Happy

I am anything but today - my throat is swollen and my limbs hurt and I keep breaking out in a cold sweat.

I am too busy and have too many commitments to succumb to this hateful lurgy. In an effort to send it on its way, I am about to mainline lemon, honey and ginger and take to my bed with some work. Wish me luck.

In the meantime, I may be channelling my inner grumpy cow today but this song by Pharrell Williams never fails to make me smile. Plus it's a crazy ass ear-worm - one listen and it will be velcroed to your cranium for days.

There is a God afterall

Today came the joyous news from the Hong Kong Tourism Board that after my three nights at the Peninsula Hotel (which has, just quietly, been called the best hotel in the world), I am being hosted at another lovely hotel - but this one is INSIDE the Harbour City Mall, probably my favourite shopping centre in the entire world.

Yes, I had to read the email twice too - my hotel is actually inside the mall. The God of Shopping loves me and he too believes that the path to true happiness lies the way of a credit card-melting shopping spree.

Later, there was a travel commission from a national magazine which is, as they say in the business, a big 'get', and then an email from an international travel magazine asking me if I'd like to write a piece for them. Today it feels as though the fates have saved all their blessings and rained them down on me at once.

Which is lovely, given that the weather has turned feral (getting drenched on the walk to and from work? Check) and I am getting that horrid sore joints/swollen throat thing that signals a flu is cresting the horizon and marshalling its strength for an all out attack. Today, however, I smile in the face of illness; I have been a lucky girl and for that I remain very, very grateful.

   (Pic Credit: The Peninsula Hotel) 

Baking

Two trays of cranberry and orange shortbread, ready to be shared with our friends around the corner and their dog, Peggy Sue, who is one of the Hound's favourite GFs.

And yes, there is a shitload of butter in there, but this morning I hauled arse around the waterfront with the running group (and almost got blown to the South Island for my trouble) so feel smugly able to chase these with a cheeky red. A pleasant way to bid adieu to the weekend.

     

Catch up

Apols for the radio silence. It's not that there's been a lack of blog worthy events, it's just that I've been sucked into the time/work vortex, and cannot seem to find my way out.

In lieu of words you shall have one of my stories from two interior magazines that plopped into my letterbox today. The first is of this cute-as-a-button Waikanae house I did last month.  Click here to read.

Because of this week's public holiday (belated happy birthday, New Zealand), I had to work at the first contract yesterday, and at the second contract on Thursday. I also have two freelance deadlines breathing down my neck. I now have no idea which day of the week it is or what I'm supposed to be doing.

Wine o'clock cannot come quickly enough today...

 

Travel Talk

A couple of weeks back a journo school colleague of mine, who's now in a position to do so, asked me to supply a weekly column for the Dom's Wed Life section.

It's not too onerous - find someone with something to plug, quiz them about their travel experiences and don't pass Go. The first column appeared today (click here to read). You're welcome.

Because it's beautiful and sunny, and I just managed to deliver a gnarly piece of marketing collateral that's been annoying me for days - and because everyone needs something beautiful to rest their eyes upon - here are some visuals of my lovely wee man.

  
 

Year of the Whores

A long, long time ago, I spent four and a bit years as a sub-editor for the BBC in London. And yes, I was party to the odd blunder or two.

But nothing like this cock-up, expertly detailed by the Indy, which today almost breached my laughter levees.

As a Horse, I'm doubly loving the unintentional re-branding of my year.

Sunshine

Wellington is currently being held hostage by summer.

It is HOT. And glorious and I never want it to end.

Not that I'm actually able to enjoy it, strapped as I am to the laptop. But it certainly looks nice outside the window.

Actually, that's not strictly true: there have been a couple of doggie walks along the waterfront and earlier this morning, before the sun got too excited, an 8km run with the running group. Hot, sweaty fun.

Once I manage to give this tedious work a kiss and send it on its way, there shall hopefully be time to sit in the sun-drenched garden with a glass of something suitably cold and alcoholic.

Here's someone else who loves the sun. And his ball.