Thanks to the mighty power of Bran and his scissors and bottles of magic stuff I am now blonde-ish again. And Bran has kindly pointed out that I have clean hair now. I hate Bran. It might be clean but it is also incredibly fluffy and I think I look sort of like a sheep.
Saw the rest of the Auckland gang - there were some drinks, some food, a dubious video of that Canadian who eats dental floss and then does the 'body floss' which made me retch and quite a bit of filth talk - mostly initiated by Demelza. Poor Mark came to visit and was subjected to all this.
Saw Ruthie and her new chum from Ireland. He passed my very poor interrogation and then later I realised that I had forgotten to ask him the most important question of all - how does he feel about canned pineapple?
Having been let down by Auckland's weather, I hired a car and drove to Rotorua to see Angela and Hayden. This was all good, and then it was suggested that we go out to meet Hayden's new lady. Having never been out in Rotorua, I was keen. Angela declined, suggesting, quite sensibly that having been at home sick, if she went out, the rules firmly state that she would have to bump into a workmate. So Hayden and I made sure we were not wearing steel caps and ventured out. And by golly, the effort was worth it. Never before have I seen a man dressed in leather, with a half face moko dance with sequined pom poms. And he wanted to be our friend! It was so my lucky night. However, as midnight approached, and all the university students rampaged in their togas, I decided that perhaps I ought to call it a night. And then, just as I was leaving the bar I saw that they were having a sausage sizzle. Yes! Could my night get any better? I think not. I had two and felt rather satisfied with their white-bready, oniony, tomato-saucy, nasty sausage goodness.
And then I drove to Wellington because that's where the hire car lives. On the way to Wellington I stopped in at the bank in PN so to pick up my shiny new credit card so I could pay for things. Alas, it was not to be. Apparently it had never turned up. So they ordered me another one. To be picked up in Christchurch. That's three credit cards in two weeks. A personal record.
Having thoroughly enjoyed my drive down the island, although I probably scared several people with my driving, I caught a train with Gen back up to PN, to be all family like for the weekend.
Because Gen and I were both home for the weekend and some birthdays have been and gone, we all went out for dinner in our gladrags. Sadly, the meal was not up to standard and dad told the waitress that whoever cooked his potatoes should be shot and could she please at least throw the offending veges at the chef. Shooting people seems a popular choice with the older generation as today my rather charming dentist told me that if waited another four years before I came to see him again, he'd shoot me. My tartar build up had horrified him.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Monday, April 14, 2008
Home again, home again, jiggety jig
Hong Kong hides its public toilets very well. Which is awkward when it's all hot and sticky and you drink a lot of water.
But that's okay because I am home now. And it is raining nice NZ rain. (It only seems nice because I am at home. I'm sure this will stop being nice the moment I have to go outside.)
And last night I tried to give Bran, Jase and Demelza food poisoning by cooking roast chicken in Bran and Jase's very badly lit kitchen. Mood lighting, sure. Pinkish chicken? Maybe. But no one complains. And then there are marshmellow eggs, which make everything all shiny.
Am rather tired because despite the stopover and both my flights being under 12 hours, and the fact that each time I had an empty seat next to me for lounging over, I failed to get much sleep - so was wide awake at 3am this morning for quite some time. And then was rudely awoken at 9am by Jase wanting to show me where he keeps his car so I can drive it.
"Drive to the conditions, Pen."
"Uh?"
I was listening, mostly. I was also reeling from inadvertenly getting a whiff of my morning breath.
But I'm almost done watching informercials now - so addictive - so it must be time to do something. Except it's raining. Perhaps going back to bed/mattress on the living room floor is a good idea.
But that's okay because I am home now. And it is raining nice NZ rain. (It only seems nice because I am at home. I'm sure this will stop being nice the moment I have to go outside.)
And last night I tried to give Bran, Jase and Demelza food poisoning by cooking roast chicken in Bran and Jase's very badly lit kitchen. Mood lighting, sure. Pinkish chicken? Maybe. But no one complains. And then there are marshmellow eggs, which make everything all shiny.
Am rather tired because despite the stopover and both my flights being under 12 hours, and the fact that each time I had an empty seat next to me for lounging over, I failed to get much sleep - so was wide awake at 3am this morning for quite some time. And then was rudely awoken at 9am by Jase wanting to show me where he keeps his car so I can drive it.
