Keeping a poker face as life's odometer clocks 60

Arrowtown book buyer Miranda Spary continues her regular column about her recommendations for a good read and life as she sees it . . .

I never thought it would happen to me, but this morning I woke up next to a 60-year-old man.

What a shock! He looks very much like my husband but that 60 thing is hard to accept.

At least writing this column is giving me a lot of opportunity to interact with younger men and get loads of lovely compliments.

Last week, I had Jonathan from Colorado telling me he enjoyed my comments about Ruby.

I was confused until I realised he meant rugby.

Stan from Sydney liked my column but gave me a bit of a tune-up about mocking legless skiers.

I promised him I had no intention of mocking, and only have the hugest respect for what disabled skiers achieve.

If anyone was being mocked, it was me.

Even my lovely editor, Dave Cannan, said I made him laugh.

I think he was just relieved that he didn't have to remind me of the legal and ethical (boring) bits about journalism for once.

And this column gets me close to royalty! Well, the Wakatipu version of it.

Two ex-mayors of Queenstown, David Bradford and Warren Cooper, have kissed me this week and said they read my words of wisdom.

It just shows that once you finish running the affairs of Queenstown, there's a lot of time to fill.

David Bradford is in town for this week's big poker tournament.

The heats run from Monday to Thursday, and if you want to go and watch on Friday, you will see the big guns in action.

Someone in my house actually watches poker on TV.

It sounds completely boring, and it is.

Well, the game is, but watching the people is fascinating.

There's no other "sport" that attracts such a diverse lot of characters.

I guess a sport that only requires enough fitness to sit in a chair can get a wider following than say hurdling or synchronised swimming.

Last night was round one of the Arrowtown School PTA quiz night.

Modesty usually makes me keep my light under a bushel and silences my own trumpet, but it is only fair to let you know that I was a member of the winning team four years ago.

And already, the team I am in (the Number Ones) are the number twos.

Annie Gallaway's team must surely have cheated to have beaten us.

This week's column will have to be very short as I have another 25 encyclopaediae to learn by heart.

Be very afraid, you Sharp Pencils and Anzacs and all the other teams.

I told you I had started Sylvia, Queen of the Headhunters by Philip Eade last week. It's terrific.

I'm always a sucker for books about upper-class Brits in the colonies.

Something about tipping so much cash into such a tiny gene pool just causes problems - must leave no room for common sense or morals.

No wonder they were such a mob of witless, chinless twits.

And I just love when they go native. Pure magic.

Kathryn Hughes reviewed the book for The Guardian, and said of author Philip Eade that "he used to write obituaries for The Telegraph which has long been an excellent source of material for those interested in batty old toffs clinging to the edge of empire".

And you just can't not be interested - heaps of eccentric expat decadence with loony, self-obsessed Sylvia whose husband was the last Rajah of Sarawak, a bizarre white dynasty, who ruled a jungle kingdom of Borneo until 1946.

The Rajah's nephew, who was done out of inheriting the title by Sylvia's antics, actually lives near Wanganui.

He must be quite relieved not to share any of aunt Sylvia's genes.

Hope you are all having a terrific week. Do let me know what I should read next.

miranda@queenstown.co.nz