I feel as nervous as a bride on her wedding night. 
Which is funny, because four years ago today that’s just what I was. And now here we are. So many miles away from that little church in North Yorkshire. So many miles, not only in literal distance but in steps, emotional steps.
Some steps we’ve made together, in sync, unified. And others have been lonely footprints on the sand.
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Life screams past so fast I’ve started really enjoying those purely routine moments where I can just breathe in and think. I’ve started to look forward to Miss Fliss’ paper run each week.
A blazing ferry slides in through the stormy skies and seas.
Sure, it’s slave labour and a pain that I have to interrupt week day evenings and weekend afternoons to sit in the car and play taxi, but being on hand to dish out refills of advertising papers requires me to sit on the side of the road looking out over the beach. It’s not bad. Some nights there are magnificent sunsets and I get to witness the ferries slide in through the crimson tide. Some afternoons are sunny and warm and I get to people watch.
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I’ve always called a spade a spade, and a p*nis a p*nis.
A spade is a spade not a metal digging device. Photo via Flickr CC : Simon Cocks.
You could blame this directness on the time I spent nurse aiding in an old folk’s home during my formative years, or that I am pretty frank, or even that I love words. I think there’s nothing better than finding the right word to describe something. And just as metal digging implement is not the word we use to describe a spade, you shouldn’t call a p*nis a Mr Johnston, your v*gina a fou fou, or your period a visit from Aunty Flo.
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I arrived into this world premature and I’ve not been good at waiting – for anything – ever since.
Isn’t it amazing that a sunset can also be seen as a sunrise? It all depends on where you stand
So when people tell me to wait, it’ll come, I never quite know how. I’m not practised at it, and therefore I’m not good at it. I want it all to happen yesterday. I’m a woman in a hurry. Quick. Now. Let’s do it.
What are you waiting for?
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After a long hot summer, and no Autumn Auckland has plunged into an Antarctic deluge.
Snow in the trees in Baughurst, that’s really cold.
Friends are racing around seeking out heat pumps and Merino sweaters, and I’ve resorted to putting slippers on. ‘Straight to winter’ they moan. ‘What happened to Autumn? It’s a bit tough wearing shorts one day and freezing the next.
It’s 15 degrees Celsius in Auckland at 3:30pm.
On my Twitter stream and Facebook Timeline from friends based in the UK there’s chirpy chatter about ‘burnt cheeks’ and ‘perfect May bank holiday weather’.
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