Mo-flamin'-vember

So I think I've done amazingly well to get over half way through Movember without ranting about it...but that show of amazing restraint and will power is now over.
Yes, it is for a good cause. Yes, it is a bonding experience for men all over the country (and I'm sure they could bond with the men in Australia too). But it is an awful, awful thing for a marriage!
The problem is, as I suspect I said around this time last year, is that a mo makes Husbink look like a dirty old man or a sleezy European car sales man or...many other not so flattering things...
And it is also rather painful. Little unsuspecting me who has momentarily forgotten that the monstrosity is there accepts a little peck from Husbink only to recoil in horror: "Ow! Ow! Ow! How did you manage to stab my nose with it?!"
As well as those issues that only relate to Husbink for me, it is just a little nauseating walking round town, the gym, the supermarket, anywhere at the moment. There are VERY few people in the world that suit a moustache and yet here are all these men with squirrels/rats/slugs/whatever attached to their faces. Many of the younger men can't actually grow much of a mo anyway and so you are left with this confusion as you talk to them. "Something isn't right, this person doesn't look like they normally do...oh, I see it, that little line of fuzz on their lip, affecting their entire look..."
Still, I'm sure they all enjoy it...!?!

World Famous in New Zealand Since Ages Ago

One of the things I'm finding most odd about preparing to go home is knowing that Husbink and I now have 18 months of shared culture that no one at home is going to understand or know about.
No one (or basically no one) will know who Dave Dobbyn or Supergroove are
No one will have seen the Trumpet togs/undies ad
No one will know all the words to Why Does Love Do This To Me by The Exponents (compulsory listening for granting of a visa into NZ...)
No one will call their flip-flops jandals or their swimming costumes togs...
And so on...

Of course the flip side to this is that people will understand when I mention Terry, Eurovision, Radio 2, Strictly Come Dancing... People will (hopefully...) understand when I start to sing the Challenge Anneka theme tune whenever required to do something in a limited time frame (though I suspect there might just be one or two people who understand that! And bizarrely it is the thing that comes up most often here that I want to make a reference to and know no one will understand).

Of course, there is also much shared culture. Most films, a lot of music, TV and so on is shared between New Zealand and England (and Australia and the US and...) but even then there is a different take on it all.

What is most strange about this is that it was also one of the hardest things about arriving here. Not knowing who any of the famous people were, not understanding in jokes and cultural comments and all that sort of thing. I'd say we still don't know all that much and there are plenty of times when we are left clueless. But there are times when we are not and it will be just the same when we get home. We've lost 18 months of British culture but we've gained 18 months of NZ culture - when we get confused, we'll just confuse everyone right back!

Camping

Husbink and I went camping for the first time together (not including our stay in the garden) this weekend. I was (and I think he was too) a little apprehensive as we have very different experiences of camping.

My first experiences of camping were in America at lovely campsites with great facilities. (The one I really remember also had a trout farm so you could go along, pay your few dollars, catch a trout, they did all the icky bits and then you could cook it on your bbq (that was part of your site) that night. That was the first time I actually like the taste of fish. Anyway, I digress.) I went camping with my family once in England but lots of our nice flash American stuff got nicked and we were rather put off. My only experience since then has been at festivals (or rather that should be "festival", being Greenbelt, a Christian festival and thus although still lacking in things like flushing toilets (even those it has now having moved site), it was still all rather nice.)

Husbink has done much more of the "proper" camping thing having grown up in the Lake District and done Duke of Edinburgh awards and that sort of thing. For him, campsites are fields that may have a tap if you are lucky. Husbink has also done the festival camping thing but his have been more of the sort where toilets get set on fire and so on...

We arrived at our site on Thursday evening and I got all confused because I'd just read too many almost-the-same descriptions of campsites during the previous few days and had forgotten what this one was actually supposed to be like. Once, I got over that though, all was well.

The weather was glorious all weekend (which didn't stop us getting ridiculously cold at night) and we chilled out very well. My only intention for the weekend was that we "went camping" and got everything in working order before our intended 2.5 week trip in January. Normally when we go away I have a stack of things I want to see or do and it was really nice to be able to chill a little more. We went to Taranaki again (we spent a weekend there back in June when it was cold and snowy) but instead of staying in a posh hotel halfway up the mountain, our campsite was right on the beach (protected by sand dunes, a hedge and the owners house). Not quite from our tent but within a minutes walk from it, we could watch the sunset over the beach and the mountain simultaneously.

