A Trip to the Horse's Mouth...

Two previously shaken Christchurch women take a day out to offer support and cake to the currently shaken Wild West coast.

The recent predicament of the 29 nine miners and the resulting fallout left in their wake, necessitated an emergency run of home baking to the Greymouth township.

A last minute invitation by a pharmacy guild board member AKA my bestie to join her on a mercy mission to the town’s two pharmacies had me hurriedly clearing my calendar and packing my day bag.

The 50th birthday party celebrations attended the night before is not recommended as a good prerequisite for traversing the Otira Gorge. The restorative sausage roll at Springfield petrol station did little to restore or assuage the nausea.

Once loaded up on fuel and saturated fats we headed west according to Patrick our friendly Tom Tom cyber compatriot.

Toting banana cakes and savoury muffins cooked that very morning by the gifted chemist/epicurean, nestled in their baking tins and tea towels, we ventured deep into the pass awed at the encompassing grandeur. After snaking our way through the precarious roads, motion, sleep deprivation and a propensity for narcolepsy took over. I was blissfully brought back by the gentle humming; word for word of the “Mum” CD that had been loaded into the sound system in the absence of cognisant adult company by the driver. The dulcet tones of a Bryan Adams old favourite; Heaven revamped for the 2001 Twin Towers tragedy thrust us right into the required melancholic mood for our entry into the scene of the tragedy.

We drove into the town centre following our nose and Patrick’s instructions and quickly found the first pharmacy and then the second about 100m down the road. We then parked our car dangerously close to the local fish and chip shop. Drawn like a moth to the flame, I lingered with intent outside, willing additional saturated fats into my system via osmosis.

Refocusing on the job at hand, we gathered our home fare, wrapping one cake and hiding it in my large handbag allowing us the convenience of concurrent visits. The first pharmacy was pleasantly surprised at our spontaneous visit and offer of nutrition and support. The two female owners worked on stoically whilst simultaneously explaining the events and reactions of the locals over the past week. We listened attentively and offered in person support by the mere fact of our presence. Commission over, we travelled to the next pharmacy, a smaller operation. So as not to cause an overkill, I left it to the expert and waited outside gauging the feeling of the immediate township.

The central township was surprisingly un-overcome by grieving locals or media; local and international, tripping over each other for more breaking news. I strained my eyes for glimpses of Peter Williams and his TVNZ entourage. The closest I got was a well dressed man in covered shoes with a notepad loitering at a doorway. A lone helicopter buzzed overhead.

We entered a florist shop and felt the tension of the overrun staff. We later learned that the mother daughter combination; a popular form of business ownership in this town, had sustained a loss at the hands of the Pike River mine explosion but were compelled to comply with the unprecedented demand.

Another dress shop we ventured into also was unsurprised or perturbed by the company of obvious outsiders and surmised that we were also foreign media.

A final stop at a local watering hole to form the ultimate measure of emotion, we took up residence at an outdoor table and observed first hand, general townspeople behaviour. The local cafe owner brought us out our fifteen dollar roasted vege salad with accompanying sauvignons without entering into any local banter. Whether they do or do not usually was uncertain.

The only sign we found of the elephant in the room residing in Greymouth was the two signs we had seen haphazardly pinned in local retailer’s windows heralding sympathies to the universe or to whoever passed.

Giving Pike River mine a respectful wide berth, we departed shortly after 3pm a week exactly after the first explosion. We later learned of just missing a third explosion.

Bathed in a virtuous glow we headed home east with only the sounds of the rattling empty baking tins and the B side of the CD as company.

Thick Shake!!

It is great to be a Cantabrian today....we rode the ride of a lifetime, all 45 seconds at 7.1 on the Richter scale and came out the other side with NO loss of life!!! Can't beat that record. 6 lives were lost in the Inangahua quake of 1968 which was at the same reading although due to current reports, incomparable.



Christchurch and it's surrounds survived a miraculous event of which we should all be extremely grateful.



The quake shook us all up physically and emotionally and we will never be the same again. Families and communities clamour together for support and realise the fragility of our existence.

Some are thanking God, but that would mean that we are special and those that have perished before us are not. I am just grateful in general that the timing was such that only material goods were harmed.

Go Canterbury, go us!

Addicted to iron.....cast that is!

This month I have had an unusual attraction to cast iron cookware...

As we speak I am sipping (good) red wine that comes with cooking in the aforementioned apparatus.

It all begin one sunny afternoon in Sumner about three weeks ago, as my love and I were sniffing around open homes in search of the lifestyle home of our dreams by the sea. Thwarted by another unsatisfactory property we moped into the township and hungry with grief fell upon the Cornershop Bistro. In a bid to cheer ourselves up we feasted on the Boeuf Bourguignon accompanied by other out of town friends who happened to see our sorry faces pressed up at the window.

