1982 Jaguar XJ6

The thing about driving a 1982 Jaguar XJ6 is that it's very tempting to spend every single penny you earn making it even more gorgeous.

Just before Alex gave it to me the back of the driver's seat collapsed. Dramatically. While he was driving up he motorway at Jag speed (which is not the statutory 100 KMPH). Eventually we got a new seat for it (it's like waiting for a new liver for your child - you're thankful for it when it comes but you feel guilty hoping for it too much because it means that someone elses' child had to die).

Eventually another XJ6 with navy leather seats carked it though and it was game on. And I got the new front seat and it was bee you tee full. And I wanted all of my seats to match it. So I asked the guy about the rest of the seats from the recently deceased and he named his price. It wasn't an exorbitant price but was in the middle of my intensive chiropratoring and so I only went to get them today.

But he didn't install them.

I didn't realise but the last time when he did, he was doing me a favour. So now I am driving my car around with seats in the back seat.

This is silly.

Procrastination

Having to write a speech is like having to study. I'll do ANYTHING to avoid it apparantly. On Tuesday I need to give an eight to ten minute, motivational speech without notes. It is now almost seven on Sunday evening and I have about six minutes written and none memorised. I'm not sure what I'm going to talk about for the final four minutes.

I am sure, however, that the bathroom is clean, the dishes are done, all of my laundry is complete, the floors are swept, the house is aired, my earrings are colour coded and the couches have been vacuumed. I have dinner arranged with friends for tomorrow night and am hoping to go to the pub tonight to support a friend play a gig. I have just come from a different pub where I supported different friends in a different gig. And now I'm writing this blog. I am also monitoring an online auction to buy cat bowls, cooking dinner and thinking about rearranging the bookcases.

Disclaimer

Some of my posts make generalisations about nations. This has caused a REACTION. I should clarify.

When I refer to Scottish immigrants who had to continue going South in NZ until they found somewhere they could be just as miserable...

I AM talking about: the kinds of Scottish immigrants who were fleeing persecution because their faith and / or temperament meant that they hated dancing, singing, drinking, shagging and having a good time.

I AM NOT talking about: every single Scottish person I have, in fact, ever met. Because they are the exact opposite to the above and in fact spend ALL of their time dancing, singing, drinking, shagging and having a good time.

I think that's why the other lot left.

Thank Crunchie

It's Friday It's Friday It's Friday.

I know that this probably says that it isn't on the time and date stamp for this blog because it's on American time or summit but it is Friday in NZ and it's about fricking time too. Oh the benefits of being ahead of the rest of the world!

This week has been super speedy and super long at the same time and I had a big weekend last weekend so it started off with a very tired Lorraine and I am GLAD GLAD GLAD that it's over.

I do have eight hours of work to get through before I can really relax but realistically- Friday is the day when you start to chill out. People are more relaxed at work, there are fewer meetings and you get all the niggly crap done so you can start Monday with a Whizz Bang.

Or something similar. Perhaps not weeping is a more achievable first step.

Migraine

A few months ago I started to get migraines. The ones that blur your vision and make you want to slap the face of the person speaking to you because they don't have a migraine and so are perfectly comfortable SHRIEKING at you about some shite that you couldn't give care less about anyway because you have a migraine. Life consuming. So I saw a doctor and she asked me to look to my left and look to my right and then pointed out that the range of movement in my neck was similar to the range of movement in a glacier. She referred me to a chiropractor.

He sent me for xrays and established that my spine is munted. I was hit by a car when I was only wee you see. It chucked me high in the air and I landed on my bum and it literally knocked my shoes off. I went to hospital at the time and the doctors gathered around and called me a miracle and shook their heads. My parents just shook.

But here I am, 20 years later and finally the miracle has worn off and as it turns out, ignoring the occssional twinge that feels like someone has snook up behind me and stuck something long but blunt between the vertebrae of my neck has been a mistake.

So I needed to see Dr Iain three times a week for four weeks. This was expensive and meant that my trip to the chiropractor became pretty much my only form of socialising for a while. I also had to suspend my gym membership because there was to be none of that - oh no.

The migraines have stopped, I have the neck range of a 40 year old as opposed to a 75 year old and I only see Dr Iain once a week. So I have been drinking like a fish, dancing like a shamen and doing gym classes that frankly I'm not designed for.

I feel like I've been beaten up and have concluded that I was healthier when I was having teeth jarring migraines.

Under pressure

I have just sent the link to this blog to lots of people and am now feeling the pressure to write something witty and erudite that simultaneously updates you on my entire life and illustrates my top ten political views.

This is an unrealistic expectation of myself though so I might just blurt out some shite.

I am about to give my tenth prepared speach in the Toastmasters programme. Anyone not aware, this is an international public speaking programme and there are literally thousands of clubs around the world including ANZ Auckland which I am a founding member of and the Vice President Publicity. I've been a member for two years now and it's been ace. I joined to improve impromtu speaking but the key benefit has been the shit sandwich.

EVERY time you speak in TM you get evaluated by someone and the standard formula is to commend the speaker on something they've done well, recommend some area they could improve and finish with another commendation. A shit sandwich. If you haven't tried this, you have NO idea how effective it is. I have used it at work, on friends, on shop assistants, countless customer services representatives and even my cats on occassion. Very effective.

Great to see you again, shame you were a bit late because I have to dash, but we really need to catch up soon because I'm dying to hear all your news.

Thanks for the proposal, it really was very interesting to learn about the benefits of tropical fish reproduction and how that relates to the asset finance industry, our sponsorship calendar was finalised six months ago unfortunately but I'll be watching the industry papers to see how your fascinating Guppy experiment works out.

