Please excuse the absence of late – I’ve had more than the usual amount of work to do, having taken on various quick (or so I thought) projects that I don’t seem to be able to perform quickly at all. I have some juicy blog posts lined up in my head, but they will just have to wait until this run is over and I can get back to selfishly thinking about nothing but my own work.
In the meantime a few things: the wind took my broadband again and I can’t blame Telstra this time – a tree beside my office, which is on council land (the tree not my office), has numerous cables running through its very bushy branches, including our power and phone. We’re lucky it’s only been our broadband affected so far – a really big storm could take it all out in one gust. I’m about to see if I can get the council to cut the offending tree down, which seems a shame, but I promise to plant another somewhere else to make up for it.
Speaking of trees, the cabbage trees were in full bloom in South Canterbury where I was in the weekend, and our splendid and miraculous kauri tree (supposedly they don’t grow this far south very easily) is sprouting fabulous new leaves and looking very happy with itself.
Finally a note about one of my previous posts The Serendipity of Writing: not two days before I made that post, probably because I had been thinking about the Pan Bookshop, I wondered to myself what might have happened to a friend I met when I was working there. Alexander worked in another bookshop (Books Etc I think) and we met over champagne at the Ritz for the launch of a racy Dick Francis novel, a shop girl and shop boy slightly at odds with the surroundings (though I do recall he had made an effort to dress up in a suit while I was still in my rags).
I tried unsuccessfully to find him on Facebook, and I googled him, but didn’t trust that the email address I found for him was current, so left it at that.
Then lo and behold, a post appears on my blog from an Alexander. It couldn’t be, I thought. It was. It seems serendipity isn’t just at play in my writing at the moment. We had decided at almost the exact same time to track each other down more than ten years later.
The Next Word: Contemporary New Zealand Poetry
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