It's been quite a week for this luscious young Aunty.
Saturday - walked with Baggott 20km around Belmont Regional Park. Quite nice. Only complained towards the end when we kind of got lost and had to walk back to the car via some streets, which were unendingly boring. On the way home I ate a celebratory piece of fish, a hot dog on a stick with sauce, and a crab stick from the Rice Bowl Burger Bar. Unfortunately, the galaga machine was on the blink. Went home, had a bath, got into pjs, lounged on couch for hours watching a rather good Lindsay Lohan movie.
Sunday - Sunday is Sweeney-Kimpy day, so we went shopping in town, got some CDs to top up my new Ipod (it's a training tool), and then went staunchly up the hill. Then we went down the hill to a street party in Moir Street, where Sweeney chewed on some blocks and Bramwell and I chewed on party food.
Monday - went to the Wairarapa to interview a man about taxidermy. No matter what they believe, no one can convince me a stuffed stag's head is life-like, or art.
Tuesday - a farewell lunch for a workmate at a Sushi bar. I hoovered everyone's food and drank too much.
Wednesday - Wednesday is yoga with the gals day. After posing for an hour, I went the wrong way around Karori sanctuary and ended up waaaaay south of where I had intended to leave the track. Had told my flatmate Joe that he should standby at home with athlete food for me at about nine pm, but as I clamboured up a very steep slidey bit towards Wrights Hill and came over the top victoriously thinking I would be near the end soon, I saw the track go off into the distant hills, plunge down in to a valley, and reappear on the other side at a mountain goat gradient, or what they call in the Tour de France hors categorie, meaning its just too damn steep to be classified. Anyway, I gulped a mouthful of raisins and power walked. It was getting dark, and though the fenceline track is open, by the time I got to the wind turbine to get off it, it was getting too dark and I slipped a coupla times. The hors categorie turned out to be not to bad, at least when you have "Holiday" on your ipod.
I was just turning into my street when who should pull up beside me but Joe. I thought he might have been out and was on his way home, but no, he'd come out looking for me. It was nearly ten and he and Bramwell were concerned. After feeling kind of embarassed, I checked my phone and there were three messages and a coupla missed calls that I hadn't heard cos I'd been power walking to Madonna.
Thursday - A trip to Otaki to interview a basketmaker. Any excuse to get up the coast to visit my favourite second-hand stores which shall remain nameless because I don't want you pesky crafties and Crown Lynn junkies stealing my stuff. Let's just say there are no more metal number 8 knitting needles in the Kapiti Coast area available second hand. You can never have too many metal number 8 knitting needles, I reckon. Nor is there any decent "Vintage" pattern Crown Lynn.
In the afternoon I went to interview a blacksmith, the only remaining forge blacksmith (he hits things on an anvil) in Wellington. At one stage I was crouched in a strange position holding the photographer's flash, having sparks of iron shower on me. Was kinda concerned that my hair might catch fire, but it was all ok. I had very very dirty feet when I got home, and had to wash them in the bath like a school kid.
Today - has been all about getting my shizzle together, and writing up yesterday's interviews. This is often the hardest part of writing a story for me, as I can't stand listening to my interview tapes and will put it off for as long as I can. It hasn't been helped by Serene (the woman who is leaving) making me drink a glass of fraise Lindauer at 9.55am.
Tonight I am carbo-loading and tomorrow it's a 30km walk. If you are anywhere between Red Rocks and Johnsonville on the Skyline walk and you see a gorgeous girl in black leggings with enormous trail shoes desperately trying to keep up with a jaunty looking Wolverhampton lad, it might be me.