So, it has been roughly a million years since I last updated so I thought I'd give you some excuses I prepared earlier.
- My computer + Internet is SO slow it actually takes some time to upload photos.
- I live in Dunedin.
This is not a complaint - I am actually really enjoying my life here - but not really a lot happens. Look here, a beautiful sky. Ok, that was actually quite cool. Above is the school Columba, I think and below is my roof and a Logan.
This is not to say that Dunedin has no intrigue at all. Tune in, now, for a tale with a beginning, middle and end. On one fortuitous Monday evening, Miss J, Mr V and I decided to try to finish off the liquor supples from the Arthur's Pass trip. This was a lofty goal and we took to it with vigour. With so much vigour in fact, that we had already succeeded by about 11pm (no one remembers exactly when) and made the informed decision to up the ante.
This led us into a walk, taking several hours, past such Dunedin landmarks as the one shown below, the North Cemetary, PAST the Gardens (could not go in, they were shooting bunnies - this has happened to me before) and down North East Valley up into that gorge thing. All in all, it was an exciting, terrifying time, involving such highlights as standing in the pitch-black in a forest, in the cemetary and ALL hearing the distinct sound of human foot steps. We all ran like the wind or like wild bandicoots.
We had, however, messed with the universe. In the course of the evening, we had:
- Become convinced a building on the North Cemetary was being used for strange purposes, as it had tacky NEW curtains and the lights on in the middle of the night.
- Made a giant mess of Miss J's kitchen.
- Accidentally adopted a cat. AND:
- Lost Logan's keys.
Unfortunately, I don't have a picture of the 'Strange Building' but we returned the following day, after basically no sleep, and found it to be an information centre. Especially detailing the horrendous life and end of the Larnach family. I'm glad I don't live in that mansion.
Below is a shot from that day, walking around North Cemetary. The cat and the kitchen had to wait, but we wanted to sort out the situation with Logan's keys. He had a vivid memory of rolling down the Rhododendron dell by the SPCA on Warden Street, so it is to this location we trudged, whispering about the universe and the magic that could happen if we find the keys.
It is at this point in the tale I must interject to confess something slightly heinous; namely, I wasn't only hoping that 'we' would find the keys, I was hoping - rather more specifically ' than I would find the keys. Like a western philosopher building the British empire, I was thinking in individual terms, and I really wanted to be the one to find the keys and have that moment of glory of seeing them glinting in the grass. Not for honour, but just because I never find things and I imagined it would feel great to spot them.
Giggling and overly pleased with ourselves we returned to the home of Miss J where her gorgeous flatmate had already cleaned the destroyed kitchen. We thanked him profusely and went back to see about the cat. It was no longer crying in my garden, and I was concerned - I hope little idiot isn't lost. "Ding ding ding" I called out, to no avail.
Note: Later I return to my house with the ever-amazing Lucy McConnon and hear a quiet cat sobbing from the vegetable patch. We run over and Ding ding ding, little maniac is there and runs into Lucy's arms. Could this be his new Mom?
Side note: A beautiful house and car on Warden Street. Noticed directly after the euphoria of finding the keys.