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September 23, 2020
I am a dark green shadow a–float on this ocean of grime I am a message scraped on stone a night weaver, a spiller of true glory a spinner of used condoms, salty tissues, half–eaten egg sandwiches apple cores, rubber gloves, snotty masks middle of the floor splats, chewed fingernails See me I wave my wand of pine fresh or lavender blue and lo – the air around the urinal blanches backs off, starts singing hallelujah cold bleach hot brine acid sweat, tears the murk of those midnight runnels all baptised in the golden spray of dettol the toilet seats, the bowls, all sing glory glory See me See my eyes my hands my arms my legs my feet oh my aching feet I am a dark green shadow See me Renée 2020
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Thinking about silence and cake forks…
September 16, 2020
Kia ora koutou, haere mai ki te wiki o te reo Maori. My daily use of te reo Maori is hampered by not speaking it very well, being scared of making mistakes, and feeling awkward, guilty and shy around fluent speakers and thinking its easier to remain silent. When I was young there were lots of things in this category of silence. It was the fashion for young married women to gather for morning tea at each other's houses where each hostess tried to outdo the last in baking and table settings, embroidered tablecloths, flash china, silver teaspoons and cake forks. We talked about things like fashion, gardens, shopping and the price of groceries but we never talked about sex, men, religion, politics, books like Catcher in the Rye or Dr Shivago or the uselessness of competing for the best morning tea. Menstruation or the horrible pads we used was never mentioned. These morning teas were enjoyable though because in those times they were the only occasion young married women met to spend time with their own age group and gender. The rest of their lives were bound by custom which decreed that once you were married you didn't go… Read more…
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That old shapeshifter, Normal…
September 9, 2020
Kia ora Koutou, I keep reading/hearing... 'when we get back to normal' and 'it'll be okay when we're back to normal' and even, 'I just want to get back to normal'. Forget it. The 'normal' we had before Covid? Its never coming back and all the repining is not going to bring that 'normal' back. Before the 2nd World War's end in 1946 everyone talked about 'getting back to normal' only to find they would never go back. Both men and women had seen and done things that would never take them back to what was considered 'normal' before. A world upheaval like war or epidemic takes whatever we call normal, scrunches it up, chucks it because it no longer works. War and epidemics are not the only harbinger of change. After the Waterfront Lockout in 1951 everything was going to be good once we were back to normal. Well it wasn't. And we didn't. Wharfies had no money coming in, big bills were run up at the grocer's and gradually, steadily paid back, but even making that last payment of the debt to that kind and patient grocer, did not bring back what they thought of as normal. Even those… Read more…
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September 2, 2020
Kia ora koutou It all depends on how they're put together but my life has been enriched by words on pages and now in 2020, on screens. Here are a few of my more recent favourites... 'The cab was decorated with a great many ornaments: the dashboard was practically a shrine. It was oddly warm and comforting, sharing the space with a little luminous god. Isobel sank back against the shabby seat cover, the ancient springs. Tears, unbidden, ran down her cheeks and she stroked them away with her fingertips. A tissue was passed from the front seat, the turbanned head looked straight ahead. Only once, just before the cab pulled into the kerb, did their eyes meet in the mirror. 'No charge,' he said when she was opening her purse. 'But I insist,' Isobel said. 'No, Madame. No.' (From Loving Sylvie by Elizabeth Smither, (pub 2019 Allen & Unwin). *** ''I'm just so tired,' Brownie said against Vic's chest. 'So fucking tired of being afraid, and pretending, and being alone.' 'Yeah, loneliness is a bugger all right,' said Vic. 'Makes you wonder what you did to be so unloveable.' Brownie sat up. Smeared the tears from his face with… Read more…
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August 26, 2020
Kia ora Koutou, here's a poem... Like the moon sailing You move soft and slow through the dark house you touch the table you got cheap that day you were looking for a pot and maybe a mirror. That print you bought. ‘A Rita Angus,’ you marvel. ‘She’s famous?’ he asks, tries to up the price. And in the black jar there’s the yellow rose leaning towards you confidentially… this is your time in the same world as everyone else like the moon sailing... Renée
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August 19, 2020
Kia ora Koutou, I've been thinking about my (and other people's) reluctance to wear masks. I wear them of course when I have to but it still feels like I'm doing something very strange. I mean, where do we see masks? On bank robbers, burglars, Halloween (hate these ones), sometimes in a film or a play. Yes I know nurses and doctors et al wear masks but that seems okay because its part of their job and they taken them off when they finish work so only their patients and colleagues see them. We rely so much on seeing faces, judging expressions, state of health, happiness, sadness, hunger, pain and all the others. We don't always need to ask to understand how someone is feeling, we can see it on their face. We gather a lot of information from faces. As children we learn to guage how a parent is feeling. Are they in a good mood? Or a bad one? Are they sad, happy, angry, determined, sober, not sober? We read 'The Man in the Iron Mask' and join the audience to see that creepy 'Phantom of the Opera' – masks mean trouble and anxiety, right? We often judge… Read more…
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August 12, 2020
On my Facebook page recently, Jan Fitzgerald, a very talented artist and poet from Hawke's Bay, put up a lovely painting called When the cows come home. Loved the painting and loved the title. Cows tend to straggle and wander, they stop and have a munch, they stand and stare, they ruminate. if you're in a hurry they can be extremely tedious but the cows couldn't care less. So saying you'll be there 'when the cows come home' tells us you're not going to arrive any time soon. The phrase made me remember lots of old words, phrases, impenetrable to outsiders and probably to us now too. Here's Joe and Bill leaning on a fence... Joe: So I said to to him you're a bloody drongo, mate. Bill: Always been a tight–arse. Joe: Dunno if he's trying to up the ante or what – Missus called him. Bill: Makes good scones. Joe: Her knows which side his bread's buttered on. Bill: Yeah, worth a quid or two. Joe: I tell you Bill, I was stonkered. That tractor's in good nick. And the bugger knows it. Bill: His old man was the same. Full of bull. Joe: Think I'll have a… Read more…
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August 5, 2020
Kia ora koutou, here's one of the poems I wrote earlier in the year when I did an online poetry course with the fabulous Lynn Davidson. I did a year long poetry course at Whitireia, Lynn as tutor, some years ago, before I came to live in Otaki, so it was great to work with her again. Like all good teachers she has the knack of stimulating and encouraging her students to just leap in and do it. Each and every student is different so how we interpret a teacher's words is entirely individual and no two students are the same or react in the same way. This poem is one that came out of left field from something Lynn said and I thank her for that. If I call you If I call you will you come? When he lifts the knotty stick makes that shadow on the wall and I whisper to my phone will you come? If I call you will you come? in the middle of the park silent footsteps by the stand and I whisper to my phone will you come? If I call you will you come? when a car slides to… Read more…
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July 29, 2020
