Home Cafe

Hullo from Home Cafe in the National Library...today is another grey cool day, no complaints as soon

I will be in Sydney's Summer madness. Last night at a nice Kiwi pub in Brooklyn, I had dinner with R and Lesley discussing the future of BP in Wellington. There will be changes this year as Lesley is moving on and there is the new Canadian ED in Auckland. All will be good!

The Home cafe, as well as nice light meals, has a selection of good magazines so I discover the NZ Books Quarterly, a large glossy and very readable journal on all things literary in Kiwiland. And there is a substantial lot as this is a most literate race. Having just met one of their illustrious set, the late Jean W., I am all the more interested,  and they are also a very modest lot of writers for the most part.

 A bio-novel, about Kiwi aviatrix Jean Batten, takes my interest as it is written by Dame Fiona Kidman whom I met at Jean's funeral. The book called The Infinite Air, has a mildly good review, only critical on the lack of depth Kidman takes in writing about this fascinating Kiwi adventuress in the days of Winston Churchill and Iam Fleming. The book is obviously a tempting morsel which makes one want to taste more, as the facts are that Jean Batten died in a pauper's grave in Majorca. Now there should be a great story there!

It is very busy with public servants sipping their coffees

And girls catching up after Christmas...

Glad to see IPhone on top!

Amazing Kiwi fortititude and fun

Is this game a competition?

Real sporting effort from Sri Lanka

A booth in the cafe..

Uber Tuesday

Today is overcast, so lots to do. This is of course, the secret of Wellngton. So many days like this and so many creative things to do. Like have a morning coffee at Gotham lol.

It is quiet here however, the holiday mode is still in evidence, but the coffee is good and the Dom Post talks about Prince Andrew's possible 'indiscretions' with a 17 year old girl. The Royal Family don't need this publicity but it won't go away in a hurry.

The Prince not pleased..

Another world-weary, but happy tramper

Wellington has twenty-four excellent bookshops listed

Am casually looking through bookshops for the rare 'Stand in the Rain' by Jean Watson, I may be lucky, there are just so many great book outlets here in this book-loving city.

All prepared for Friday's Sydney adventure, with Sonny giving me the Uber App for cheaper taxis, also with the first trip a ten dollar discount. I may as well go with the young people, that's why I have them there. Only six more months so make the most of it. 

News from Sydney is sad about friend PK whose sister is to have a mastectomy and is not well prepared for it. We will meet as soon as I arrive in Aydney after the Seminar, there may be something to do there. The rest of my trip will be totally self indulgent with Tosca and Dinner with Willi and friends, so to start with Helen and her cancer is the best way to begin.

More pictures of intrepid older Kiwis and their camper wagons on the road, I wonder if I will ever do this? Perhaps not alone as I am not that intrepid, but with a dog perhaps, one day, who knows?

The 'Memphis Belle'

It is a hot but cloudy day, supposedly only twenty-one degrees but feels much hotter.

Am in the middle of finishing Peter Carey's book which has me by the throat, cyber hijacking in the eighties, something which Julian Assange used to great effect in the noughties.

 Decide to get out of the lovely empty house for a quick coffee at the Memphis to see if they remembered how to make my coffee.

In five days I will be in Sydney, another world, another time frame. It will be the big test for my move later this year. If all goes well it will be sealed on my return, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part! So to speak lol!

Morning sun on the bay

Dixon Street...

New T shirt

Where I am heading...?

Comfort on the street

My old school desk!

Striding up Courtenay..

Balmy Sunday on the balcony

Even Serena has her parasol and fan..!

Bear is well looked after..

Beautiful summer's day.. 

Even too hot for the balcony !

Really a day reminiscent of a Sydney holiday, so I am taking it easy waiting for a hot night returning to dancing tonight. Te H came for morning coffee and brought some lovely fruit with him. We had an interesting few hours and discovered, yet again, the smallness of Wellington and New Zealand.

On speaking of Jean Watson's funeral he said he had been in the same class, and what's more, good friends with Jean's son Harry. Such is the small degree of separation in these windy isles.

Te H, as well as his job at Te Papa repatriating lost Maori human artefacts from overseas, is a former worker with NZAF in Auckland and has persuaded me to not miss the Big Gay Out in February, so I now have another date for Auckland, weekend of the 7th. 

Like so many Maori people Te H was brought up by his Auntie and interestingly was in the forefront of the Maori 'coming out' in the eighties. The Maori people strangely did not recognise the takataapui in their families although there were so many, and so obvious. He is a gentle and quietly ambitious man.

 Now for a nap.

