She's Not Herneschase... shes a very naughty girl

We've had horrid news from the Mothercountry. Grandma's cancer is spreading rapidly and with a terrible finality that is now necessitating mutterings of Morphine pumps and spinal cord involvement.
Grandma continues to be totally aware of everything that is going on and very much in control, despite being weak and resorting to a wheelchair nowadays.

Mr Not and I were discussing whether it was better to be like this or, more akin to his Dad who was too world-weary and weak and to care. What must be scary for Grandma is that she has witnessed all this first hand with her husband less than 12 months previously and, having the same diagnosis, all the same symptoms are recurring.

The grumpiness levels in Mr Not have increased two-fold in 24 hours. Isn't it funny how people react to emotion in different ways? I almost wish he would pace the house weeping, wailing and ringing his hands. I'm not good at 'sad' either and remember that my response to my parents' deaths was to bottle it all up and throw myself into life in a very (almost overly) business-like manner. There's nowt so queer as folkies.

Now the big debate: Go home now and see her for one last time (and risk upsetting the children who remember her as a relatively fit and healthy person) or wait until the inevitable happens. I would prefer the former but Mr Not the latter. I'm not a funeral person and think she would derive much more from seeing everyone for a flying-visit than from knowing we are scavenging the charity shops of NZ hunting for black clothing. Watch this space

I am afraid that this is probably too big a file to permit me entry into Davidjohn's Portrait Competition but I hope nobody (least of all the subject) minds me blogging her anyway.

She was part (in fact I think the teacher) of a Belly Dancing Group who gave a couple of demonstrations at 'things' I went to in or around 2001 or 2002. My husband also has a screen saver photo of her daughter who is just stunning in greens and purples. She has such a peaceful face and I love the golds and reds that surround her.

Yesterday I had a phonecall from my local bookshop to say that a book I have had on order since September has finally come in (political books have to be shipped in from London 'specially apparently!

Anyway, I answered my little mobile amidst lots of crackling because we were 15 minutes north of Auckland and had lost signal already. The caller at the other end was rolling about in hysterics and screaching "I must get everyone to ring you. It's the funniest thing I have ever heard" Crackle... crackle... complete loss of signal Who she?

So about 2 hours later another phonecall - it was the lady who runs the bookshop (she has a very distinctive deep, sultry voice so it is easy to recognise). "Where did you get it?" she hooted.
"Get what?"
"The ring one"... and then it dawned on me.

The kids and I had been playing around with the mobile the other day and had bought a ring tone. When anyone phones my mobile a very plummy English Gent in the background asks if they are phoning me..(by name) He then continues to question "very popular? Popular with the boys? Gets lots of hits on Myspace? Blogging? Likes Blogging?" (well it seemed appropriate )

The entire bookshop was in an uproar. They all want one and had to phone to listen to it. I am glad I made somebody happy

Been there, done that. Found decent Pale Ale, drank it in copious amounts. Listened to The Braggster, completely wound my 13 year old daughter into an "I must go home NOW" frenzy. Had a nice chat with a Weymouth supporter and his wife who had been here for 13 years. Put up with loads of apolitical Kiwis simpering around Bill like he was bloomin' Britney Spears I am so used to seeing him at gigs where he just sits down with a pint afterwards and chats that the simpering Pop-star crap rankled quite a bit. One woman behind us who announed that she thought he was too pissed to come on stage and that her 10 year old wanted to sing with him on stage. WHAT ? The poor bloke had just endured a 36 hour flight and a day in Auckland before trying to execute all the old stuff for a completely apolitical Kiwi crowd in ridiculous lighting with the most abysmal accoustics I have ever heard outside the 80s college disco. Luckily he opened with a lovely rendition of "Diggers All" English political history which zoomed right over the Kiwi mullets and played some lovely stuff from the soon-to-be album.

So, as a result of this gig, we discovered a lovely little seaside resort with excellent snorkling about an hour North of Auckland. They had experienced a shark attack the previous day which had made all the papers and completely put LC off her planned swim!

On the way home we spent the morning in K-Road (the old red light district of Auckland which has now become a passable charity shop mecca and mini-chinatown. LC went bonkers. $5 retro' clothes, and all the sort of thing her Dad would hate her to wear! Perfect! She has even chosen a totally unsuitable red strapless pencil dress to wear with New Rock Boots and fishnet tights to her (as yet alive and kicking) Grandma's funeral! Surprisingly, Mr Not said that if she swopped the fishnets for opaque black tights and she wore a jacket over it, he might allow it!

On that very subject, Grandma seems to have taken a turn for the worse. She's currently in a hospice having her pain controlled. She is a real inspiration as she is being so brave and stoical.

It couldn't be at a worse time regarding morale as both LC and I are ready to jump ship and hide out forever in the Mother-Country for a little bit of civilisation - decent books, decent music and intelligent conversation. I think, if Mr Not is honest he wouldn't take much pursuading either as he misses the professionalism and motivation that he had in his job back home. He would never admit it though as this would mean a dramatic loss of face with his mates.

Well today it was back to earth with a bump. A 7.30am call from the Hay Man that he would be delivering 150 bales this afternoon. I think he plans to spin it into gold à la Rumplestilzkin as the price has risen by $3.50 this year (or is it that "Stupid Pom" tattoo on my forehead again!) The tractor man also rang to say that he would be servicing the tractor at the same time. He is a lovely Icelandic immigrant of about my age who is really refreshing to talk to, so I never object to him visiting. Then LC announced that two children were coming to stay for two days. All calm at the Not abode then

I have tried to upload LC's bootleg video of Mr Bragg singing but I am too IT-challenged to cope. Never mind, the thought was there Here are some of her photies that looked great on our computer but look exceedingly crap when blogged!!

Nighty morning