And I shall blog today too

I blogged this weekend for the first time in ages.

Written Sunday - pre-quake

My blog-roll is like a grave-yard.  Artifacts now of a pre-facebook world.  Most not updated for a year or more.

Today I went to brunch.  And listened to jazz on the way.  We glared in the winter sun and window-shopped afterwards.

And that was Sunday.  Halfway point of the holidays.

* * *

Written Wednesday - post-quake

Then there was The Earthquake.  I jumped up often that night, never quite opening the door but standing near it, concentrating to hear the shaking stop.  Then refreshing Geonet.

I slept with a torch beside my bed.

At 3am he texted.  It woke me up but I didn't mind.  Then at 3.15am I was awake for the big aftershock.

* * *

The next day I walked around the southern coast, as planned.  I felt defiant. 

Lines from 'Break, Break, Break' and 'Do Not go Gentle into that Good Night' rattled around my brain.  Helped me believe we'd all get back to normal after the Monday ghost-town feel.

* * *

Now it all feels a long time ago.   They say his name in air-quotes for now.

* * *

We had flaming cocktails.  In a sad bar where we were the only customers and the barman, with painfully good side-swept hair and a jumper with the arms pulled up just-so, talked to us about old fashioneds and business men drinking out of teapots.

Sometimes people are too articulate and interesting for me.  I struggle to join in.  Sometimes it's the opposite, and I still struggle to join in.  For different reasons.

I had a nice night though.  It's good talking to people who like words so much.  Writers.  People who see the irony and humour in things and turn words over in their mouths and minds.  Words are not just transactional.

I was early, so I bought books at Whitcoulls.  The Little Prince.  1984 and Gone Girl.  I have visions of going through them with a highlighter and reading alone in cafes.

* * *

Today I went to the laundromat.  Read some of The Little Prince.  I think I'll have to re-read it and pick out the quotes I was struck by.  I like books with a Peter Pan syndrome.

Afterwards, with washing folded (and still holding its warmth, now, hours later) I had a date scone and coffee at the local place.  I accidentally dropped my change in the tip-jar and had to fish it out again.  That felt bad. 

* * *

Netball tonight.  I feel like I can move again without worry.  That's something.  Didn't do much of anything effective though.  Still, it's something.

* * *

A parent gave me flowers at interview night.  They hadn't bloomed then, rather unexciting.  But during the holidays, they have opened up into beautiful white fluffy flowers with the promise of spring.