We are counting down the days until we migrate north again. The clocks have gone back in NZ and forward in the UK and the seasons are changing. We have had a great time down under, but we are keen now to return to our own home and catch up with other friends and family that we left behind six months ago. We have learnt a lot from our experience of dropping out for half a year. If we were to do it again we would definitely do some things differently. There are many aspects of the trip we are keen to continue with. I hope to carry on writing and painting, and get back to doing more drawing too. We want to be able to have more of a say in how we work (working smarter – not harder). Time needs to be made for ourselves and others, it is more satisfying to do things you want with those you want to, than not. So if anyone has a job I can do part-time, from home or near to it then let me know.
So it is ‘see you later’ to those we leave behind and ‘hello again’ to those we will see very soon.
Monday, March 27, 2006
More of wot I have read...
This is an interesting concept for a book. The author revisited the tradition of serialisation of books in newspapers with the backing of The Scotsman. The only downside is that the book seems to lack a storng narative or plotline; probably a side affect of writing the book in short snipets for readers who may not get to read every issue.
44 Scotland Street - by Alexander McCall-Smith
‘When twenty-year-old Pat rents a room from handsome and cocky Bruce, she inherits some delightfully colourful neighbours: Domenica, an insightful and eccentric widow; Bertie, a five-year-old who's mastered both saxophone and Italian; and Irene, his overbearing mother. Pat's new job at a gallery seems easy enough. Her boss spends most of his time drinking coffee in a local café and discussing matters great and small, and Pat's duties are light.
That is until she realizes that one of their paintings may be an undiscovered work of a renowned Scottish artist and she discovers that one of their customers may be in on the secret. Add to this a fancy ball, love triangles and an encounter with a famous crime writer, and you have Alexander McCall Smith's entertaining and witty portrait of Edinburgh society.’
44 Scotland Street - by Alexander McCall-Smith
‘When twenty-year-old Pat rents a room from handsome and cocky Bruce, she inherits some delightfully colourful neighbours: Domenica, an insightful and eccentric widow; Bertie, a five-year-old who's mastered both saxophone and Italian; and Irene, his overbearing mother. Pat's new job at a gallery seems easy enough. Her boss spends most of his time drinking coffee in a local café and discussing matters great and small, and Pat's duties are light.
That is until she realizes that one of their paintings may be an undiscovered work of a renowned Scottish artist and she discovers that one of their customers may be in on the secret. Add to this a fancy ball, love triangles and an encounter with a famous crime writer, and you have Alexander McCall Smith's entertaining and witty portrait of Edinburgh society.’
Sunday, March 12, 2006
And the rain fell...
We took a few days off to visit the Coromandel Peninsular in the Kombi van. We drove to Thames on the first day and stopped for a tour of one of the gold mines that made this town in the 19th century. A guy who looked almost as ancient as the equipment he was talking about gave us a tour. He demonstrated the noisy stamp battery that crushed the ore, talked about the refining process using mercury and then he took us for a short walk through the mine. We had lunch on the Thames coast before wandering around the small town. We stopped the night at a nearby campsite that included a butterfly park (we gave the butterflies a miss, opting for a cold drink in the evening sunshine).
We heard that the weather was predicted to become wet as a low pressure system swept the north of the island so we decided to reorganise our plans to make sure that we fitted in a visit to our favourite tourist site in the region. In the morning we rang the booking line for the Driving Creek Railway and booked a couple of tickets for the morning train. We then drove up the slow coast road, made slower by road works, arriving just as the train driver rang his bell. New Zealand potter Barry Brickell set up the site and to get the raw materials he needed for his work out of the hills he built the original train. Now 30 odd years later the train ride is a booming tourist attraction and the site is constantly being improved with more things to do and see. The valuable work that was been done to retain and expand the native planting has been secured for future generations as Barry Brickell has arranged for the site to be gifted into trust for the community when he dies. Afterwards we had a walk through the small town of Coromandel before buying some local smoked fish and having lunch besides the sea again.
As promised the weather closed in and rain prevented us from visiting some of the gardens we had hoped to see in the area, so we drove on over the hills towards the east coast. The whole region is sparsely populated and has some dramatic scenery from mountain to coast. We eventually pitched up at Mercury Bay’s main town of Whitianga where we managed to get set up before the heavens opened up. We spent much of the evening in the TV room with other tourists who were sheltering with their dinner and bottles of wine.