Kia ora koutou, Its always interesting to think about the division between work and play. Work started off being eight hours a day at the woollen mills and the bus trip each way added another two hours to that when you took into account I had to walk from home to the bus stop and back each day. That I had to clean the house on Sundays wasn't regarded as work. It was my job just like my sister cooked the Sunday roast and my brother chopped kindling for the week and cleaned and polished all the shoes. These were just thing you did because, according to my mother, they were our share in the ongoing upkeep of the house. At age seventeen, one Saturday morning in 1946, I marched up Emerson Street, Napier, laughing, singing, yelling, because the forty hour week had been brought into law. How innocent I was, how innocent we all were, we thought it was forever, that something really special had been achieved for workers. A whole weekend to oneself and one's family was considered to be a good thing both for a individual's health and for the family. Except of course for nurses, housekeepers… Read more…
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July 22, 2020
Kia ora koutou, been thinking a bit about whakapapa and how easy it is to be pleased about the good ones on it but how often I forget that whakapapa is all embracing, composed of all of them not just those I liked or admired. So I wrote this poem to remind myself that however much I disliked some of them or resented their actions in the past, they, like the ones who were true and brave and loving and who stood up when needed, all – good, bad or in between – are part of my whakapapa. Whakapapa I’m here Just a soft breath sneaking in – no warning no email, no text, no Facetime call a whisper a line from a song you’ve never heard yet every word is known Whakarongo mai and you stop still Whakarongo mai the bones are speaking of a time long gone Whakarongo mai here in this room is a presence a voice you can ignore me scorn me turn your back on me walk away feed me to the fishes I’m still here still here still here Renée 2020
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July 15, 2020
Kia ora koutou, Well, well, you sometimes have to ask whether we need films or plays or novels because real life, especially in the political arena, is so dramatic, irritating and funny. And so we have the National Party's ups and downs, the very stuff of which drama is made. Julius Caesar was not the only leader to be shafted although Mr Muller wasn't pushed – he took himself out of contention. I feel very sorry for him and his family. I hope they all recover well from this step into the ocean of Dirty Works. All the different parties, whatever their shade of politics, know only too well what leadership ups and downs plus skulduggery behind the scenes can do. If I was a National Party supporter I'd want them to choose someone female, someone young. Not Nikki Kaye though because of her close working relationship with Michelle Boag. There's still a lot of stuff we don't know about those lists of names. For example did M, H and M not know that having that list of names in their possession was illegal? Passing them to selected media was illegal? Or did they know and not care because it… Read more…
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July 8, 2020
Kia ora koutou, Covid 19 has changed our lives in all sorts of ways and I think we should expect more changes – I suppose we'll resist them but change will win. I don't have to go very far back really to look at events that changed our lives. Women getting the vote, the war 1914–18, the influenza epidemic, World War 2, measles, polio, the financial crashes, earthquakes. Think of the time called the Industrial Revolution which brought massive change. Trains brought a new life, new opportunities for thousands and thousands of working class and middle class people but it was pushed against very hard by the those who saw it as wrecking their comfortable lives – many of these the big landowners who saw, with a mixture of terror, anger and dismay, their captive work force from villages and towns, leaping on the trains and speeding off to the cities where they could get jobs in the new factories, work just as hard, but get a better weekly wage plus a whole day off per week. As well as not being on call from the Manor, they didn't have to tip their forelock when the master or mistress deigned… Read more…
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July 1, 2020
Kia ora koutou, It has been illuminating hearing or reading comments about the words Black Lives Matter. Whether we protested or marched or were simply there in spirit, the reason for it has been in all our minds after the death of George Floyd at the hands of White policemen in America recently. Some have said dismissively, 'All Lives Matter,' as if that was the point. If all lives mattered then George Floyd and others would be alive, wouldn't they? That wasn't a White man asphyxiated by a White man – it was a Black man asphyxiated by a White man. The point of saying Black Lives Matter is because given the history of police dealings with African Americans it usually is a White police officer hurting, maiming, or killing a Black person so we need to remind the world that Black Lives Matter. Our history here in Aotearoa isn't so hot either. If all lives mattered the Black American out for a jog would not have been targeted and killed by a White father and son, shot because the father thought the man looked like a housebreaker. When we say Black Lives Matter it is not because other lives don't,… Read more…
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June 17, 2020
Kia ora koutou, what with statues and proposed name changes its been an interesting week. I will make it quite clear, I am in the camp with those who want names taken back to the originals. I've written and talked about it for years, and in The Skeleton Woman, one of my novels, set in Lower Hutt, I have my leading character talk about it in relation to that area. I won't go on about the ugliness of the name Hutt plonked on to that beautiful area but I find it hard to believe that anyone would prefer the name Hutt to, for example, Waitohu. I should make it clear too that I simply don't understand why people want to hang on to names that were given to places which already had perfectly good names, this without consultation or even warning eg one day the area was Kirikiriroa, the next day, Hamilton. I think it would be exciting and somehow right to go back to the original names, it would certainly show that we don't want to repeat the mistakes of history, that we want to learn and reap the benefits of fixing them. Its hard maybe to understand? If… Read more…
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June 10, 2020
Kia ora koutou, its good to be on level one and I'm mulling over what I should do to celebrate. Even though the lockdowns have meant some inconvenience, very little really in terms of what others have had to put up with, there's still a difference in the air today. My neighbourhood is busier as it gets back to normal – whatever that is – more people walking and biking, people on mobility scooters, I need to be very careful coming out the driveway. There are more cars on the road. Lots of happy toots as someone sees a friend. Jobs are going though, many more people will be trying for the few that are offered, many will have to move to where the jobs are. I feel very sorry for the people concerned and of course it shifts the balance between employers and workers. It mean employers have all the power and that a worker might have to put up with bad conditions simply because they can't afford not to work. I put up with a couple of bad employers many years ago when I was cleaning simply to keep my then husband's job. The day I left that… Read more…
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May 27, 2020
Kia ora koutou, my walking distances have shortened but I still do a walk most days. Its a little scary with the bikes but the riders are pretty good. With my eyesight the way it is (macular degeneration is taking its toll) I don't always see them ahead and of course only know they're coming from behind when they appear on my right. I don't know how other old nearly blind people manage but I wear bright coloured clothes and very bright coloured shoes. I have a choice of sticks between the yellow and black (High Viz) one and the white stick that Blind and Low Vision NZ gave me. I avoid using the white stick because when I do, as I've said before, nobody smiles at me or says hello. But yesterday I thought maybe I should use it a bit more often. It only takes one careless or deep in thought cyclist and I'd be in serious trouble. They'd get off with a few bruisesbut I would be much more severely hurt. White sticks send a message and its not always that this person is blind – sometimes it means this person has very low vision and might… Read more…
