Meet the neighbours

seventy seven
year old at house above us
peers down at washing

*******************************

perfect false teeth smile
asks my name to forget it
the next time we talk

******************************

childless spinster
neither of his parents there
met our son on road

******************************

young parents surprised
more like them living on street
don't collect pension

Moving House: The end. I'm hoping.

We've moved! And it's marvellous. Not the moving part, the new house part. It's oh so good to have that monkey off our back.

And did I tell you about the underfloor heating?

You must have missed what I said because I didn't hear you screaming with envy. WE HAVE UNDERFLOOR HEATING! And it's so good that I want to lie down on our hallway floor and sleep forever in its warm, warm arms.

I think that's all my news. Let's see... underfloor heating, check. Yep, that's all.

Moving house: The Opera

Best thing about moving house so far? Finding that cute pink lipstick I'd totally forgotten about.

Worst thing? I'm tempted to tell you about the worst things but the internet called and said it doesn't have the space to store it all.

The one where there are photos of me trying to smile with my eyes.

Here are the thrifting photos! And not too late either. It's a freaking miracle I got my crap together enough to do this before Christmas.

Let's start with the scarves (and please excuse the lack of ironing; it's really not a strong point of mine):





And the jumper:

(Yes, a self-portrait in the bedroom mirror. I had no idea these things were so hard to do. I promise I will no longer judge the people wh take self-portraits for their Facebook profiles. And here I have to digress and skite that this is a hand knitted jumper, in some yummy warm mystery wool, and it cost $2.00. Yes folks, TWO BUCKS. What a find. I think it was knitted in one piece, and then it does up at the sides with three buttons.).

A silk shirt by Peirre Cardin but made in New Zealand? I'd love to know more about this.

I had a splurge when I was in Dunedin this week - A MAC lipstick called Russian Red. Fun!

And, to finish, my favourite Agatha Christie yet - "The Moving Finger". That's an outstanding title. Out-bloody-standing.

Playing at Riverstone in Black and White

Mmmmm, books

 

I love and adore Agatha Christie books. And I love and adore Slightly Foxed, a wonderful secondhand book store in the Victorian Precinct (what was once known as the Old Part of Town).

I've found some wonderful AC treasures there of late... but it's never enough. I can never find enough time to clean the fridge, but I can finish one of these books in a matter hours once I've started reading.

Any chance you, my dear reader, would be willing to swap some Agatha Christie's for, perhaps, some vintage aprons? Or vintage scarves? Or maybe you'd like me to keep a look out for a certain little retro something for your collection?

Time flies

One year ago today we moved to Otago. We packed up our lives in a city of a couple of hundred thousand people, and moved to a town that has barely ten thousand.

Blimey. What a shock it was.

But now it's ok, good even. I feel like I'm part of a community, even more so than I did in Wellington. I've met some fabulous people and only a small scattering of, ahem, total arseholes.

There are still things that I'm having trouble adjusting to like the overwhelming whiteness of the population, and the ease with which some people feel able to spout racist crap. And the fact that the main street is wide enough for there to be car parks down the centre. And the sheer generousity and kindness of the people. It can be disarming at times.

Life's good here.

Very victorian

Crazy talk

It's a stinking hot day here and there is a nor'wester blowing. It might also be a full moon tonight because there seems to be some total nutters in town today. And it's not just me for a change.

3 Paragraphs including 7 poems. Yes, I'm feeling cryptic tonight.

Whew! It's been a busy old day today. We popped down to Dunedin to have cuddles with Aurie, the son of some of our best Wellington friends. He was so little and cute, I had to stop myself from eating him.

I also managed to get to 7 Poems, an exhibition of Colin McCahon at the Dunedin Public Art Gallery. Wonderful!

As of tomorrow morning, I'm going to be looking after The Frog Prince while Dagmar, the owner, is in Europe. Wooohhooo! All the fun of being surrounded by pretty, pretty things all day and pretending I own a shop without the responsibility of paying the bills. This means you can expect me to up-sell myself by using words like 'embedded' when I am slacking off and posting from the shop. Actually, I should find out if Dagmar reads my blog...

Fancy artsy behaviour

(I'm going to skip over the fact that my last post was written while I was, ahem, under the influence, and I'll also avoid mentioning that I didn't post yesterday because of a BIG, DISGUSTING, REVOLTING, UGHHHHH RAT*, and I'll get on with posting about fun stuff).

Sometimes I feel very lucky to live here in Oamaru; I have opportunities here that I could never have in the city. I've started doing some voluntary work at Forrester Gallery. It's such great fun. The building is amazing and the staff are my kind of people. I feel understood by them. I joked the other day about being a pinky, liberal, latte-sipping, chardonnay-drinking leftie and they laughed. Around here, that sort of comment would usually be reason to get out the raging mob with pitchforks. Maybe I exaggerate a little. I don't actually like chardonnay.

*A real rat, not the lothario kind. By the way, I have PTSD from seeing that effing rat. It was the size of a hamster. Ugh.

Springtime in Oamaru is all about the frou frou

 

 

 

Steam is my style

 

I'm continually surprised and delighted by just how friendly and generous the people in this town are.

Yesterday morning I popped into Steam, by far the best little cafe in town, and brazenly hit up the owner for some coffee bean sacks so that I can make some cushions. To my astonishment, she not only gave me two sacks but she called Remy cute and raved about how darling Jules is.

I could get used to this kind of treatment!

 

Icon not believe it.

 

Want to know one of my little secrets? I'm athiest and I love love love icons. So much so that I collect them.

I'm fussy with my icons so I only have Mary and Jesus ones. And they have to have gold on them. Lots of gold. More is more after all.

I've come upon a little piece of heaven on earth in my lovely new home town - it's called the Holy Shop, and it is full to overflowing with icons. I picked up these two little ones yesterday and I'm already planning my next trip.

 

I heart Oamaru: reason number 1

The price of a haircut here is astonishing.

I paid $90 for my last cut in Wellington; today I paid $28. It was so cheap it was as if they were paying me to have my hair done.