"Drive to the conditions, Pen."
"Uh?"
I was listening, mostly. I was also reeling from inadvertenly getting a whiff of my morning breath.
But I'm almost done watching informercials now - so addictive - so it must be time to do something. Except it's raining. Perhaps going back to bed/mattress on the living room floor is a good idea.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
HK
One of the advantages of being an adult is that you get to test those potential lies your parents told you as a child. Like if you don't rest for 30 minutes after eating before leaping into a pool you will get cramp and this will more than likely kill you. And if you eat too many cashews you will feel sick.
I feel sick.
But, if you're going to be ill, why not in Hong Kong? Free internet at the airport - although no access to Facebook as it seems to be classified as a dating site. Fair enough.
My 32 hours in Hong Kong have gone nicely - did some shopping, ate some cashews, got my fill of dumplings for breakfast, which was really the only reason I stopped over, and I paid too much for a hostel room but I was desperate to use a toilet so my negotiating skills kind of disappeared.
However, didn't have to share a room and it came with a TV that didn't work and a toilet/shower combo that entertained me no end, given that was smaller than your average cupboard but yet you could do so much in there at once. Like shower AND brush your teeth. Utter brilliance.
I do seem to have a caught something though, along the lines of a scratchy throat, which is probably the beginning of some romantic tropical wasting disease.
And now - to duty free.
I feel sick.
But, if you're going to be ill, why not in Hong Kong? Free internet at the airport - although no access to Facebook as it seems to be classified as a dating site. Fair enough.
My 32 hours in Hong Kong have gone nicely - did some shopping, ate some cashews, got my fill of dumplings for breakfast, which was really the only reason I stopped over, and I paid too much for a hostel room but I was desperate to use a toilet so my negotiating skills kind of disappeared.
However, didn't have to share a room and it came with a TV that didn't work and a toilet/shower combo that entertained me no end, given that was smaller than your average cupboard but yet you could do so much in there at once. Like shower AND brush your teeth. Utter brilliance.
I do seem to have a caught something though, along the lines of a scratchy throat, which is probably the beginning of some romantic tropical wasting disease.
And now - to duty free.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Better late than never, eh?
Forgive me, reading audience of eight, I couldn't be bothered.
Skye came home from Australia very, very poor but with a house for herself and Mike and a bag of cherry ripes for me.
Kruse got a bit older and I gave him socks. He went house sitting for Caro and Dom and I went round to visit and the cat bit me.
Work is ever so busy and it's all gone to hell and no one knows what the feck's going on. Which means it's a good time for me to come home. So five more days. And then a day buying some Rolexes in Hong Kong (anyone want one?) and then Brandon will meet me at Auckland airport wearing a red carnation so I know what to look for next Monday. Three days in Auckland, one in Reporoa hanging with some cows, raging it up in PN for a week, two days in Wellington buying trousers of the like not seen in the UK, then Christchurch for five days to try out the comfort of Fi's spare room and then Sydney for three nights to see brother Nic and the world's tallest man, Tim. And then home in time for work on 6 May, when I discover that all the books I sent to print before I left have mistakes in them. I am a very good production editor.
We had people over for my birthday brunchy lunchy (featuring asparagus rolls, bloody marys, truffles and fairy bread - all class) and there was a greatdeal of nonsense spoken, a history lesson, cake in face, probably a bit too much booze and all in bed by midnight. Thirty is looking as mature as 24 did.
I finally stretched my jeans to an acceptable fit and I was overjoyed but then they started to smell (hadn't washed them for a very long time) so I had to give them up to the washing machine and now I have to start the whole process all over again. I'm eating a caramello koala in an effort to help with the stretching. And then I'm going to make a huge effort to finish off my third birthday cake - is it cheating if I just lick off the icing? Mad Laura made it and it's awfully good.
I got some very good books for turning 30, and marshmellow eggs from Simon, which went straight into the freezer because that's where marshmellow eggs live. You can't get them here so I'm hoping that people are stockpiling them for me. James bought me coffee machine. I loathe coffee. James knows this. Skye is very pleased with her new coffee machine. I think it's going to have an accident. Those things fall off the bench into a hot oven all the time.