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May 20, 2020
I think of the day he was born damp black curls, little round mouth telling the world he didn’t want to be here that first lesson – how hard it is to love I think of the morning we came home my head ringing with don’t pick him up my heart beating like that tap dance that first lesson – how hard it is to love I think of all those words, the tellings the books, the auntie, the neighbour the slow awakenings – this is forever this ongoing lesson – how hard it is to love And as we stumble, recover, keep walking one foot in front of the other, failing smiling, crying, laughing, hugging that forever lesson – how hard it is to love and how easy. Renée
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May 12, 2020
Kia ora koutou, when I ask that question I'm thinking about the expressions, slang, catchwords I heard when I was young. When I said to someone recently, 'Could you chip the weeds off the drive, please?' and they looked at me like, 'Huh?' I realised that one of the most well used and familiar phrases to do with gardening, had now gone, replaced by whatever succeeding generations needed to make their meanings clear. I don't rage abut this, its inevitable, I just think its a pity to lose some of them. 'Chipping' the weeds is when you go along the driveway and simply slide the spade under the top growth so you're merely removing the evidence, not the crime, the top green stuff not the roots. The result is that the drive looks good, nice and weed free, the sort of thing you want when visitors you don't know well are coming. Eventually of course, you have to do 'the whole nine yards' which means doing the job properly. 'I've taken a scunner.' I still say this. It means I've taken a strong dislike to someone, it means its personal, that I'm making it clear they've offended me. For example,… Read more…
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May 6, 2020
Kia ora Koutou. Southern Cross Crime: The Pocket Essential Guide to the Crime Fiction, Film and TV of Australia and New Zealand, by Craig Sisterson (founder of the Ngaio Marsh awards and champion of crime writing in Aotearoa), published by Oldcastle Books. Available as an ebook on Kindle. I was reared by a mother who read crime novels. Rose wanted a bit of peace from my continual questions so she taught me to read just before I turned five. I ripped through the stories for five, six and seven year olds. Boring. Too many rabbits and fairy godmothers. Where were the drunk men on bikes, the harmomonica players, the scones? Then one day Rose left her library book open on the scungy old couch and I picked it up. I don't remember the title but it was an Agatha Christie. I began to read and was hooked. A lifetime of reading crime novels began. The problem was I had to read the book when Rose wasn't there so I only got halfway through before she whisked it back to the library. So I never knew who murdered the red–faced, bullying Colonel or whether the young woman ever found true love. I had… Read more…
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April 29, 2020
Kia ora koutou, writers are missing out on reviews at the moment. Reviews mean readers get to know about books they might not otherwise see. In any case, Lockdown or not, the regular places probably don't do many crime novel reviews and as we all know a lot of them are in trouble anyway now that Bauer has pulled the plug. So I decided to write some reviews and stick them on WednesdayBusk. I'll do two this week and one next week, then go back to my own Busks and every now and then I'll do some more reviews... Here we go. I found out about the existence of these two crime novels from the Ngaio Marsh Crime and Mystery Writers FB page. The Secrets of Strangers by Charity Norman (Allen & Unwin) & Trust Me, I'm Dead by Sherryl Clark (Verve Books). The Secrets of Strangers by Charity Norman (pub Allen & Unwin). Neil, a rough sleeper and his dog, Buddy, are waking up, Neil wants coffee and hallelujah someone has left some money in his mug. Abi is due at St Albans Crown Court where she’s defending a woman accused of shaking and injuring her nine–week–old baby.… Read more…
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April 22, 2020
Kia ora koutou, as I was cleaning the door handles for what seems like the 50,000th time, a kind of playback happened and I got a glimpse of all the Renées, all the versions of me, all the cleaning those hands had done. It struck me that in spite of all these recreations of me over time, what my hands had done in terms of cleaning was mostly unnoticed, even by me. Of course everyone can see the difference between a clean room and a dirty room but if a place is relatively clean most of the time its hardly noticeable whether the door handles have been cleaned or not. It has become more important to do so at this time but not more noticeable that I've done it. Cleaning door handles is a pact between me and the door handles only and they're not talking. A writing exercise I ask classes to do sometimes is write about their hands and what they've done. Its purpose is partly about writing (the how if it, the why of it) but partly to make them think about something we take for granted – their hands. I called my memoir These Two Hands… Read more…
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April 15, 2020
Kia ora koutou, I was thinking about writing and how much the act of writing is woven into my daily life, how important it is to me. That's not because I get it right the first or the second or often the fifth rewrite but because its become such a rich and fabulous, if occasionally frustrating, part of my life. So I wrote this poem... A Habit of Writing First stem stitch then overlapping rough stretches fall into smoothly turned corners an embroidered Daisy an appliqued Iris secret pockets of threads old lines mistakes here wrong turns there seams of rethinking edges into curves crazy patchwork new patterns emerge fold me close wrap me warm hold me. Renée
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April 8, 2020
I first read the NZ Listener in the 50s when they published columns by a writer called Jillian Squire. She wrote about things I knew about, kids, domestic life, day by day stuff. It was a bright funny spot in a magazine that published mainly male writers, who seemed to me then to have no idea about what real life was about. I guess if you’ve never had a period, been pregnant, or experienced menopause, you don’t see writing from those who do as important. Was it Rex Fairburn or Dennis Glover or another member of that group who described Robin Hyde’s work as ‘outpourings of menstrual rubbish'? This is the problem with history – its mainly been written by one particular gender so we get that particular point of view. If the situation had been reversed and only women wrote history, our idea of it would be very different although still one–sided. We need both. The Labour History Project does a great job of recording working class history, Broadsheet has notched up a heap of well–researched articles on the history of women in this country but just think – if Jesus had had periods … yes well, mustn’t get… Read more…
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April 1, 2020
Kia ora koutou, this is the second week of self–isolation for me. The news from Italy, Spain, France is still awful. China seems to be improving. The Pacific Islands - hope they’ll be okay. Boris is muttering away in Britain and USA citizens are still buying guns. I have found out some things about myself. That I'm impatient is not new but the level is rising…sanitising door handles, cupboard handles, the button that makes the toilet flush are okay but that damn shower mat is annoying. I have to use a mat so I don’t slip but it’s a big nuisance having to clean it in the tub. This is because I’ve got shorter as I’ve got older. I used to be five foot four inches (you can do the metrics) and last time I had a check–up, the nurse measured me and very kindly used the old measurements,‘Five foot one.’ When I looked cheesed off, she said, ‘I can count your hair and make it five, one and a half, if you like.’ For the last three or four years I’ve had two hours a week help in the house for which I pay. That’s cancelled for the… Read more…
