Christchurch Botanic - 2

Christchurch Botanic - 2
Originally uploaded by lemoncat1

This isn't The Botanic Gardens, but the entrance to the Museum, just outside the Botanic Gardens. Not damaged in the earthquakes, owing to 13 million dollars of strengthening, which everyone thought was a waste of money 3 years ago, but now....

Oh no, not again!

This was the headline on Monday's paper after a swarm of aftershocks hit the city on Boxing Day. I had my Mum staying over for Christmas and we were both awakened by the first shock at about 12.00 on Christmas Night. (I'd just put some of the heavy objects back up on my picture rail, just before Christmas, so it was probably my fault). A rocky day followed, with shocks all through Boxing Day, one large one at 10.30am that proved to be epicentred just up the road from my house. The Botanic Gardens recorded the greatest amount of ground acceleration of the series, at 48% of gravity. Whatever that means. Sadly, most of the quakes were under the CBD so doing more damage to buildings, largely superficial but upsetting none the less. No one was injured, thank goodness. (Isn't that a lovely phrase - "thank goodness". The Cathedral was slightly damaged; the Dean was in the middle of a sermon preaching about the stoning of St Stephen when pieces of plaster began to fall down. Powerful preaching indeed. The Anglican convent was also damaged. There was a photograph of the nuns outside, all grinning and taking photos, so I guess they don't think this is the work of a malevolent God. Or at least not their own God.
News in the paper that some of the earthquake damage assessors have been fired due to lack of sensitivity to earthquake victims. Apparently some of the assessors have been taking a hard line and trying to make claimants back off with their claims, by being insulting and aggressive. Some of these people are Australians.
Back at work today. I should go out and have a look around the Gardens, perhaps I'll do it after work. I really need some exercise after all the food at Christmas. Feeling a bit liverish, what the French term "une crise de foie", so salads, fruit and water are the order of the day. Ciao, amici.

Mary Christmas

So this will probably be the last post for this year. I've just been to the Xmas breakup lunch, very blokey, lots of pizza and beer. Didn't know many (any) of the people there so I sat quietly in a corner and consumed the food. It was a relief to get back to the office, I'm not really outgoing, especially with a load of large blokes in steel capped boots. Lots of wind today, blowing old birdnests out of the trees and snapping some of the branches off. The trees are quite brittle as we have had very little rain, so they break easily in a high wind.
So in a few hours I'll be picking up my Mum and heading home for Christmas. Looking forward to eating my head off the for the next few days, and having lots of afternoon naps. Feel very tired and had-it, the last six months have been a bit... earthquake, new job, aftershock, etc. Went to the supermarket last night to do some last minute stuff, everybody looks exhausted. We're over Christmas, even though it hasn't really started. I thought "I'm sick of buying stuff", proof that wanton expenditure doesn't necessarily make one happy.
(Oh, dear, I've just done another thing wrong, not priced some items when I put out new stock. Oh God, you'd think it was the end of the universe as we know it. What a tamasha about niente).
Anyway I hope you all have a very Mary Christmas and a Harry New Year.

Malls

I hate malls. I know that probably sounds elitist, but I hate malls, they are the opiate of the people, the poppy-gum of the plebs. My idea of Hell is to be sentenced to spend all Eternity in a mall at Christmas. Just imagine listening to "Jingle bell Rock' for literally the billionth time. Everytime I hear "Jingle bell rock" I hear the dirty lyrics that are not infrequently sung (what rhymes with rock, gentle readers?). Malls are a denial of humanity, temples of ugliness, big machines for wringing spare cash out of the poor. It's no coincidence that Santa is an anagram of Satan. Sit on his lap, the old pervert? No thanks, look what Santa's got in his trousers for you little girl, eeew. And don't forget to go completely manic trying to have the perfect Xmas. You've heard of Bridezillas, what about Christmaszillas, rushing and pushing, scouring the city for the perfect present, the perfect foods, the perfect decorations and the perfect table settings, women (it's nearly always women) with drawn tense faces, desperate to show to the world that they can cope, that they are In Control, that the Perfect Christmas is only a little more effort, a little more expenditure away.
Here endeth today's rant.

Tooth! and the truth about ducks.

I'm a poor sad hurty girl today. I had a tooth extracted on Tuesday and it still hurts. I feel like I'm clenching my jaw all the time, and the pain radiates up into my ear. I'm getting diarrhoea from all the soft food and medication I'm taking and I'd rather not be at work at all today. Last night took 4 paracetamol, 2 glasses of wine, a wheat bag and a whole lot of mantra'ing.(I use Ave Maria, it's very calming and comforting).
Nearly ran over a line of ducks this morning as I came into work. I was looking away in the distance to where I would park my car, then became brakingly aware of a line of numpties crossing my path. Bird brains. They have no traffic sense at all. Ducks are rather unpleasant to tell the truth -they peck each other to death, engage in gang rape, and are not the world's best mothers. They are feckless; it they were people they'd be the type who shuffle between the pub and the betting agency all day. The gardeners dislike them because they root up the new plantings looking for worms. The native ducks, the scaup and Paradise ducks are OK, but the mallards are both aggressive and stupid, avian bovver boys and girls. As I type I can see them from the window, deceptively sleeping, waiting for the chance to......Aaargh! invasion of the killer zombie alien ducks! No, no.....