
The weather in Wellington seems to have been mostly cloudy and windy in January
It’s now Tuesday 23 December, and we are inching towards Christmas. Kia ora!
Last Friday my lady from Access did not come; there was no advice, either. I guess there was some confusion between approvals and requests and cancellations over Christmas. But we took the two older grandchildren in New Zealand to the golf driving range in Waiwhetu, where we had a lovely time. It was overcast, but not quite raining, but no matter as we were protected from the weather. Afterwards we had lunch at Caffiend, one of my favourite cafés in Petone, but not always good; this time it was a big success: Eggs Benedict. Scrambled Eggs, Chicken & Kumara Salad and a smoked salmon bagel, with a big bowl of chips.
The weekend was relatively quiet, but we saw the John Clark/Fred Dagg movie on Saturday afternoon. That was certainly a trip down memory lane! It was very sad that John’s mother lost two fiancés in World War II; she married John’s father, but he, although still alive, was damaged by the war. John explained that he could never do anything right for his father, but his mother perhaps over-compensated. We both remember him in the Victoria University’s Annual Revues; in those days there were no fees, so you could stay on and change courses. John moved to Australia after having difficulties in New Zealand.
On Sunday morning I stayed for a special morning tea at the church. The next day we were taking our older grandchildren to the third Avatar movie, at the Embassy Theatre: JD loves that cinema! The movie is 3 hours and 20 minutes long!!! We started by parking outside the Welsh Dragon (formerly Taj Mahal, before that a men’s loo), a very convenient spot. But the maximum time there was two hours! So JD agreed to move the car, while I took the children to the theatre. Thankfully there weren’t many people there. Although JD belonged to Cinebuzz, the four tickets (2 seniors, 2 children), two bottles of Coke Zero, a packet of M&Ms, and a peanut slab came to $111!!! That was a surprise. Thankfully I’d taken four pairs of 3D glasses with me, so we didn’t need to buy any more. We went into the cinema before JD could join us. We were sitting in the middle of row P, which is very high up! I do wish they’d put a handrail in the middle of the aisles.
Well, the movie was very long indeed. I had trouble following the story line – I had to read a review afterwards for it to make more sense. I have to admit that I don’t really enjoy Avatar movies, but taking our grandchildren was fun. I do wish the characters would speak more clearly! The sound was very loud, but I missed some of what was said.
Afterwards I was desperately hungry, but there aren’t that many places to eat in Courtenay Place, seeing that many kitchens close at 2 pm, and many cafés at 3 pm; it being Monday, Deluxe Café was closed as well! After walking to the car, some way along Kent Terrace, we drove back along Oriental Bay to the Beach Babylon café, an old if rather “rustic” favourite. Thankfully they were open, and would feed us: a bowl of curly fries (now a thing on many menus), and sausage rolls (which took ages to come).
It’s now Tuesday 5 January, 2026. Kia ora!
I’ll start with Christmas, or rather, Christmas Eve. We had the traditional Carols by Candlelight service at my church at 11:15 pm. This time it was hard to stay awake and attend, but I did, and it was lovely, of course. It struck me that it’s too late for the very old, and much too late for young children.
The next day, Christmas Day, was a Thursday, and the service was at 9:30 am, rather than the usual 10 am. I doubt that there would be any children who haven’t opened their presents by 9:30 am!
I bought some flowers on the way home. The dairy in Khandallah was closed, so I got some from the dairy in Johnsonville. Sadly, they did not last two weeks, which is my usual ambition!
Early in the afternoon we went to one of my son’s homes for a family gathering (vegan) Christmas dinner. JD and I took a fruit salad, for which we’d bought every kind of fruit, including blackberries. We took Christmas presents for the children, of course.
In the event we weren’t late, although I was really hungry by this time! One family had brought a tray of pre-dinner nibbles: delicious. The Christmas dinner was very nice, of course: a lentil loaf, with an amazing sauce, roast vegetables, with another amazing sauce, grilled asparagus; and probably more things which I can’t remember. We had a Karakia mo te kai (a Grace, which I’d requested).
For pudding my son and his wife had made a Christmas Pudding! They’d come to me earlier in the week for a bowl and a steamer, and advice about what had worked well for me back in the day: how nice to be asked! Make it well in advance; well, it was too late for that. Wrap the pudding in a cloth: I’ve never done that; top with butter paper; they didn’t do that, of course; and I used breadcrumbs, not suet. Still, the pudding they made tasted very good. The boys (i.e. my sons, and they’re all men now), tried to ignite brandy over the pudding, and it’s true there was a brief flare as the brandy ignited. This too is very tricky: you need to heat the brandy, but not so much that it evaporates; t was quite hard to get the pudding out of the pudding bowl, so perhaps it wasn’t hot enough. Still and all, it was lovely to be asked for advice, and lovely to have a real Christmas pudding. (We still haven’t tackled our store-bought pudding that we usually microwave and serve with custard and ice cream).
There was custard, and vegan ice cream, of course, and a pavlova! Evidently they eat eggs! The pavlova had fallen in in the middle, although it held around the edges; my daughter-in-law whipped lentil fluid, which turned into delicious whipped cream, to decorate it! I guess one could eat it without guilt.