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March 25, 2020
Kia ora koutou, its not a surprise really. Once there were two cases that couldn't be linked to anything else, the possibility of community spread was enough for the government to act. And act they have. We're at the beginning of however long it takes and looking like it'll be around Anzac day before we (hopefully) come out of it. As well the nights are colder, the mornings darker. I suppose daylight saving will pop up soon. I will manage, not only because of 'the kindess of strangers' as Blanche says in Streetcar Named Desire, but because of the kindness of friends. 'Be kind,' the PM said, and we will respond. Although when I heard some loud noise (I won't call it music) coming from somewhere last night, I didn't feel so kind. However it didn't go on long. So what are we going to do once the first couple of days are over, we have adjusted (sort of) and we need to do something? Whether it's been a cancer diagnosis or bad news, work has always been the answer for me. I'm aware though that I'm lucky. If I was working in an office or a shop or a… Read more…
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Mate, its simple, just go round the block…
March 11, 2020
Kia ora koutou, this is a great time of the year. If it wasn't for the virus it'd be near perfect. Peaches are falling off the tree, ditto cooking apples, strawberries are still ripening, cucumbers and tomatoes going strong, these last two not from my garden but bestowed on me by generous friends. However, it seems that whatever the season, the ongoing saga of bikes and other wheeled transport on footpaths continues. There's no need for any of this. The solution is so very simple. If you're on a bike and you want to go on the footpath, get off and walk. That's right, get off the bike and walk. My solution for Otaki is even simpler. Shut off Main Street to all motor and cycle traffic, let them go round the two parallel streets, park and walk to Main Street. Pedestrians could then not only walk along footpaths without fear, we could walk on the road in perfect safety because it would be pedestrian traffic only. If cyclists want to shop or buy a pie or fish and chips, they could park their bikes in designated places and walk. If the reason for promoting bikes on footpaths is because… Read more…
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March 4, 2020
Wish I had a photo you setting off that day trying to look grown–up not succeeding not knowing Wish I’d kept a record of what those women said their kindness to that girl in a school gym thick school socks, no coat Wish you’d said yes, you’re right I’m not 15 when they saw you were so dumb you knew everything Wish I could tell you in spite of tangled wools bobbins of twisted threads tears you frown away it won’t turn out so bad. not so bad at all. Renée
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Birdsong is just another word…
February 26, 2020
Kia ora koutou, Sunday morning I was woken at 3.30am by a bird cheeping. It kept it up so sleep was impossible. Monday I texted three drains people. No reply. I rang KCDC and the woman was very nice and said to try Greypower in Levin. I rang Greypower in Levin and they said 'Otaki?' We don't know anything about Otaki people.' I rang SPCA. No answer and no opportunity to leave a message. I texted friends. They had no info. Was I the only one ever to have a bird in the roof? The bird has a lie–down early evening to 3.30am when it wakes up and get on the job again. With great vigour. I have gone past the idea of a kind and careful retrieval of the bird and its nest, I'm now at the stage when strangling it seems a good option. This morning one of the drains people texted me, apologised for not replying earlier and said it wasn't his area but if I was stuck he'd have a go. So I told him the bird's routine and he said it sounded like torture and that someone would be round next week. Till then darlings,… Read more…
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I talk but I’m not sure they’re listening
February 19, 2020
Kia ora koutou, a year or so ago I got hearing aids. I got rechargable ones because I can't see the little tiny batteries for the battery–charged ones and I preferred the idea of rechargable anyway. I don't like wearing hearing aids but they work. They're a real nuisance when I comb my hair because they're flicked so easily with the comb. This is not simply carelessness or haste but probably a waste of time because I can't see my face clearly unless I'm in the bathroom and looking at this flash new 'makeup mirror' one of my sons got for me after an electrician recommended it. I've always been a slow learner of things I don't want to learn and this comb and hearing aid clash is no exception. So there I go, in a hurry and oops, it happens again and I'm peering at the floor trying to find the hearing aid. Swearing seems to help. They are a pain to put to bed at night in their little recharging box too because the box is black and so is the cord. The cord keeps slipping out and its hard to put it back because the cord is… Read more…
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We have bread and we also have roses…
February 12, 2020
Kia ora koutou, I feel a kind of disbelief and yet it has to be true because (ha ha) it was on RNZ news. The RNZ Board has reviewed their decision and decided to keep RNZ Concert on its FM frequency.
I am so pleased for all sorts of reasons. Read more… -
February 5, 2020
Kia ora koutou, there's been a plethora of people lately telling me how to keep healthy and happy now than I'm old.
'Walking – the pleasures of walking,' they rave. Diet. Meditation. Yoga. Singing. Am I lonely? Read more… -
January 29, 2020
Kia ora koutou, I started work properly a couple of weeks ago but that was a choice not a have–to. Soon schools will begin and students will pass by on their way to the kura down the road or the other way to Otaki College. I can almost feel the year going up a gear.
I have plans, I guess we all have plans, some will work out, some that won't. Read more… -
Romance novels? Bring them on…
January 22, 2020
Kia ora koutou, I was twelve when I first read a Rosemary Rees light romantic novel. She was from Gisborne and was possibly the first NZ writer to write in this genre. She sold like hot cakes. I must have picked one up from the library. My mother sniffed but she read it. We always read each other's choices otherwise we'd be left with nothing to read before the next library visit and not having something to read was like, hand me the cyanide, now. I think I needed something to take me away from this adult world I'd entered when I started work. Something that definitely wasn't about worrying over money, food, new shoes – I was patching mine with cardboard – we all did that – nothing remarkable – but I really wanted a new pair for the winter. Reading that light romance novel didn't get me a new pair of shoes but it gave me a light fairy-tale of a story with a happy ending. Perfect. Then I grew up (a bit) and joined the Hawke's Bay Branch of the New Zealand Women Writers Assn (now unfortunately swallowed up by its bigger siblings) and met some real… Read more…
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November 27, 2019
Kia ora koutou, here we are again. Time to fold up the Wednesday Busk tent for this year. Its interesting writing a blog a week. Inevitably some are better reading than others. Sometimes I sit down on a Tuesday and my mind is totally blank and then something will occur, other times I get a bit steamed up, or have experienced something enjoyable and want to tell you about it. Here's a poem from my memoir, These Two Hands. Tonight The fence of brown plaited wood the line of hills the sky glowing over this particular day when the sods give way to the fork and for a moment all the hands that ever dug are in the sweat rolling lazy on your skin and there it is again the feeling of being part of a story... Renée ps... and now you are part of my story and I am part of yours... be back in late January.
