Merry Christmas!

 Hi there

We are just about the first country in the world (I don't know about The South Pole) to ring in Christmas.  Our time zone is earlier than every other country.   I love ringing up my friends in England and showing off that I've already seen the televised King's Speech ahead of them, and I tell them all about it

We're 12 hours ahead of Engand.  So when I go to bed this evening at 10 pm on Christmas night, it will be 10 a.m for people in England who will be waking up on  Christmas morning.  (The time could be one hour out allowing for any daylight saving change in either country).  The time stamp on this blog is USA time because it's a USA programme (or should I go all American and say 'program?)

I went to The Old Bailey pub for Christmas lunch today.  It was a buffet and was set out all lovely and Christmassy.

As I type this in New Zealand, the time is 4.20 pm on Christmas Day.

above:  Christmas lunch Old Bailey pub.

PS.  The time stamp on this entry may change because I have gone back in a day later to correct something.

Bob. Our friend.

 RIP, Bob.    The Karori Senior Social Drama Group will miss your cheeky smile when you liked to remind us that your name looked the same whether it was written backwards or forwards ...

December.

 Hi there

I remember how much my father loved December.  He lifted me, as a small one, onto his shoulders and we would happily listen to the Salvation Army band play Christmas carols on a Newtown street.  I envied the Sallie ladies swinging their tambourines.

"I want a tambourine," I had said.  And then I quickly forgot about that particular want.

But that Christmas there was a little kiddie tambourine under the tree.  It was later  confiscated by a teacher at Newtown School primers because I insisted on playing it in class.  But I got the tambourine back a day later -  Thanks Dad for taking on Mr Brown.

Oh, and what about the time Dad woke me up on Christmas Eve - ?

"Quick! Quick!  Get out of bed.  Father Christmas was just here."

He threw up a window.  And to this day, at the end of 2025, I still swear I saw reindeer hoof prints in the dirt of our veggie garden...

.....

Stressed waiting for Christmas

 Hi there

Well, here we are again, with another Christmas on the horizon.  The shops are crowded, everybody looks stressed out.  Are we worried by it all?  Will we find those last minute Christmas presents?  Will our friends and loved ones like what we've finally bought for them?  Have we got the right age group presents?  Will grandpa wonder why he's got a Thomas the Thank Engine set, whilst five year old Mary Sue has a tantrum because she received a photo collection book of naughty bikini pin-up images from the 1940's?

I'm tearing my hair out -

above: a favourite magnet of mine.

Those shop assistants again

  Hi there

You'll know by now how much I adore greeting shop assistants who admire something I'm wearing.  They obviously learn in shop assistant school that if they admire an item of my clothing or jewellery, or gush over something I want to buy,  it will cement the pair of us as friends for life.

In the past, I've mentioned hilarious times this has happened to me.  But here's a couple more-

In Whakatane recently I went into a boutique shop: women's clothing, jewellery, knick-knacks, a small selection of shoes, that sort of thing. 

The older woman assistant probed me for what I was looking for.

"A blue t-shirt," I said.  I didn't really want her help.  Surely I could find a t-shirt in this tiny shop without her hovering? 

She pulled a t-shirt out from a rack. It had a v-neck. 

"No, I want a round neck," I said.

"Oh I love round necks," she said.

"A scoop neck," I added.

"I adore scoop necks."

"And I don't like long sleeves."

"Goodness, neither do I."

"I sometimes cut down long sleeves," I said.

"Me too!"

***

...and a couple of weeks back I was in a Wellington clothing store.  Here's how a conversation went:

Shop Assistant:  Oh, your ear-rings are an unusual colour?

Me:     I got them at a market.

Shop Assistant:   I could tell that.

...and I still can't figure out whether her last line was an insult or a compliment?