In the morning the report was still for unsettled weather, so we broke camp and headed further south, this time to another gold mine, this time at Waihi. The Martha mine is opencast rather than underground and is impressive for the big hole in the middle of the town. We saw an interesting video at the mine information centre that explained the process and how the mine was soon to close and would become a large lake. We had a walk around a nearby art gallery full of interesting pictures, sculptures and the like before we decided to carry on with our journey. The heavens opened again and drove us to seek shelter off the road, where we ate our lunch from the shelter of the van next to a river as the rain pounded down. When it let up we continued through Karangahake gorge and turned north head towards Thames again. We passed through farmland as we entered the Hauraki Plains, stopping briefly at a cheese farm shop to sample their wares. We continued on towards the Miranda Holiday Park that was adjacent to the hot pools. It is situated out in the middle of nowhere but it was one of the nicest appointed sites that we had visited, and it did have its own private 38-degree thermal hot pool.
The next day we travelled home up the other coast of the Firth of Thames, opposite the Coromandel and the weather improved as we drove becoming sunny and warm as we arrived home again.
We heard that the weather was predicted to become wet as a low pressure system swept the north of the island so we decided to reorganise our plans to make sure that we fitted in a visit to our favourite tourist site in the region. In the morning we rang the booking line for the Driving Creek Railway and booked a couple of tickets for the morning train. We then drove up the slow coast road, made slower by road works, arriving just as the train driver rang his bell. New Zealand potter Barry Brickell set up the site and to get the raw materials he needed for his work out of the hills he built the original train. Now 30 odd years later the train ride is a booming tourist attraction and the site is constantly being improved with more things to do and see. The valuable work that was been done to retain and expand the native planting has been secured for future generations as Barry Brickell has arranged for the site to be gifted into trust for the community when he dies. Afterwards we had a walk through the small town of Coromandel before buying some local smoked fish and having lunch besides the sea again.
As promised the weather closed in and rain prevented us from visiting some of the gardens we had hoped to see in the area, so we drove on over the hills towards the east coast. The whole region is sparsely populated and has some dramatic scenery from mountain to coast. We eventually pitched up at Mercury Bay’s main town of Whitianga where we managed to get set up before the heavens opened up. We spent much of the evening in the TV room with other tourists who were sheltering with their dinner and bottles of wine.
In the morning the report was still for unsettled weather, so we broke camp and headed further south, this time to another gold mine, this time at Waihi. The Martha mine is opencast rather than underground and is impressive for the big hole in the middle of the town. We saw an interesting video at the mine information centre that explained the process and how the mine was soon to close and would become a large lake. We had a walk around a nearby art gallery full of interesting pictures, sculptures and the like before we decided to carry on with our journey. The heavens opened again and drove us to seek shelter off the road, where we ate our lunch from the shelter of the van next to a river as the rain pounded down. When it let up we continued through Karangahake gorge and turned north head towards Thames again. We passed through farmland as we entered the Hauraki Plains, stopping briefly at a cheese farm shop to sample their wares. We continued on towards the Miranda Holiday Park that was adjacent to the hot pools. It is situated out in the middle of nowhere but it was one of the nicest appointed sites that we had visited, and it did have its own private 38-degree thermal hot pool.
The next day we travelled home up the other coast of the Firth of Thames, opposite the Coromandel and the weather improved as we drove becoming sunny and warm as we arrived home again.
More of wot I have read...
I absolutely devoured this book, a present for my birthday recently. The author’s style was interesting and the use of long and seemingly irrelevant footnotes gave the whole book a feeling that it was more of a historical documentary than a work of fiction. A very engaging story, nicely written…
Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - by Susanna Clarke
‘Two magicians shall appear in England. The first shall fear me; the second shall long to behold me…
Centuries ago, when magic still existed in England, the greatest magician of them all was the Raven King. A human child brought up by fairies, the Raven King blended fairy wisdom and human reason to create English magic. Now, at the beginning of the nineteenth century, he is barely more than a legend, and England, with its mad King and its dashing poets, no longer believes in practical magic.
Then the reclusive Mr Norrell of Hurtfew Abbey appears and causes the statues of York Cathedral to speak and move. News spreads of the return of magic to England and, persuaded that he must help the government in the war against Napoleon, Mr Norrell goes to London. There he meets a brilliant young magician and takes him as a pupil. Jonathan Strange is charming, rich and arrogant. Together, they dazzle the country with their feats.
But the partnership soon turns to rivalry. Mr Norrell has never conquered his lifelong habits of secrecy, while Strange will always be attracted to the wildest, most perilous magic. He becomes fascinated by the shadowy figure of the Raven King, and his heedless pursuit of long-forgotten magic threatens, not only his partnership with Norrell, but everything that he holds dear.’
