Sunday, September 30, 2012
Advantage flea treatment - warning
I've just had a scary half-hour with Thom, thought I'd write about it as a warning for other cat owners. I put some Advantage flea treatment on Thom, thought I was doing a good thing as he's got a lot of scratching going on. Well, the first smell of it had him foaming at the mouth and darting around the room to get away from it. I plunked him in the laundry tub and washed him down with warm water and a mild lavender soap straight away, and he's now having a good wash in the sunshine on the couch. Scared the hell out of both of us, poor Thom-tom. I've never seen a reaction like that before; I've never used Advantage before, always used Frontline and had no problems, but this is the first time I've dosed Thomas myself - the SPCA and the vet did it before. The Advantage does have a very strong chemical smell, unlike Frontline. So I'll get Thom flea'd with vet approved stuff from now on.
AAArgh
Mr Machinery back with a vengeance. I'll have to go out or the ruckus will drive me INSANE! But why should be driven from my own home by a testosterone charged nutter? Why can't he just finish the job? Shit, or get off the pot! as they say.
First day of daylight saving
Scenes from Opawa Market - waratahs and proteas for sale.
Parrot tulip 'Red Parrot'
Apple blossom - this is the little Golden Delicious that has been liberated from the overbearing cabbage trees. And now the neighbour has taken down some overhanging branches of a tree on his side so that it gets even more light. It is the yummiest apple for cooking that I know, fluffs up beautifully. There's an old grape vine behind it that will get more light now too. Hope springs eternal in the gardener's breast.
Here are the new dahlias. The two at the top are 'Worton Blue' and 'Myjama', a Fubuki type dahlia with fimbriated petals. And that's my foot, bare, outside, for the first time in months.
Thom's quite worn out.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Today is cold
We've had a run of freezing cold days lately, due to our cursed north east wind. I got up this morning full of vim, planning to have a gardening day, but it's so bloody cold that I'll have to have an indoor day instead. Clean the kitchen, tidy the linen cupboard and single out some stuff to go to the church/school fair, all very useful but not what I had planned. Someone stupid in the Met.Service said that we will have a hot day tomorrow, but I can't believe it. Someone else stupid once said that we should bless the north-easterly because it keeps us cool in summer; otherwise Christchurch would be too hot. For me, at the moment, there is no such thing as too hot. I've got the heaters on full bore, just as I would in the middle of winter. There's nothing for it but to play my favourite CDs all day and Do Those Chores.
Oh no
Thom has just peed on the carpet - why did he not tell me he wants to go out? I suppose its better than doing it in my bed. At least he had the grace to look embarrassed.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Fantasies
This Foo Fighters song and vid. is one of my favourites. I think the guys are acting out one of their fantasies, and one of mine too - that I'll save a whole planeload of people by flying a plane safely down when the pilots are incapacitated. Of course it will be quite easy - we've all seen it done on movies. If you can drive a car you can fly a plane, right? Well, I did say it was a fantasy.
Other fantasies of mine include being discovered on some talent programme. Of course I have a fabulous voice, and if Susan Boyle can do it, why not me? And living in a run-down villa in Tuscany, which of course I will make into the most perfect home and garden. Then I'll write a book about it and everyone will be green with envy. When I was a kid I wanted to be a sort of female Indiana Jones; discovering new civilisations and deciphering ancient scripts. Lately there's my steampunk fantasy, that I will become a sexy adventuress calling herself La Contessa, with an eyepatch, a derringer and a very complicated corset. None of these things will probably ever come to pass, although I could do the steampunk one; it would be fun to dress up and pretend to be someone else.
I've also started to think about travelling again. The shot in the vid. of the plane landing at night; is there anything better than the ending of a long flight? You're circling over a strange country, you can see the lights of the city, the roads, the buildings - the plane gets gradually lower and lower. The runway lights come into sight, and you're thinking of the joy of being off the plane. The plane lands, taxi's into the terminal, the lights are bright, bright, you're standing at the door, you're in the arrivals hall, and you're there; a new place, a new adventure. It's addictive, and I miss it so much.
