Out with the Old

I'm trying on another blog for size - you can see how it looks over here.

What a Difference a Year Makes

365 days with 24 little hours. So this time last year I was catching a black cab to Heathrow after saying a final teary goodbye to my dear dear friend on a sunny spring morn in Islington and feeling pretty stressed and sad and fearful. And now here I am across the other side of the world, living a completely different life, nearly ready to buy a house, happy and healthy and excited about the future. It is quite unbelievable what can be achieved in only one year, imagine what you could do in a lifetime?!

I read a great quote the other day by Richard Bach an American author that goes

"You've given up your whole life to be the person you are now. Is it worth it?"

Gets you thinking about the decisions that you make and are they the right ones, about personal responsibility and how everything that you do now will affect your life in the future. Well, made me think about that anyway! I would never change anything in my life because that's what has made me who I am today, and after everything that I've gone through, even the really hard stuff, I feel as though I can say with conviction that it is worth it, that life is definitely worth it.

Christ it's all getting a bit heavy up in here, so will finish on a lighter note with this fantastic song by my latest style icon which I have on heavy You Tube rotation at the moment, dedicated to all the amazing people that helped me make it to the place (geographically, psychologically and spiritually) that I am at today... thank you/ love you/ miss you

Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

Don't you love that song? All those crazy ch-changes in tempo and getting to imagine Dave jumping around in lycra and face paint and hopefully a big cloak (well that's how I think of him when I hear that song anyway!). He knew all about changes, and I do too after finishing up waitressing life in 'Straylia, holding yet another packing up of boxes-moving myself to another country-unpacking + crying ceremony, and getting settled back into the place where I started from after six calendar/ sixty lifetime years.

It's been quite some journey! I really really didn't think it would result in me deciding to wind up back in New Zealand at all, but thank goodness my beautiful country has unconditional love for me because I have to say I wasn't the most grateful citizen in recent years. I can't get over how beautiful it is (yes I am talking about you Russell), how friendly the bus drivers and call centre people are (particularly MAF), how unstressed I feel (maybe psychological rather than environmental influences going on there) and how awesome it is to be around my very old dear friends (not awesome that I had to leave all my other friends behind tho... come on teleporter research, COME ON!!!!).

And as with a period of change, it brings a time for reflection and reassessment of dreams and goals. When I left London it was my greatest desire to get out of office life, find an outlet for creative thought, open a store within two years and ensure I didn't develop a love affair with Seinfeld's sartorial pairing of choice. After nearly a year post-move, I have found that my thoughts keep heading towards settling into a house rather than a business. As a word I don't particularly like "settling". It kind of implies that you are not getting exactly what you want and it has all sorts of connotations associated with it that I have been rallying against for probably far too long! But I just googled the word and here is the definition that popped up

1. To discontinue moving and come to rest in one place

I love the sound of coming to rest in one place! I'm tired of moving, of starting over and buying new jars of herbs, of not knowing which box has the kimono in it and feeling like I'm intruding on peoples quality time. To assist in my mission to come to rest, I have decided rather than heading down the fun and satisfy, but hard and uncertain road of investing in a brick n mortar store, I’m going to go for the less daring but safer and more settled route of investing in a home that I can call my own and do Fortune Favours as an aside to full time working for the man (or woman as the case is for the moment).

So big ch-changes but all great ones and lots of fun times ahead. Not sure if anyone would agree that a mortgage is fun, but if it means that I can have a space to permanently hang a hammock and fence off an area for a retired pet greyhound and my friends kiddies so they don't escape, it sounds exciting to me.

PS goodbye terrifying countdown clock, you have backwards counted your last second.

Writer's Blog

Oh god oh god oh god, I haven't written for ages and it's now less than 550 days until I want my shop to open and I haven't been making things and I don't have any money to open a shop and I have been living in my head for too long and I need to learn to finish things that I start!!!!

Ok, panic over... I haven't had writer's block per se, more like writer's section. Some of the half finished posts I have sitting and glaring at me from the drafts folder, that I can't seem to bring to a satisfying conclusion include buffets and why they make people go stupid, treasure hunting, the beauty of Shelley pottery and a six monthiversary since being in Australia reflection on life.

Also I've been really busy working my butt off to save for the next phase of life, so it's probably important for me to remember that it might not be humanly possible to ferry food and drinks around full time, paint and decorate part time, boot camp every day, arrange a holiday, apply for jobs, plan where I'm going to move next, blog frequently AND get crafty all at the same time.

And finally, the whole blog thing is not about guilt or obligation, it is about pleasure and motivation, so no more worryingly looking at the amount of posts that have been completed each month and definitely, definitely no more boring self referencing posts bemoaning the fact that I haven't posted to up the numbers because that's cheating.