And this morning Skye burst into my room and demanded I look out the window. And despite the fact we started daylight saving last weekend and it's been rather warm all week - it was snowing. Was rather pretty but, oddly enough, when I went outside to take some cheesy photos, it was fecking freezing and my toes got cold.
My toenails are disgusting and I don't know what happened to them. One is definitely bruised, but the others? Perhaps it's winter toenail sadness? They just need sunlight? Or heaps of nail polish.
Oh, and some utter bastard in Bulgaria stole $1000 out of my NZ bank account. Fuckers. Once I'd rung the bank and explained stuff (like the fact that I have never been to Bulgaria and I still have my credit card) and wrote an email to explain more stuff, they rang me back to talk some more. Only they forgot about the time difference.
'Penelope? It's Trudi from the National Bank. How are you?'
'What? Sure. Fine.'
'What time is it there?'
'What time is it in New Zealand?'
'One thirty in the afternoon.'
'Then it's 1.30am here.'
'Oh.'
'Yeah.'
'Did I wake you up?'
And so on. So now I have forms to fill out and eventually I should get my money back. Or rather, I should get my overdraft, which is really the bank's money, back.
Skye came home from Australia very, very poor but with a house for herself and Mike and a bag of cherry ripes for me.
Kruse got a bit older and I gave him socks. He went house sitting for Caro and Dom and I went round to visit and the cat bit me.
Work is ever so busy and it's all gone to hell and no one knows what the feck's going on. Which means it's a good time for me to come home. So five more days. And then a day buying some Rolexes in Hong Kong (anyone want one?) and then Brandon will meet me at Auckland airport wearing a red carnation so I know what to look for next Monday. Three days in Auckland, one in Reporoa hanging with some cows, raging it up in PN for a week, two days in Wellington buying trousers of the like not seen in the UK, then Christchurch for five days to try out the comfort of Fi's spare room and then Sydney for three nights to see brother Nic and the world's tallest man, Tim. And then home in time for work on 6 May, when I discover that all the books I sent to print before I left have mistakes in them. I am a very good production editor.
We had people over for my birthday brunchy lunchy (featuring asparagus rolls, bloody marys, truffles and fairy bread - all class) and there was a greatdeal of nonsense spoken, a history lesson, cake in face, probably a bit too much booze and all in bed by midnight. Thirty is looking as mature as 24 did.
I finally stretched my jeans to an acceptable fit and I was overjoyed but then they started to smell (hadn't washed them for a very long time) so I had to give them up to the washing machine and now I have to start the whole process all over again. I'm eating a caramello koala in an effort to help with the stretching. And then I'm going to make a huge effort to finish off my third birthday cake - is it cheating if I just lick off the icing? Mad Laura made it and it's awfully good.
I got some very good books for turning 30, and marshmellow eggs from Simon, which went straight into the freezer because that's where marshmellow eggs live. You can't get them here so I'm hoping that people are stockpiling them for me. James bought me coffee machine. I loathe coffee. James knows this. Skye is very pleased with her new coffee machine. I think it's going to have an accident. Those things fall off the bench into a hot oven all the time.
And this morning Skye burst into my room and demanded I look out the window. And despite the fact we started daylight saving last weekend and it's been rather warm all week - it was snowing. Was rather pretty but, oddly enough, when I went outside to take some cheesy photos, it was fecking freezing and my toes got cold.
My toenails are disgusting and I don't know what happened to them. One is definitely bruised, but the others? Perhaps it's winter toenail sadness? They just need sunlight? Or heaps of nail polish.
Oh, and some utter bastard in Bulgaria stole $1000 out of my NZ bank account. Fuckers. Once I'd rung the bank and explained stuff (like the fact that I have never been to Bulgaria and I still have my credit card) and wrote an email to explain more stuff, they rang me back to talk some more. Only they forgot about the time difference.
'Penelope? It's Trudi from the National Bank. How are you?'
'What? Sure. Fine.'
'What time is it there?'
'What time is it in New Zealand?'
'One thirty in the afternoon.'
'Then it's 1.30am here.'
'Oh.'
'Yeah.'
'Did I wake you up?'
