I've put out an invite to the staff to join me on an equinoctal swim. Lots of interest and two shows. It's windy but the water is good. John arrives- no show without punch- he's the party prepper. We go to the Little Brown Jug for a Friday drink with Sharon and her Kimi Ora colleagues. There's a live band but it feels like a combination of a shearing shed and a country local. I bump into a girl I used to teach, or rather she was outside the classroom with her mates a lot.
Saturday and Cecile's barely slept but wound up like a spring and ready to go. Her mate, Helen, flies in from Wellington to help but it's clear the assistant/ director role is strained from the get go. Cecile has every last detail planned and there's only one way. I try to shed some light but can't get through. When I hear the first crash I throw a wobbly. Then there's the living room...I tell her I'm not taking furniture out and definitely not Llew's sculpture. We manage for a while. A swim helps. And finally Cecile lets me do a few jobs. I'm supposed to do nothing, just arrive at the front door, and enjoy myself.
Hmmm. Mid afternoon there's another crash. This time it's the claw foot bath. Anyone reading this blog knows what a mission that's been. Cecile has knocked a vase with Ikebana into the bath, chipping the enamel. She was rushing round putting balloons in the bath when her hair got caught in the stick arrangement sticking out of the vase. When I walk in, she's about to sweep up the shards with a broom and shovel. And scratch the bottom of the bath to bits. I get there just in time, but it's the last straw. What with 3 weeks of Sharyn bumping, or nearly bumping, and dinging, doorways and walls, I've reached my limit.
I get in the car, taking Sharyn at the last minute, and Sue Quinn who walks up the driveway. At the mall I put my head in my hands. I can't do this anymore. Sue's practical suggestion: a savvy at Aikman's. I emerge able to breathe again, but only just. The rest of the night I put on the happiest face I can muster. And drink. Helen has bailed leaving Cecile in manic mode throwing together the last must happens from her head. A duo covers band, one of whom I know, have guests tapping their feet but the ice only thaws in the last set when even I bust a boogie. They comment the guests look like university professors. I'm faintly amused, concentrating on hostess vibes. All this accidental damage has pushed me to the brink, reduced pride in my achievement. The house has aged two years in one month. Armana, whom Cecile said I couldn't invite, arrives uninvited. Cecile graciously produces an invite with Armana's name on it. One for Chris as well. In the controlled brain damaged world, it's all got to go to plan. Does my head in.
There's a clean up/ breakfast party in the sunshine. It's one of the perplexing facts about do's, it takes a lot longer to put things back than to get them out. We bask in full sunshine on the verandah, dishes under control, croissants and coffee in hand. My head's still dealing with damage, I'm trying to rationalise that it won't matter a damn when we get to our 80's and 90's. Not much will if we're still celebrating birthdays.
John does John jobs...ones I'm too scared to attempt. Today, it's putting up trellis for the jasmine, honeysuckle and wisteria I've planted along the old garage fence line. The garage that was held up by ivy for the last 20 years of its life.
The land is cooling, so is the ocean. This year the water feels warmer than the air, it's taking longer to cool and I enjoy the daily dose of ozone. The week finishes with our PPTA AGM at Wigram with the Tiger Moths. A week which takes two more to get over.
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