Sunny Saturday reading...

Cannot believe two hot days in a row in Wellington, but I hear it is 40 degrees C in Melbourne, one of the main reasons I quit that lovely city. Here, at a balmy 24 degrees, it is delightful, so this is just perfect for a nice catchup coffee with Tom in Newtown where interestingly we bumped into J who was desperately searching the second-hand shops for random copies of Jean Watson's books. She is a goer that one, but she was having absolutely no luck btw.

 Later did some market shopping to prepare a good brekkie for for Te Herekiekie tomorrow. 

Through my bedroom window

My bedside companion, a good read!

Last night at the Paramount I saw an unexpected gem of  Kiwi film, written and directed as a debut effort by Max Currie. Called 'Everything we loved' it was poignant, dark, beautifully acted and totally Kiwi.

The honours were nearly stolen by the five year old actor who was mindboggling in his intense role and who was present during a large part of the movie and incredibly believable. 

It was a sad story, bleakly told, but in authentic Kiwi language and it showed the extent of a father's love for his child.

 I won't reveal the plot,  just go and see it. Five stars.

Jean Watson's funeral

Well I certainly witnessed the passing of a local hero today. 

I had the privilege of sharing Christmas lunch and now her funeral service at St Peter's Church on Willis, a suitable venue for one of the true chatacters of Wellington. I took J. as she wanted a lift so we arrived early to help with preparations. There was to be a potluck reception after the service at eleven a.m.

At 11 the church was packed to rhe rafters, although it was in the middle of the holiday season and many were away. Jean's connection with India was evident in the simple plywood casket with rope handles, totally unadorned but covered with many bright coloured orange and red flowers placed there earlier by her grandchildren.

 This set the tone for the ceremony, which was, as Jean would have wanted, as little fuss and expense as possible. She was a believer in the hereafter, but not in the Christian sense, and the final Indian speaker gave a farewell song in a fitting karakia to a woman who had given her last twenty-eight years or so to the poor people of Southern India. Some of the speakers were very emotional, and spoke with aid of the ceremony facilitator, but most just told stories of a talented writer, an autodidact mostly, who had touched the hearts of all literate Kiwis with her first and highly acclaimed novel, semi-autobiographical, 'Stand in the rain' which was quite an achievement for a motherless waif brought up by a tough father in the outskirts of farflung Whangerei in the fifties.

After the ceremony we went downstairs and ate and drank and talked about Jean. My story of meeting her was rare, but typical of those touched by Jean's great humility and simplicity. Truly a great woman and a memorable personality. In India, she has the following of a enormous population who love her for her establishment of a trust for the education of young poorer Indians. She will never be forgotten, not here nor in that giant sub-continent.

Jean in India with her ' children'

The waif at twelve at Whangerei

New Year's Day 2015

Babylon Cafe on Oriental Parade, fitting for the first day of the year, and the sun is shining!

Crowds are here

Last night the winds were strong and the rain came and I stayed at home, surrendering to the dictates of Wellington's creative weather. After all, the Scottish dancers would dance just as well without me, and the the body was asking for some rest after my day-long drive from Auckland on Tuesday.

First thing this morning I dropped in a present for Mr Patel which Pam had commissioned me to give him, I thought New Year's Day a good time for that. He was delighted and we had a nice encounter, me paving the way for news later in the year, telling him of my imminent holiday in Sydney and then June birthday celebrations. It is business, renting houses, and he knows that better than anyone.

Tom is now joining me for a first coffee of the year to catch up on the Auckland trip.

First coffee of 2015 blending in with my iPhone

Young ones enjoying the weather.

Alan Turing's sad and amazing story

Jennifer has invited me for lunch and it turned put a biggish affair. About eight people including her good neighbour friend who is the Turnbull Librarian, a very nice chap who arrived with his Irish friend From Auckland thus lending even more interest to the day. The food was great, company also and the weather just perfect. We spoke about Jean Watson's passing and all of them seem to be going to the funeral tomorrow. It will be interesting.

To finish a big day I catch the first day of The Imitation Game at Cuba Lighthouse. Benedict Cumberbatch is excellent and the story is fascinating about the breaking of the WW 2 Enigma Code.

Produced by American Harvey Weinstein's company it is only spoiled, for me anyway, by a Hollywood style romantic interpretation of Alan Turing, whereas a gritty black and white English version would have been far more authentic. It lost some gloss for me just by being too glossy. But it finished a lovely first day of the year 2015. 

What else will this year bring I wonder, I am hoping for some big stuff, but I'd better watch what I ask for!