***
A very different book is a new one from Stephen King. I had not read any of his before, although I have seen a few of his films, and I didn’t know what to expect. The idea behind the story is interesting and I suspect it is the main motivation for the writing of the book. I was not so keen on the writing style hear which is obviously action pact and visual as horror stories often are. It was also difficult to become emotionally involved in the characters and the situation and the hugely earth shattering implications of the event were difficult to accept. Nevertheless it will give you something to talk about, even if it is not on your cell phone…
Cell - by Stephen King
‘There’s a reason cell rhymes with hell
On October 1, God is in His heaven, the stock market stands at 10,140, most of the planes are on time, and Clayton Riddell, an artist from Maine, is almost bouncing up Boylston Street in Boston. He’s just landed a comic book deal that might finally enable him to support his family by making art instead of teaching it. He’s already picked up a small (but inexpensive!) gift for his long-suffering wife, and he knows just what he’ll get for his boy Johnny. Why not a little treat for himself? Clay’s feeling good about the future.
That changes in a hurry. The cause of the devastation is a phenomenon that will come to be known as The Pulse, and the delivery method is a cell phone. Everyone’s cell phone. Clay and the few desperate survivors who join him suddenly find themselves in the pitch-black night of civilization’s darkest age, surrounded by chaos, carnage, and a human horde that has been reduced to its basest nature…and then begins to evolve.There’s really no escaping this nightmare. But for Clay, an arrow points home to Maine, and as he and his fellow refugees make their harrowing journey north they begin to see crude signs confirming their direction: KASHWAK=NO-FO. A promise, perhaps. Or a threat…’
Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - by Susanna Clarke
‘Two magicians shall appear in England. The first shall fear me; the second shall long to behold me…
Centuries ago, when magic still existed in England, the greatest magician of them all was the Raven King. A human child brought up by fairies, the Raven King blended fairy wisdom and human reason to create English magic. Now, at the beginning of the nineteenth century, he is barely more than a legend, and England, with its mad King and its dashing poets, no longer believes in practical magic.
Then the reclusive Mr Norrell of Hurtfew Abbey appears and causes the statues of York Cathedral to speak and move. News spreads of the return of magic to England and, persuaded that he must help the government in the war against Napoleon, Mr Norrell goes to London. There he meets a brilliant young magician and takes him as a pupil. Jonathan Strange is charming, rich and arrogant. Together, they dazzle the country with their feats.
But the partnership soon turns to rivalry. Mr Norrell has never conquered his lifelong habits of secrecy, while Strange will always be attracted to the wildest, most perilous magic. He becomes fascinated by the shadowy figure of the Raven King, and his heedless pursuit of long-forgotten magic threatens, not only his partnership with Norrell, but everything that he holds dear.’
***
A very different book is a new one from Stephen King. I had not read any of his before, although I have seen a few of his films, and I didn’t know what to expect. The idea behind the story is interesting and I suspect it is the main motivation for the writing of the book. I was not so keen on the writing style hear which is obviously action pact and visual as horror stories often are. It was also difficult to become emotionally involved in the characters and the situation and the hugely earth shattering implications of the event were difficult to accept. Nevertheless it will give you something to talk about, even if it is not on your cell phone…
Cell - by Stephen King
‘There’s a reason cell rhymes with hell
On October 1, God is in His heaven, the stock market stands at 10,140, most of the planes are on time, and Clayton Riddell, an artist from Maine, is almost bouncing up Boylston Street in Boston. He’s just landed a comic book deal that might finally enable him to support his family by making art instead of teaching it. He’s already picked up a small (but inexpensive!) gift for his long-suffering wife, and he knows just what he’ll get for his boy Johnny. Why not a little treat for himself? Clay’s feeling good about the future.
That changes in a hurry. The cause of the devastation is a phenomenon that will come to be known as The Pulse, and the delivery method is a cell phone. Everyone’s cell phone. Clay and the few desperate survivors who join him suddenly find themselves in the pitch-black night of civilization’s darkest age, surrounded by chaos, carnage, and a human horde that has been reduced to its basest nature…and then begins to evolve.There’s really no escaping this nightmare. But for Clay, an arrow points home to Maine, and as he and his fellow refugees make their harrowing journey north they begin to see crude signs confirming their direction: KASHWAK=NO-FO. A promise, perhaps. Or a threat…’
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