This morning I fell down the stairs.

No more wisdom

Hopefully that is the last of it. For those of you who have has your precious pearly whites ripped from your jaw by an over-enthusiastic dentist hiding behind a mask, the sound of tearing flesh echoing through your head you know how I have been feeling these last couple of days. For those who haven't, it doesn't hurt a bit...
It did give me a chance to catch up with Keith and Kath who are swanning about South Island, just like old times; and hang out in my studio for the first time in ages. Perhaps you will see something produced there one day.

Accidents will happen

Did you have a good weekend? hmmm
I don't suppose that, by any chance, you lost control of your vehicle on a hill due to poor grip, and slid off the road and down a 5 metre cliff... did I mention I was on the phone at the time? Let that be a lesson to you all.

Mind you, I ought to point out that when I say "my vehicle" I mean "my body", and when I say "poor grip" I really meant that I was barefoot... and perhaps you wouldn’t be surprised to hear that rather than unleaded I was running on alcohol. So, I suppose I could've just said: While running barefoot down the hill on the weekend, drunk, I slipped off the pavement and down a 5 metre cliff into a bunch of trees. But where's the theatre in that?
Luckily I wasn't damaged above the neck really. Both knees kindly broke my fall (a couple of times); and according to the nice doctor in A&E they didn't actually break themselves. The soft tissue around my kidney acted like Volvo's Side Impact Protection System. Perhaps I need to upgrade this model for something with 4WD.
Anyway, I'll be fine in a couple of days I am sure. That is until Tuesday when my wisdom teeth are being ripped out of my head. Joy of Joys. I can't wait until February. January has sucked.

The surf was sh*t

The day-night conflict is virtually resolved; the food poisoning has done its dash, only to be replaced by another: While surfing on the weekend the Council discovered that raw sewage was making its way out to sea, unbeknown to those already in the water. 2 hours later, feeling pretty pleased with my efforts I headed in. Daybreak the following day brought with it chills, shakes, achy lungs and general feelings associated with splashing about in fresh sh*t. Not a good week really. At least the sun is shining. And boy does it shine. I had forgotten just how fierce the sun is here: think tiger fierce.

Eviction

New Year passed by almost unanounced, despite being in Westminster Square with 10,000 other hopefuls. A combination of apalling organisation by the Mayor and the police led to no-one being able to bare witness to the fireworks, or have a good time. Surging crowds, with nowhere to disperse because of the police cordons, made life very interesting for a while... and then, when everyone realised that it was 10 minutes into 2004 and whatever was going to happen either had happened already or never would, they slunk away.
33 hours back to NZ, experiencing first hand the hysteria of the brand new customs procedures, witnessing the neglect baggage handlers have on one's luggage, sensing the wonders of food poisioning brought about by eating in LA airport, and now struggling correct a sleep pattern that is out by 13 hours. Why do we do it? I think I know. And I have to admit that it was all worth it. I wouldn't have changed any of it for the world.

Oh, I almost forgot:
WANTED: A COSY HOME FOR A GRAPHIC DESIGNER
The joys of eviction. Happy new year The Pad.