Evil personified! This one took a jandal hostage and wouldn’t give it back until lots of food was thrown at it. Bundi, Rajasthan.
You hear the term ‘Bucket List’ bandied about quite often, yes? I was fortunate enough to cotton on at an early age that the world is a fascinating place and I had started a list of countries and things I wanted to see by the time I was 12. Tibet, the Pyramids, Bedouins in Arabia, Castles in England, Frogs in the Amazon, Iguanas in Galapagos, the usual run-of-the-mill stuff.
I’m not entirely sure where the ‘Bucket List’ term originated, but since I’m about to turn 50 and inherit my license for eccentricity, I’ve decided that I shall have a Pooh List. I know – I’m such a grown-up. And I’ve already ticked off several of the items on it: Continue reading →
Bikini Bird. Not the sort I’m talking about… Photo courtesy of memoflores, Flikr
Before I go getting all carried away with researching this matter of birds in New Zealand, I thought I would do a poll to see if anyone is actually interested, in case I go investing valuable grey matter into an exercise in futility. Besides, I wanted to play with the buttons on my blog. (Wot’s that switch over there for? Wot happens if I push this?) So let me know whether reading about ridiculous ratites and assorted avialae would blow your hair back or whether I should give it a big miss and go and pour a nice wine and photograph wetas or some thing instead.
The Weta of New Zealand. Face only a mother could love… Photo courtesy of Masivaan, Flikr.
So here we go – your chance to have a say in the investment of my grey matter:
If you aren’t tempted by these tantalizing buttons, leave a comment instead.
New Zealand is a unique little country, sitting in an unassuming manner at the very bottom of the world. Or in my opinion, at the top of the world, if other countries would only face reality and turn their atlases up the right way. We’re one of the first countries in the world to see the break of dawn, after all. Our national colour is black, our national flower is a fern and our national bird couldn’t fly if you threw it off a cliff.
I can’t fly – please don’t throw me off that cliff…
There’s a lot to be said for having an awning off the side of your caravan on a cold, rainy night. While sitting here with a hot water bottle stuffed up my clothing, somewhere between my merino undershirt, my lambswool jersey (purchased from a menswear department because menswear departments for some reason unknown often have better quality garments for lesser prices than their womenswear equivalents), and my very thick sweatshirt (also purchased from a menswear department for the aforementioned reasons), I have pondered upon this fact mightily.
A few weeks ago I pulled out all the coins and notes I had been stashing aside for a very long time and forked out for a new awning to be tailor-made to my requirements. It’s not that I didn’t like the original awning that came with the caravan, it’s just that I was running out of places to put duct tape to plug up the holes where the wind whistled beautiful melodies into my private spaces, and the water feature was quite frankly getting out of hand. Far be it from me to complain, but when the bits of duct tape begin to outnumber the bits of awning, a girl just has to get practical.