin'
And the cotton is high

Oh, Your daddy's rich
And your mamma's good lookin'
So hush little baby
Don't you cry

One of these mornings
You're going to rise up singing
Then you'll spread your wings
And you'll take to the sky

But until that morning
There's a'nothing can harm you
With your daddy and mammy standing by"

George Gershwin

So....it's 3am and the cancer-stick is swirling dreams again.
I'm in an aquatic centre with far too many people, all in the yellow and red uniforms of the life guards.  They're everywhere, squirting surfaces with cleaner.  They block my path.
I can't find Claire.  I run into changing rooms, food areas, calling "Claire!  Claire Booker!" I am stared at.
Then I see her, waiting alone and very still in a corner.  I run up to her, and she says, "I thought I should stay in one place, Mum.  But I knew you'd find me, and I'd be safe."
And that's what makes all of this so very, very hard.


But to finish on quite another note, just what did sad insomniacs do before the Internet?  Before they could rise in the dead of night and have a discussion with some hairy truck driver in Birmingham posing as 'Cindy from Seattle'?

Our three day trekking expedition, with Dom, Yvi and Jamie Oberholzer, into The Lakes (Shepperd, Taylor and Sumner) started inauspiciously when the two long-drop toilets at the hut were found on their sides.  Blown over, probably.  The "foof" sound was my hope of a flush toilet fading into the picturesque sunset. 
John's uncle Ted, and his wife Sandie, had kindly allowed us to use their hut (The Shiver Inn) which sleeps 7. Little Jamie, almost 2, had a cot.  We were at the hut within two hours, after a leisurely stop at Loch Katrine. Very generously, Sandie's son Jim Greenslade and family had loaned us their horse float. 
Most cunningly, the hut had an outside bench with running water and a permanent campfire with grate and billies.  Yvi, no stranger to the Great Outdoors, soon had a stew bubbling. 
The Bookers didn't do so terribly well with packing.  I forgot the bread, while John did not step up to the role of Toilet Paper Officer.  The girls all failed to pick the sunscreen up off the table.  Thankfully Yvi had the bases covered. 
Fern, who joins me in Not Camping, also could not come to grips with instructions about digging holes in the forest when nature called. We let Nature know there was a time and place, namely Friday evening back at home.
On day two the trekkers headed over the hill to see Lake Mason, while I watched Dom pull up a lovely trout.  He smoked it for lunch and it will go down as a Memorable Meal in our lifetimes.
While I don't rough things very well, and I was plagued with headaches, getting into the magnificent high country is just one of those things we Kiwis can do any time, for just the cost of the petrol.  There were lots of people camping with family at Loch Katrine, kids splashing about in clear water, kayaking, fishing....
Here's an ode to anglers everywhere.
Birds singing on my shoulder
In harmony, it seems,
How they sing,
How they sing,
How they sing.
Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah,...
There's something in the water,
Something in the water..."

By Brooke Fraser

Well, here we all are then, staring at the ghost of Christmas past!! I still have mince pies in the freezer (made too early, buried too deep and forgotten), Christmas cake going strong, a ham in the freezer (because Aunty Sue, who hosted Christmas so wonderfully again with Uncle Charlie, already had one), three trees up and several appointments with boxes of chocolates still to keep.  I laugh as I open the pantry and recall the times I have told my girls "that chocolate has my name on it" because they have taken it literally and the chocolate they received this Christmas is emblazoned with their names in permanent maker!!
Not that THAT would stop me when the cooking chocolate had gone.
Mercifully I have stopped taking the steroids which forced me to eat everything in sight (and even some stuff that wasn't).
I'm feeling very pooped, probably a delayed reaction to the radiotherapy but possibly a response to all this heat!, and quite headachey.  See the oncologist in a week so will find out if there are more plans afoot for treatment, or if we just wait and see.  Meanwhile, my sister Marnie has been able to source me some lingzhi mushroom capsules - an ancient and highly respected Chinese medicine - which have a wicked, wicked aftertaste but I'm thrilled to be able to take.  They might possibly inhibit tumour growth or prevent tumours forming.  Watch this space, I guess.
John's been planning a horse trek with the girls to Lake Taylor/Loch Katrine area, but the horse transport is proving tricky.  Just a light trek, about one hour's ride in to a hut, an hour's ride the following day to the natural hot springs, and back out.  Honey, "my" horse on loan from Laurie O'Carroll will be ridden by Fern or Claire, and I will be in the truck with the supplies.
Looking forward, the following week, to a gift from Marnie and Genevieve of a girls' day out in town, featuring a pizza lunch, a trip around the Arts Centre and some jewellery-making at Beads Unlimited for the girls, a beauty treatment for me and an ice-cream for the girls at the mall, all topped off with a couple of games of 10-pin bowling!  Great fun!  At our current rate of outings, that's a year's worth of entertainment in a day!
My kitchen is my bolt-hole, and am enjoying a fabulous frypan, to which nothing will stick, from Mum and the Annabel Langbein cookbook from Mary. Angela Clifford and her sweet son Flynn today gave us some organic strawbs and a couple of fig trees, while Janine Youle from next door has given us a jar of beetroot relish she made with the bounty from their garden.  We live well!!!
My very best wishes to all for 2011.