Other fantasies of mine include being discovered on some talent programme. Of course I have a fabulous voice, and if Susan Boyle can do it, why not me? And living in a run-down villa in Tuscany, which of course I will make into the most perfect home and garden. Then I'll write a book about it and everyone will be green with envy. When I was a kid I wanted to be a sort of female Indiana Jones; discovering new civilisations and deciphering ancient scripts. Lately there's my steampunk fantasy, that I will become a sexy adventuress calling herself La Contessa, with an eyepatch, a derringer and a very complicated corset. None of these things will probably ever come to pass, although I could do the steampunk one; it would be fun to dress up and pretend to be someone else.
I've also started to think about travelling again. The shot in the vid. of the plane landing at night; is there anything better than the ending of a long flight? You're circling over a strange country, you can see the lights of the city, the roads, the buildings - the plane gets gradually lower and lower. The runway lights come into sight, and you're thinking of the joy of being off the plane. The plane lands, taxi's into the terminal, the lights are bright, bright, you're standing at the door, you're in the arrivals hall, and you're there; a new place, a new adventure. It's addictive, and I miss it so much.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Cardboard Cathedral - Rev Craig Dixon - Aug 16 2012
More informative vid. than the previous one. It looks great, I love the simplicity and subtlety of the design, hope they don't fill the interior with ugly things like sound systems. Or place some of the old pieces from the Victorian Gothic cathedral that have been recovered, like the lectern, which would just look out of place. Love the chairs too. (I'm waiting for the zenophobic outcry that the architect is Japanese- "why couldn't we get a NZer, blah, blah".)
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Mungo Jerry - In the summertime
Are you old enough to remember this? Hope this face-fungus-fashion NEVER comes back! And the guy playing the jug - you've got fifteen seconds of fame and you're playing a jug? Poor sap.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
The hunters show off their catch
The happy rat catchers - Thom probably caught it and Emma helped chivvy it to death. Thou shalt not suffer a rat to live.
Friday, September 21, 2012
Full on week
It's been quite an intense week. After going berko at the neighbour on Monday, and exposing y'all to the real me (the bitch within) I went to have an ultrasound and x-rays on my left boob on Tuesday, as something looked odd on my routine check. Thank the Goddess, nothing wrong, just normal tissue sitting oddly. It was scary though, I don't mind admitting. Sitting in the waiting room was awful, thinking that at least some of the other women there would not hear good news. I was starting to plan my funeral, just as I did with the symptoms that turned out to be fibroids, in April. Two health scares in one year are two too many.
On Wednesday I went out to dinner to a Turkish restaurant called the Topkapi. Nice food, but my, the corkage charge! $10, what a swindle - they make their money on drinks even if you bring your own. It's a bit much, and corkage is a ridiculous concept when the bottles have screw-off caps, and you open it yourself anyway. I think with the shortage of restaurants in Christchurch at the moment, the few that have survived are taking the opportunity to coin it.
All day Thursday did some very concentrated work on an interesting project coming up. I like it, but probably the boss won't, or will change it so that all my brilliant writing goes down the gurgler, or I'll find I've got hold of the wrong end of the stick entirely and will have to re-do it. But such is life. I had fun anyway, I was in the 'zone', creatively speaking; they can't take that away from me.
Last night I went to the new supermarket. Tonight I came home, washed the spare room window and hung up a new net curtain to replace the one Thom shredded when he was little. Of course, he wanted to "help" - help shred the new one, that is. He had to be removed to another room after having a fight with Emma and nearly knocking a chair through the sunroom window.
Well, the days are just packed!
On Wednesday I went out to dinner to a Turkish restaurant called the Topkapi. Nice food, but my, the corkage charge! $10, what a swindle - they make their money on drinks even if you bring your own. It's a bit much, and corkage is a ridiculous concept when the bottles have screw-off caps, and you open it yourself anyway. I think with the shortage of restaurants in Christchurch at the moment, the few that have survived are taking the opportunity to coin it.
