Jerry, I just don't know sometimes...(Marlene)

Jerry meets Beetle (Grace was playing hard to get) while Tango rides shotgun

Roch-dene is slowing filling up with animals. As I knew it would.

At the moment it's a bit of an ark - two horses, two wild turkeys, and two dogs (the six canaries kind of ruin the effect but what the hey).

Tango, Jerry and Wozza's
world famous legs.

Yes, Jerry has arrived. Jerry is a wee pedigree Border Collie puppy and cute as a button. 

In addition, we have Tango lodging with us to help socialise Jerry and for us to look after while William and Jade holiday in Bali.

This last weekend felt like we had a new toddler on the property - door barrier, chewy toys, fencing the back yard and fencing the front yard!

All to no avail because Jerry is also a Harry Houdini who just wanted to be with me or SWMBO.

Let the fun begin!

Love and peace - Wozza

Old friends, memory brushes the same years (Simon and Garfunkel)

Photo by rawpixel.com on Unsplash

Pals, buddies, mates, chums. 

Friendship. That's what this post is about. 

Hooked? Well - lay on, Macduff, and damned be him who first cries 'hold!'

I love Jerry Seinfeld's riff on friendship: 

When you're in your thirties it's very hard to make a new friend. Whatever the group is that you've got now that's who you're going with, you're not interviewing, you're not looking at any new people, you're not interested in seeing any applications.  

As for someone like me in my late fifties (for a few more days people, for a few more days), I largely stopped hiring decades ago.

My whanau list below has a number of people on it who I love but many I never hear from anymore. Yet, I know, for a large number of them, as soon as we reestablish contact...bam. Instant connection.

A connection forged from shared history.

My oldest chums that I pal around with via Facebook and email are few in number but incredibly important to me. Frinstance, GK (a.k.a. Billy Wallace) and I have been mates since 1974.

Recently, he reminded me of a time we collapsed into hilarity over a story in Craccum - Auckland University's student newspaper. 

Collapsing into laughter (with Kevin Simms usually on board as well) was an occupational hazard in those days.

Recently, I was in Real Groovy wading through the vinyl sale bins when three young male hipsters walked in loudly. For the next half hour they laughed their private jokes, kidded each other about certain albums, and engaged in a wide variety of banter. All pretty loud and obnoxious.

I was immediately presented with a picture of how Greg, Kevy and I must have looked as we visited Real Groovy back in the day.

Good times, Billy. Good times.

Love and peace - Wozza

Welcome to Meadsville.

This one rocked me.

It's taking some time to come to terms with.

Colin Meads was super human. Immortal.

Pinetree. 

If Colin Meads can die, then I can too, and that's a sobering thought.

I knew him well. We all did. Like my mother, from the King Country. We grew up watching him. Shared the triumphs. Chests puffed out - nobody can beat the All Blacks!

Images: carrying the ball in one hand, locking the scrum for New Zealand with his brother Stanley, playing a test match with a broken arm. 

From then via farming adverts for hay bale twine, and fence posts, he epitomised the ruggedly brawny, quietly spoken, humble, words-are-cheap-deeds-are-dear New Zealand male we aspired to be.

And now, number 583's gone and gone too is some of our youth and our invincibility.

Remember him this way:

A motorcycle's throat-clearing rumble disturbed the road, drumming against the windows (J G Ballard)

Currently, I'm really enjoying the work of J G Ballard in Millennium People (week 31, book 34).

Front cover's Daily Mail pull quote says it's "seductively compelling". Right on, brother! 

It's nice to read a book without literary pretentions that feels like literature.

Try this bit - 

Sitting forward, he massaged his cheeks, trying to bring colour into the gaunt bones. 'Look at the world around you, David. What do you see? An endless theme park, with everything turned into entertainment. Science, politics, education - they're so many fairground rides. Sadly, people are happy to buy their tickets and climb aboard.'

Love and peace - Wozza

Tell me how do you feel (New Order)

Watching Dunkirk last week drove me back to the original Winston Churchill speech and then, in typical surfing the interweb fashion, on to another movie version. Interesting to compare the two for emotional impact. 

For me, the biopic's visuals and the editing of the speech from the supposed writing to radio delivery is the more powerful, but, you be the judge.






What I really did love about the above scene was the moment Winston's young female secretary, typing the speech, noticed he'd entered another room. Her immediate reaction to follow him with a notepad said so much. No eye roll or sign of annoyance. Just obedience to the speech. 

Absorbed in the moment, masterful in thought, Winston's wandering was also a great character moment. 

My literary goal continues into the start of week 31 with the latest books: #33 - Notes on a Scandal (Zoë Heller) - a doozy story with a twisted narrator; and I've just started number 34 Millennium People (J G Ballard). 

Love and peace - Wozza

We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender (Winston Churchill)

Dunkirk. You've got to see it.

Preferably on a big screen. With a great sound system. That's essential.

Spoiler alert - we won the war, it's in the books, but not before some rum doings. And Winston Churchill was a great leader!

Sorry, it had to be said.

As to the film, Christopher Nolan and Hans Zimmer are a brilliant combination.

If you're worried that it's a war movie and therefore a bit of a tired genre, don't fret. Nolan and Zimmer combine to make an extraordinary film which will leave you buzzing, says I.

Even as I watch this trailer I tense up again, as it gives a real sense of the power of the film via its sound and fury. 



You need to see this film!

Love and respect - WNP

Does she walk? Does she talk? Does she come complete? (J Geil's Band)

This post by Seth Godin is super scary.

First, here's the post...

An audience of one

More than ever, people, lots of people, hordes of anonymous people, can watch what you do.

They can see your photos, like your posts, friend your digital avatar.

An essentially infinite collection of strangers are in the audience, scoring you, ranking you, deciding whether or not you're succeeding.

If you let them.

The alternative is to focus on the audience you care about, interacting with the person who matters to you. Your audience, your choice. One person, ten people, the people who need you.

Everyone else is merely a bystander. 

What's scary? Everything.

The realisation that I'm being watched. That this is increasing. That I choose to be watched via this blog. That it's essentially infinite. That I'm judged. At all times. That the alternative means walking away from digital platforms. That Seth is right. That there are people who need me. Who are they? Am I embracing them? Why? Why not?

AAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And now, today's post..............................................................

I love this photo.

Why do I love it so?

It feels real, and yet she's posing, right? The coffee table looks right - the angle of the paper (she's a writer); the cord to the right, sockets above the pictures, and dinged skirting board to the left are left in the picture. 

Pose is leaning and direct. She's at work, yet she's a girl interrupted. A super girl. But she wouldn't actually work on her tele-play on this couch. Half annoyed smile, half smug smile. Enigmatic.

The couch itself is a beautiful rich blue. Solid. Yet spungee. Not comfortable, but looks comfortable.

Pictures on the wall are a weird mix. She writes for Supergirl. But those others? Depth! Or maybe not. Is she a girl angel?

And, there's an elephant in the room! Love it!

Love, peace, embracing hug - Wozza.