The Rose in the Lily Pond

Lately every weekend has been filled with weddings and hens nights, it has forced me to revaluate my relationships and what I really want out of love. Those who know me, know that I am not the biggest fan of marriage, I remember telling one of my friends who got married recently, “maybe when I’m 50 I’ll get married, because then I’ll be closer to death.” Somehow the marriage gene has skipped me. I never enacted with Barbie dolls two people walking down the aisle, or envisioned a dress, a cake, food, a venue. It’s just never been a big deal for me. Perhaps that has something to do with my parents. My mum and dad married when I was about 9 years old, I got to be a bridesmaid at my Mum’s wedding. The reason they got married is because my Dad had a near death experience, and one of his regrets would be not marring her, and Mum kinda felt like she couldn’t say no to that. There is a lot of love between my parents, but marriage wasn’t really a big deal. It was a low key day....

Whatever it is, eating a piece of cake while you are on a diet, drinking to excess when you have to work the next day, going to bed with someone who you aren’t meant to go to bed with, tagging a “make Kony famous” sign on a side of a building, having sex in a public place. I know these are minor illicit acts in the whole scheme of things but I get how doing something that goes against the laws of normality is so exciting and spellbinding. Why is that? Someone can try talk sense into you as much as you want, but once you have a bite of cake, it’s almost impossible to resist eating the whole piece.   There are consequences for all these things; feeling sick, having a hangover, getting hurt, getting caught, having to clean sand out of places you have never had to clean sand out of before, but somehow these things don’t matter. Is it the thrill that you can cheat the laws (real or moral) and not have to suffer the consequences?  Looking to Google for the answers, it leads me t...

The best piece of advice you can give to someone going through a break up is to do the things you love.  I love to write, but the problem is that the only thing I can think about is this break up I went through over the weekend. I did write a pretty intimate and personal account about it, and even though I have no doubt I would be the next “Adele” if I posted it, out of respect for my ex boyfriend, and to my dignity, I decided not to. So something a bit more abstract, the significance of music when you are going through a break up. The break up before this break up, I was waiting in line at the bank, and Zowie, “broken machine” came on, and I couldn’t help it, I started crying. Music reaches out to the emotions you are trying to repress and forces them to the surface, and when you are in a public place, it can be quite an inconvenience. First off the obvious. “Someone like you” by “Adele”. It doesn’t matter if your parakeets are fighting, you didn’t get the j...

Since the few people who read this blog (mainly Gavin and my Mum) cannot afford to spend $140 on a main meal, (and believe me, neither can I!) I thought I would write about the experience of going to The Grill in the Sky City complex on Federal Street. If I was to review it, no, I wouldn’t recommend it to a friend. Don’t go there Gavin and Mum. It is an upper market steak house. Leather seats, mod decor, and shinny floors that can be quite dangerous in heels after three glasses of wine. It is too clean, too shinny, and too... nothing. It is kind of like the brand of David Beckham, absolutely no personality. Too scared to let any real emotion show in case it’s not the right emotion. It is like the boiled down version of you when you go to a job interview. It lacks character and charm. To be fair, the wine and the entrees were spectacular. I had a delicious Riesling from central Otago which woke my sweet tooth up, accompanied by king prawns. Ever the lady, I got stuck in with my fi...

When you travel, you often get told to stick to the main streets. Do not head off down random dark alleys because that’s where you lose your passport, your money, and most likely your kidneys. However if you followed this advice in Melbourne you would miss out on the very heart of the city. It all happens down little alleyways. Wonder down one, and then another one, and then another one, and you will find where the locals hang out. In bars that have graffiti art on the wall, and nothing but milk crates to sit on. Or arty cafes that would be impossible to locate on a map. That’s the trick, once you have found one of these places, it’s almost impossible for tourists to find it again, or describe it to other tourists because of the maze of back alleys with punky looking kids loitering by rubbish bins it took to get there. It’s the locals best kept secret, and it almost seems that the more remote the location is, the more popular it is. Don’t get me wrong, stick to the main streets, and...

All Blacks flags still fly high with pride, and the little tatty flags at some restaurants are still up. It’s probably time to reel them on in, it’s a bit like having your Christmas decorations up well into February, but we are rugby mad, and so damn proud! WE DID IT! AND WE DIDN’T CHOKE like everyone said we would! So time to reflect and celebrate on my top ten moments of the Rugby World Cup, 2011.   1.        The Semi-Final - New Zealand V Australia: You may ask, why not the final? Well even though the media hyped it up as an “epic” game – it wasn’t epic at all. We won by one point, and it was a struggle. There was no enjoyment watching that game, and I am pretty sure New Zealanders aged a good five years during those 80 minutes. The better game was New Zealand v Australia in the semis. My flatmate, Shai and I got all dressed up in our All Blacks gear, and that weekend we were on a boat full of Australians. They were cocky and confident that they ...

The ticking red blocks in Britomart finally read 00. The countdown up on the downtown mall, and also in New Zealanders hearts, was all over. It was opening night of the Rugby World Cup, 2011. An event  I am happy to say that I was a part of. I remember watching the little red numbers tick down above the Westfield mall on Customs Street thinking  “I wonder where I will be, and what it’ll be like when this reads zero”. Where I was: Queen’s Ferry then Eden Park. What it was like: Just like every other sod in hospitality I had to work. It started off slow, quieter than a normal Friday lunch, but around 4 (and I was due to leave at 5) it got insane.  I have never seen Queen’s Ferry so packed, it was hard to move. Mostly everyone was in good spirits, but some were frustrated with how long they had to wait to get a drink. Queen’s Ferry is only a small bar, we only have one till, and if we have more than three people behind the bar we just end up smashing into each other. ...