We climbed a crazy rock/hill thing in New Plymouth on Friday. It started out as just a steep walk but became full on scrambling before the end - and going down was done pretty much on my bottom. As we were coming down, we met two people going up who do it every day as part of their training regime. One had a prosthetic leg. I was impressed. Near the bottom we also met some vaguely insane people on their way up...one with no shoes on, the others with sandals...I don't think they made it far.

The rest of the time involved lying in parks, reading books, strolling, eating cake, lots of fish and chips, games of cards, Surfer's Highway with the black sands of Taranaki, the adventures of camping cooking and a good time all round.

We've discovered we can camp together though I think Husbink is still not entirely convinced that I enjoyed myself. I'm all set for our big holiday now - just one or two tasks to achieve before then...(more on the rising panic of moving countries again soon)

Right now, it's no fun

Actually, that isn't true, a lot of things are a lot of fun at the moment but there are some big loomers that are less fun.
I don't really want to leave New Zealand. I'm well up for going back to the UK for a holiday, seeing all the people I miss, having a proper pint, going to Tesco and Boots, seeing more people...
But I'm so much not ready to live there again. Or rather, to not live here. And this is even the time of year that I most find it odd here (both the Christmas without family and friends and the light warm Christmas too).
But, I know that we have to go and that we are going and thus I can't be so involved or interested in things here any more. There is quite a lot going on at our church at the moment and I don't feel I can express an opinion - and perhaps don't even feel an opinion because very soon it is going to be so irrelevant to us. And what about friends here? Should I cram in as much time as possible with them or should I start cutting ties so that leaving is less painful?
Generally, I just feel highly in limbo, not one place nor the other, not wanting one place or the other. And it isn't so much fun.
So, one thing led to another and I found myself hunting on YouTube for this...and now I feel a lot better.

Holiday Home

For the past week, Husbink and I have been on holiday at home. It has been fabulous.


On Monday, we went to Lindale Farm. A petting farm, walk, shops (like a candy shop, a honey shop, an olive shop...and antique-type shops and a cafe or two). We went with our very good friends and their two small children. Child Number One is two and a bit and the perfect age for such activities. Child Number Two is only just over a month old but did admirably considering! Husbink fed lots of the animals (Child Number One was a little scared, particularly of letting the animals eat from her hands, who can blame her?). We got a little too excited by the guinea pigs that they had in one section. I do miss my Loci(McChoki) and Sugar(ly-Boogaly). After we had lunch, I went back round the walking/feeding section with Child Number One. Mostly we fed the chickens and ducks. And a pig. But I was very over excited when a chap from the farm appeared and gave me a bottle so I could feed one of the lambs. So excited. Didn't stop talking about it for the rest of the week...Sadly there was no photographic evidence for this so here's Husbink with a goat...



Tuesday was a bit of a down day, for me anyway. (Mental hormones. More of that another time I expect but for now you are safe.) We had lunch with some of Husbink's colleagues which was ok, but I was not very sociable. We then went to one of my favourite shops to cheer me up (more on this later in the week...) before heading up the valley to the Rimutaka Rail Trail (that of the 63k bike ride some months back) for a gentle stroll (when not biking the whole thing, it is very gentle and pleasant). Sadly, we didn't have the camera with us as it was beautiful and we saw some rainbow lorikeets, not so common here as across the ditch (and by virtue of not being native, are considered pests) but still fun to see. We spent the evening with the same friends as Monday. I had therapy in the form of running around the garden for half an hour with Child Number One before bedtime followed by assisting with Child Number Two's bath. Child Number Two was very unimpressed with my cold hands... The day ended much better than it started.


Wednesday was *probably* the highlight of the week. We went to Rimutaka Forest Park (actually quite a long way from where we went on Tuesday) and did a fantastic walk. We went through so many different areas of habitat: bush bordering on rainforest in density and feel, high meadow, beech forest... The only downside was that it took about an hour longer than expected and we were very ready for our picnic by the time we got back to the car (we'd not taken it with us cos we thought the timing was in our favour). The other less good thing about the walk was that I had discovered a strange downside to living here: not having stairs. The last few times we have done a reasonably uphill kind of walk, I've developed a strange pain in my legs that I've never had before. Husbink suggested that I was getting old...but also said the pain could be caused by having to lift my legs higher than usual. I realised that evening that what has changed is the lack of stairs in my everyday life...crazy!