And so on. So now I have forms to fill out and eventually I should get my money back. Or rather, I should get my overdraft, which is really the bank's money, back.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
More about toilets
I haven't written about public conveniences for some time - this probably has a lot to do with the fact that there aren't many in London. The same with rubbish bins. Too easy for the naughty people to put bombs in them. This makes London awful sometimes. I have carried rubbish for ages and ages and ages and oh you get the idea, looking for somewhere to put it, and not opting for everyone else's 'litter' policy. Litter makes me quite cross. So does really needing to pee and not knowing where the public toilets are because they are secrets known only to the few. I have become one of those people who stride into pubs looking like they're about to order some lager only to swerve into the loos first and then sneak out without actually buying anything.
St Pat's yesterday and Kruse got well and truly into the spirit of things and drank an impressive amount of Guinness. I loathe Guinness for it is all nasty and so on and when I asked for a Guinness shandy last St Pat's in PN, I got the evil eye. Did get my shandy, though. By the time I got home from work, Kruse had had 13 large cans. And also managed to make a very good Irish stew. I had a glass of wine and fell asleep on the sofa. Have become a pathetic drinker. Kruse was still up and drinking at 3.30am, making calls to Ecuador and NZ. He finally came to bed at 4am, and then managed to sleep talk a great deal of gibberish, which seemed to be very important to him at the time, and was the kind of sleep talk that needed someone responding to it else he just kept repeating himself. Gibberishly.
In other news:
Work has suddenly become very busy as I start to take over someone else's books - and it transpires that I have no idea of stuff. However, I shall just fake it until they fire me.
I need to have words with the mothership (you know who you are, Gloria) about texting me at 4am my time. Five o'clock in the afternoon is not a good time to text your eldest daughter, although thanks for the dosh.
I have new red boots. I gave them to me for my birthday because I deserved them.
Penelope out.
St Pat's yesterday and Kruse got well and truly into the spirit of things and drank an impressive amount of Guinness. I loathe Guinness for it is all nasty and so on and when I asked for a Guinness shandy last St Pat's in PN, I got the evil eye. Did get my shandy, though. By the time I got home from work, Kruse had had 13 large cans. And also managed to make a very good Irish stew. I had a glass of wine and fell asleep on the sofa. Have become a pathetic drinker. Kruse was still up and drinking at 3.30am, making calls to Ecuador and NZ. He finally came to bed at 4am, and then managed to sleep talk a great deal of gibberish, which seemed to be very important to him at the time, and was the kind of sleep talk that needed someone responding to it else he just kept repeating himself. Gibberishly.
In other news:
Work has suddenly become very busy as I start to take over someone else's books - and it transpires that I have no idea of stuff. However, I shall just fake it until they fire me.
I need to have words with the mothership (you know who you are, Gloria) about texting me at 4am my time. Five o'clock in the afternoon is not a good time to text your eldest daughter, although thanks for the dosh.
I have new red boots. I gave them to me for my birthday because I deserved them.
Penelope out.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Let me eat cake
Cake for breakfast is a rather good way to start one's thirties.
I also finished my first day of thirty with cake - a different one.
So, how did I spend the last night of my twenties? Having a dream I pashed Chuck Norris. Definitely time to leave.
Nearly got hit by a motorbike on the way to work the other morning and was ever so pleased that I managed not to, especially when I got to work and discovered that my underwear was on inside out.
Back to my all-important thirtieth - my workmates gave me flowers and I gave them cake. Win win. Then I skived off early and went to the Tate Modern with Kruse in an attempt to be cultured. And then met up at the pub with Katie to recover. And then went home to have fush'n'chups and Kruse made me a cake and we watched more Twin Peaks and it was all pretty good, really. Points to Ruthie for her T-shirt and Mother for the book of Katherine Mansfield stories. Had completely forgotten about KM, but was reminded by James and requested it for my birthday. Mum says she went into Whitcoulls to ask if they had a copy and the young lass behind the counter said 'Who?'. What are they teaching them in schools these days?
Right -will finish today pondering bananas. I only like them if they're sliced and with something. Disguised, if you will. Had very long conversation with workmates about pros and cons of bananas and other people's weird food 'things'. I looked positively normal in comparison to the baked beans on toast but only a spoonful in the middle and the butter has to be completely melted - no lumps or I'm not eating it, girl.
I also finished my first day of thirty with cake - a different one.
So, how did I spend the last night of my twenties? Having a dream I pashed Chuck Norris. Definitely time to leave.
