Arrowtown book buyer Miranda Spary continues her regular column about her recommendations for a good read, and life as she sees it ...
I absolutely hate throwing out favourite things when they are a little bit broken I THOUGHT those things on the side of my darling's head were purely ornamental, but now I know he sometimes uses them for listening.
I came home to lots of emails and phone calls from his golf buddies and their wives saying he had told them about my insomnia and suggesting cures.
I was staggered! I had no idea men talked about ANYTHING their wives said and this just proved how wrong I was. Anyway, thanks so much golf boys - I know that at least one of the suggestions will do the magic trick and I will turn back into a normal human being instead of this unslept monster soon.
The melatonin pills worked brilliantly - I didn't even remember to take them, but just having them in the house made me sleep properly.
And thanks too, to Gorge Joinery.
I absolutely hate throwing out favourite things when they are a little bit broken and I can't find anyone to fix them.
My best little cabin bag needed just one little screw to reattach the handle.
Of course, it was not a normal little screw and nobody stocked it.
But the lovely man at Gorge Joinery made me one and wouldn't even let me pay for it.
I couldn't have been happier - it's so infuriating to be told there's no option but buying a new one. There's something tremendously satisfying about owning something that just keeps doing what it's meant to forever.
I was planning to do that with my truck, until Dan Egerton rang last week to say my darling said he could buy it. No hurry - anytime in the next couple of days would be fine to pick it up ... I spent the time fondling every one of its dents and scratches, feeling sad about the end of a beautiful relationship.
Luckily, I know Dan and his driving skills, and I'll bet my truck will be sporting some smart new ones quite soon.
I'm writing this from Auckland and still laughing about letting my delicious nephew Oscar meet the woman of his dreams yesterday. He's only 4 (nearly 5) but has been in love with Annabel Langbein for some time now.
All he wanted for Christmas was her new recipe book and his TV diet consists of cartoons and the Food channel. My brother and his family are living up here setting up the brand new Botswana Butchery in the old Cincin restaurant on the waterfront.
I told Annabel about her small but devoted fan, and she kindly popped round which just about floored poor Oscar.
I'm not sure if he knew she was real.
Anyway, he did her some glorious pictures of herself with some broccoli and then did some scootering and biking displays to prove his manliness.
It was all too thrilling for words.
Arrowtown was thrilling on Saturday as well - the Motatapu event is so huge now - it's just so much fun even being a spectator and watching everyone coming in.
I caught up with so many people I didn't even know were super athletes and congratulations to my clever editor Neal Wallace, who proved he's not just some pen-pushing wimp in an office, but is really a whizzo mountain man scorching his way to the finish line.
Books ... I can't wait to tell you to read Submission by Amy Waldman. This is so brilliant and I haven't quite finished it yet, but it's magic.
The city of New York holds a competition to choose a memorial for the 9/11 disaster.
Thousands of entries are submitted and they are all anonymous.
The jury chooses their favourite and all hell breaks loose when the designer turns out to be a Muslim.
American born and bred, but a Muslim nonetheless.
It's a sharp little snapshot of society - in some way a bit like The Slap, which just shows the whole gamut of feelings on any one subject in a community.
The Slap started off about child discipline and wandered off into all sorts of other territory.
Submission does the same and looks at xenophobia, racism, religion, feminism and everything in between.
It is SO startlingly clever and in between starting my column and finishing it, I had to sneak back and finish this marvellous book.
