Overwhelmed

(Post cards for sale out of the postgraduate geography department)

Word: Free-lance- Working for different companies at different times rather than being permanently employed by one company

Book: Between Tides-Jewellery by Alan Preston, Photos by Julia Brooke-White

Julia Brooke-White is my flatmate/landlord. She is a free-lance photographer.

Julia loves islands- particularly Raoul Island- 1000km from Auckland. I’m told that extremely formal golf is a required activity on Sundays.

While vacuuming the house a lovely book was asking to be picked up. The title page was signed by the artist himself, how interesting. Flipping back to the photography credits Julia is cited on practically every page. It’s lovely, find it if you can.

Julia is a woman of many talents. Her baking fills the house with whole-wheat warmness. She is a storehouse of information about islands in NZ and the Pacific. Her friends just as interesting. At the moment Julia is trekking with 15 other buddies up North. Upon the arrival of one particular friend, Julia was presented with a handsome throw, personally sheered and hand knitted from un-dyed wool. Who knew sheep could be so many different colors?

Past flatmates have come over for a visit- good to see everyone is still friends. There are heaps of spiders around, apparently the old flattie got really into spiders. Once or twice the image of spider Sodom and Gomorrah ran through my head whilst vacuuming today. Being Sunday, the spiders will live off of grace for another week.

Julia is gone for 6 days, so the place is in my hands. This will happen more often than not. The wind keeps me company. A strange buzzing noise was coming out of the kitchen not too long ago- after convincing myself it was not the plums hitting the roof an investigation ensued. Poor bugger- stuck in the sink, a bit hopeless, sat a frustrated cicada. These things get everywhere; their drone-like mating call is just as pervasive. Insects aside, would be attracted to their racket is beyond me. Come to think of it, do cicadas have a sex? In all good intentions to save mr/mrs cicada I killed it in the process. Sort of like over-evangelizing? Cluster cuss!

Wellington’s summer is bright (note the hole in the ozone) and active. Young people room the streets beer in hand. Activates abound, athletes run the city. After a long weekend of painting & walking it is time to hit the books- imbibing knowledge in a formal sense…