All day Thursday did some very concentrated work on an interesting project coming up. I like it, but probably the boss won't, or will change it so that all my brilliant writing goes down the gurgler, or I'll find I've got hold of the wrong end of the stick entirely and will have to re-do it. But such is life. I had fun anyway, I was in the 'zone', creatively speaking; they can't take that away from me.
Last night I went to the new supermarket. Tonight I came home, washed the spare room window and hung up a new net curtain to replace the one Thom shredded when he was little. Of course, he wanted to "help" - help shred the new one, that is. He had to be removed to another room after having a fight with Emma and nearly knocking a chair through the sunroom window.
Well, the days are just packed!
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Supermarket reopens!
My local supermarket reopened yesterday, after being closed for two years because of earthquake damage after February 22, 2011. It's bigger and oh so flash, very upmarket which is sort of nice, but it feels too good for me. I felt underdressed for the occasion, as if I've to dress up to even be allowed in. I went in the evening and all the lights were on in this super-modern super-market. Coming into the car park I felt like Han Solo docking the Millenium Falcon on the Death Star; I bet if supermarkets could employ tractor beams they would.
It's very spacious and new and things are displayed nicely, but it's definitely aimed at the more well-heeled shopper, with lots of wine and deli food and a lot of prepared or pre-cooked foods, but a bit low on the basic stuff. They didn't have my cats' favourite food and the bakery goods looked a little overdone, although, granted, it was the end of the day, not the best time for buying bakery items. I missed the cheap vegetable plants and the flower section - I don't know if these aren't there or I just didn't see them, the place is so huge. I'll be interested to see if prices go up after the initial opening frenzy, and I'll still be going to the organic market on Sundays to get good vegetables.
The cars on either side of me looked swanky too; an Audi on one side and a late model VW on the other. Perhaps Opawa is morphing into Merivale, who knows? Could be good, could be bad, only time will tell.
It's very spacious and new and things are displayed nicely, but it's definitely aimed at the more well-heeled shopper, with lots of wine and deli food and a lot of prepared or pre-cooked foods, but a bit low on the basic stuff. They didn't have my cats' favourite food and the bakery goods looked a little overdone, although, granted, it was the end of the day, not the best time for buying bakery items. I missed the cheap vegetable plants and the flower section - I don't know if these aren't there or I just didn't see them, the place is so huge. I'll be interested to see if prices go up after the initial opening frenzy, and I'll still be going to the organic market on Sundays to get good vegetables.
The cars on either side of me looked swanky too; an Audi on one side and a late model VW on the other. Perhaps Opawa is morphing into Merivale, who knows? Could be good, could be bad, only time will tell.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Bits and pieces
Lovely quiet day today. Must have made some impression on Mr Machinery, or else he just wasn't there. Gone to his paid employment, maybe. Well, no doubt he'll be back at it sometime, but at least he knows now that not everyone approves of him pretending his lawn is the back forty.
The old bird's nest in the pear tree is being plundered by a clever blackbird, who is taking it to pieces to build his own nest somewhere else. It's a bit like someone using recycled lumber to make a new house. You could see his glee at having found such a good source of readymade material.
Saw the black-and-white tomcat just now, Thomas finds him very unnerving and is sitting on my knee looking wary and frightened. I think the cat comes from a place I call the Car Yard, more lovely neighbours who run a wrecking business and use their garden for storing the wrecks. (They've been doing this for years, in spite of numerous complaints from many people to the city council). One day there'll be a showdown, and I fear for my lovely little Thom-thom - that cat is one ornery crittur. I try and shoo him away when I see him - he likes to pee up my doorstep, not much appreciated.
Reconstruction/demolition continues in the city. Today our nearest supermarket reopened, yay! Never thought I'd be excited about a supermarket reopening, but it's been a big inconvenience, having to schlep over a couple of suburbs to get groceries or get them on my way home from work when I'm feeling tired and hungry. I didn't go in today, drove past the car park and it was chocka, so I'll leave it for another time.