Wednesday evening was also one of the highlights of the week. We went into Wellington and saw Pluto (ho hum, music fine but no stage presence), Supergroove (oh goodness me, possibly the best live act I've ever seen, so much stage presence, so much fun, so good, so good, so good) and Crowded House (very good but I had two problems with it: first I had meant to get round to getting their new album and educating myself before the gig but I didn't, my bad. second, they did that "wall of sound" thing a little too much - where everyone seems to just be making as much noise as they can and all musicality has gone out of the window, their bad. However, it was still very good, despite the odd moment at the end when they let about eight greyhounds run across the stage. Strange.)


Thursday was rather more low key but did include the return to one of my favourite shops... You see, we went there on Tuesday because I knew there was nothing there that I would be able to justify buying, we didn't need anything from that kind of shop (outdoors) so it was just a cheery-uppy mooch. However. They had a massive sale on tents. And it seems we managed to justify buying a tent after all (our original plan of campervanning round the North Island in January was getting too expensive). Mmm, tent. The rest of Thursday was generally a chill out prior to feeding our home group in the evening.


Friday, we ventured out again and went over the hills (yes, that would be the third mention of the Rimutakas in one post) to the Wairarapa. Where the sun always shines and the wind drops (at least a little.) We stopped off in Carterton at Paua World and enjoyed some kitsch Christmas shopping before driving on to Castlepoint. Which was lovely. Beautiful. We had lunch in the solitary cafe before walking up to the lighthouse. We then walked around the various bits of beach, watching the hundreds and hundreds of birds, paddled, ate cake... It was a grand day out. And finished with a Burger Fuel when we got back to the Hutt before Husbink went to youth group and I watched ANTM...


Saturday was mostly a jobs kind of day until the evening...when we decided to try out our tent so camped in the back garden last night! I was exhausted so we went to bed about 9pm and didn't wake up until nearly 9am (except turning over when the birds started singing and that sort of thing...) So we are pretty chuffed with our tent, sleeping bags and carry mats :) especially since it was raining most of the night and not particularly warm. Hurrah!

Sunday has been absolute down time...as my Grannie would say, it's so tiring enjoying yourself!

I hab a cobe

And it isn't very fun. Not at all. Especially as I was actually really enjoying the place I was working this week and was miffed at having to come home sick today.
Tis the worst cold I've had in a long time with associated wooziness, achiness and nausea (from too much snot. sorry.) The point at which I really knew I was sick today was when, channelling hopping, I came across Emmerdale. And didn't flick away from it.
Day time TV here isn't so good as in the UK. And yes, you might question how I'm using the word "good" there. But in the UK there would always be something that I could at least gormlessly watch for a while. Frasier. Tricia. Diagnosis Murder. Neighbours. Quincy. And so on... Today I really struggled. I watched Ellen. Which was alarming and less entertaining than often (there was a Steve Iwin-esque (well maybe Steve Irwin crossed with David Attenborough and meeting at an alarming point in the middle)American man with a bear, a lion cub, a vulture and a boar... The lion cub tried to bite Ellen, the whole audience including the man were terrifed of the vulture.
Fortunately, Mad Medea had sent me a DVD of Northern Exposure some time ago and for whatever reason I'd not watched it until today. I'm really glad I hadn't as it was sooooo much what I needed. Thank you MM! Though it has made me want to watch Men in Trees again...
Hey ho, only 45 minutes to America's Next Top Model. (Husbink has been out all day and is and youth group tonight. Ho hum...)

Busy

At the moment, that is what I am. With work, church, life...
Last night I slept for 8 hours solid. For me, this is a minor miracle. What made it even more miraculous was that I then turned over and went back to sleep for another three hours. Fortunately, today was a day off for me and only a half day for Husbink. I was very confused when I woke up. Where had the day gone?
I am now getting an icky sore throat so I'm wondering if it was less of a miracle and more of a lurgy. And I'm hoping it won't stop me from going to my friend's gig tonight. Or going to work tomorrow (I'm working at a vehicle auctioneer this week which is actually much, much fun. Mostly because the people are lovely but the work is ok too.)
I'm sure there was something I wanted to write about but it seems my brain has given up for the afternoon. Which is unfortunate when my tutee is going to arrive in half an hour or so and expect me to teach her something clever and mathsy. Hey ho.

