Rambles from World's End

Well would you look at that 2013 has come to a close all of a sardine like! Bang! So begins a new year. As I look back and reflect on the year that was it is apparent that it truly was my year to "just be." My time this year has gone into routines and day-to-day chores. No extras, nothing special and no reflections to blog about. I actually managed to achieve nothing, which, when you think about it, means I achieved exactly what I set out to achieve! 2013 was my year to float and I did it with aplomb! On reflection I believe I did myself a favour because I am really looking forward to the New Year and am ready to face any challenge and to challenge myself, I have a long list of goals to squash into the next three hundred and sixty four and a quarter days! I am gonna take this bull by the horns and throw it out the window of the china shop! 2014 is going to be our positive year, I am going to spend the New Year looking only at the positive with the help from an aweso

My parents are celebrating their 70 th birthdays this November. They have been alive for almost three quarters of a century, born during a time when the world was at war and in total chaos; they have seen and experienced many changes to their way of life. They will endure many a remark about their advancing age good-naturedly and   I am sure they have the odd retort ready to reply when the time is right.   I paused here for a moment to answer the request of a two year old and while I was attending to her needs, I thought "Seventy! Wow!” These two remarkable individuals have a living history, a history that is both unique to each individually and a common history. These two people can relate a lesson, a memory or a time in history of which they themselves were a part. They could regale their grandchildren with stories of their youth, back before there was even television never mind “Smart phones” and IBM. I think my Lollipop would be horrified at the thought considering

There is one lesson I believe is very important to teach my children and that is the importance of seeing something through to the end.   When the Butterfly asks to do something that will take time and dedication I always make a point of telling her she has to finish what she begins. I do not believe that she will learn anything if she does not follow through to the end. Which is not to say she doesn’t try to get out of things, like mopping the kitchen floor, once she starts and realises it’s a lot harder than it looks.   When she was little, I was happy to help her finish, but now with her at school  whatever she starts she has no choice but to finish on her own. Last cricket season the Butterfly was very eager to play cricket but half way through the season she began to make noises about not playing. Now as much as I would have been very happy to have my Saturday mornings back I dug in my heels and told her she had to see the season through. My main point was that she was part

As one daughter leaves her baby years behind the other hurtles through the terrible twos with the speed and force of a tropical cyclone. What a handful of nonsense our beautiful calm little Lollipop has become In company she retreats into herself and climbs onto my lap to bury her head in my neck in the hopes of not been seen by strangers. Or, with some coaxing, she will sit with her sister in her bedroom and play. But alone with her family she is almost unstoppable. The neighbour’s cat has begrudgingly given up his sunning spot on our trampoline because the Lollipop has trapped him in there a few too many times. In her delight and eagerness to touch the cat, I think she has almost dislocated his tail or maybe dug an eye out. Fortunately for her he is a placid old boy who never retaliates, just tried to run away. She had figured out that to get into her sister's room where all the fun stuff, like felt tip pens and paints are, she just has to pull down the door handle. To

It’s the beginning of the October school holidays; I should be relaxed and looking forward to stress-free mornings and no packed lunches. But I’m tense and in limbo I am expecting rain and cabin fever, lots of fighting and far too much children’s television. In my desire to put off opening the curtains and see the rain I began to unpack the dishes from a dishwasher I had forgotten to switch on the night before. “Here please take your juice.” I said to the Butterfly while I tried to disengage my leg from a Lollipop who was insisting on a chocolate at six in the morning! To which she calmly replied “Actually mum I am guessing that’s actually Papa’s coffee you’re giving me!” I put the kettle in the fridge, who hasn’t? I filled the sugar bowl with rice, tried to dress the Lollipop in the Butterfly’s clothes and even put my underwear in the Butterfly’s draw. I took the wrong trolley babies and all while their mother happily filled my trolley with her shopping. I gave the Mauritian

It is a lazy Sunday morning; it is a warm spring day. The girls are squealing at each other as they run through the sprinkler enjoying the feel of icy water on sun warmed skin. The kettle is boiling, the dishwasher is thumping, and the washing machine is hissing the housework never stops. The Mauritian is slouched on the sofa listening to “Ole Blue Eyes” as he beseeches “Come Fly with Me” through custom-built loudspeakers. I should be attending to the mountain of unsorted laundry that has accumulated this past week but such gorgeous weather finds me outside in the sun reflecting on life and living. I should be playing mother and satisfying the hunger of my two children but I am too content to move. I would not have believed it if I had been told that one day I would be this happy, that life, as complicated as it is, would ever be this good. Now don’t get me wrong there are days when I could quite easily chuck it all in and become a hermit. There are times when things are just to