And the leader of our rebuild, the Right Honourable Gerald Brownlee, as is his official title, has made another of his trademark gaffes. He told the newspaper that he was sick of Christchurch people whinging and moaning, with nothing better to do than "buggerise around on Facebook all day". This deathless phrase (which will be inscribed on his tombstone) has now become one of our memes. "Well, I think I'll just buggerise around on Facebook for a bit" is how we in Christchurch now describe our daily interaction with the social media giant.
Well, I think I'll just go and buggerise around on Facebook for a bit. Oooroo.
The old bird's nest in the pear tree is being plundered by a clever blackbird, who is taking it to pieces to build his own nest somewhere else. It's a bit like someone using recycled lumber to make a new house. You could see his glee at having found such a good source of readymade material.
Saw the black-and-white tomcat just now, Thomas finds him very unnerving and is sitting on my knee looking wary and frightened. I think the cat comes from a place I call the Car Yard, more lovely neighbours who run a wrecking business and use their garden for storing the wrecks. (They've been doing this for years, in spite of numerous complaints from many people to the city council). One day there'll be a showdown, and I fear for my lovely little Thom-thom - that cat is one ornery crittur. I try and shoo him away when I see him - he likes to pee up my doorstep, not much appreciated.
Reconstruction/demolition continues in the city. Today our nearest supermarket reopened, yay! Never thought I'd be excited about a supermarket reopening, but it's been a big inconvenience, having to schlep over a couple of suburbs to get groceries or get them on my way home from work when I'm feeling tired and hungry. I didn't go in today, drove past the car park and it was chocka, so I'll leave it for another time.
And the leader of our rebuild, the Right Honourable Gerald Brownlee, as is his official title, has made another of his trademark gaffes. He told the newspaper that he was sick of Christchurch people whinging and moaning, with nothing better to do than "buggerise around on Facebook all day". This deathless phrase (which will be inscribed on his tombstone) has now become one of our memes. "Well, I think I'll just buggerise around on Facebook for a bit" is how we in Christchurch now describe our daily interaction with the social media giant.
Well, I think I'll just go and buggerise around on Facebook for a bit. Oooroo.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Two voices
Two great voices of NZ singers - Iva Lamkum and Julia Deans - we're blessed here in our little corner of the world.
Tinker, tailor
Just been watching the 1979 BBC version of Le Carre's novel. I haven't seen the current movie, so can't compare, but am really enjoying this. Like all of his novels, it's about so much more than spying. And the total antithesis of James Bond. Not glamourous or sexy, about tawdry trade-offs in dreary backrooms. Spotted Patrick Stewart as Carla, Smiley's nemesis. He's heavily bearded and says nothing at all, just facial expressions as Smiley tries to 'turn' him. The only drawback is that I keep hearing Obi Wan Kenobi in Guinness' measured tones. Lots of familiar British actors, some that I haven' t seen for years, some that you recognise, but can't put a name to. Remember Hywel Bennett? He was lovely, or is lovely, if he's still alive. And Ian Bannen does a truly Oscar-worthy performance as the damaged Prideau. What he doesn't say about being tortured by the Russians is truly chilling.
Haven't read any good books lately. The last crop I borrowed from the library were all stinkers. A male version of Eat, pray, love - very self-indulgent, called "To the last breath". Two books about dysfunctional families, one English, one Australian - didn't care about the characters at all, glad to see the back of them - and one about an man of mature years coping with being a man of mature years. No story, just random tedious observations. I think I need to go right through Le Carre's ouevre from beginning to end, and enjoy some real writing.
Haven't read any good books lately. The last crop I borrowed from the library were all stinkers. A male version of Eat, pray, love - very self-indulgent, called "To the last breath". Two books about dysfunctional families, one English, one Australian - didn't care about the characters at all, glad to see the back of them - and one about an man of mature years coping with being a man of mature years. No story, just random tedious observations. I think I need to go right through Le Carre's ouevre from beginning to end, and enjoy some real writing.
Friday, September 14, 2012
Pictures hot off the camera this morning
Intrepid Thomas, chewing the new shoots off the apple tree. What a good boy.
Look at those paws, huge.