Association

To tie memories together, there is nothing stronger for me than music.
There are a few smells that bring up powerful associations (there is a smell in my grandparents house, I don't know what it is, must be the soap they use or the washing powder or something but their house always smells of it and very few other places do) but nothing comes close to music for the strength of association.

I cannot watch 20th Century Fox films from the beginning unless I want to spend the whole film wishing I was watching Star Wars instead. Not that I don't enjoy other 20th Century Fox films, not that Star Wars is my favourite film (but must be in the top ten - possibly even 3 out of 6 would be in the top ten, anyway, I digress), but the link from the Fox music to the Star Wars theme is so strong that I cannot stop myself singing the Star Wars theme at the end of the Fox music. It was a very clever piece of marketing/music making/whatever you'd like to call it that put the initial blast of the theme music so close to the end of the Fox theme and, in some respects, so similar in style - both their own kind of pomp and circumstance. Husbink certainly has the same experience (and had it independent of me); I wonder how many Star Wars fans are inflicted with this problem?

There is a tape that my brother gave me for my 15th or 16th birthday. It is an EP and only has 5-6 songs on it. I listened to that tape over and over and over again (in the way that only a 15/16 year old can) - while reading Lord of the Rings for about the 4th time. I can neither read Lord of the Rings without thinking of that music nor listen to that music without thinking of Lord of the Rings. Sadly it conjures some of the darker parts of Lord of the Rings and leaves me feeling a little floobly. I just tracked down one of the songs on YouTube to see if it still had the same effect, to be sure I wasn't lying to you. It does, I wasn't, I feel floobly. (Oh, goodness me, by tracking that song down on YouTube, I've also seen this song, my bro listened to this NON STOP when I was about 14. His bedroom was above the kitchen so we all listened to it non stop as it reverberated through the ceiling. My mum made up her own random words for the song because she couldn't make out any of the real ones. Now I'm sitting at the computer, headbanging.)

This morning I cycled to church at about 7.10am (as the sun was breaking over the hills, it was beautiful) to watch the rugby world cup final (once and for all, yes, I'd have liked England to win but I'm not gutted - i think it far better for the sport for a different team to win each year). Cycling along, singing to myself, the song that came to mind was Vindaloo. Because there was a world cup (admittedly the wrong sport) in France. And what can you sing at such a time but Vindaloo? (Perhaps cycling down a quiet street in a nation fundamentally supporting the opposition singing "we're Eng-a-land! We're gonna score one more than you! England!" wasn't the best thing to do...) And of course, singing Vindaloo sends me back to 1998, to that world cup but more to the point, to the end of A levels, the end of my school career, my leavers ball when there was an England game...and we won...and the rest of the evening all the DJ played was Vindaloo and this (not as good as the original, though to be fair you might be pushed to notice the difference). And that was fine with all of us. We had set moves by the end of the night. Teachers included.

I could carry on and on, song after song, as each one takes me to a different memory. But I'll finish with just one last one. One that actually set me off thinking about this.

On Friday nights, I used to go to drama group at church (hello ruth) and, as often as not, my Dad would pick me up afterwards. And we would listen to songs that we liked too loud, singing along and being silly. One such song was this. I think it was this song that led to me sticking my feet out of the sun roof (to see if I could, and then because I could) on more than one occasion. However, the song I was thinking of was this one. I still love this song, now for so many reasons (Terry Wogan singing along being one of them). But what I remember most and is still the thing that makes me happiest when I hear this song; trying to come back in at the right time after the second break. There are two breaks in this song, one near the beginning which is an easy count and you can all come back in right on time but the second break is random, you can't count it, you just have to know. And we would sing this song over and over, me and my dad, trying to get the break right and collapsing in giggles when we didn't. Yesterday, driving to the fruit market, I got it right. :)

Never, ever, ever again

Spin classes. Who came up with that bright idea for torture?!
I thought I was going to die after about five minutes. It took me most of the rest of the day (the class finished at 10am) to be able to breathe deeply again without wheezing and coughing.
I'm not even sure I got much benefit from the class as most of it was damage control: how am I going to get out of here without puking my guts up or dying? Eventually, my knee started to hurt, what a blessed relief! I could rub my knee and pretend that was why I was so awful at the class.
Husbink went to. He has almost persuaded me that it was really good for me and that I should go again. But I think that *almost* will stay an *almost* forever...