Thanks so much for feeding the cats, they're going to love you because you feed them so much more than they need, look how happy you've made them.

Do you see how it works? It's choice.

Except I recently had an experience where it didn't work. I was trying to provide feedback which was in essence "Stop stealing my stuff or I'll break your legs" But I wrapped it too thoroughly in bread and she didn't get it. She just kept stealing my stuff.

Did I mention that I have a new flatmate?

Cold Mountain

It turns out that I'm not quite finished on the cold topic as I arrived into work and the air conditioning was on the "It's 1200 degrees outside- we should over compensate" setting even though it is actually about ten degrees outside. So it's cold at work too.

A few years ago I read an article in the paper that I often refer to when this type of weather gets discussed.

For those of you who are not kiwis- some background. Otago University is one of the biggest, oldest and most prestigious unis in NZ. It is situated in Dunedin. They say that when the Scots got to NZ they arrived in Auckland and said, "Oh no. This is far too nice and warm, this will never do." So the moved on to Wellington and said, "Well the wind would remove your eyelids and it's a bit colder, but no, we're not quite there yet." So they moved on to Dunedin and said, "Ah yes, this is just right. Somewhere we can be just as miserable." The end.

And yet they still refuse to have central heating.

A study showed that the temperature in the average student accomodation is two degrees colder than the temperature reccommended by the World Health Organisation as the minimum for healthy living. One student profiled was staying in a flat so badly insulated and draughty that on a standard winter's evening the scientists showed that she would have been warmer sleeping in her fridge than in her bedroom.

No central heating. None.

Very lovely house

I am sitting in my house - which is a very lovely house - in NZ. It has hard wood floors, two living areas, three fireplaces (one in my bedroom), big sash windows, a big bathroom and kitchen, funky paintwork and a huge garden.

And it is the coldest place in the known world.

NZ is a semi tropical country. It gets warm in Summer. Unlike Ireland, it actually gets a summer. Everyone knows this. Everyone talks about this. The nation celebrates this by throwing themselves with alacrity into pretty much every outdoor sport know to man. And then beating every other nation who has ever played this sport.

Then winter starts. And you mention that it's Winter. Those Kiwis who have done their OE jostle your elbow and say, "Oh yes but it's nothing like London/Dublin/ Fill In At Random. You should be used to it. This is nothing. Balmy even." Those who haven't kind of look into the middle distance and act as if you've just mentioned your terrible case of intestinal worms or that time you were stranded on a dessert island and were forced to eat a small but brilliant child to survive. And then they return to their draughty villas, with rattling windows, gaps under doors the cat can squeeze through and UNDER NO CICUMSTANCES ANY CENTRAL HEATING.

So I have the fire blazing and it heats five centemetres in front of itself and the rest goes out into the hall, out the window or through the doorless doorway into the second living area. And I am sitting three metres away because it really is a lovely roomy house freezing my arse off despite two jumpers and some ugg boots.

I have a glass of red wine that is colder than the white wine my flatmate just took form the fridge and when we went outside to measure the driveway to see if the firewood delivery truck will fit in on Saturday, it was warmer outside!

Flattie

We have a new flatmate. Claire who lived with me while Kerry went home to Ireland has moved back in.

So we are now in an all girls flat. Comprising of the following:

Kerry: 29, Irish. I've known her since I was four and we were in low babies together. She likes chocolate, walks on the beach and romantic comedies. She dislikes mushrooms, all other vegetables that are remotely interesting, Drew Barrymore's voice, meat and non-crisp based foods.

Claire: 29, English. I've known her for a year when she responded to an ad for a flatmate. She likes posing as a children's entertainer in photos, the drop the debt campaign and baby Jesus. She dislikes ginger in sweet things, Rowan Atkinson, Bill Oddie, Frank Spencer and people who judge.

***** MY FLATTIES DICTATED THIS BIT******

Lorraine: 29, Irish. I like cleaning obsessively, cats (obviously), cooking, literature, inviting everyone I know to my house for dinner, earrings, bling and gold handbags. I dislike people who steal my mushrooms, cruelty to animals, cigarette butts in the toilet and rhubarb

Sick and homesick

I've been sick. Proper sick with vomiting and migrane and not being able to sit up to drink water. Crap sick.

If there is ANYTHING in the world guaranteed to make you miss your mammy, it's being sick. Whenever I was sick, right up until moving out of home, my mum would bring me a bed tray with scrambled eggs on toast, orange juice, tea, water and two panadol.

Never mind that I couldn't have held down scrambled eggs with buttery toast and a cup of tea, never mind that when I tried to take panadol they came right back up again, never mind that I'm now allergic to orange juice, never mind that I'm almost thirty, I wanted that tray of food in my single bed in Dublin brought by my mammy- and that's all there is to it.

Stop it

On Monday night I had a dream. Other people's dreams are boring says my friend Carol so I will keep it brief. Basically, there was an earthquake and as a result a tsunami hit New Zealand.

This morning at 6.50 my Mum rang me from Spain where she lives to make sure I was ok as there had been an earthquake in Tonga and they thought a tsunami might hit NZ.

I've told a few people this story this morning and they all have the same reaction. An indignant: "Can you stop that!!??!!"

Well...no. I can't

First Blog

This is my first ever blog. I have decided to keep one for three reasons.

1. My mate Shazzle has one and she is very entertaining. As soon as I learn to insert links I will do one to her blog.

2. When I send emails to people I have HUNDREDS of asides and adendums to explain my motivation/ state of mind/ add context etc. I suspect this is getting exhausting for people.

3. I live in a different hemisphere to where I was born and so all of my family and half of my friends get LONG emails from me irregularly regardless of how interested they are. This way they can check when / if they like.

Tah dah. First blog.