An inside job

My partner and I are preparing for the imminent arrival of our baby daughter. This largely involves the drafting of complicated lists that require multiple visits to Baby City, and sharing our bed with a pregnancy pillow that resembles a gargantuan pair of plushy fake legs (amazingly comfortable for me, not so much for Mister).

Being first-time parents over 40 means that most of our friends have already had kids, so we’ve gone all in and signed up to every baby/birthing class out there. Antenatal, breastfeeding, calm birth, virtual visits to the hospital, endless questions for our amazing midwife … you get the picture. Continue reading

Time can never mend

Rob and I were driving to my sister’s house in Martinborough on Boxing Day morning 2016 when I read that George Michael had died. I’d been scrolling through my Facebook feed mindlessly and came across one of those – fuck you 2016 – posts, followed by a link to a press release with minimal details but enough to know it wasn’t a rumour. I said, “oh my god George Michael is dead, what the fuck”, then promptly burst into tears. Like, proper, I’ve just lost a true, old friend tears. Continue reading

My two cents on Mr Hosking

When you were a kid, and you found something revolting/gross/untenable/intensely dislikeable, the easiest verb to use was hate. Short, simple, effective. Inevitably the nearest adult would say something like, “hate is a very strong word”, and you’d learn gradually that language is powerful and can harm. Indeed, hate is a word that when affixed to speech or certain actions, has the ability to cause immeasurable damage. Continue reading

Learning to drive

I was something of a late bloomer when it came to getting my driver’s license. I think it was because I lived in central Wellington and most places were a short walk away. When I was 24 I moved to London for 10 years, and there was zero need for a gas guzzler as I lived and worked in zones one and two the whole time I was there. As for those trips outside the M25, there was always someone else on hand to be the grownup driver. Continue reading

Mr Plug n Play and the art of DAAO

About a month ago I was on my way to work through the Wellington CBD and stopped at busy traffic lights. Across the road, a young suited man stepped out into the stream of cars, seemingly oblivious to the laws of traffic. His demeanour reeked of Gordon Ghecko, amplified by the fact that he was holding his phone in front of his face and talking loudly into the microphone bit. As he came towards me he started guffawing into his device and said loudly to the caller, “sweet, so essentially you’re a plug’n’play CEO, nice way to maximise your time efficiency bro.” Continue reading