In other news...I scare people. I was aware of this when I was a teenager, but I'd forgotten. Hey ho.

Action stations

I love knitting. So therapeutic and yet still "achieving"!
The other day, Husbink was tidying the kitchen and I wanted to keep chatting to him but couldn't really help (due to the shape of our kitchen) so figured I might as well get a bit of knitting done while chatting. So I tucked the ball of wool into my pocket and stood in the kitchen, knitting and chatting. Husbink laughed at me. Which I expected and probably deserved.
A little while later, I did need to do something but didn't want to put my knitting down so tucked the needles into my other pocket, wool stretched across my front. I was wearing cargo(ish) trousers...and Husbink dubbed me All Action Knitting Barbie.
He's called me many things over the last few years but that one is pretty special...

Frightening Times

The other week I went to the supermarket, as I do most weeks.

On my shopping list was loo roll. I wasn't feeling desperately well and so was trying to get the shopping done as quickly as possible, thus grabbing and running as quickly as I could. When I got to the loo roll aisle, I saw that a brand we sometimes use had a 3 4-packs for $5 deal so hurredly grabbed the three packs and left. The only factor taken into consideration was whether they were scented - and to ensure that I picked the unscented variety (really, what purpose does scented loo roll serve in the world? other than to make me feel slightly nauseated when I catch a wiff of it?). So my three unscented four packs went into the trolley and off I went. No problem. Until I opened one of the packets this week and found that the loo roll was decorated.

Like this:

They are possibly the freakiest sheep I've ever seen. And the cows aren't great either. I had to assure Husbink that I did not intentionally choose this loo roll in case he thought less of me because of it.

Really, there are enough alarming, scary, upsetting things in the world without being faced with these guys every time I go to the toilet. Only three more rolls to go... I haven't dared check what the other packs contain!

Is it me?

For the last week or so I've been amazed and vaguely horrified by the news coverage of the Diana/Dodi inquest.
Is it normal for jurors to be taken to the scene of a crash? To be shown the route taken? To be shown marks on a pillar? To be shown round a hotel? I accept this is not a normal case but equally it is not the first time this case has been delved into.
Is it really front page news compared to other stories that could be there? Is it really something that needs to make the headlines half way round the world? I guess if there were some really monumental findings from all this, they could be of significance... What irritates me the most is the longer it goes on, the more I see links to pages about it or hear the headlines on the news about it, the more I find myself thinking that I want to know what they have to say.
Also on the front page of the BBC website today is this article about the UN and Burma that has some really hopeful bits in it. The fact that China have turned around and stopped objecting to a statement by the UN Security Council "deploring Burma's military crackdown on pro-democracy protesters" is, I hope very, very much, a sign of a turn in the tide. The article is not all good news but a start is a start.

Good things about wet days

I love it when the clouds come down low, so low that they seem to be where they should not be. So low that they hug the hills, hiding parts of them. So low that it feels like I could run up into the hills and be in the clouds. Cuddled up in a great big ball of cotton wool, hiding and hidden. I know if I did run into the hills, I wouldn't be able to tell when I reached the middle of the clouds, that it would be cotton woolly, just as I know that if I jumped out of a 747 at altitude, the clouds that look so wonderful, as if they would be the perfect ski fields, the perfect place to play and rest, would not be. This knowledge stops me doing these things but doesn't stop me looking and imagining.

I love that all this rain makes it so easy for mummy and daddy blackbird to bring food to their new chicks. I love that I could look out of the window at almost any point yesterday and see one of them flying into or out of our hedge bringing food or going to collect more. I love that when there was no sign of the blackbirds I could instead watch the thrush (also building a nest in our hedge) hopping over the water logged lawn, tipping his head to listen for the insects.