After this one, promise!

More Regretsy than Etsy

Yeah, no have decided that the old Christmas baubles would do much better hanging on a lovely tree where they are meant to be, rather than strung around some poor person's neck. If they were a little bit smaller it might have worked, but I think I have learnt that when festive decorations shack up with fashion wear, the only possible result is that they spawn a bastard child destined for life on Regretsy.

By the way, don't click on the above link unless you have about two weeks to spare... Regretsy is described as the site where DIY meets WTF and is as addictive as bubble wrap. It is always incredible to see what the creative human mind can conjure up in the name of craft. Mind you I'm hardly in a position to laugh, I don't even have an Etsy shop yet that can be mined for dodgy DIY gold to feature on Regretsy, so good on all those crafty people who give it a go and put it out there!

Is that jingle bells I hear?

Time to freak out, only one month until Christmas! No stop... don't freak out, it's just another day and you really don't have to spend lots and lots of money on presents and food and alcohol! I'm pretty sure Jesus won't mind the lack of Two Dollar Shop stocking fillers and turducken on his birthday, in fact he probably thinks it's a bit mean to stuff animals into other animals and then eat the resulting Noah's Ark meatwich, or giving your nearest and dearest a ropey bath bomb that can also double as an abrasive cleaning product.



I'm thinking of Christmas only because I recently found these gorgie old glass baubles still box fresh in their packaging, and I want to see if I can make jewellery out of them and not look like I'm very obviously using a Christmas decoration because they are so retro-tastically beautiful and they need a life away from a crappy old tinsel tree. Surely can't turn out any worse than those awful flashing candy cane earrings that people who work in offices insist on wearing to their "Xmas" dos?



Check the hand painted accents and the glitter, you wouldn't get that level of detail from a machine. I can just envisage the factory where these were made... little elves busying themselves with blowing glass, replenishing massive trays of multicoloured glitter and dancing while they work to Bing Crosby's Greatest Christmas Hits.

Go Tiger!

Hey all you killer kangaroos, you drunken yobbos, you bad bad drivers. You swooping butcher birds, you thunderous rain clouds and you ominous moonless nights. Yeah you! I’ve got a car now SO THERE!!!

Her name is Tiger and she is one sweet ride after nigh on six years without my own personal rubbish transporter. And unbelievably for a thirty something year old, this is the first ever car that is my very own. Especially unbelievable seeing as I love driving and literally ran to the licensing place as soon as I was legally allowed to get behind a wheel, which in New Zealand is 15 years old. 15 YEARS OLD???!!!! A quick aside - now that I am ancient and jaded, it is ridiculous to think that a wee teenager is allowed to be singularly in charge of a very sizeable hunk of metal that travels at very fast speeds towards other very sizeable hunks of metal, with only a painted line to keep everyone out of harms and each others way!

So anyway, over the years I have had the use of cars, but I have never personally owned one myself through a combination of having other much more important things to spend money on, such as scotch and jackets, loving walking a lot, living in cites that have prohibitively expensive parking and congestion charges, and sharing car ownership with other folks.

But with the carving up of the credit cards and the utter dread of the cycle commute through Marsupial Gauntlet, it was high time to splash out and get me some of that go-kart for grown ups action! My dear uncle spotted a bargain on Gumtree and went around to check it out. When it was reported back to me, the review was something along the lines of “It is a heap, it has a lot of rust, it is filthy and the seats are about to give way”. My reply; “As long as it is sub one grand and has a valid licence I don’t care!” So we headed back to take her for a spin, and the moment I saw her I knew I had to have her.

Karitane yellow, roof racks for all the surf boards I don’t own, a back seat that can fold down to accommodate market stall kit, retro styling (1975 might even be considered vintage?!) and a sunny disposition, Tiger had me charmed before I even fired her up. After confirming which was the accelerator and which was the clutch (please give me a break, it’s been 6 years and I knew it went A-B-C but just couldn’t remember if it was left to right or right to left. It is right to left for all you L-platers out there), we went around the block together, I brought her back, paid the deposit and suddenly I was part of the motoring class again after a very long sabbatical.

In spite of the extra licence charges that I have just found out about due to the previous owner having some kind of concession (dirty car concession perhaps?), paying for a transfer fee on top of the cost of the car, having to put an extra additive in the petrol every time I fill her up as the poor thing is too old for this new fangled unleaded stuff, getting backed into the second day I owned her (which incidentally I did not notice, such is the condition of Tiger’s less than streamlined body) and the not one, but two times I have caused her new battery to die by leaving the lights on, I love her so much for the freedom and independence that she gives me. And the fact that she symbolises the end of a hard few months spent in debt purgatory!