Eventually we went home; we had croissants for our tea.
Since Christmas Day things have been really quiet. Our youngest son and his wife and daughter we due to fly out of Wellington on Christmas Eve. They wer staying at Rydges Hotel at the airport for their 6 am flight to Auckland; we had agreed to meet them and the other parents to have an early dinner at the restaurant there. On the night the weather was terrible, with driving rain and wind making even the crossing from the parking area to the airport really difficult. And then the airport restaurant was closed until further notice! But we had a meal at Peloton, which has somehow been extended to take in the hotel and the airport. We actually had a really good meal there, and it wasn’t overpriced. I was able to hold my granddaughter as we said our last goodbyes.
Then it was home again, and making bookings for the remaining leg of a journey we’re planning for later in 2026. This caused a great deal of anxiety, but I think it will all work out. I think, too, that I can’t do this again – it’s just too stressful!
After that, the cold I’d been fighting off developed into a chest infection, which was quite unpleasant for a few days. Other than that, it’s been a very quiet time, with not great weather (it seems to be mainly spitting with light rain and overcast), and no great films to see, certainly not any that I’d be prepared to persuade JD to accompany me to.
At some point I ventured out to see the film Sentimental Value in Petone, and there I met three other friends whom I know.
This film was directed by Joachim Trier; I think it was Lars von Trier who made the film Melancholia, with Kirsten Dunst and Charlotte Gainsbourg; I recognise some similarities. But when I look him up, apparently Joachim is not related to Lars von Trier, another famous Nordic film maker with a similar name.
It’s said the film is about two sisters with “daddy issues”’; but I watched Trier interviewed by Jordan Klepper on The Daily Show last night, and he spoke about the complexity of family relationships, and the difficulty of escaping from one’s childhood. It’s also about aging, the complexities of acting on stage, and in a film; the importance of place and belonging; and, of course, the effects of the past on one’s life. Having considered the film afterwards, I feel it’s a misnomer to call it “Daddy Issues”, as one review did: surely Gustav has unresolved issues of his own, which he may be trying to come to terms with, however inappropriately, and however unfeeling he is of his daughter’s pain.
Having said that, there were many themes in the film: the sister’s childhood house as a living, breathing character; the family history, which gradually unfolds as the film goes on; the father-daughter issues, of course; and the father’s flirtation with other female characters in the film; the older daughter, Nora, is an established actress who is ”fucked up”, to use her terminology; she is having an affair with a married stage hand, and suffers from excruciating stage fright; she claims that therapy will be no use. Her younger sister, Agnes, is married with a beautiful son and an understanding husband. Their film-director father returns when they are having a wake for their dead mother. Apparently the father left years ago, and the parents divorced, but although the mother and daughters continued to live in the house, technically it belongs to Gustav (the dad). This time Agnes is very stressed about the catering; the film had screened very early on with an instance of Nora’s extreme stage fright, which threatened to derail her performance in Chekhov’s The Seagull.
The father wants to make a film about his mother’s life (she was arrested by Nazi police, tortured and held in prison for two years; she had taken her own life). He offers Nora the lead part, but she refuses to even read the script, saying that she can’t work with him. The obvious follow up question would be for the father to ask “why not?”, but he does not. I get the feeling that he thought it was a great gift to give Nora this part. He respects her acting ability, but detests the stage: he doesn’t even come to her opening night later in the film. That is really odd, as both media require a form of artifice. But with acting on stage, audience feedback is really important, and almost becomes a character in the play, whether the dramatist is Shakespeare or Beckett.
The film is complex with many flashbacks, as the story is told, so it’s tricky to put it all together. But each scene is carefully chosen. I almost want to see it again!
Failing to get Nora, Gustav appoints an admiring younger American actress, Rachel Kemp (played by Elle Fanning) to play the role of his mother; this is a real stretch for her. Are they having an affair? That’s not explicit, as I recall, but the possibility is definitely there.
There is very little actual spoken communication in the film. Towards the end, Agnes tells Nora that she was there for her, as they grew up; and when Gustav wants Agnes’ son to act in his film, she says no, but then she reads the script and thinks it would have been all right.
At one point Gustav visits an old friend whom he’d worked with, and is astonished at how frail the friend is now. The latter has issues with his son! “When did he get to be so old?” asks Gustav.
So there is a feeling that the main three characters are trying to be reconciled to/with each other, but they probably cannot; even the sisters are separated at the end, and the future looks bleak. A wonderful, award-winning film? Perhaps so, but I feel a real sadness there.
We had more nice outings with two of our grandchildren, and then I came down with a severe bout of gastro-enteritis. Thankfully no one else has it. How is it that I always feel as though I’m dying when I get something like this? But it’s true, I did feel very weak indeed, and wondered about going to the doctor. Sadly, this wasn’t a 24 hour bug. But I’m now up and about, and even went out today, although I did not dare go to church. I tried to zoom in, but that didn’t seem to be working. I’m still drinking ginger ale and eating white bread toasted with marmite, but I feel a lot more human. Sadly, the weight hasn’t peeled off, although most food still looks disgusting.
There are a whole lot of things happening that I’d love to write about, but that’s it for now. Slava Ukraini! Ngā mihi nui.