I love the wonderfulness of coming inside again. Of finding that it is warm and is dry. Knowing that I can stay warm and dry as long as I like. I like the excuse wet days give for cups of tea and bisuits. I love being inside watching outside.

I love the sound of the rain. Sometimes, it is so loud that it wakes me in the night but lying there listening to it is wonderful.

I love that even the smallest excursion into the outdoors feels like a wonderful and noble thing, something to be rewarded for.

I love what it means, that I know it will stop and when it does, the ground will be refreshed, the grass a little longer, the flowers a little more fed.

Where next?

In the past few weeks, through one thing and another - and about one thing and another, not just Burma - I've realised that something that I thought had died in me is still there and struggling to get out - my passion.

When I was younger I was always deeply passionate about something (though that thing changed with alarming regularity) but over the past few years (maybe as many as seven), I've struggled to raise my passion's weary head and get caught up in a moment, a cause, a plan. I've exerted more energy on worrying than on caring, more on anxiety than on action.

But now that seems to be starting to turn around. It perhaps started with some rather insignificant, silly things, that got me excited again. Now those silly little passions seem to be building towards something bigger, a more useful outlet for all that enthusiasm and excitement. So the problem that now arises is how to channel it, how to not be like my teenage self, so enthusiastic but for so many things that I failed to achieve much at all. Right now, I want to do everything, save the world, in one giant leap. I know I'm not a very practical person, much more of an ideas person. (I used to think that because I'm quite organised, I'm quite practical but I've realised that just isn't the case.) So how do I choose something, get off my backside and actually start acting?!

(In other news, I did turn down the job with the changed description, and feel a whole heap better for it!)

Saturday

On Saturday we did go and participate in the International Day of Action for Burma.
The Wellington Burmese community had played a large part in the organisation of the event and as a newbee to such things, I was impressed.
I wanted to go for the sake of going but it was a bonus to have about six speakers talking from a range of angles (NZ MPs, Amnesty, Trade Unions, local Burmese...) giving me heaps more information (much of which I fear went in one ear and out the other). I think their turnout was about double what they were expecting. I'm dreadful at estimating sizes of places, numbers of people etc etc, but I think there were about 200 there.

I'm still undecided on the whole sanctions issue (though I suppose it isn't really a thing for me to decide - though I would need to decide before writing letters requesting it I suppose). Today my brain is not really with me (having service led and preached at last night's service - plus all the crazy getting up in the middle of the night over the weekend to watch rugby) so I can't quite be applying my mind to such things right now. (Even thinking about thinking is giving me a headache!)

Flurble

I have heaps of half-blogs floating round my head but I'm currently being distracted by silly fretting so I thought if I got this out of my head then I might manage more coherent thoughts...

A little while back I temped in a school for a few days. I really liked it and said I'd be happy to work there again. They then asked for me to be there officer manager type for 4-6 weeks while they found a replacement. Although I tend not to go for full time work, it fitted quite nicely so I thought I'd take it.

Today, having agreed and got it all sorted I got a revised job description... No longer is it office manager but reception/admin assistant... The wage remains the same, the hours remain the same (which are not the hours of the receptionist) but I am concerned that I'm going to get there and discover that really all I'm going to be doing for 4-6 weeks is reception work.

I've not done a vast amount of reception work but it's been enough to know that it really isn't my cup of tea. I can tolerate it for a few days...but 4-6 weeks? When I thought I was going to be doing an interesting job? I don't know...

More on Burma

I have had various people point me towards various sources of information in the last few days and have continued to read the BBC website and any other info I can on Burma. I still feel deeply uninformed and helpless but...
I'm hoping to go to a protest tomorrow in the centre of Wellington. If you haven't seen anywhere else, Saturday, October 6th is a day of international action for Burma. The link in the previous post (also here), tells you about protests all over the world.
This blog that I have just come across thanks to Rosanna, has lots of information on it, heaps and heaps of links. (Oh, and there is heaps on Facebook too.)
The question I feel unable to resolve myself with all that I've read so far is whether or not sanctions and boycotts are a good thing. It is a question that I often ponder whether they are good things or bad things (e.g. in the case of slave labour for clothes, the principal is not to stop buying the products as then you take away the only wage they have - instead you should shop noisily). The only boycott I have ever stuck to is that of Nestle (on the whole baby milk front, not as a globalisation issue) - it had just become habit until recently when Husbink did some research and I think he is probably more actively pro the boycott than I am. I have generally thought of boycotts as something that protects my own sense of morality rather than impacting the big multinational company (for example, when I heard of a particular designers racial "issues", I decided I would never buy anything of their's again not because it would impact them but because I would not need to worry about where my money was going - seeing as I'm not particularly into labels, this wasn't really a hardship for me!).
Does anyone have any thoughts on sanctions and boycotts?