Nearly got hit by a motorbike on the way to work the other morning and was ever so pleased that I managed not to, especially when I got to work and discovered that my underwear was on inside out.
Back to my all-important thirtieth - my workmates gave me flowers and I gave them cake. Win win. Then I skived off early and went to the Tate Modern with Kruse in an attempt to be cultured. And then met up at the pub with Katie to recover. And then went home to have fush'n'chups and Kruse made me a cake and we watched more Twin Peaks and it was all pretty good, really. Points to Ruthie for her T-shirt and Mother for the book of Katherine Mansfield stories. Had completely forgotten about KM, but was reminded by James and requested it for my birthday. Mum says she went into Whitcoulls to ask if they had a copy and the young lass behind the counter said 'Who?'. What are they teaching them in schools these days?
Right -will finish today pondering bananas. I only like them if they're sliced and with something. Disguised, if you will. Had very long conversation with workmates about pros and cons of bananas and other people's weird food 'things'. I looked positively normal in comparison to the baked beans on toast but only a spoonful in the middle and the butter has to be completely melted - no lumps or I'm not eating it, girl.
Monday, March 10, 2008
!
Have been made a permanent production editor - what fun. Although new contract doesn't start until May, allowing me to take three weeks' holiday, which will be spent at home in NZ. Oh, the glories of Palmerston North, once more you will me mine to adore.
All morning I have been receiving congratulatory emails from my workmates, which is nice, however I think I might need to have a word to some of them about their constant overuse of exclamation marks, the use of which makes their emails sound suspiciously as though they were written by 13-year-old girls.
My immediate superior had her hen's night on the weekend and has kindly brought in the remains from her afternoon tea party. I was extremely disappointed to discover that Snickerdoodle cake does not contain any Snickers. False advertising.
Had a particularly bizarre dream that a burglar was trying to steal Skye and Mike's bed. And that Kruse was setting dwarf traps, using pound coins and cask as bait.
The weather has become complete rubbish - it's viciously cold and windy and rainy and it's very hard to concentrate on footnotes when one would much rather be at home in one's jim jams reading Agatha Christie. Or watching Twin Peaks. We've just started the second season and I heart Agent Cooper. Oh, he is such a dreamboat.
As 30 slowly approaches this week, giving me the glad eye over her shoulder and come hither glances that I am incapable of resisting, I ponder the truly important things in life: just how many new flavours have Whittaker's chocolate bars brought out since I've been away? Only five more weeks of not knowing!!!!! All right!!! Look at those exclamation markers go!!!
I have to admit that the main reason I am coming home is that I need a haircut and Brandon is the only person I trust. And I also miss my shoes. And all my clothes. I suspect my father is going to come from work in mid-April to find me buried beneath a pile of dress-up outfits and ludicrous shoes, muttering 'I love you, I love you, please forgive me for abandoning you for so long'.
All morning I have been receiving congratulatory emails from my workmates, which is nice, however I think I might need to have a word to some of them about their constant overuse of exclamation marks, the use of which makes their emails sound suspiciously as though they were written by 13-year-old girls.
My immediate superior had her hen's night on the weekend and has kindly brought in the remains from her afternoon tea party. I was extremely disappointed to discover that Snickerdoodle cake does not contain any Snickers. False advertising.
Had a particularly bizarre dream that a burglar was trying to steal Skye and Mike's bed. And that Kruse was setting dwarf traps, using pound coins and cask as bait.
The weather has become complete rubbish - it's viciously cold and windy and rainy and it's very hard to concentrate on footnotes when one would much rather be at home in one's jim jams reading Agatha Christie. Or watching Twin Peaks. We've just started the second season and I heart Agent Cooper. Oh, he is such a dreamboat.
As 30 slowly approaches this week, giving me the glad eye over her shoulder and come hither glances that I am incapable of resisting, I ponder the truly important things in life: just how many new flavours have Whittaker's chocolate bars brought out since I've been away? Only five more weeks of not knowing!!!!! All right!!! Look at those exclamation markers go!!!
I have to admit that the main reason I am coming home is that I need a haircut and Brandon is the only person I trust. And I also miss my shoes. And all my clothes. I suspect my father is going to come from work in mid-April to find me buried beneath a pile of dress-up outfits and ludicrous shoes, muttering 'I love you, I love you, please forgive me for abandoning you for so long'.
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