Arrowtown book buyer Miranda Spary continues her regular column about her recommendations for a good read and life as she sees it . . .
I'm getting an early Christmas present from my darling and our boys - they're away for the week and I've got the house all to myself. Honestly, I dream of loneliness and now I've got it, it's even better than I remembered.
My other darling has been in the Basin. Ken Follett, man of my dreams.
I got all breathless and giggly when I thought I might be the chosen one who got to interview him. It wasn't to be, but I still got close.
He was the cleanest man I ever saw, from the shiny, immaculate hair on his head to the shiny, immaculate shoes on his feet. His dark suit and tie certainly made him stand out from the crowd of hot and dusty farmers and winemakers at the Cromwell book launch. There's going to be a big feature on him in tomorrow's ODT and I can't wait - mainly to see who the lucky person was who did the interview.
And that other famous author, old what's-his-name - the chap that scribbles - is writing another book for Christmas. Thought it was cutting it bit fine, as he was just starting the drawings for it outside Saffron this week. Turns out it's going to be ready for next Christmas (honestly, some people are so organised!). I simply love Garrick Tremain's work and this book of his sketches of old buildings in the district sounds terrific.
The battle of the "farmers' markets" took place on Saturday. First out of the blocks was Olivia Porter's one out near the airport, and the best bits were the whitebait fritters from the brother/sister team of Dan and Kate Egerton and Jamie's delicious cupcakes. Bad bits were the broken generator which meant no coffee. We had to race to the Queenstown one for our coffee and managed to find all sorts of things we hadn't realised we needed, like honey and organic pork. Yum.
Next port of call was the opening of the Gibbston Trail. To be honest, when Susan Stevens first talked about this trail, I really didn't see what the point was - there are so many lovely walks in the Wakatipu that one in the dark, overgrown Kawarau river banks hardly seemed worthwhile. I was wrong.
It's amazing - it's sunny and stunning and the views are terrific. She and her team have done an amazing job out there and she deserves every bit of the praise she's getting.
Our Christmas party club, I mean our book club (the Christmas party is a lot more important than books in our club) had its annual do on Saturday night. The highlight for me each year is Matt Hanna's laidback turkey. He removes all the bones, stuffs it and roasts it - it's my favourite thing about Christmas. We were meant to dress up as rock stars and their chicks.
In every generation there is a rock star who gets the unfashionable girl and I was that girl. Lucky, my darling isn't really up to speed on fashion himself so he didn't seem to notice.
Sunday was the day we had to get along to Botswana Butchery and test run the new menu - horrid job but someone has to do it. We were meant to write comments about each dish but everything was so delicious it got a bit boring saying nice things. With the help of the other immature people at our table we came up with some much more creative suggestions.
Stuffed like a Christmas turkey, we waddled off to the ski club AGM. The members all wanted to have a bit of a celebration, but it isn't long since we had the 40th and it seems wrong to celebrate a 50th seven years before it actually happens.
Philly Archibald thought it would give the club some much-needed gravitas and respect if we held a 125th celebration next year, but we haven't got the funds. And I'm not sure skiing had even really started in Queenstown that long ago.
I had to go and talk at Dorothy Brown's about books on Tuesday morning. Jan Nelson had a great idea and suggested holding a monthly bookclub meeting there, so if anyone is interested, do email me and I can put you in touch.
My ever-encouraging mother came along to listen and assured me I sounded really nervous and spoke too fast but some people understood what I said,which was lucky.
If you are stuck for a perfect present for someone with everything, or someone who loves music, drama, laughing, books or any sort of entertainment really, you can't go past a Festival of Colour patron's pack.
I'm on the festival committee and it is a terrible job for someone like me. I'm meant to keep the list of shows that are coming a secret, and I keep letting tiny bits slip out. Go to their website www.festivalofcolour.co.nz and sign up. We are so lucky to have this sort of festival coming here and it just can't happen without huge support from the whole community.
I've had a terrific week of reading and can't wait to tell you about Unbroken, by Laura Hillenbrand. She wrote Seabiscuit nine years ago, and has been suffering from that weird chronic fatigue thing ever since. Somehow she has found the time and energy to write the very energetic story of Louis Zamperini, an Olympic track athlete in the 1930s who became a US air force pilot. He's still alive and kicking at 93.
His story of survival is nothing short of miraculous, and while it's more American than most cynical Kiwis can understand - a bit of weeping at the sight of the nation's flag, justification of the use of nuclear bombs etc - it is a brilliant book.
This is going to be huge, and I can't think of anyone who wouldn't get totally engrossed in it. I am just annoyed I have taken so long to follow the various recommendations you have given me to read it.
The Brave Escape of Edith Wharton. This biography of the author of so many enormously popular novels, such as The House of Mirth and The Age of Innocence, is a delight.
Edith should have been fussed about the silly ideas of status and breeding and etiquette, given the era she was born in, but she wanted to write, a most unsuitable occupation for a young society lady - especially a young society lady with such a sharp tongue and even sharper eye for detail. A fascinating life in a fascinating time.
I'm not sure why the author has written in such a simple, almost child-like style, but it works. Even a younger reader could enjoy it, and this older one adored it.