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November 20, 2019
Kia ora koutou, its interesting to think about how we all received our names and probably more importantly how we live with them, feel about them. We are given our names and we have no say. Its usually a name chosen by a parent, sometimes by someone in the whanau, sometimes in remembrance of a much loved sister, brother, friend, and of course sometimes just because its a name both parents can agree on. Occasionally, as in my case, there is no reason except that it was a name that was liked enough to want to call their daughter by it. I have huge (I use that word advisedly) difficulty with names of characters and its nothing for my characters to have five or six name changes before I'm satisfied I've got it right. These days this is made very much easier by the Find and Replace tool. Choosing the name for a character, especially a lead character or hero, is very difficult. I want a strong name so I look at the hard consonants like (for example) K or D or R, maybe B or J or N. Sometimes an A is good because quite often it has a… Read more…
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November 13, 2019
Kia ora koutou, its such a small word, only eight letters, its got that nice firm sounding K as its starting letter, the d in the middle and the softer second syllable ending in the even softer ss sound. I have experieced a lot of kindness in my life and again today. I put a post in Sunny Otaki asking if anyone had an office chair and a computer desk for sale, reasonale price. And almost immediately a friend replied saying she had one and could pick me up to go and see it. So this morning she did and I'm now sitting on the chair. We did a green dollar exchange. I got the chair, she got a book. We're both happy. But wait – there's more. She came in and measured the table/space I use as my writing room, then took off with my measuring tape back to her office to measure the computer table she has. We want to make sure it will come in easily through the doorway. Now this is a busy woman, not in the best of health, loads of other things to do but she made time to do this. Why? Kindness. After… Read more…
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November 6, 2019
A star burst in my eyes? The Frida Poem? Frida? That one with the haunted face? Eyebrows like little brushes kissing? That Frida? Who painted loved shouted endured craved movement – colour – that Frida? confined inside that iron straitjacket where the choir of chipped and broken bones sang Glory Glory Glory as purple scarlet yellow red stepped up moved danced strode sang from her hands as she painted the world. That Frida? Then I see, dammit, dammit, its not a Frida poem at all Its a Friday poem. I stare – maybe sometimes what we see is what we want to see and at this moment what I want to see is not a Friday poem but a Frida poem blazing with fire shouting to the world opening itself to the moon flaring back at the sun... I hear her laughter... Renée
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October 30, 2019
Kia ora koutou, Just got back from the arts Festival in Nelson which includes art, theatre and books among other things (and should have included trees) – there are some beautiful trees in Nelson. When I got back home I thought of book festivals and all that they achieve. Books and writers are part of it, the people who attend the sessions are part of it, those who organise this giant spider web of it all make a huge difference. Remember knitting fairisle? The intricate threads of wool that all have to come together to form a pattern? How we had to remember that even this little area of red mattered to the whole large picture of what we wanted to achieve? And how hard we tried to keep the wools untangled and how often we failed? They don't fail at book festivals. Think about it. Accomodation, transport, food (oh the cheese scones), people from bookshops – how do they get such wonderful people working in bookshops? – maybe its like librarians, maybe there's a certain proportion of people who are born into this select group. They not only love books they do everything to make sure you love them… Read more…
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October 16, 2019
Kia ora koutou, Whoohoo, my crime novel, The Wild Card, published by The Cuba Press, is here, hot off the press. You can find it in all good bookshops. It is my first ever crime novel and the first novel in the new genre I have invented, Cosy Noir. This means that while it has dark places (hey its a crime novel, okay?) it also has funny ones. A crime novel has a good story with a murder or two happening along the way. Someone has to solve the puzzle, catch the crims, someone has to right the wrong. Crime novels are where Good triumphs over Evil. Most of the time anyway. There are all kinds of crime novels. There are courtroom dramas, the who did it puzzles, private eye stories where the best ones have really good dialogue, forensic investigation stories for those with nerves of iron, missing person stories, both real and imagined, police procedural stories and the locked room body in the library cosy crime stories. The Wild Card has a theatrical background – of course it does. Ngaio Marsh wasn't the only NZ writer involved in theatre. It has a strong brave hero, Ruby. And then, my… Read more…
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October 9, 2019
Kia ora koutou, does anyone else find it odd that Dame Jenny Shipley who, along with the other Mainzeal directors, was found guilty of charges brought against them in the High Court and received substantial fines, should be the spokesperson for Tuia 250 on RNZ (and elsewhere) for the Cook comemmorations in Tu ranginui a kiwa aka Gisborne? I have no doubt that she has an official right to be there, what I don't understand is why she was thought to be the best representative for the job? The whole episode of Cook's arrival and subsequent murder of nine local Maori by his sailors has, with the memories passed down by local iwi, work by Dame Anne Salmond, Vincent O'Malley, the late Judith Binney, among others, brings a whole different perspective on our history and about time. The idea of even 'celebrating' Cook's arrival, led some of us to ask whether the event should be held at all? Local iwi have been gracious which is good luck for the organisers. The British Ambassador has expressed formal regret for the murders and sounded like she meant it. So surely they could have found someone who was not found guilty of serious… Read more…
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October 2, 2019
Kia ora koutou, we all have different attitudes/feelings to that thing we call work. Sometimes we mean housework, washing, cleaning, occasional ironing, cooking, shopping, gardening (in my case, more like organising the doing of some of these things now). I still love to work, which for me means writing and teaching. When I try to sort out why, there's a lot of reasons. I think the main one is that exercising my brain is good for me. There's also the journey. I've been doing it a long time now and I know only too well when I start a new novel that its going to be frustrating, muddly and extremely irritating. This is possibly because I'm not a planner but I'm not sure that planners endure any less annoyance. There's something, some goddess out there, who loves to see me struggle to get the work started in a way that pleases me. You see the thing is I know when its right, when I've cracked the first layer of the story that's been rolling around in my brain for a while. The sad fact is that thinking up a good story, or an idea is the merest beginning, a little… Read more…