Feeling Helpless

Yesterday, I received an email with this link to sign a petition regarding the horrific events of the past few days and weeks in Burma as the ruling military junta have attacked, killed or imprisoned many, many peaceful monks and protesters. The aim of the petition is really focussed on China, as a major force in Burma and one that perhaps does not want things to change there. (I don't claim to know very much at all, please look at the link and other sources rather than taking what I say as fact.)
Burma has been a "situation" that has blipped on and off my radar a number of times over the past 5-10 years. I think I first became aware of the situation through a talk at some women's event or other about the example set by Aung San Suu Kyi and every once in a while, something comes up that reminds me of the situation and that, for them nothing has changed.
After signing the petition yesterday, I sat here feeling useless. What on earth can I do for these people other than sign some petition that yes, is going to be delivered to some UN bod, and yes, has now almost 480,000 signatures (that is around 150000 signatures since I signed sometime less than 24 hours ago). I can join marches, I can protest (I have not protested for anything before but I have found that there is a local protest on Saturday), I can pray, but can I really do anything?
In the case of natural disasters and the like, although I mostly don't do anything, I always feel I can, or rather could. I could send money, food, clothes, whatever the need was...it feels like something can be done. Against something like this, it just feels such a world away in terms of knowledge, experience, abilities...
I went onto the BBC website this morning to read more, see if there was anymore news, see if I could understand anymore. There was nothing on the front page. I did track down heaps on information eventually (after a couple of wrong guesses at where Burma would be bracketed in the BBC's global chunks - falling on the border between their South Asia pages and their Asia-Pacific pages (the second one having the more information)).
When it comes down to it, petitions (there is lots more information out there about other petitions, ways of making your voice heard etc etc), rallies and prayers are probably all I can offer in this instance so I shall have to do my best with all of them.

Spring is Sprung

Spring has sprung, the grass is riz

Look at where the birdies is

The birdies on the wing.

On the wing? But that's absurd!

The wing is on the bird.

(Having hunted for this poem that my dad used to say when I was little, it seems there is a wide range of versions and almost as wide a range of possible authors, so no credits here!)

Spring have sprung means the winds, the winds have returned! Today is the worst day yet this spring and, having not spent spring in this house before, it is kinda scary. Everything is rattling, the chimney is howling, as Husbink put it, we don't have a draft in the bathroom, we have a breeze!

Very, very glad Husbink took the car to work this morning instead of cycling...

Things I Don't Do Enough

1. Breathe

Not normal breathing, but slow, deep breathing.

I went to yoga this week for the first time in quite a while and after that first five minutes I was ready to leave - not because it was bad but because I'd done what I really needed to do. I'd sat still, comfortably but with good posture, and I'd focussed on my breathing. Slow, deep breaths. I felt instantly amazing and healthy.

2. Go to this cinema

Husbink and I went for a date on Tuesday afternoon. The cinema is small and lovely and has a cafe. We went in to watch the film, sat down on our two seater sofa, cushions and all, me with a pot of earl grey (I'm still liking coffee but I'm back on tea too!), Husbink with his moccachino and had a thoroughly enjoyable time.

3. Watch

As you are by now all well aware, I "do" a lot. I have lists, I must achieve! But watching, like deep breathing, is so good. Today, I'm watching the rain (and being grateful for my long socks and little heater). But watching the sea, watching people, watching birds, watching flowers in the breeze, watching sun and shadows...

4. Stop procrastinating

This week, I've been writing two talks and a reflection for our church's women's retreat this weekend. It is my top priority at the moment, I really want to do it - and to do it well so that the women get something out of the weekend...and yet, here I am. So much of this week has disappeared in a fog of procrastination!

5. Smile

It's not that I don't smile a lot anyway, but I think that is an area where there is always room for improvement.