Barely there

Sunday, 30 January 2011

My latest phase is riding bare. Without a saddle that is.

While pretending recently that I was 7 writing an essay inside my head on what I did in the holidays, I realised that amongst all the cool crazy fun I had, my bestest most favourite thing was the stinking hot day my friend and I took our ponies down the river for a swim on the spare of the moment.

Sun glinting off the clear, cool sparkliness, it was so relaxing moseying upstream riding bareback amongst the happy wildlife. Our horses, with refreshing water up around their bellies, thought all their Christmases had come at once and so did we. Hooked I was, hooked.

And also because Peter Karena from that movie This Way Of Life and his kids ride bareback all the time and seem to have such a bloody good time. Not to mention that he’s exceedingly hot and rides naked on occasion too, but I'm sure this can have little if anything to do with it…

Benefits of my saddle-free summer are being able to ride in shorts, better horseback balance, more trust between me and the cheeky nag – who used to buck me off at every opportunity once upon a time and could achieve this in nanoseconds with my riding bareback should he desire – and after only a couple of weeks, the beginnings of buns and inner thighs to make Xenia Onatopp proud.

Good times.

A break for freedom

Thursday, 27 January 2011

Here's an admission. By in large, I don't like what I write. I wrestle for days, sometimes weeks with a piece, and to me it still comes out like shite. My flatmates are driven mad at least once a month by my torment.

It's like there's a prisoner inside me rattling at the bars... and rattling... and rattling... and rattling... being able only to pine and dream of what the outside world might be like.

So, enough of this bullshit. It's time for a new approach to such things. I'll let you know how it goes - or maybe you'll just be able to tell. A little trust in the process, okay here we go...

Airport bingo

Monday, 24 January 2011

I’m delayed in the airport en route to somewhere that isn’t here. Still, what better excuse to watch and write, as I sit sipping a ludicrously extortionate cup of hot water with flavouring of tea.

Ms Snooty stalks around, nose in the air and a carrot up her arse. Perhaps she’s perfectly lovely... but nonetheless, there’s something repellent about the unhappy set of her haughty mouth.

A lady sits at a table across the café, full of sadness. It’s there in the vague, hollowed lifelessness of her eyes and the lanky droop of her hair. I'm fighting the urge to walk over and give her a big hug.

I haven’t yet heard the middle-aged man across from me speak, but I bet you $20 he’s a Yank. The iPad, loafers, beige chinos and style of his jacket give it away. But more than anything, it’s his face structure, the cap and his affected wife.

The podgy woman to my right is onto me. Full of cheeky grins, twinkly eyes and her chin constantly a-laugh. I like her immediately. A wave of passengers arrive and she embraces the two blackest people I’ve ever seen.

A spectacular example of a handlebar moustache is in direct line of sight. Peter Plumley-Walker has nothing on this guy. I admire his individualistic approach, but I wouldn’t want to be revving up that particular bike at night.

The guy behind me is a writer. I know, because I’ve met him somewhere or other before. This could be a chain reaction: me watching and writing about him watching and writing about me. Just as well it’s time to board.

P.S. I was totally right about the Yank. He just opened his mouth.

In the Depp End

Saturday, 15 January 2011

Johnny has eyes only for me. “In the Depp End” trumpets the M2 magazine headline looking sexily lusty up at me. Although, I'd prefer to change it around to  be "The Depp End In" ...well, me.
I’m dreaming ofcourse, but without dreams, wherever would we be? Just now I’m on the Interisland ferry heading for Welly. In the posh lounge – with refreshments, Internet access and magazines – hence Johnny being here with me.
It seems a fitting end to my pauper’s Christmas turned rock’n’roll lifestyle of the past few weeks; unfathomable, unexpected and mostly all for free. You wouldn’t believe the half of it even if I told you, trust me. But come Monday, hi-ho hi-ho it’s off to work I go and the summer holidays will be over.
I don’t mind. 2011 is going to be another fantabulous year, even better than the last, and I’m keen to throw myself in at the Depp End. This year, amongst many other things, I’m going to write something of significance and fall in love. It’s high time I did both I reckon. So you'd wanna be quick Johnny...
Oh yeah, and today I’m 15 days smoke free. Yay me! And yay you! Here’s to a most groovy year for us all. Much love from a soon-to-be writer of ill repute xx

Heart warming

Wednesday, 5 January 2011

A good friend of mine reckons that when you're in the positive flow of life you start noticing random hearts appearing everywhere around you. I like this idea, it warms my heart.

And she's right. I've noticed there's a heart etched into the door knob on the inside of my back door at home. Then I came across a big unmistakable piece of heart-shaped chicken in my Pad Thai the other day when out lunching at yummy Chokdee. But yesterday at the beach took the cake thus far and I couldn't control my amused laughter when I saw this...

So keep your eyes pealed for hearts in unexpected places and I bet you'll start seeing them too. A warm heart and good spirits is an unbeatable combination xx

Lives of the rich and famous

Monday, 3 January 2011

This is a very fine flying machine, let me tell you ...and that whole thing about always expecting the unexpected because that way it’s more likely to happen; here be another most excellent case in point. I’ve always wanted to experience flying in a chopper, but admittedly have never gone out of my way to make it happen. Out of the blue yesterday came an opportunity to fly into the stunning Abel Tasman National Park for free in this magnificent machine. Taking off from a private airport in Mot, I was at Awaroa Lodge in time for breakfast, some golden sand R&R and back in Nelson in time for afternoon jazz with friends. Life is pretty sweet people. And I didn't even have to sleep with anyone :P