Narcissus (don't remember which one - could be a Poetaz type
Auricula
This space was cleared so the painters could get to the foundation. The two dark snaky looking things are the shoots of Lillium auratum, a nice dark red one. I'm getting some more bulbs from Rotary and will make this a lily area, where the house walls will concentrate the scent and it's shaded from hot afternoon sun.
Tulipa 'Ile de France' fabulous deep raspberry colour
Delicate corydalis
Flowering currant - this is an old favourite, it reminds me of my childhood garden. It has a love/hate smell, like blackcurrants and cat's pee.
Freesias - very luxurious, sort of like gardenia only much easier to grow
Dwarf iris
Lemon shades of polyanthus - note morning coffee cup in background, thought I'd get out and enjoy the peace and quiet before my feckin' neighbour starts up his feckin' machinery.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Tulips arrive
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Spring is going too fast! A bout of really warm weather has everything bursting out, and the first tulips have started; usually in a cold spring they come after the main daffodil show, but this year they're coming out at the same time. It's almost going too fast to really appreciate. I can't remember what the deep orange one is at the top of this post, but wow! what a stunner. The picture just above is of the Baroque Border. I've decided to be very pretentious and name my beds the way that large gardens and self-important gardeners do. The Baroque Border is called so, because it is the shape of a baroque volute, like the volutes on Santa Maria della Salute in Venice. I have a Georgian Border, because it is the shape of a Regency fanlight, and a Crinkum-Crankum Border because it wobbles. To say nothing of L'Orto, (the vegetable garden) and the Pear Rondel, the circle of plants around the bottom of the pear tree, and Et in Arcadia Ego, where the urn lives, a reference to Poussin's famous painting. I'll have to think of some other high-falutin' names - the Sunken Garden perhaps for the muddy bit that floods in winter, La Source for the garden tap, the Daffodil Lawn for the tiny lawn with only one daffodil in it. The Iris Garden, the Lily Garden, the Rose Garden, the Azalea Lawn all make it sound like a huge place instead of a tiny patch crammed indiscriminately with stuff.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Punctuality rant
We were holding a workshop today. Everyone had been emailed with the start time (1.00pm) and where to meet. OK. All will go swimmingly. Except I get a phone call about 25 past 1 from a woman phoning from the other information office saying she had been to the rendezvous and there was no-one there. Sigh. What time were you there? I ask. Oh, I was just a little late, and now I'm missing the first part of the workshop. Just a little late. Lady, you are twenty-five minutes late, they thought you weren't coming and have moved off. If you are missing the first part of the workshop, you only have yourself to blame. You are not so important that other people will wait for you. I hate to burst your bubble, but it's true. YOU ARE NOT SO IMPORTANT THAT OTHER PEOPLE WILL WAIT FOR YOU.
New Zealanders are particularly bad at showing up on time. I can't count how many films I have been to where the first ten minutes have been marred by shuffling, dark figures etched against the screen, accompanied by whispered "'Excuse me... sorry... excuse me.... sorry, sorry...excuse me". No, we do not excuse you and saying sorry is not good enough. Even worse when said dark figures have large boxes of popcorn with them. You could get here in time if you hadn't been thinking of stuffing yourself full of noxious foodstuffs. If you had time to buy popcorn, you had time to be here, seated, with the rest of us. We've got this annoying "she'll be right" attitude, that says that little things don't matter and why should we worry about them. This was probably OK back in pioneer days, when life was about roughing out the outline of something new, but we suffer in the modern world, which is all about details and scheduling.
We're not the only ones though. I once watched one of those "Lousiest airline in the world" type programmes on TV, and saw a Very Important Businessman ( a complete nobody) get very annoyed because he was 20 minutes late and the airline had not kept his plane waiting for him! The cheek of it! They had the gall to think that the other 200 passengers were as important as him. How do people get to be so deluded, as to think that the whole schedule of an international travel carrier, and the plans of hundreds if not thousands of other people would be changed for them, for ONE person? What sort of upbringing, what sort of pandering to do they receive in life to think this way? I just don't understand some people. Well, quite a lot of people, really. It's enough to make me think I've got some form of Aspergers. Am I missing something here?
