Arrowtown book buyer Miranda Spary continues her regular column about her recommendations for a good read and life as she sees it . . .
The worst thing about writing this column is sitting down in front of the computer for long enough to turn my week's scrappy notes into something other people can understand.
There's always so much going on and I suffer dreadfully from FOMO (fear of missing out), so I am always rushing hither and yon and never getting much done.
I was green with envy on Sunday night in Dunedin's Octagon, when the thousands of people dressed in green were starting the huge Ireland-Italy party before the match.
I so wished that I was setting off with them to the stadium, even though I loathe rugby.
Instead I went with a friend to see the movie Incendies which was not fun, but totally thrilling and unforgettable.
It was one of those stories where they peel off one layer after another and reveal something even more dreadful and unimaginable underneath.
A sleepless night was unavoidable after that.
On a more cheerful note, I did get to meet 60 of the happiest, most generous and helpful people on Wednesday when they came for afternoon tea here.
They are the volunteers for the Cancer Society's big fundraising Daffodil Day.
The money they raise and the work they do helps to support local people who are facing that dreadful and unimaginable thing - cancer.
I felt very proud to be asked to host the thank you party for this wonderful group and with sparkly sunshine, Mark Wilson and his gorgeous fiancee Emma serenading us, amazing food from all of Queenstown's top cafes and restaurants (I noticed they forgot to mention the Med Market in the newspaper, but they may have thought the beautiful fruit and cheese platter they provided was a work of art, rather than food) it could not have been a nicer way to spend an afternoon.
The afternoon ended with a furtive message telling me to make sure to get my darling down to Amisfield for the opening of the latest art exhibition as there was a portrait of him in it.
I know that some of you think my darling is a figment of my imagination and are fascinated to meet what sounds like a henpecked, hopeless case (he's a huge disappointment in that regard).
My old (well, not that old) editor, once even emailed me asking if my darling would like to have the right to speak for himself occasionally.
I said he wouldn't.
Anyway, off we trot and I foolishly missed photographing the moment where he saw the portrait of himself hanging behind the bar.
Priceless.
Artist Mary-ann Dickie had framed a marvellous photo of him in his captain's hat (even though the Turkish captain never let him touch anything on the boat) and hung it with all the paintings and glass works.
It's well worth getting along to see the exhibition if you get a chance, and going to Amisfield is always such a huge treat, anyway.
My darling calls 40th birthday parties "children's parties" but it doesn't seem to stop him enjoying them.
Scotty Stevens is the latest to hit this magic number - congratulations Scotty.
He is responsible for the fantastic editorial each week in the Lakes Weekly Bulletin, he is so extraordinarily in tune with how the community is thinking we all rush to read it to see what our opinions are each week.
He claims he has to share his birthday party each year with Matt Patterson or else everyone goes to Matt's parties, not his.
Whatever, it's been a fantastic week of celebrating for them both and a very big not nearly 40th birthday wish to lovely Matt as well.
My FOMO is getting out of hand, and I keep hearing about things I'm not doing and wishing I were.
Apparently I missed a lot by missing the Red Hot Chilli Pipers' bagpipe show on Sunday night; some of my friends are doing a course of ukulele lessons, which I would love to join even though I am tone deaf; and there is a huge group from all over New Zealand and abroad in town for all of October studying with yoga whizz Lance Schuler.
And the friend I stayed with in Dunedin is mad on all things French and left piles of French magazines and books about France by my bed, so now I too have a bad case of galloping Francophilia and am dreaming dreams of France and Frenchmen and all those other French delicacies.
Thank you Jenny Mehrtens for recommending Laurence Fearnley's The Hut Builder.
Boden Black is the butcher's son in Fairlie (yes, the one in South Canterbury).
A trip to Mt Cook awakens in him a passion for mountains and poetry - both a far cry from the life he actually lives.
This book won a NZ Post award, and while it certainly has the depressing bits which are apparently compulsory in New Zealand fiction, it isn't a depressing read at all.
Do remember how much I love all the recommendations - it's the best way of finding out about great books.
Happy birthday to Walnut Cottage today - as their birthday treat, you can have half price everything for the day - even their dangerous cherry slice and as for the beef rendang ... mmm.
And if you get a chance, the QT Patchworkers and Quilters have a $15 a ticket fashion parade of Diane Dynes' very clever reconstructed garments, and afternoon tea (the food isn't reconstructed) on Saturday at 1.30pm at the St Margaret's Community Hall in Frankton.
