One of the best bits about writing this column is getting replies from those of you reading it. I'm always wrong about what will generate the most feedback - the topics I think will stir you all up leave you silent, while the less controversial ones (to my mind, anyway) create a flurry of excitement. And now I have discovered that if I really want some noise from you, the surest way of doing it is not to write anything at all.
Sorry about last Friday. I'm still not quite sure how newspapers happen, but my column got lost and I certainly heard about it - phone calls, texts, emails, getting stopped in the street. Some people thought it was a cruel thing to do on an unlucky Friday the 13th, and someone else pointed out my photo stopped appearing on April Fool's Day and would my column stop appearing from now on as well?
Ever-observant me hadn't noticed that my photo had been replaced with a book and a glass of wine for the past eight months or more, but it seems an excellent swap.
The Lake Hayes show has been and gone, and with it my dreams of supreme championhood. I fell asleep on Friday night dreaming about doing a victory lap of the Lake Hayes showground wearing only a gigantic gold rosette, but it was not to be. Even though it is obvious that my eggs are the loveliest in the Wakatipu, the fool of a judge gave away my chance of happiness.
It was social death to be without a gold rosette on Saturday, and it was made even worse by my so-called friend Jenny flaunting hers all over the place. Next year I am going to enter the damper and Afghans and men's brewing and then we'll see who's the champion of the world. Pinning all my hopes just on the egg category was a serious case of putting all one's eggs in one basket and I have learnt my lesson. Congratulations to Duncan Forsyth whose carrot cake scooped the Mancake category, even beating that champion of champions, Roger Tompkins. And well done to the Buckenhams, who would definitely have won the prize for family scoring the most prizes - manflowers, vegetables, baking.
Terrific effort, and cheers too for Nicky Martin, who is yet again the Queen of the Baking.
Bitter and tearful as I was, I did still enjoy the grand parade. If there is one thing that cheers me up no end, it's things going wrong.
I loved the red balloon that joined the parade, floating gently in and out of the ponies' legs, causing the one proudly wearing a ribbon printed with "Best Paced and Mannered Champion" to skitter sideways and make a mockery of its prize.
As ever it was a magnificent day for the show and there is something so special about this great, big community get-together. Nowhere else in the world could have a more beautiful setting for their annual show, and it is impossible to walk more than a few paces without bumping into old friends and the great characters of the district.
We lost another one of our great characters last week. A big crowd gathered to remember Jack Dagg in Arrowtown on Friday, and I am told it was a terrific chance for all the locals to catch up and tell some wonderful stories about the Arrowtown that changed so much in the time Jack was alive.
My brother is getting older as well. Our family celebrate birthdays erratically - some years you get treated like royalty and some years you don't. This year he wasn't. My parents, my brother, his daughter and I had the traditional celebratory breakfast with the tower of presents piled on the table. This year the pile was tricky, consisting as it did of one measly pair of badly wrapped salad servers.
To make up for the disappointing start to his day, my mother tried to make amends by cooking him his favourite dinner.
It was a shame she hadn't checked what was in the bag she was thawing as sheep's heart has never been on his top-nosh list.
Never one to give up, my mother still cooked it. It was interesting that the family didn't gobble it all down, so there was plenty left over for the cat and the chickens. The cat vomited it up, and the chickens didn't touch it. Possibly time for a rethink on birthday treats, Mum!
My darling always says he doesn't need an encyclopedia with a wife who knows everything. Even when we first got together and I still laughed my pretty, tinkly, bell-like laugh at all his jokes, I didn't find this very funny. Truth can be very painful. But even a know-it-all like me gets their socks knocked off all the time here. I think I know what's happening around the district and then I go to a fabulous dinner at Pip and Greg Rook's and meet Quintin, who owns Wild Earth and was responsible for the feast. He makes great wine and has invented a wine barrel oven and cooks the best rabbit I have ever tasted.
This week's book is one I read in November and have been hankering to tell you about except that it is only just out this week. It's David Foenkinos' Delicacy. If you loved Elegance of the Hedgehog you will probably be a sucker for this as well. Natalie is happy and beautiful and smart and married until her delicious husband Francois is killed by a car while jogging. Delicacy looks at the way we treat people who are grieving so delicately and also so coarsely. It is very funny and when Markus, her drippy work colleague, starts wooing her, it just gets funnier.
It's only a little book, but it's a lot of action and story in so few pages.