And from James Blunt once again (it's one of the few CDs I have with me right now), plus it reminds me of the lovely house we rented at Amberley Beach, where I once woke to see the sunrise, plus Hector's dolphins frolicking in the waves. 

"Beautiful dawn,
lights up the shore for me
there is nothing else in the world
I'd rather wake up and see."

High, by James Blunt

I really should not laugh, but I showered a friend in pomegranate seeds today...

My lovely friend Nicky Huxford, who is more passionate about food than anyone else I know and who loves nothing more than to provide treats for other people, today showed me a little bowl of pomegranate seeds she had lovingly saved from a fresh pomegranate.  She invited me to taste one and was about to tell me the plans she had for the seeds when my unreliable and unpredictable left hand smacked the underside of her bowl, sending the blood-coloured, sticky little seeds flying around the kitchen.

It must have appeared as though I was just being naughty. So horrified was I, that I even offered to rinse them!!  She declined, as you do.  Then, bless her, she handed me a box of savoury home-made nibbles - crostini, oatcakes, cheese sticks and cheese choux puffs. 

I never did find out exactly what a clever cook does with pomegranate seeds.  If I find out, I'll let you know.

And this song from Dave Dobbyn, because it is one of my favourite songs, ever.
"Beside You"

"...and now I'm running here beside you
and now I'm running here beside you
this is for the traveller on a blinding desert road
may good fortune smile upon you
and may love be your only load
and this is for the only one who could quell my burning rage
and anyone who's been a broken man
and anyone seen better days
baby I'm beside you
and now I'm running here, beside you..."

Did what I think lots of people probably did aorund NZ today....held an early Chiristmas gathering.  'My side', the Barrells, gathered for brunch in Amberley today.
We had ham-filled croissants, filled rolls, trifle, fresh fruit, mince pies, and a lovely Jaffa cake delivered from Janine, next door.  We repayed her by opening the windows and inviting everyone to have a turn at Singstar.
Niece Rach brought along her magnificent Halloween werewolf costume, which naughty nephew Jason put on, then leered over the fence at a young neighbour who was gently rocking on her swing. Bit like the Anti-Santa. I reject any suggestion that it was my idea.

I hear from a friend tonight that a member of her family removed her socks and placed them on the dinner table.

I will faithfully collect and record on here any of those moments of family folklore, for posterity.  Send me the word.  Christmas is ripe for such things.

And thinking of family, one of my enduring memories of childhood (scarred, see?) was of my three elder (late teenage) sisters, Marnie, Trisha and Mary, all sitting little me on a kitchen chair, standing in front of me, and using their beautiful singing voices and much pathos to render me a blubbing fool.  And their song of choice?

A dragon lives forever
But not so little boys
Painted wings and giant strings
Make way for other toys.
One grey night it happened,
Jackie Paper came no more
And Puff that mighty dragon,
He ceased his fearless roar.

His head was bent in sorrow,
Green scales fell like rain,
Puff no longer went to play,
Along the cherry lane.
Without his life-long friend,
Puff could not be brave,
So Puff that mighty dragon sadly
Slipped into his cave. Oh!

Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And froliced in the autumn mist
In a land called Honali,
Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And froliced in the autumn mist
In a land called Honali...

Puff the Magic Dragon, sob!!

2am.

Indigestion
(and I could wax lyrical about the healthful blackcurrant and apple pie, using antioxidant-filled, organic blackcurrents fresh from the garden but when you douse it in custard, cream and ice-cream and scoff two servings, you are hanging an axe over its health foood status!)

New pillowcase
(the zoo which is missing its black grizzly bear should call - according to my pillowcase, a moulting bear is slipping into bed with me and attempting to choke me with awfulness as I sleep.)

"Sleep in Heavenly Peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace."