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September 25, 2019
Kia ora koutou, as a representative of a generation which used glass bottles for milk, soft drinks and beer, made our own orange and lemon juice, our own gravy, who washed nappies every damn day for a few years, who grew our own vegetables and trenched most of the household peelings etc, and that the only takeaways bought were pies or fish and chips and they were rare treats as was an ice cream, I'd like to say I resent being blamed for climate change. Sure I cooked on a wood and coal stove. I didn't cook on an electric stove until I was twenty five or maybe older. So shoot me. Sure when washing machines came along I wanted, and eventually, got one. Of course I wanted a fridge. I think I might have bought two bottles of water in my entire life. Yes, I used a car as soon as I could drive one. I lived forty miles out of town, it made sense. Did I wrap every damn thing in plastic? No, I did not. Did I speak to the person at the supermarket about it? Yes I did. Did that make any difference? No, it didn't.… Read more…
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September 18, 2019
Kia ora koutou, there's no denying that most of the history we are taught or that we read or watch online has been viewed through a male lens. That what we read or see is a male view of a particular event. While female historians and others have redressed the balance to some degree since the 1970s, because of the imbalance of educational opportunities for girls and women, past history will never be fully known by readers now. And because in earlier times large numbers of us were not taught to read - we were maids or cleaning women, we did someone's washing, looked after other people's kids, so why would we need to know how to read? Its worth repeating what I said at the PM wards. 'Remember the two women who made it possible for Kate Sheppard to do what she did – the woman who did her washing and ironing and the woman who cleaned her house. Kate did a great job, I'm not disputing that, all I'm saying is that she was middle class, well educated, her husband had money, she had servants, all things that contributed towards her steadfast work on behalf of women's right… Read more…
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September 11, 2019
Kia ora koutou from Otaki, star of the Kapiti Coast with its push to encourage people like me to speak te reo at home, on Main Street, in shops, cafes, library, everywhere. Like everyone else up and down the motu who's not fluent, the big hurdle comes after we go to classes, both formal and informal, after we do the mahi. We finish the course, or the study, the workshop, the group, the exam/tests are done, we deliver our mihi, all ka pai, we know a little but nowhere near fluent. So there we are – a tiny wedge of korero in our kete – where do we take this little bit of knowledge? To whom do we say, 'Kei te haere au ki te Otaki? Where do we get some korero practice to support, stimulate and strengthen our small kete of kupu. We're so shy, so whakama, and everyone else speaks so fluently, so easily, so confidently, while we stand struck dumb, scared we'll make a mistake, knowing with painful certainty that there is no doubt about it, we definitely will make mistakes. And the hideous reality is that sometimes we won't even know what the mistake is. Here's… Read more…
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September 4, 2019
Kia ora koutou, I don't know about you but sometimes I can't really think what I'd like to eat. Its not that I don't have food in the cupboard or fridge or in the garden, its more that sometimes, I need to be coaxed with something special. Or different. Like I'm sick of the ordinasry combinations and want domething different but don't know what. As there's only me to do the coaxing and as I'm the cook as well its a bit like I divide into two people, one asking questions and one frowning and saying, 'No, don't feel like that, no don't want that either.' This is not because I'm old although I think I've got a bit more picky with age but I've always been a bit inclined to a seesaw approach when it comes to food. I'm very good at making sure I eat reasonably well – heard too many stories about people neglecting themselves and living on bread and cheese – I'm fairly firm about the three meals a day. It's what's in the meals I sometimes find difficult. Also I go off things. Do you do that? I can have toasted muesli (made by me)… Read more…
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August 28, 2019
Kia ora koutou, you remember those little blue flowers? Deep deep blue, look like bunches of small blue grapes? Grape Hyacinths (Muscari). I'm sure one of you with better eyesight, can post a photo. They used to be in everyone's garden, often beside or mixed in with those old–fashioned all–white freezias with the gorgeous haunting perfume. Every autumn, gardeners all over the country would thin them out, chuck the excess away or put them on the garden stalls at school or church fairs where the poor little things languished because everyone already had thousands. At closing time they were chucked in the rubbish. Now those little blue numbers, one in each small pot, sell for $4.95 each. Once upon a time there was a garden on Nelson Crescent in Napier belonging to my mother–in–law Rubina, where every spring grape hyacinths bloomed, great swathes of deep deep blue that made you stop in your tracks just to look. Yellow is probably the colour we associate with early spring but the blue–ness of grape hyacinths was a good constrast and in those days blue seemed to be a favourite colour especially for older women. Remember (you're probably too young) those blue rinses… Read more…
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Local Council elections – yawn or wakeup call?
August 21, 2019
Kia ora koutou, I find it hard to get interested in local body stuff and that's because I don't feel connected or involved. There's a kind of miasma over what actually happens at their meetings and what points of view are operating given that they're mainly Pakeha, male and older. Nominations have closed so think about this – if there are young people, female, Maori, Asian, standing for election vote for them Yes I know the general consensus on the street is that they're too young, no experience and the killer – they don't belong to the old boy's network but think about voting for them. The history of local council elections shows that even if a Maori wahine stands they very rarely, almost never, get voted in. Their courage in even standing, given the stats, deserves a medal. The message they get from you, the voter, is, 'Butt out, your point of view is not wanted – its not important – you don't understand how these things work and anyway you don't belong to Rotary or Lions. Stats tell us that 72% of councillors are male and over 70. Time for a change. It might come as a shock… Read more…
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Eviction Notice … by Naomi Taylor
July 31, 2019
Eviction notice 1. We take the bus End of Lambton Quay I say to the driver Whina is in the front pack Red hat on For Papatūānuku Maybe she will sleep Ka whawhai tonu mātou her lullaby. 2. Walking home my baby is hot I slide off her hat and trace the swirling smoke of the home fires. 3. A man looks over “She needs to be wearing a hat,” he says, with all the confidence of 180 years. Her warm body next to mine She is listening to my heartbeat Āke, āke, āke...