New Zealanders are particularly bad at showing up on time. I can't count how many films I have been to where the first ten minutes have been marred by shuffling, dark figures etched against the screen, accompanied by whispered "'Excuse me... sorry... excuse me.... sorry, sorry...excuse me". No, we do not excuse you and saying sorry is not good enough. Even worse when said dark figures have large boxes of popcorn with them. You could get here in time if you hadn't been thinking of stuffing yourself full of noxious foodstuffs. If you had time to buy popcorn, you had time to be here, seated, with the rest of us. We've got this annoying "she'll be right" attitude, that says that little things don't matter and why should we worry about them. This was probably OK back in pioneer days, when life was about roughing out the outline of something new, but we suffer in the modern world, which is all about details and scheduling.
We're not the only ones though. I once watched one of those "Lousiest airline in the world" type programmes on TV, and saw a Very Important Businessman ( a complete nobody) get very annoyed because he was 20 minutes late and the airline had not kept his plane waiting for him! The cheek of it! They had the gall to think that the other 200 passengers were as important as him. How do people get to be so deluded, as to think that the whole schedule of an international travel carrier, and the plans of hundreds if not thousands of other people would be changed for them, for ONE person? What sort of upbringing, what sort of pandering to do they receive in life to think this way? I just don't understand some people. Well, quite a lot of people, really. It's enough to make me think I've got some form of Aspergers. Am I missing something here?
Thursday, September 6, 2012
The Bats - Block of Wood
This is interesting for those of us in Christchurch. Besides the song being a great blast from the past, the building in the vid., the old ANZ Chambers building in High Street, is now totally destroyed, as are many of the other buildings pictured. This was filmed during the mid-eighties, before High Street became trendy, when it was still the sleazy end of town. The Sunrise Massage Parlour occupied the second floor of the building, with a brief appearance as a Mexican restaurant run by the owner of the parlour, staffed by some of the girls. Ex and I had a shop on the ground floor, and one day the spa pool in the parlour upstairs ruptured sending floods of water down into our shop. The plumbers were terrified they'd get AIDS! There were several fire callouts too, as the scantily clad girls lit the fire in the upstairs fireplace to get warm. Passersby reported that the building was on fire, not expecting that a commercial building would have a chimney. There's a facebook site about High Street now, trying to get it back on its feet. But sadly much of the area's notable character buildings have been demolished, so getting back to that funky vibe will be difficult.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
OOOps
Just managed to post a clip of Madeleine Kahn singing "I'm tired" to a very serious blog that I guested on a few months ago! Managed to delete it within seconds. Hah, talk about inappropriate, the blog's owner might be wondering what the Hell is this? Or he might quite like it. Who wouldn't like the Teutonic Temptress, Lily Von Schtupp? Will try to post on this blog, for your amusement.
Monday, September 3, 2012
White daffodils
One of the stranger complaints I've received at the Gardens is that we had too many white daffodils, and not enough yellow ones. A woman came in and asked if white daffodils turned yellower as they opened. The answer was no. "Then some fool must have gone crazy with the white ones" she replied.
This person was under the impression that all 'real' daffodils are bright yellow - the old King Alfred strain that, although cheerful, can be a bit loud in some settings. Woodland, for example. I've written before about Wordsworth's daffodils, and that what he saw would in no way be bright yellow King Alfreds, but the quieter, paler "Lent lily", Narcissus pseudo-narcissus, that is native to England.
There are so many narcissus cultivars now that it seems a pity to just plant swathes of one kind. The paler narcissus are quietly refreshing, and 'good-doers' too. I'm enjoying a white narcissus called 'Thalia' at the moment - it really is lovely, almost orchid-like. Unfortunately, it seems to have a virus causing little brown marks on leaves and flowers, so I should destroy the bulbs after flowering, or put them in quarantine in some out of the way place and see what happens next year.
P.S. Noticed that the pansies planted in the same pot also have a virus-y look. Perhaps there's something in the soil. Must throw the soil out and scrub the pot well.