Bowled over by the stewed goodness I set about procuring a cast iron Le Creuset casserole dish from heaven and replicating the melt in your mouth recuperative hotpot. After many torturous hours of scanning web sites and homeware stores, I settled on the half price MADE IN CHINA lookalike at Stevens as opposed to the four hundred dollar option on Moorhouse Ave.

Set with a Julia Childs recipe and my new pot, I cut, braised, browned, portion after delectable portion of beef, bacon, onions, mushrooms etc and after only about 16 hours of preparation and cooking I had achieved my goal. Exhaustion! Stir frying has got it's merits!

The family did approve wholeheartedly but they can whistle! With my new found casserole methology, I shortened, removed, added and concocted my own recipes for the next seven dishes working the cast iron for all it was worth. It is a pleasure to use and will remain a fixture in my kitchen.

Go the iron!

food...what else

Have just consumed my second vegetarian lunch from Vivace Cafe in Tuam Street. It is my designated coffee shop whilst working in the sweat/spring shop.

Have dutifully made 'him indoors' lunch which comprised of three day old Molenburg sandwich bread found in the pantry on Monday morning, slathered with cream corn remnants (found in fridge - age unknown) topped with a generous slice of Edam cheese then toasted in the factory sandwich machine (dodgy but effective).

Back to my carefully procured mid day snack....the aforementioned vego delight consisted of roasted vegetables; kumara, red pepper, broccoli, red onion, red cabbage and feta cheese all jam packed into a brown bread, multi grained roll emblazoned with a collection of seeds then toasted. Result: loud mmmm-ing noises.

Was compelled to find website and comment positively on my ingestion to it's creators.

Liked it so much, I went back for me the next day....

Day of many flavours....

Having a meltdown... Just sent number 2 daughter to cafe by Whitebait studios where I used to work and she got lost. 6mins by car 2.3kms according to google maps. Took her 30 mins!! and fifty nine texts as well as a shouting phone call blaming me for my poor instructions! My name well and truly sullied I fought to refrain from shouting incompetencies and instead encourage progress....I lost!

Point two contributing to my implosion is a pending lawsuit! This one is priceless....self appointed Marketing Guru purchases cheap marketing list off the internet then gets slapped by intellectual property lawyer working for their client who just happens to be Yellow Pages NZ. It seems I have to give back the next to useless purchased list and $2000+GST to boot for Yellow pages legal costs. Sounds fair. NOT!!!!

Am sharpening the knives as we speak to perform self harm.

Was a great day till about 4pm when all this stuff started happening.

Pre 4pm
Attended writing course at 10am, aboard cruising bike in the mid winter sun. Fell into an uncontrollable laughing fit with two women named Barbara during class. One was the teacher. Complete with eye wiping, shoulder trembling and spasmed breathing. Rode home collected Charity Dinner organising folder then rode to Cambridge Terrace offices through Hagley Park with earphones on drinking in the aforementioned mid winter sun some more...met co-worker and brainstormed over a glass of wine....(see the attraction?) then rode home albeit a bit wobblier two hours later. By now it was nearing 4......

relationships......ugh!

Relationships. Can't live with em, can't live without em! Have been doing some light reading and found these following points very helpful so thought I would share.....

- humans are not logical creatures when it comes to relationships.
- the relationship is a game.
- you cannot change the past.
- do what works drop what doesn't.
- you do not NEED each other.
- you cannot control the behaviour of your partner.
- you DO NOT have to be right.
- you CAN be happy at any time.
- you do not have to work ON the relationship - you are IN the relationship.
- do not complain to anyone who cannot do anything about it, like your friends and family.
- you CAN choose what quality of your relationship you want to have.

Still alive...

I have been shackled to the office at the sweat/spring shop allllllll day. It seems like I am a full timer again! How does one hand in her notice to her husband? May have to feign a long term ACC injury....

Back onto much more pleasant topics....Melbourne, the shopping Mecca. Five days in Melbourne beats one night in Bangkok hands down. The aforementioned incarcerator took me on a good behaviour jaunt last week where we holed up in The Olsen hotel, Art Series. Awesome digs with banging art work. Nine floors up we perched like proud cockatoos dining on room service and amused by the large plasma acutely angled in our direction reveling in the infinite thread count.

By day we scoured the streets on our suburban cruisers dressed smartly in everyday clothes eager to fill our wicker baskets with produce and products of the nation. Expertly maneuvering our way away from the tram tracks as not to topple and soil our civilian attire we snaked around the city, joining the cycle ways winding deep within the CBD.

In a bid to annoy the locals we clipped onto the back of a peloton along St Kilda waterfront and managed to draft them for a good kilometre before falling aside with laughter at our form of amusement. They were none too impressed with the two clowns on granny bikes hanging onto their tails.

All in all a great getaway....