Arrowtown book buyer Miranda Spary continues her regular column about her recommendations for a good read, and life as she sees it ...
I have had so many hugs from people this week consoling me about our cat - don't be too sad yet, as she has perked up in the last few days.
The gorgeous, gormless golden retriever who came to star in a dogfood commercial at our place saw her stop knocking at death's door and take up a disdainful pose in the window glaring at him instead.
Then our wonderful French woofer Jonathan shot a rabbit for her - fresh blood and something to sneer at have put her in great spirits again.
It is still going to be an agonising decision at the vet's soon, and it makes me a tiny bit glad that we don't have euthanasia for people. Given how hard I am finding it just thinking about putting down Speedy, I would never cope with deciding for a human.
My dad does not seem to be planning on leaving anytime soon. He drives around in his 1988 silver Sentra to save his 1996 Mercedes from wearing out.
Surely he realises that having been manufactured in Britain during the great depression, he is never going to outlive a German-made product of the '90s.
I got a lot of cross feedback about the blasphemous things I said about the Steve Jobs book last week.
So many people have loved it and said I must tell you that.
I think that its bestseller placing would probably tell you that better than I can, but the great thing about books is that any two people, however similar their tastes, can read the same book and have a completely different view.
Go with a friend and buy a book together, then read it and see for yourself.
Everyone always gets something different from this same experience and not only do you learn something from the book, but you learn even more about the person you discuss it with. It is why book clubs are so popular - they are much more about getting to know other people than about the books.
On Saturday, I went down to Alexandra for the reopening of the Henderson House, designed by architect Ernst Plischke (excellent ratio of consonants to vowels in that name).
It is 60 years old, but looking as fresh and modern as ever after its $450,000 facelift.
The Henderson House Trust invites artists who have made great contributions to New Zealand culture to take up a residency there.
It's hard to imagine a more glorious, inspiring spot to get creative in and I am very annoyed to have been born without a single creative gene that might have got me in there.
Somewhere I do not want to get into is the Queenstown Police Facebook page.
Have you seen it?
Have a look - it is hard to believe the baddies featured can walk five seconds outside without being identified.
If a make-up team on a film made someone look that bad, they would be told off for producing something so cliched.
I did worry about whether I would be able to identify the stolen tyres they had pictured though. I don't know about you, but one tyre looks alarmingly like another to me.
Join their Facebook page and become a real live crimefighting superhero.
And in the pages of the latest Tatler, Britain's great society magazine, Queenstown gets a couple of good mentions - the Eichardts' listing in their 101 best hotels of the world calls us "a foxy winter playground for edgy snowboarders and Emu-booted glamourpusses" and "a town bursting with deeply tempting refuelling hubs".
Then the helicopter-access-only superluxurious tent hotel at Wanaka's Minaret Station lists "dropping in for coffee at Joe's Garage in ski party-spot Queenstown" as one of their top treats.
All my friends in England say they can hardly pick up a paper or magazine that isn't raving about our beautiful town.
And so it should be. It is an amazing place.
If the heat is making you dream of being cold, take a trip to Mt Cook. The Tasman Glacier has just had another massive calving (that is the word for these colossal bits of ice shearing off the terminal face) and cruising around the lake in a little boat surrounded by these spectacular, sculptural icebergs is a brilliant way of spending a hot summer's day.
It is only a three-hour drive and well worth staying the night and doing some of the beautiful walks there. If you want to do the boat trip, make sure you book first as the rest of the world has known about it for a lot longer than the locals. It is a must-do for most visitors and so few New Zealanders even know it exists.
Lots of people have asked me what I think of Fiona Farrell's The Broken Book which I had not read until this week.
Lots of people had recommended it to me, but it did not sound very appealing.
Silly me. It is fabulous.
Fiona Farrell has been everything in the world of New Zealand literature - she has been the Katherine Mansfield AND Robert Burns Fellow, she has had the Rathcoola Residency in Ireland, and won loads of nominations and awards. She started this book as a travel story about walking and the random thoughts that go with wandering the earth. But the earthquake happened and her random thoughts changed direction.
She floats between France and New Zealand and talks about Robert Louis Stevenson and his travels with Modestine the donkey in one breath, then moves on to Christchurch and the shattered pieces that are left.
It is a real ramble with her beautiful prose and poetry.
And thanks to Kate Nattrass who recommended The Colour of Tea by Hannah Tunnicliffe.
All I knew about Macau was that it has great Portuguese custard tarts and a lot of casinos.
My darling goes there to play poker sometimes.
This book is set there and is a much more interesting story than anything I have read or heard about the place. Grace and Pete are a young couple struggling to get pregnant and they move there for his work.
To keep herself busy and distracted, Grace starts a cafe and gets very busy and distracted.
It is a success in all sorts of ways, not least because her cafe brings all sorts of different and difficult lonely women together.
I hope you all had a great Waitangi Day and congratulations to everyone who helped put on a stunning day in the Gardens. The music of those magnificent Paua Patties was the perfect way to start a happy afternoon.
