Blackberry Way, see the battlefields of care or sins cast to the winds (The Move)

Looking east

Wie geht's?

Call it bramble, call it blackberry, call it Rubus Cuneifolius, sand blackberry, western dewberry, Rubus Fruticosus, Rubus Ursinus, dewberry bush, true blackberry, western blackberry, running blackberry, dewberry. Whatever.

It's still a pain, as I've mentioned before - it's deja vu all over again.

During the study break, Jacky and I finished off two massive blackberry bushes on our boundary fence after we had Richard, our local gardener for hire, cut it all down with his specialised equipment. Given it had grown over 5 metres tall, it took some cutting down!

Jacky and I loaded it all up via a tarp on the harrows behind the quad bike and towed the branches to our burn pile. Took four trips - there was a lot of bramble!

This post is not really about the bramble though. Oh no.

You see, it had engulfed two trees that we could see from our kitchen window and so our view east towards Takapau and the Oruawharo hills behind the town were largely obscured but now they are clearly visible!

I do love that view east from that window. The view changes frequently through the day, and now I can enjoy it without being bothered by that pesky bramble - it was always a job staring me in the face.

Love and peace - Wozza

They say it's your birthday (The Beatles)

2003 versions of Irene and me

Wie geht's?

This post acknowledges a couple of big events in the Purdy calendar.

The 26th of July is Graham Purdy's birthday (he would have been 93). Happy birthday dad!

GNP with his first grand daughter

The 29th of July is Irene Purdy's birthday - she turns 100! Jacky and I were there (Bury, Manchester) for her 9oth celebrations in 2011 but sadly we can't get there in the current pandemic circumstances for her 100th, as we'd hoped to do. It's a priority for as soon as it's safer to travel to blighty though.

In the meantime, from half way across the planet, huge amounts of love and peace are sent out for next week to Irene and the Kirkham/Purdy brigade from the Nu Zild Purdys!

Spending the day in a colourful way, blue upon blue upon blue. Psychadelicatessen, fricasse chorus girls thigh, toffee and mackerel gateau, pineapple pie in the sky (The Rutles)

Paul Delvaux's Lunar Phases III

Wie geht's?

Our visit to the surrealist art exhibition at Te Papa recently was a great creative punch in the arm.

As soon as Jacky and I saw the exhibition advertised on television we both said - we've got to see that.

It certainly didn't disappoint. 

Three artists I wasn't too familiar with (almost) stole the show for me: Man Ray for his sense of humour; Paul Delvaux and his Lunar Phases III in particular - I stared at for a good five minutes; and Max Ernst.

Almost stole the show, because Salvador Dali's work is a thing apart.

But Max Ernst! Wow. 

I picked up a copy of his graphic collage novel that was lying around - A week of kindness or the seven deadly elements (1933). The images (detail from one is above) are (literally) extraordinary. I see the book is available still from places like the Book Depository so I've ordered a copy.

I'm looking forward to getting lost in those surreal images again, spending some real time on it and trying to decipher a storyline.  

Love and peace - Wozza

Happiness is a gift and the trick is not to expect it, but to delight in it when it comes (Charles Dickens)

NN is on top of this growing pile 

Wie geht's?

Happy happy joy joy!!

Nicholas Nickleby (the novel) was a beast. A massive 831 pages of pretty small print in my edition. Phew!

The ending was satisfying, and yes, worth waiting for, but I feel Dicken's third novel was at times, a struggle.

Being so epic, there were loads of characters to keep in my brain over a fairly decent period of time (I can't actually remember when I started reading this one). 

I must admit when Brooker comes back into the novel in the latter stages, I'd completely forgotten when he'd been introduced and, indeed, who he was. The Dickens Encyclopedia ($5 well spent from The Little Red Bookshop) was helpful - and if you've forgotten too, Brooker was a former clerk and confidant of Ralph Nickleby who is sent away as a convict earlier in the story.

It has to be said, Nicholas is a pretty wet hero. He doesn't appear to have any faults or human foibles. Instead he's the prim and proper epitome of virtue. For an audience in 2021, in an age of the anti-hero, he's a tad difficult to take. Deadpool this ain't!

Wackford Squeers, Ralph Nickleby and Arthur Gride are odious stage villains, although Gride feels like a necessary plot contrivance to give the last third a focus.

