Because I'm worth it...

After four months of intense renovations (as yet unfinished), I'm not exactly tap dancing on my bank account.

However I've been working pretty hard lately so decided it was time to take, for a change. While on the way home, I popped into a small consignment clothing store where the lovely owner is selling some items on my behalf. I was heartened by news that she had indeed sold some pieces when the purple number below caught my eye. A brand new Stella McCartney (with the tags still attached). I think the angels were singing for me today.

The Minister of Finance (aka the Animator) may not be best pleased about this latest addition to my already bulging wardrobe(s), but leave him to me...

Laugh? I almost spat my merlot across the room

Last night our flight from Auckland to Welly was delayed so we ended up knocking back a few wines in the Koru Lounge (Air NZ corporate lounge).

While the three boys I was with felt the need to talk work stuff, I was distracted by the conversation of a couple of 50-something chaps at the table next to us, which revolved around their broken relationships and mutual reluctance to get married again:

A: God no, I'd rather shave my (bleep) than walk down the aisle a third time.

B: Mind you, check out that slapper over there (gesturing to a bimbo who, admittedly, had forgotten to put on most of her outfit). I wouldn't say no to her (yeah dude, like she'd ever look at you).

A: No, I'm keeping away from them all. They're evil. Someone asked me the other day what I do for a living and I said I buy houses for women who take me to the cleaners. All I am to women is a breathing ATM.

Allah be praised our flight was called about then, because I wouldn't have been able to hold the giggles for much longer.

(Pic credit: Air NZ)

Thank you, universe

Despite the trauma of dragging myself into work after three glorious days off, the universe rewarded me today with these wee gems:

• Two travel and two lifestyle magazine commissions fetched up in my inbox. Including a profile of my lovely mate Mary, a photographer/poet/PR chick whose stunning new book of photos on NZ is published later this year (commissioned by this national magazine)

• The discovery of cheap flights to San Francisco, just about the time we're planning to fly

• The further discovery of a Spanish course near us that runs Saturday morning classes

• The news that a mate from London is back in town (or will be shortly), and

• The even more welcome news that our flight to Auckland tomorrow for yet another roadshow has been put back, meaning this little girly gets to have the tiniest of sleep-ins.

Waitangi Day

Happy Birthday, New Zealand (and ta very much for the day off!)

Here's how I commemorated the signing of Aotearoa's founding document:

With 10,000 cups of green tea (yes Anna, that BBC cup I bought when we both worked there is still operable)

Some freelance writing work (yawn)

A good book and the sun

A run

An unannounced visit from the Animator's aunts and uncles (no photos as too busy trying to ensure the house didn't resemble a tip)

And this furry chap.

All in all, a splendid day.

How to spend Sunday morning at the beach

Get up indecently early. Ensure there is an over-supply of water and doggy poo bags.

Do not let the Animator stop for coffee; there will be time enough later on.

Let the fur baby run amok and play silly buggars with the incoming tide; watch as he sniffs oodles of canine butt and attempts to break the World Record for Peeing by leaving his scent on every pebble, blade of grass, piece of seaweed.

Be disappointed there are no courtship rituals to be surreptitiously observed at Wellington's only gay nudist beach. Realise that's because it's sodding 9.00am on a Sunday.

Get home, eat pancakes, watch the omnibus of Home and Away. Gird loins for another day of renovations.

Thank God for bank holidays

Is there any better feeling in the world than waking up on a Saturday and knowing you have three full days before you have to return to the work gulag?

Slight headache from too much red wine last night and, despite looking down the back of the sofa, I still can't locate my energy. The huge work week seems to have forgotten to return it.

On the plus side, I have just had the best news in ages – we are going to swap houses with our friends in San Francisco for two weeks in June-ish! Which means we get to see the divine Ms Molly again. I miss that wee doggy so much my teeth ache and, given that she is 15 soon, it may well be the last time we see her. Of course, I also get to spend time in one of my favourite cities on the planet and, just quietly, shop here and here.

I cannot describe to you the ways in which today's news has made my spirits soar...

Candle burned at one end

It has been all work, work, work and definitely no play this week.

Tomorrow I catch the red-eye to Christchurch for the first of a series of roadshows I've been charged with organising. I haven't seen 5.00am for the longest time; I'm not sure I'll even recognise it.

Blogging will be sporadic over the next few days: work will no doubt be sucking the life out of me and, as much as I wish, the words won't arrange themselves on the page.

Normal service shall resume at the weekend.