On Facebook last night by the light of dozens of golden Christmas lights.  My Amberley home now has a small 'real' tree decorated with white doves and silver balls, and a cone-shaped golden tree made of vine prunings and studded with golden lights.  Outside is a wire-coated plant stand intertwined with lights.  Darn, it's pretty.  Presents are already positioned beneath the trees.  A wee tally-up revealed, alarmingly, that I was not quite as far along with the gift-purchasing as I had thought. 
I seem to have become middle-aged overnight (at 43, I suppose that is technically middle-aged but oddly, I've always felt myself to be 28) but my prolific vegetable garden has become my pride and joy.  I know most of you will stop reading now, but my glasshouse is going to throw up a bumper crop of large and cherry tomatoes, capsicum and chillis (Patsy, you'll have to come and share a hot curry with us!).   Passionfruit vines are in there, too.
Outside, cabbages, lettuces, peas, snow peas, celery, beetroot, cauli, courgettes, scallopini, potatoes, broad beans, yellow and green beans.  Mint, coriander, sage and thyme.  Rhubarb, blackcurrants, peacherine, nectarine, lemons, black boy peaches, olives, apple, yellow peaches, apricots (but just three this year!).
Less excited by my lawn, which grows furiously, thanks to the higher rainfall than Hawarden (though I think everywhere has higher rainfall than Hawarden/Waikari).
So that's that.  My little Amberley haven, in words.  And I have failed to mention (or action) the basket full of years of photographs which need to find their way into an album.  But that is more of a winter job, surely?

And I know lots of you love this song, the beautiful Fix You from Coldplay.

"lights will guide you home
and ignite your bones
and I will try to fix you.

Tears stream, down your face
When you lose something you cannot replace"

Also from Coldplay, X and Y which seems to be speaking to me!:
"Trying hard to speak
and fighting with my weak hand
Driven to distraction
it's all part of the plan.
When something is broken
and you try to fix it
Trying to repair it,
any way you can..."

Just one further treatment of radiotherapy, tomorrow! Yay!  I only had 10 treatments scheduled for the head, though I guess that is standard brain-frying schedule because I am beginning to get radiation burns and there's a few hairs that don't belong to the cats on my pillowcase...more than anyone wanted to know?
I have been told that if I lose my hair there may be a nice central strip that won't grow hair properly again, like a reverse mohawk!!  Always loving new opportunities to embarrass my teen!
Last night we took the children to a beautiful event in the Hawarden Hall, a novel fundraising event by a church where community organisations and talented individuals were invited to display a decorated Christmas tree.  Children were free and adults $5.  Fantastic turnout, lots to see and admire.  There was also a Santa grotto, train set, food and drinks......hope it grows in future years!
However, it did serve as a reminder that it is high time the Bookers addressed the Tree question.  John and girls plan The Big Cut this afternoon, while I guess I will do the long and involved find-the-bucket-and-fill-it-with-bricks thing.  Then it needs to be decorated pronto, with visitors arriving for dinner tonight.
Amberley will become the House of Faux Tree, which never smells as good but has obvious benefits. 
Wanting to work a little smarter this year....less of the strings of lights strung laboriously around bushes and windows, more of the carols on the stereo, bunches of lilies, trotting out ALL the decorations....still need some pretty lights through, eh?

"there's a light (over at the frankenstein place)
there's a light (burning in the fireplace)
theres a light, light, in the darkness of everybody's life."
Rocky Horror Picture Show

Postscript: Tree decorating session deteriorated with the discovery of mouse shit in the bauble box.

It seems my brain may officially currently be larger than the cavity it is supposed to nestle inside, which would explain not only the headaches but also earache.  I mentioned this to a nurse today, expecting her to say "oh, pish" or some equivalent, but she only said, "yep.  Goes with the territory."
Back then, onto the steroids which reduce inflammation but make me ravenous.  Lucky it's strawberry season. Lucky for the dogs and sundry other plump animals.
I looked on a screen in the radiotherapy room today and there was a photo of myself!  Apparently there is a risk of random people turning up for a dose of rays, believe it or not, so staff have to double check the person on the bed against the file photo! A nurse said it happens quite often....she reckons anxious people don't listen closely to the called names and just turn up anywhere.
Again, so many people to be grateful for again this week....friends and family who call and text, Phil and Tara Wright, my Mum and Amberley Cancer Society volunteers who are providing transport to and from hospital this week, John, Nana Mary, Nana Pat, Nicky and Ella and Jenni who are moving the girls around.  Mary Rickerby who appeared on the doorstep tonight with garden-fresh flowers and cabbage.....and for so many other treasured friends and family members who have offered their help but I have already got myself sorted, of sorts.  Please accept the heartfelt thanks of all my family for all the love and support we have received.  It has been such a bright spot in an otherwise pretty shabby few weeks.
And on that note, here's a bit of Bic Runga for ya.
"Just wanna know ya,
just wanna talk to ya,
I wanna hear about your day.
I'd never leave ya.
Never be mean to ya.
I'd always let you get your way (frankly, unlikely!!)
Something good will come our way
And maybe this good thing's gonna happen today."

