In this job as a hard-hitting investigative reporter, it's important to keep up to date with what's happening in the world. I'm trying, but it's pretty hard when NZ Post (and even the people who distribute the paper I write for) don't want me to find anything out.
We've been having a run of unpaid bills, grumpy phone calls about not RSVP-ing to invitations, cross and crossed messages with magazine distributors who haven't been supplying our subscriptions and it is ALL NZ Post's fault.
A thank you letter to us finally arrived after having twice been stamped with a message to inform the sender of our correct address.
It WAS our correct address.
Penny Wallace tells me that half their daughter's wedding invitations were not received.
Pathetic effort, NZ Post - and it's about time you smartened up your act.
Don't tell us to tell everyone our correct address - just try a bit of common sense.
How do we know who is going to write to us?
And whoever is delivering the newspapers in Lake Hayes Rd might like to do a bit of target practice.
The neighbours are giving this stout (what a deliciously round and solid word that is) woman strange looks as she heaves herself in and out of the deep ditch on the side of the road each day.
Soggy newspapers are just as appealing as soggy toast and handshakes.
Oh dear, moan, moan, moan.
If I need a bit of a cheer up, all I have to do is look outside - there's nothing more cheering than a great big bunch of daffodils unless, of course, it's a great big bunch of Daffodil Day collectors.
I was lucky enough to be asked if the Cancer Society could thank their volunteers by inviting them to an afternoon tea party at our place.
I wasn't so sure how lucky the volunteers would feel if they had to eat my home baking, or that they would consider it much of a thank you.
So I had a brainwave and asked some of my favourite cafes and restaurants if they would like to make an edible thank you to these terrifically generous people who stand out in the cold on the first day of spring raising money for the Cancer Society.
They all agreed so a huge thank you to Vudu, Motogrill, Med Market, Provisions of Arrowtown, Walnut Cottage, Amisfield and Patagonia for making me look such a great hostess.
And, of course, an enormous thank you to those lovely Daffodil Day collectors.
The Festival of Colour put on the brilliant Le Sud last year.
It's a very funny bit of theatre where the South Island is a marvellously happy, wine-swilling, French-speaking country and the North Island is not (sounds like real life, apart from the French bit).
The North Island Government, desperately short of power and happiness, sends a delegation southwards to try and get some of both.
The very good news is that another two performances of it have been scheduled for October 15 and 16 in Queenstown.
Tickets go on sale on Monday. You can get them online at www.festivalofcolour.co.nz but be quick, as they will sell out fast.
If you were annoyed at missing out on tickets for the festival last time, it's well worth becoming a patron and getting priority booking.
The 2011 line-up of acts is going to be fantastic. I'll keep you posted.
Wasn't that great getting that whopping million dollars for the Wakatipu Trails Trust?
We are so spoilt here with all our walks and cycleways; and it's just getting better and better.
I haven't done the walk at the Glenorchy end of the Routeburn yet, or the new Gibbston one, but am so looking forward to it.
Thanks Kaye Parker, Sir Eion Edgar, Susan Stevens and everyone else who puts in all that effort to make things happen.
Jasper Jones, by Craig Silvey.
I'm not sure why those Australian writers are so good at tension but this book is positively shivering with it.
Thirteen-year-old Charlie is a bit of a nerd and when he is woken in the night by naughty boy, part-Aboriginal Jasper Jones, the kid the town loves to hate, his life starts changing.
Charlie tells the story the whole way through and Craig Silvey has got it just right - the way Charlie talks about secrets and pain and first love and friends in trouble is perfect.
But the heavy feeling of dread is always hanging around, even in the many light and funny moments.
It's well worth a read.
Depression is a horrible problem for lots of people, and I really feel for anyone who suffers from it.
I can always tell how happy I am by my scales.
When I am happy, I am heavy.
Before I met my darling, I was a snivelling 53kg.
So thanks a bunch for the 17kg of happiness he has given me.
If I had to choose between fat and happy or sad and thin, I know which is best.
A beautiful "handbook for the happy and a bible for the broken-hearted" has just been published.
It sounds like two books, and it is.
It has two sides to it and it's a perfect little book to share with anyone at all - children love it, it's great for cheering you up if you feel sad, and it's a good reminder for everyone, every day.
The Alphabet of the Human Heart and it is full of exquisite illustrations.
The authors are James Kerr and Matthew Johnstone - Johnstone wrote the bestselling I Had A Black Dog - It's Name was Depression which I haven't read, but got rave reviews.
It's hard to imagine it could be better than this lovely little book.
Have a wonderful weekend and keep sending me in those book suggestions.
