Nothing to do but fly sucking

Phew! It's over. Christmas is great but I'm always looking forward to this fabulous week of inbetweenness when there's absolutely nothing to do but relax. The human brain is an extraordinary thing the way it records the happy moments so clearly and blanks out the bad ones. Like childbirth. We all know it's uncomfortable, but it is only once you get that first labour pain again that you remember what you're in for.

Same with the gap between Christmas and New Year. Every year, I forget that this week is much less a time for relaxing than a week of frantic and unfestive fly sucking (watch out, Rev Spooner) as the loathsome black cloud of summer arrives and starts its horrid, buzzy song.

I think of them like weeds - if you can get rid of enough of them, there will be fewer next year, but I'm not sure I'm making any impact at all, even with my fly-fighting weapons of fly spray and vacuum cleaner in each hand, like some gunslinging superhero.

I'm so busy with the flies that I am struggling to keep ahead in the battle with the weeds, so I was horribly envious when I went to visit Janet Blair's garden last week. Even if you have visited the great gardens of the world, you may not have visited one of the greatest, and it's right here in the Wakatipu. You often see buses parked outside, as only organised garden tours can visit.

So put March 24 in your diary and buy a ticket for the Cancer Society/Look Good Feel Better House and Garden NZ tour, and you will be able to see the magnificent park that Janet has created. Her garden being in the tour will make sure it is a total sellout, so do get your tickets quickly through Ticketmaster.

As well as visiting Janet's green heaven, I found lots of other ways to avoid getting tangled up in the pre-Christmas rush. On Christmas Eve, when small people are already in danger of exploding with the excitement of the whole business of Christmas, I went with my delicious nieces and nephews and an equal number of slightly less excited adults to ride the train to nowhere. Off we went to Kingston, where the sight of the Kingston Flyer's smoke signals had my nephews perilously close to wet pants country. This beautiful old steam train is back in business and even if smoky, noisy trains aren't your thing, I bet you will still get a thrill from going on it.

Do buy a bottle of water at Kingston, as Fairlight only sells sugary drinks.

The children are so high on train fever by then that the return trip with them sugarjangled is a bit exhausting.

I was all excited on Friday about our No3 son coming home. He's been selling cherries in Christchurch and was due back on the last flight. I saw a text from him telling me about the earthquake and that his flight was cancelled. I felt so sad and disappointed about having to wait till the next morning to see him but when I saw the news with those poor, poor people up there shovelling that wretched liquefaction out again and heard my friends there tell me about sweeping up the contents of their fridges and throwing out their smashed bits and pieces, I realised I had nothing to complain about at all.

Last week, I tried to warn you about a strange old man bothering the lovely ladies at the Arrowtown Post Office. He's been poking his 80-year-old, frost-bitten and slightly amputated fingers through his PO box and trying to hold their hands. He says he is going to offer sweeties so he can try and catch one and drag her through the letterbox. I don't know how he does it - his PO box is number 9, and if you look, you will see it is second from the bottom, so he must be nearly lying on the ground to get his hand through at all. Sorry about that, ladies, I know how busy you are over Christmas without worrying about wizened, wandering hands appearing through the holes.

If you didn't get to the museum for the opening of those three local women artists - Christine, Lady Hill and Jenny Mehrtens (I know it's only two) - do go and see it. It was a very good party and plenty of sponsor's product loosened the wallets and made for a very noisy, happy get-together. I love seeing the Wakatipu through other people's eyes and these girls have got very fine eyes indeed.

Happy birthday to my sister Lisa, who came all the way home to Arrowtown from London to celebrate turning 50 on Christmas Day.

There hasn't been enough time for reading this week, but I did enjoy Michael Ondaatje's The Cat's Table, which my mother recommended. He is the author of The English Patient and I wasn't sure anything else he wrote could match it. This gets pretty close - three young Ceylonese boys are on an ocean liner to England in the 1950s.

Being so young makes them virtually invisible to the other passengers and they use this to their full advantage, spying on everyone and getting into every part of the ship and up to mischief.

The other book is Follow Your Heart by Susanna Tamaro. She's an Italian writer and although this is a translation, it is beautifully smooth and easy to read. Olga is a grandmother writing to her granddaughter who has left Italy for America. In the letter, Olga tells her own story of marrying the wrong person, living the wrong life and not making the right choices. It sounds heavy going, and it is pretty sad, but Tamaro writes very simply and intimately and it almost feels a little intrusive reading such private words.

Have a very happy and safe New Year.

- miranda@queenstown.co.nz

 

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