Something Good, by Bic Runga.  (Copied it as it appeared in my music book.  If ya don't know it and wanna hear it, there are a couple of live versions on YouTube.  Stunning voice)

Long ago, the children came up with a name for the intuitive animals that somehow sense when the chips are down and something warm, furry and fluffy is called for...the girls dub such animals Company Director and in our homes, it always boils down to a cat.
At the farm last weekend, soft, white Alaska and former Wild Child Ranga both took on role of Company Director though Ranga was almost immediately fired from the job on account of his appalling wind.
In Amberley, retired farm dog Jess snuggles on her own sleeping bag on the floor beside Soph, while inherited elderly cat Pepsi has stepped up to the plate, literally and figuratively, and assigned himself the task of chatting to me cattily in the wee smalls. 
Pepsi came free with the house, or he probably prefers to think he was a valuable chattel for which an undisclosed sum was paid.  He has two cat doors to select from and the one he prefers at night is outstandingly noisy and very close to Claire's bed.  After smashing his way in, he howls that awful 'lonely cat' yeowl, which goes from a cry (I'll give it a crack - wowwellhell) to a question (merrowell?) if you speak back to him.
Christmas is sure a-coming....houses are putting their decorations up and in a few more days I think we can take an after-dark stroll around the streets to admire the handiwork.  I also think I may develop an eggnog habit.  With nutmeg. Oh, how I live on the edge!
"Yet with the woes of sin and strife,
The world has suffered long;
Beneath the angel-strain have rolled
Two thousand years of wrong;
And man, at war with man, hears not
The love-song which they bring;
Oh, hush the noise, ye men of strife,
And hear the angels sing!"
It Came Upon the Mightnight Clear, traditional Christmas carol

Will keep this very brlief, otherwise I may begin to whinge....and I'm picking no-one wants to hear that.

But happily, no headache today, so spent a couple of happy hours watching the girls swim at the Hawarden pool.  Amazing how fast a couple of hours goes with friends, a handful of dive sticks, a ball and a water pistol.  What a fantastic asset the good old country pool is, and what a healthy gathering-place for kids.  At the Hawarden pool you can purchase a pool key for $50 which gets you in throughout daylight hours, all summer.  For a family of our size, that's about the same cost as a trip to one movie.  No comparison.

Halfway through radiotherapy treatment now, just five more 'zaps' to go.  My use of inappropriate words has cranked up a notch.....I said to a mum at the pool today, who I usually only see at the poolside throughout summer, that it would be 'nice to catch up with her at the pub this summer.'  She looked puzzled, but not enitrely against the idea.  I meant pool, honest.

Kids are watching a Friends DVD and I hear Pheobe's wonderful dedication, sung along to one single 'chord' on the guitar...
"Monica, Monica,
Have a happy Hanukah"

Day one of 10 treatments of radiotherapy and nothing happened except a headache, sigh.  No, not strictly true.  Had a lovely time meeting friends....drove in with Hannah and Libby, enjoyed watching them select some spectacularly awful outfits at Savemart for a Southland lilac-themed party.  Hannah's sack-dress with contrasting belt will surely turn heads, while Libby's choice of a lilac snow-suit (very tight and frankly, her shoes should throw a party of their own and invite the orange-cuffed trousers down) will be wonderfully hot and scratchy on the flight south. 
Met up with the lovely Neroli Williams for a coffee, the equally divine Jo Bennett for lunch, and capped off the day with a convivial coffee with sister Marnie in Ballantynes, no less. Whinged throughout that drink, as you only can with family.  Thanks, Marnie.  Feel better now!
Then took a gift card John's Mum Mary gave me for my birthday and had a wonderful treat selecting from the Bally's cook shop.  Got a microplane for grating stuff and a rolling pin (which rolls stuff much better than the tin of creamed corn I had been using!)
Bussed to Merivale Mall where I slummed it in Fresh Choice (!) and met up with Nicky Lotz and her children, who kindly returned me to Amberley.
In the middle of all that I got pinned to a treatment table by the head...face pushed against a custom-made, plastic mesh mask. Apparently I will get to take that mask home as a memento.  Never again will I begrudge paying taxes.
Radiotherapy takes only a few minutes and is painless.  The effects are culmulative, so I'm told to expect extreme fatigue by the end of the treatments, as well as headaches, short term memory...something...and a sore, red scalp. Maybe hair loss, too.  Ah, well.
And my song of the day, I Only Want to Say, from the Andrew Lloyd Webber/Tim Rice musical Jesus Christ Superstar:
"I only want to say,
If there is a way
Take this cup away from me
For I don't want to taste its poison
Feel it burn me