This person was under the impression that all 'real' daffodils are bright yellow - the old King Alfred strain that, although cheerful, can be a bit loud in some settings. Woodland, for example. I've written before about Wordsworth's daffodils, and that what he saw would in no way be bright yellow King Alfreds, but the quieter, paler "Lent lily", Narcissus pseudo-narcissus, that is native to England.
Narcissus 'Thalia'
P.S. Noticed that the pansies planted in the same pot also have a virus-y look. Perhaps there's something in the soil. Must throw the soil out and scrub the pot well.
Just picked this morning, delicate pale narcissus and a few hellebores. Most of this bouquet are 'Earlicheer' with 'Thalia', one 'Soleil d'Or and some unnamed daffodils from previous gardeners.
Magnolia 'San Jose' is in its last magnificent throes, this photo was taken from the conservatory (the best viewing place) hence the odd window reflection at the bottom. And the end of my washing line, which should be full of drying cushion covers if only I can get off my bum and go and wash them!
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Spirited away
Im having an easy, lazy day today. All the moving and cleaning has given me a backache and I woke up feeling sore and achy and washed out, sure signs that I'm overdoing things. So I had breakfast and went back to bed. Someone rang my doorbell (no this is not an euphemism) about 9.20, so if it was you, sorry I didn't answer. It's great that my doorbell goes again, should stop people from hammering on the glass door.
Started watching 'Spirited away' the other night, but it was too scary! This is one of the Studio Ghibli movies that I haven't seen, and I really like them. 'Ponyo' is probably my favourite, I love the part where she's running on the waves that become giant fish, but 'Princess Mononoke' is also great. (If I took up cosplay I'd be Princess Mononoke, although my figure is more like Ponyo's). But back to the scariness of Spirited away, the Japanese do a great line in spirits and ghosts and creepy things. I guess they're scarier to me because they are not culturally familiar - vampires, yawn, ghosts, yawn, zombies, yawn.
A Japanese story I read many years ago has always stayed with me as the epitome of horror. A young prince, riding across the rice fields in a secluded valley, comes upon a beautiful peasant girl, and instantly falls in love. Unspeaking, she beckons him up into the nearby forested hills. He follows, entrapped, enraptured, hoping no doubt that she has plans to consummate their attachment. After much time she stops at the site of an old rundown hut; no one has lived there for many years. He follows her to the door of the hut, she pauses at the threshold, and turns to him, passing her hand over her beautiful face, which then becomes as smooth and white and featureless as the surface of an egg. The prince recoils in horror; he has followed a demoness to her lair! She disappears, and the forest echoes with hideous mocking laughter.
I don't know what becomes of the prince after that. I guess it would put him off beautiful peasant girls for some time.
Started watching 'Spirited away' the other night, but it was too scary! This is one of the Studio Ghibli movies that I haven't seen, and I really like them. 'Ponyo' is probably my favourite, I love the part where she's running on the waves that become giant fish, but 'Princess Mononoke' is also great. (If I took up cosplay I'd be Princess Mononoke, although my figure is more like Ponyo's). But back to the scariness of Spirited away, the Japanese do a great line in spirits and ghosts and creepy things. I guess they're scarier to me because they are not culturally familiar - vampires, yawn, ghosts, yawn, zombies, yawn.
A Japanese story I read many years ago has always stayed with me as the epitome of horror. A young prince, riding across the rice fields in a secluded valley, comes upon a beautiful peasant girl, and instantly falls in love. Unspeaking, she beckons him up into the nearby forested hills. He follows, entrapped, enraptured, hoping no doubt that she has plans to consummate their attachment. After much time she stops at the site of an old rundown hut; no one has lived there for many years. He follows her to the door of the hut, she pauses at the threshold, and turns to him, passing her hand over her beautiful face, which then becomes as smooth and white and featureless as the surface of an egg. The prince recoils in horror; he has followed a demoness to her lair! She disappears, and the forest echoes with hideous mocking laughter.
I don't know what becomes of the prince after that. I guess it would put him off beautiful peasant girls for some time.
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