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The Heart of Jesus Valentino…review by Renée
July 24, 2019
The Heart of Jesus Valentino by Emma Gilkison. I was caught and held in The Heart of Jesus Valentino from the first page. I could not stop reading about these three heroes – Emma, Roy, and their baby, Jesus Valentino (JV). When Emma and Roy are told after the first scan that their baby’s heart is outside its body (ectopia cordis) the prognosis is not good. Emma might or might not carry the baby to full term but once it is born it will live maybe only a few hours. For Emma and Roy the choice is stark. The pregnancy can be terminated or she can carry JV to full term when he will almost certainly die either during labour or soon after birth. The decision is made, to carry the baby to full term and Roy (who is Peruvian) names his son Jesus Valentino. The Heart of Jesus Valentinois the story of those months, that journey. Life doesn’t stop, they need to buy a house, Roy needs to go away for a couple of months for his job and to see his parents, Emma works full–time too. There are family and friends. There are daily irritations, misunderstandings, joyful interludes. JV… Read more…
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June 26, 2019
Kia ora koutou, I'm taking some time off WednesdayBusk from now till the end of August. Be back then. Stay warm and remember – daffodils and lachanalia are coming. Renée
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June 19, 2019
So the head honcho at ANZ has been putting stuff like booze and flash travel on his work expenses? Poor thing, I suppose he was driven to it, must be hard to manage on a salary of four million a year. Possibly too much tripe upset his constitution. And that's just from the Board members. As for these Board members, what the hell were they up to? The Board Chair? Too busy counting their own millions to check? Too immersed in choosing a new flag for ANZ perhaps? Who signs these thing off? Probably not the teller or the cleaner on the minimum wage of seventeen dollars something an hour. They would have had too much sense to sign it off anyway. Or more likely too busy? Although they know all about the cost of travel so maybe they'd understand the chauffeur–driven cars. I understand buses and trains travel in the cities is a chancy business. Yes, I'm sure they'd have some empathy for the poor guy. I have to admit that the idea of someone receiving four million dollars a year as salary is a stretch. The idea that they would scrabble around to make it more is beyond… Read more…
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June 12, 2019
I walk where embers hiss and sigh I hear the call of voices left I see a bird rise in the sky There is a dance to learn and I think of masks which hang bereft I walk where embers hiss and sigh Somewhere an elusive cry weaves a thorny warp and weft I see a bird rise in the sky Morning sings its swift goodbye doubts wind back to thoughts I left I walk where embers hiss and sigh Purple Iris, trusty guide leads my footsteps on the ledge I see a bird rise in the sky Where sunsets end and mountains cry I search the stony river bed I walk where embers hiss and sigh I see a bird rise in the sky
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May 29, 2019
Kia ora koutou, another doctor, another patient who misses out eg dies. A woman going into prison had a diagnosed of irritable bowel syndrome. This condition can be seriously painful. While she was inside her condition worsened and she complained of severe pain. The prison authorities say there were two doctors consulted but it wasn't until some considerable time (and I would unhesitatingly say, some considerable agony for the woman) that the prisoner was taken to hospital where it was discovered she had bowel cancer. She subsequently died. It made me think of all the cases I've read, or listened to, stories of bad treatment of people in retirement homes, public hospitals, where people die because of inept, hurried or just plain wrong diagnoses and I'm wondering why the doctors, nurses, prison guards, staff concerned, are never named. Leaving aside what appears like a determined effort to ignore this particular woman's concerns, leaving aside the lack of human kindness of prison authorities and staff (it would have been obvious this woman was in severe distress), there were two doctors who, you would think, had more training, more experience, who deal with patients on a daily basis out in the world… Read more…
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Rugby – is anyone in the union really trying?
May 22, 2019
Kia ora koutou, I'll be upfront. I don't understand rugby's appeal, I don't understand its rules, I don't understand why, as part of the game, what would be serious assault on the street, is not only condoned but seems to be encouraged on the field. And I don't understand why they're so old-fashioned. This latest episode of homophobia in South Africa makes them look like they're still back in the mentality of the 1950s where homosexual men were arrested and put in jail for having sex with a willing partner and where 'real' men could insult them with impunity, even encouragement, where 'real men' got drunk and groped girls and women, and worse, and nobody said a word because he was either your mate, or you were doing the same thing. Yes of course there were exceptions or otherwise we wouldn't have got the law reform. There were both male and female heroes (the indomitable MP Fran Wilde for example) who kept on fighting for our right to be seen as human beings just like everyone else, who had the same loves, desires and longings as everyone else. When we marched up Queen Street in 1986 there were many heterosexual… Read more…
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May 15, 2019
I read some great tributes to mothers over the weekend, not all of them one hundred percent glowing but all of them written with love and understanding of the woman who was their mother and what she had done for them. I suppose as we get older we understand our mothers more. Sure we see their faults and failings but we also see our own. We realise life is not always easy for anyone but especially mothers. They are human beings with the same kind of pressures, faults, good points as anyone else. I also wonder about the physical toll. There's a lot of hard physical work associated with motherhood. You carry the baby for nine months, you give birth and that's not always (or ever) a whoopee, this is fun, why don't I do this more often, kind of affair, is it. Then there's the physical carrying, lifting, bathing, cleaning and those damned sieved vegetables. I hated even the look of sieved vegetables. Looking at a little dish of sieved vegetables was to me akin to looking at a bowl of sieved sick. So there was a lot of bracing commands to myself along the lines of 'You're not… Read more…
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May 8, 2019
Kia ora koutou, I've been reading a few books I loved as a kid. Its been part pleasure, part amazement, part disbelief. Take Keeper of the Bees by Gene Stratton Porter for example. I loved it. I had nothing but good feelings about it. I regarded it, in memory, as a highlight of my reading at that time. Until last week when I decided to read it again. Its the story of a serviceman, badly injured, in hospital for ages, given up by the doctors, who walks out of the hospital and goes on the road where he has some adventures, finds a place where the owner has a heart attack and is taken off to hospital, leaving the ex–soldier to look after everything. Our hero gradually gets better as he looks after the bees, the house, the garden, and makes friends with locals. This rather inspiring storyline is wrecked by over rich layers of stuff about God and something called Americanism, taught apparently as a subject, by the woman he falls in love with. What astonishes me is that around age 10, I read it so uncriticially. I wasn't like that in real life. In real life I saw… Read more…
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May 1, 2019
Kia ora koutou, I'm talking about friendship. The kind that lasts a lifetime. I've been to Dunedin for a few days and it was looking its lovely best. The leaves are either turning or have turned so you have this changing colour trail as you drive (or even better, are driven) around. I can see things at a distance better than up close, not totally clearly, but I still felt like I'd walked into sunlight. So there's the trees, there's my friend's garden. Lovely red tomatoes still growing on the sunny side of her house, and the little glassed-in porch is stuffed with herbs, seedlings, all growing like they know thats their job and so conveninet when she's cooking and wants some fresh herbs. She hosted a lunch party for me too. Some friends I made when I first went to Dunedin with a show in 1984 and a couple from when I went there as the Burns Fellow in 1989. It was such fun. You know how it is. Everyone there had a link to me and each other so the conversation was full of past and also lots of current happenings and events. I think we pretty well… Read more…
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April 24, 2019