The children of Central School ushered in the spring with their annual school cross-country event today. The Lollipop and I strolled up to the park to support the not-so-keen-to-run Butterfly. We were well equipped with juice, snacks, and a picnic blanket to relax on while we waited. Boy did we wait! Against the norm for the school, they were running horribly behind schedule and things seemed a little disorganised. This did not suit our Lollipop, who had sat happily on the blanket chomping on her picnic brunch but an hour of waiting was enough. Eventually the Butterfly and her class got their turn to do their cross-country run and true to form, our Butterfly was the slow and steady tortoise who brought in the rear. Her little cheeks were glowing red and her forehead was shiny with sweat but she still managed to crack a smile and waved enthusiastically at her sister who was jumping about squealing with delight at having seen her. I was doubly proud of her today because she really wa

Easter this year was shaping up to be bright and warm and cheerful but true to Easter weekends of memory Sunday it rained. Still Easter Sunday has been warm and cheerful despite the rain. Very different from most Easter weekends I remember. I've never found Easter memorable here it’s always been a bit heavy and dull. While I was charging around the house on Saturday morning, trying to do housework around the family I was reflecting on why Easter holds little meaning to me now. Just to clarify I am not talking from a religious perspective but merely from my own human perspective. I think now that I can look back with no emotion I realise that our first Easter here was rather horrid. Though physically we had moved countries and into our new home and for the Mauritian a new job, emotionally we were still way behind. We were lonely that Easter, it was cold, raining and damp. We were very unprepared for how cold it would be, we were expecting to be cold we just had no idea how cold

Like her mother before her the Butterfly is not the most agile or athletic child. Unlike her mother, however she is enthusiastic and game for almost anything. The Butterfly will give it a go if everyone else is.   The Butterfly loves themed days at school and has happily dressed up as a pirate, a Christmas elf, or a Butterfly Princess and worn a bazaar wig to a disco. Her first month at primary school she took part in the school cross country with boundless enthusiasm. The Mauritian was instructed that she needed new trainers and I was told she needed comfortable clothes to run in. The Mauritian bought her a brand new pair of trainers; I just dressed her in her same clothes. In the days before the event, the children trained daily with their class and we were given a daily report of her progress.   My heart almost burst with pride on the day, she put her head down and just ran. Two circuits of the cricket field at Pukakura Park and not once did she stop to walk or get distract

Those among us who do not have a Kiwi upbringing think the Hakka is just a silly thing the All Blacks do before the start of a rugby match. Now we all know it is of pacific origin and most assume it is some kind of war dance. Living here at world's end I have learnt very little else about the Hakka or its origins, but I have learnt this: There is a lot of power and emotion in a Hakka and with every movement there is a story. I am learning slowly to appreciate its beauty. The uniqueness of the Hakka unites Kiwis worldwide when it matters most. Even during the Rugby world cup it has the power to draw in even those who have no interest in rugby, everyone sits down to watch the All Blacks perform a Hakka!   Last year at Central School’s final assemble boys aged eleven and twelve stood up proud and performed a Hakka loudly and with joy in their faces they had made it through another year of school, they were well and truly ready for their holiday and it showed in every movement

So I’m sitting here at home on a lovely warm autumn afternoon, Carter’s Window is crooning through the Mauritian’s custom   built loud speakers and I’m thinking life just doesn’t get any better than this! We’re home from a busy, tiring, extremely sweaty and sometime stressful six-week tropical holiday. Our Little Lollipop is no longer a baby; she’s a walking talking screaming bundle of character and personality. The Butterfly is a smiling, intelligent if sometimes insolent growing child seemingly unfazed by life. The Mauritian is tearing along at his place of employment alternately loving and hating it but giving it all he’s got regardless. He’s home on the weekends and our time is our own and the girls demand every spare moment he has. Me, I couldn’t be more content, our struggles to settle into life at World’s End and to make a place for us is over. I no longer worry about the Butterfly fitting in or if we’ll be warm enough this winter. In fact things seems so right at the moment