Shifting the Bollicine

It's in my head all day, fine tuning and whether it's going to work. Between lessons, I return unused electrics to Scoff. And pick up the toilet seat. It's a bit dark, the other was a bit light. Rene hasn't arrived but is there after school. So is Kahu. We take down the Bollicine. I hold my breath. Rene gets his drill out and presses go. There are some hits and some misses. We get a gib plug. And find another gadget to fix where there's no timber in the ceiling. We move the chandelier far enough so that it looks like it's over the table. Much better. Cam is there finishing door and other stuff. And Johnny puts up a washing line round the back. Before he leaves, Rene decides we should put the fridge in its space while we have strong people around. I'm grateful. It's a job I was procrastinating with. Perfect fit but it rolls around. Obviously needs stuff in it.

Scoff drops in to return party glasses and help set up the stereo. But we don't have two speakers and we haven't got any cable. We've thought about it. And that's a start. Scoff straight away notices the grills in the ceiliing. Gets me thinking about how visually intrusive they are, again. Kahu and I leave for the beach and I'm really out of sorts. We have another argument. He claims I don't understand him and I can see this is escalating. Thank God we get to the beach at that point. Cold water sorts everything out. At home we cook for Biff who, like Chris, is universally cheerful, and I leave to spend another night on my own. 

Monday on the Hoof

By now I'm going on automatic, trying to make sure I get to where I need to be, when I need to be there. Till school finishes methinks. Lance and his off sider install the range hood at lunchtime. I show them round and they are suitably admiring. They're as upbeat as usual, in spite of the grey cold weather. Today should be my first swim day of the summer, it being December 1st. But I'm too busy and grey skies confirm I shouldn't be worrying today. All the same, I feel the pull. My subconscious tells me I'm missing something. The water, the waves and feeling freezing cold for at least an hour after I get out when the sun is behind the clouds. 

After school, Kahu and I chip away at odd jobs, admire the range hood and get the feel of our place. Jo drops off some boxes and I show her round, quickly, between meetings. Our 21st century life, time poor. I drop in to confirm the bracket choice with Neil. After dinner I drive home with a car load of boxes. Kahu declines to come with. He's comfortable where he is and I think the uncertainty of a partially completed house is proving a deterrent. He's had a lot of change lately and I don't think he was expecting to move in and make do. It's like camping. The mayhem feels temporary but I want to show a presence. Definitely don't want any burglaries.

From Garden to Table

 First sleep followed by first shower. It's not super hot but it's wet. I revel in the space. I've got no way to boil water so the morning ritual of a cup of tea followed by a coffee doesn't happen. I'm too excited to worry and I know I'm in for book club treats. We meet in Super Sarah's garden underneath her flowering cherry. Another single mum, she's worked hard to create a home and garden which undeniably suits the Victorian port town of Lyttleton. She lives in an old narrow, wooden house which she has renovated to suit the period. Like me, she's collected old domestic objects and created a new/old comfortable home. Her garden is flourishing and lush. I donated some plants from 22 College Ave ages ago. She's a botanist at heart, I can see why she was so enthusiastic about getting cuttings. Time for me to retrieve but I'm way behind with my garden.

We talk and eat. The food is nourishing and the women are nurturing. Girls get girls. The issues we face come and go at different times for all of us, we have the same life stages and milestones. Not all are mothers but losing someone close is something they get. My book is The Malta Convoy. I found it when I slept a few inches away from the book shelf in the study at Tui and Lionel's. I grabbed some books, scared Nic might have a clean out in the meantime. What she thinks is junk and what I would clear out are two totally different kettles of fish. So I grabbed a few books and, as my eye level, coincided with a Malta section I started one about the convoy which got through and prevented Malta from caving in when they were besieged by the Axis. It's an amazing story of courage and fortitude of men in the navy taking desparately needed supplies of food and oil to the island.

The food is vegan, imaginative, delicious and Sarah has sourced much from the garden. Fig chutney, cashew hummus, Palestinian hummus, preserved Black Doris plums, chocolate, home made seed crackers, washed down with lashings of kamboocha and Pimms. My shoulders relax. I pull out Neil's two versions of shelf brackets for advice- unanimously the finer one with the curve.

I pull up at Cashmere as the neighbours are pulling out their deck chairs and bringing out their plates. It's the annual street BBQ. I hurriedly pull my plate of brandy baskets with whipped cream and blackcurrants together and foray out. Kahu carries his plate to the table then disappears. There's no-one his age group. I stop, talk and eat. They're a pleasant bunch and they've seen me around all year. On a private lane we pass in our own rhythms but aware of each other. Like my neighbourhood, it's white middle class and homogenic. Polite, pleasant we live in boxes but allow ourselves out every now and then. We are communal animals after all.

Second night in the new house. Much the same as the first. Comfortable, airy, my space.

The Long Drive before The First Sleep

Gary beats me to the house. He's in the bathroom tinkering with the Perrin and Rowe when I arrive. Working on a Saturday is not what I want from anyone but Gary says that he's got a stack of jobs. There's a lot of building going on and the workforce needs more tradespeople. Gary's good at what he does. He fits a water filter under the kitchen sink. We're drinking too much chlorine. The irony is that the Christchurch Plains has world class artesian water. So good, in fact, that a Chinese company has bought water rights which were given up by a meat works company in Belfast and it is bottling and exporting it. The water rights were passed on for a song. And the bottles are plastic. I protested against it, to no avail. Ecan is as bent as a dog's hind leg. Enough said. Money talks

I unpack boxes and wait around till Kirk arrives. He's tidying up the work. We talk about the difference in the contract price total and the progress payments total. He wrote 'inclusive' instead of 'exclusive' for the first two extra payments covering demolition and the concrete slab. We agree to split it. Then I ask how much he thinks I still owe him. Turns out he's forgotten about an additional $13,000, the difference of a partial payment which went through after Covid lockdown. I assume he would have found it sooner or later. 

Kahu arrives and mows the new berm grass, at last. Even with the blade at its highest he has to keep unblocking the damp grass. Smells delicious and there's so much moisture you could make a grass cocktail. I have just enough time to organise dinner and do a Wonder Woman costume change before I drive to New Brighton to pick up Armana. We're going to a burlesque jazz evening back through Cashmere and out to Tai Tapu. An hour of driving. I've double booked so want to get to Lyttleton for a 60th party so rush Armana off. I know we would be better off staying but my brain is so used to moving. It doesn't end well. I rush Armana who gets angry, and the 60th is finished when we get there. 

I'm exhausted. I really need to stop. After a cuppa at Armana's when we sort things, I drive home. Home. The new house, home. I'm normally scared of the dark and this is a new space. Armana tells me to light a candle and turn in a circle to reclaim the energy. I rotate carefully halfway down the hall, aware that anyone from the street can see all the way down to my room. I feel relaxed. There's only one thing to do, get into bed and sleep. There are no curtains and the moon is up. I want to open a window but since I'm by myself I don't. Instead I open the skylight in the ensuite. 

Fresh air, full moon and the garden just outside the window. I'm grounded and elated. Ten years of hard work nearly finished. I sleep the deep, peaceful sleep of the very tired.