The ebb and flow of the plot wasn't that fulfilling 600 or 700 pages in. Just as Nicholas comes out on top you realise that with 200 more pages to go, there will need to be another villainous act for him to vanquish by page 800.

Still. It's Dickens innit. Characters like John Browdie, Sir Mulberry Hawk, Mrs Nickleby, Newman Noggs, the Squeers clan, Peg Sliderskew, The Cherryble brothers, the Crummles troup, Tim Linkinwater, and so on are so skillfully written. I feel like I've met them and now must say au revoir.

If you're keeping score - Nicholas Nickleby is my fifth Dickens' novel. Bleak House is up next, but not for a while. I need something less weighty and impacting right now. 

Love and peace - Wozza

In the half light, on this mad night I hear a voice in time (Rory Gallagher)

Wie geht's?

Last week of school this week and the prospect of two weeks holiday feels like bliss. I know teachers get bad press about holidays but it's a stressful job and my staff and I have been running on fumes for these last two weeks. In fact, last week was worse, at least we can smell some rest and recuperation stumbling into view now.

So, what is in store for me during the break?

A trip to Wellington and Te Papa is a key item - Jacky and I have been looking forward to the Surrealist Art exhibition since we saw it first advertised on television. That was prior to the recent Covid-19 scare in our capital. It's open again now thank goodness.

What's that? Slow Boat Records? Oh, go on then - it would be rude not too (they are expecting me after all).

Apart from that I hope to sit around a spell and read. I'm almost at the 700 page mark with Nicholas Nickleby - only 100 pages to go. The pile of books has been growing since taking on my latest Dickens (it includes Bleak House but I'll be leaving that for a while) so I won't be running out of stuff anytime soon.

But for now - it's Thursday morning in NZ and in England the teams are about to come out for the semi-final at Wembley stadium and I'm listening to BBC Radio Five Live.

Great atmosphere as Sweet Caroline rings around the ground.

All to play for.

Come on England!!

Love and peace - Wozza

Contentment is like a magic stone; everything it touches changes to gold - happiness (Hsing Yun)

Wie geht's?

This one is about contentment in general and mine in particular. 

In the lunch room this week conversation turned to my eating habits.

I know - clearly a slow week.

I'd joined lunch conversation late, having just completed a brisk walk around the sports park.

After I made obvious a move away from Terese's egg lunch to another table and reexplained my aversion to eggs (thanks dad), my colleagues expressed anew their interest stroke amazement in my choice of lunch menu - a small tin of lemon pepper flavour tuna spread on 6 cruskits, and the fact that I have the same thing every day, while they heat up elaborate left overs or delectable looking salads and so forth.

Sorry - long sentence. Here's some short ones...

I am not, nor have I ever been, a foodie. Shock, horror, probe!

My tastes are boring (Graham Purdy believed that a meal wasn't a meal without potatoes and never held with 'foreign muck'). So, I am very happy with my lunch choice - no thinking is required; I love the taste and it's quick and easy. Job done.

They then asked me what I had for dinner and I laughed.

Because, erm, tuna bake, was the answer.

If Jacky wants to make my day she'll buy a tuna bake combo from New World - which makes a meal for four.

She makes up a big basin of the stuff and I enjoy it over three consecutive dinner nights.

I'm very content with that.

As Venerable Master Hsing Yun says - contentment equals happiness.

My colleagues again expressed interest stroke amazement at this as they then meditated on their daily rituals of trying to satisfy their families with interesting and different meals.

If there is only suffering, then what is the meaning of life? (Hsing Yun again - he's very wise!)

Happiness can be found anywhere and mine is found in simple plain meals, and an influx of Omega 3.

Luckily Jacky and I both see food as fuel, therefore, we don't spend a lot of time agonising over our food choices. That food choice doesn't influence our mood or mean much because tomorrow is another day and when I'm into my three days of the tuna bake regime I don't think about food much at all (maybe a fleeting sense of anticipation pootling along on the commute home in the purdsmobile). 

I think I'm lucky in my singular contentment. It means I'm not in the least interested in cooking programmes on the television; we own one store bought cookbook - the Edmonds one obviously - I'm a proud Nu Zildner; and I don't care about expensive food gadgets.

Couple of caveats to end: Not thinking about food is a luxury that I'm very aware is a privileged position and I should point out Jacky does not necessarily approve of my tuna routine but she knows I enjoy it and my contentment makes her content.

Love and peace - Wozza