Kia ora koutou, I wonder sometimes, I really do. Is it ingrained in us to be unkind to anyone who looks or sounds different? Things have change for the better, I know, but careless comments or descriptions still go on. Calling an old woman 'the old duck' is derogatory and hurtful to all old women. I don't know which word is the more scathingly meant, 'old' or 'duck'. Probably both. 'Stupid old fool', dopey old bugger', silly 'old' fart'. The word old is used all the time as a derogatory term. Don't misunderstand me. I prefer to call myself old instead of elderly. It just seems more grown up. And I freely admit we old people are sometimes annoying, forgetful, we are irritating. We can't see properly, we can't always hear well, we lose mobility, we're slower than we were but is it so hard just to say 'annoying' instead of 'old' or 'duck'? Just simply 'annoying woman? The funny thing is that we're all going to get old. It might not seem like it to you right at this moment but its a fact. It will happen. No-one knows what the future will hold when that happens. We could… Read more…
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April 17, 2019
Kia ora koutou, wasps have made themselves at home in one of the pou in my garden. I texted a friend who gave me a number, I texted that number and they were lovely and very helpful, recommended I ring Kapiti Coast District Council. They were very helpful and passed me on to Wellington Regional Council who were very helpful and passed me on to Pest Control who helpfully asked me to leave a message, which I did. Now I'm having a cup of tea and thinking about life and writing and wasps. I didn't invite the wasps. One day they just appeared, like the white sails appeared over the horizon when Captain Cook arrived in Turanga-Nui- a- Kiwa and led the way for others who thought we can't be doing with that name so we'll change it to Gisborne. A bit like the changes to a novel while you're writing it. I want to move the wasps on – like the Catholic church moved priests on when they'd sexually abused children – send them on to another parish and then its not our problem. But obviously they had a system. I don't. The wasps are a new experience so… Read more…
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Three things I learned this week
April 10, 2019
One: Some people don't know how to apologise, or what an apology means. They say things like, 'If anything I said caused offence then that was not my intention.' What a cop-out. What should have been said was, 'I'm sorry I used that expression, those words, that threat. I was wrong and I apologise. I won't do it again. I hope you'll forgive me.' Two: I was making a casserole from a new recipe. It said add two sliced chorizo sausages. There were two in each packet so in the good old Aotearoa way I thought, four has to be better than two so I chopped them all up and chucked them in. Cooked the casserole. Left it in fridge for a day for flavours to permeate. Next day it smelled so good when heated up. Practically drooling, I sat down, grabbed a spoon, couldn't get enough on a fork and stuck a big spoonful in my mouth. Bloody hell, someone call the fire brigade. As I sucked on two ice cubes, I made a vow. Either I make a larger casserole so it can take four sausages (along with the chilli in the recipe) or I just use what… Read more…
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Rage, rage, against the dying of the light…
April 3, 2019
I've been thinking about this poem by Dylan Thomas. He wrote it for his father and meant it to be about dying but I'm using the line to moan about my eyesight and horrible and annoying and frustrating and irritating it is. This is my second blog about it I know, and I won't make a habit of it, but I went on a road trip last week around the East Coast and discovered just how bad it is when I'm away from familiar surroundings. Here I know where everything is and in spite of frustrations and with a little help from my friends, I manage very well. But take me away from here, and that comfort goes. Motels are not built to cater for people like me. Even allowing for poor eyesight, the lights are dim and the bathrooms are real traps unless you're very very careful or have really good eyesight. Showers have shiny slippery floors, especially when wet, making it a combination of will and terror to have a shower. They haven't heard of shower mats. The toilets are all very low - and made me glad I had a higher one installed at home. This was… Read more…
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March 20, 2019
Kia ora Koutou, this is the poem... Read more…
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March 13, 2019
Kia oraa koutou, a kind person... Read more…
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February 27, 2019
So what exactly is the New Zealand way of life?... Read more…
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February 20, 2019
Monday was a day... Read more…
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February 13, 2019
Kia ora Koutou, this last week we've seen the fires in Wakefield and learned of hundreds of acts of kindness. I remember being a recipient of this kind of generosity when we were flooded out many years ago. I've referred before to this incident. We had three kids, a cat and a canary. The water had come in over the front step and then inside. Laurie had stacked the furniture, taken up the carpet, while I got the kids up and said wasn't this fun – we were all going to stay at the local pub, weren't we lucky? I wasn't quite so cheerful when we finally went outside and stepped into the cold water which was up to my waist. Chris could walk and carry the cat. I carried Tim and Laurie carried David. The canary was left in his cage, high up where he could watch the water rise but not find himself swimming in it. Part of the anxieties were caused by the rubberneckers who couldn't resist driving down Avenue Road to see the flooding. Their vehicles sent huge waves of dirty water into the house. In spite of repeated requests on the radio, not to drive… Read more…
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February 6, 2019
It's something that we all think about from time to time, discuss it, mull over it without coming to a definite conclusion and yet we still wonder. I'm talking about dividing the artist and their work. Can it be done? Musician, actor, film–maker, writer, whatever field of art is your main interest, what do you do when you find out the person concerned has behaved very badly during their lifetime. When I say behaved badly, I don't mean they told a white lie, or parked on a no–parking zone, I mean violent and racist words and behaviour, sexist attitudes and homophobic words and actions. Does the work stand separate from its maker's actions or words? If I write some racist, sexist, homophobic lines yet produce a good piece of work that lots admire does that make it okay?. if I write some unimpeachable lines, and then beat and rape women, use my power to keep someone out of a job simply on the basis of their race, is that OK?, Beethoven said that 'strength is the morality of the man who stands out from the rest' and we know that this was one of Hitler's favourite quotes, He agreed (of… Read more…
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January 30, 2019
Chirp chirp... Read more…
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December 19, 2018
Kia ora koutou, thank you all for reading the busks and for your comments and suggestions in 2018. I'm taking a break until the end of January when I'll be back with a new busk. I hope you have a happy summer, lots of meeting up with friends, family and some time to yourself. Summer is reading time after all, Stay safe, drive carefully, laugh a lot. I'll be back with a busk in February. Love and hugs Renée
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Its only words ‘cos words are all I have…
December 11, 2018
..so sang the BeeGees... Read more…
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December 5, 2018
Kia ora Koutou, a short not very sweet.... Read more…
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Oh sorry, yes it was bias, but it was unconscious…
November 28, 2018
Kia ora koutou, I don't know about you but I am wondering... Read more…
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November 14, 2018
Kia ora koutou, when I tewll people... Read more…
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November 7, 2018
Shall we... Read more…
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October 31, 2018
Kia ora Koutou, there;s been a lot of talk about... Read more…
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October 24, 2018
Kia ora koutout, a few rituals on the horizon... Read more…
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October 3, 2018
Kia ora koutou, Monday I was invited... Read more…
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Is that a dagger I see before me?
September 26, 2018
Kia ora koutou, when I was in Auckland... Read more…
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Someone smashed the Lillliput library.
September 19, 2018
It all happened about ten days ago... Read more…
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September 12, 2018
I'm a reasonably tidy woman... Read more…