I have changed
I'm not a sure as when we started
Then I was inspired
Now I'm sad and tired
Listen surely I've exceeded expectations
Tried for three years, seems like thirty
Could you ask as much from
Any other man?"

Well, Bono has all the riches in the world except...

...the blown kisses and promises of snogs from lots of friends that I dutifully carried north with me on my birthday.  Had I got close, I promise, I'd not have thought of myself at all, and I would have listed you all by name and told him how much we all admire him and his tight leather pants.
The concert, for which I owe thanks to my very generous older brother David, was fabulous.  Lots of the good old songs, an astonishing stage, loads of energy, and just good old fashioned showmanship without too many gimmicks.  They played for two solid hours which, while I hate to be ageist (though you can see what's coming, can't you?) would be a good effort from rock stars of half their age.
A nice little moment (those little moments of trivia I am prone to collecting) happened on the train on the way back to central Auckland after the concert....
The carriage was crowded, the train pulled into a station, the doors opened, and a drunk guy stumbled out of the carriage and onto the platform.
"Neil!" calls his friend from deep within the crush.  "Come back, mate!  This isn't our stop!  Maaate,  get back on, quick!"
The concert-goers join in, with shrieks of "Neil!! Neil!! Come back, Neil!"  Neil staggers away, the doors close, and the train moves off.  And one passenger takes things just a little far. I hate to assume, but I think that passenger may have been an Aucklander.  "Bet Neil's from the South."
Elegantly, an older woman addresses the carrriage in general.  She was someone I'd like to have shared a drink with.
"We are stuck in here in this stinking carriage and Neil's in the fresh air on the platform.  And YOU mocked HIM."
Nice.
Last night, we joined Amberley School group at Waipara Springs for a staff farewell/Xmas function and what a lovely evening.  Food and company were wonderful, though because I am naughty, my personal highlight was a speech which suggested - no, said - the departing male teacher had "touched many students in a special way."  A sparkling gem among clangers.  But truly, the lovely Alastair Campbell has an enthusiasm and rapport with children I admire hugely.  An entirely appropriate rapport!
Today, lunch with friends at Pukeko Junction cafe.  Sausagey, mushroomy pasta with a lemon yoghurt cake chaser.  Took the yoghurt option with dessert in a sadly misguided nod to diabetes! 
Have to let you know, too, that the lovely Hannah has done a stunning job of the Boys of Glenmark calendar, now on sale for $20 through the club (or contact me and I'll find you one).  As Chief Willy Watcher (ie, I watched for stray willy so she could concentrate on getting a nicely framed shot) on some of the missions I can attest to her professionalism and the 'tastefulness' of the calendar for those of us with kids.  Hannah is becoming quite accustomed to her subjects getting their kit off, as she has a private studio at her Amberley home and does a lot of pregnany photos.
I think I will end my blogs with a line from a song, just so you can be driven crazy with lyrics running through your heads.
You won't know this one, probably, it's off the new James Blunt album, Some Kind of Trouble.
"Hard these days to get my message through
If time is all I have, I'll waste it all on you
Each day, I'll turn it back, it's what the broken-hearted do.
I'm tired of talking to an empty space. Of silences keeping me awake.
When you marry, and you look around, I'll be somewhere in that crowd."

"If Time is All I Have" by James Blunt.

Failed start at blogging.

Oh good on me, I'll bet you're glad you popped in here to say what I am wittering about.  Not entitled to 'blog' via Facebook until I have a 'following' on Blogspot, and seeing I have failed to actually blog on here and have instead had to post on my non-blog, it's a pretty inauspicious start.  Fortunately I had very little to say today anyway though usefully, I did sweep the footpath! That's only useful, of course, if you are a scooter rider.