What a week - loneliness is not as quiet and peaceful as you might think.
My darling has been away with our boys for a bit of father-son bonding, on a fishing trip in Western Australia.
They caught something big, but not a fish - it was campylobacter and the only good thing about it is weight loss.
I have not managed to lose any weight in my week of loneliness as everyone has been so kind and invited me out each night.
To work off some of the beautiful meals, I have been trying to do a lot of exercise.
Taking my beautiful niece (yes, the one who removed not only her halo and wings, but also her skirt and nearly her nappy at the Nativity play) in a pram up Tobin's Track was a bit of a bold call, but I had had the foresight to invite three friends along, so every 30 seconds, we would trade places at the pushing end and managed to get there.
The real difficulty was at the bottom when the four of us just could not work out how to collapse the pram.
We decided to grab the next young mother who passed by and force her to reveal the secret.
Luckily for her, and us, she offered the information willingly and it was a simple matter of pushing one very obvious button.
My mother says there is one big advantage in being old in the Wakatipu.
Mary Stamers-Smith co-ordinates something called the University of the Third Age here and this week she had pianist Maurice Till talk to all those officially old enough to go to the Home for the Perpetually Bewildered but not quite bewildered enough to need to go there.
She said it was marvellous and well worth the arthritis and failing eyesight for the privilege of listening to him.
The other person who has spent the last couple of years in a state of bewilderment is my lovely editor.
He has made sure I will have a rotten Christmas by announcing his promotion to something called Day Editor.
I don't know what that means except that now I will have to go through the pain and anguish of training a new editor. My lovely old one (let's just call him Dave) has been the perfect, patient and wise mentor.
How is the new one to know that when I send him an email with an attachment saying "you might be able to use this", that the attachment might NOT be the photo of famous author Ken Follett in front of a helicopter, but a scanned letter saying that my credit card had been declined on an internet purchase I was trying to make?
It takes time to work out the thought patterns of a simple columnist.
I want to thank lovely Dave by sending him some of my Etoile de Hollande roses which he has admired.
But what will his wife think?
Thank you dear Dave, and I hope that day editing is everything you dream of, and that you will mentor me on how to manage a new editor.
Thank you so much for all your story ideas and feedback on where to get the best Christmas feel-good moments.
It's too late to tell you about Arrowtown's Montessori Nativity play which was pure heaven with most unangelic angels and spectacularly unwise wise men.
I especially loved the "poor little drummer boy" who couldn't do a sad face if his life depended on it, and when he was finally allowed to let rip with the "Rumpa-tum-tum" on his drum, nearly deafened the audience.
Loads of sobbing angels and screeching shepherds - pure magic.
For another touching, uncommercial, totally Christmassy event, get along to Thurlby Domain in Speargrass Flat Rd at midday on Saturday.
Take a hanky and a big picnic blanket (don't forget the picnic) and watch Caroline van Asch's production of Oscar Wilde's The Selfish Giant.
If you saw it three years ago, you'll know how brilliant it is and go again.
If you didn't, just take my word for it.
Recently, I followed a mysterious ad saying "Yoga at 4.30 in the Rose Garden".
A beautiful Brazilian couple, who said they were a cleaner and a kitchen hand (a little probing revealed that in Brazil they are a geologist and a lawyer), are giving public yoga classes there.
There can't be anywhere nicer in the world than our own Queenstown Gardens and lying under those big trees drunk on the smell of roses, listening to a marvellous Brazilian accent telling you to have "astretchered" legs and to forget all "obSTARkles" was very special.
Take advantage of all our lovely visitors who don't just enjoy our wonderful Wakatipu, but teach us to enjoy it more, as well.
You might even want to try tightrope walking between the trees on the waterfront.
I read somewhere that we are encouraging more golfers to Queenstown.
That's all good, and I've nothing against golfers, but generally I think that backpackers tightrope walking in bikinis on our waterfront are more attractive than golfers doing the same.
Emily and Laurent, from Simply French, are going to be at Fox's Bar in Arrowtown from today until Sunday selling their antique furniture and essential French bits.
It's a perfect outing for Francophiles and handily next door to Bonjour Cafe for a further fix.
If you are into stringed instruments, then get along and talk to Laurent who is a master "luthier" - he builds guitars and teaches people how to build their own.
I am not recommending any books this week as I have been very busy getting my 2010 best books list together and have finally sent it in.
This time next week will be Christmas Eve, so perhaps I will suggest some books for presents then - isn't that the day when all the world goes Christmas shopping?
