Tuesday, 21 February 2017

The day the oil ran out (3)

Power $63
Water $26
Sky Subscription $37
Rates $598
Insurance $327
AA Membership $89
Car registration $215
Dental $180
Radio fee $92
School $350
Broadband $80

The bills were piling up. I did a quick calculation and saw I owed... $2057 this month and then I did another quick calculation and saw I had nothing in the bank. Because I had no job. Or income. And therefore, no money.

Dad didn't seem to worry though because he  was over 65 and on the pension, I was under 65 and on..nothing.

Dad, why are these bills in my name?
Dad looked at me blankly and said, didn't you know, you now have power of attorney.
I what?
Dad said, you sort it out. Your mum said I was going senile and couldn't be responsible anymore for the house, and its now in your name. So all the bills are too.

Since when?
Since she decided to leave us and go back to Hong Kong.
Hold on, she said she was only going for a week or so.
Dad said, that my annoyingness had got to her and she decided to abdicate responsibility of being a mother, and since I objected to selling the house, bulldozing it to make into a block of flats and selling it to the highest bidder, she had run away to some rich friends in Hong Kong.

You're kidding me.
Dad said gravely no it's very true.

Huh. I sat down. Well this is just dandy.
And then I wondered what rich friends in Hong Kong mum could possibly have. She always told me she grew up in poverty in a 40 storey government building and ate bread crusts for dinner and gave anything she earned to her mother while slaving away in a sweatshirt factory. Or sweatshop. I forget which. While simultaneously looking after her seven brothers and sisters. Could it be she was lying to me about the sweatshirt factory?

Thursday, 16 February 2017

The day the oil ran out (2)

Dad headed toward the gate at the sound of Greensleeves. I watched him as he had a conversation with the man in the truck, and then returned to the house laden with a tub of icecream and two packets of potato chips. 

Got some more, he announced, as he laid these staples on the kitchen bench.

It was Copper Kettle salt flavour for the potato chips, and Vanilla for the icecream.  

Then Dad went back to his computer.

I sighed. How were we going to live on potato chips and icecream? Maybe he could, but I was starving! I estimated how long the ice cream would last, but since our fresh milk supplies had run out and Dad hadn’t been driving to the dairy anymore, he  now seemed to be relying on Mr Whippy for delivery and had now hit on the idea of using  ice cream instead to melt and use as milk for his coffee. Which made it extra sweet, but that was how he liked it. Also, the coffee, he said, helped him sleep at night. 

The chips, would last forever, as long as the foil packets were unopened. 

All my attempts for our household to be self-sufficient had fallen on deaf ears. Solar energy was too expensive to install, it wasn’t worth investing in a rain tank, and the energy companies were just dying for our custom, judging by the number of telemarketers who rang and door knockers who knocked on our door. Dad liked his lawn and wasn't about to give it up so I could grow food on it instead.  I figured having no petrol for the car would put a damper on things but Dad used as much electricity as before and seemed to have a she’ll be right attitude that suggested the recent news of NO MORE OIL was a temporary glitch and we would soon have the gushers back on again, or the Antarctica ice shelf would suddenly melt, revealing the black gold underneath just waiting to be tapped. 

I went back to my container plants which were growing silently as they did and waving their leafy greenness at me. It was only a matter of time. I snipped some parsley and went about making fritters of what was left of the Woodside harvest from the weekend. Thank goodness Mum was away and couldn’t see the mess I was making of the kitchen. But looking after Dad when he refused to be looked after and continuing to eat a rebellious teenagers diet that would probably be the death of him I felt was too much of a responsibility for me. Since when did I become the mum around here?

Or the breadwinner, for that matter? Because now it seemed all the bills were coming to my name.

Monday, 13 February 2017

The day the oil ran out

We had known it for a long time but Dad lived in a time-warp where it was always the fifties. In his mind everything was like it was back when you listened to the radio waiting for the top ten hits of the day when Beach Boys sang how ‘Fun Fun Fun’ it was and you could just hop in your Daddy’s t-bird, skip the library and drive anywhere you pleased.

Well, for me those days were long gone and my employment at the library had shuddered to a halt, in fact some of them did not even call themselves libraries anymore but ‘information centres’ as if everyone was now a tourist and no longer read any books, but hooked up to some intravenous machine that downloaded everything directly into your brain. Of course, I rallied against this preferring even dead trees rustling on dead tree book shelves, so I suppose I was in a time warp myself, but I figured at least I would not get radiation poisoning and alzheimers from so much exposure to dangerous electromagnetic rays. 

Dad still did his soduku puzzles which you could now even get printed on toilet paper but we weren’t that desperate, however he was now starting to despair that he couldn’t drive anywhere now the petrol stations were all closed. And we weren’t getting any more oil 

No Dad, you will have to take the train and use your legs to walk to the station. Dad looked at me like I had gone nuts as he’d never had to walk anywhere before. Dad said, I still have petrol in the lawnmower, I will just use that to fire up the car. 

I wondered how that was going to work and could just envisage him attaching the car to the lawnmower and trundling up to Sturges Road train station on that when I heard something that sounded like Mr Whippy ice cream truck music sound out on the road. 

It was playing ‘Greensleeves’ and I wondered if by miracle the petrol stations had made a special exemption for Mr Whippy. 
After all, isn’t ice cream an essential part of the kiwi diet? 

The music wafted over the neighbourhood and drew closer to our house...

Monday, 6 February 2017

Adamant and Evil


Sunday, 5 February 2017

Breakfast at Denny's

Disclaimer -
Anything written here resembling any real life or fiction is strictly coincidental as it is all made up.

A NZ girls' comic adventure roadtrip through America, reality tv, computerbots, and other stuff.




For aspiring actresses, everywhere.

Read the ongoing saga here

Sneak peak - Chapter 1 - The Script

The continuity girl sits behind the director on the movie set. She has an eagle eye for any changes in costume or appearance. We are in a movie, working title, Breakfast at Denny's. It's sort of a play on 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' but more...Texan.

You've been cast as the male lead, along with your wife and children. We had to do a lot of makeup on you as your face kept showing up as red in test shots. Your wife doesn't like her hairstyle and so has asked for a blonde wig. After all, blondes have more fun. Your kids are happy to go along with this cos they will earn an insane amount of pocket money. I'm checking the script. The scene is at the mall, The kids are out of shot. Wife Dee has just left to develop her photos.

The camera is on you and you are looking in the display window outside a jewellery shop eating a green tea icecream. There are no lines? It's a close up. The camera is zooming in.

There's a giant poster of Audrey Hepburn staring back at you. She's at Tiffany's in her little black dress. You have made one suggestion to the director. You wanted Snow Patrol on the soundtrack. But I don't know how we are going to work that in. It could be playing as background music in the shopping mall. But as its Christmas time they'd more likely be playing carols and Christmas music.

I don't know what the next scene is going to be. We have to wrap up all the shots at the mall as we only booked to shoot for today. I check your clothes. Black t-shirt, check. Jeans, a little frayed, check. Props. Green tea ice cream, check. The ice cream is starting to melt. Better eat it quick. I should have got you to eat a danish instead.

The mall is really busy. I have not seen that movie, 'Slackers', but maybe I should. The only one I remember thats set in a mall is 'Clueless' with Alicia Silverstone. I remember it was about a stuck up poor little rich girl ...her dad was a lawyer..who tried to matchmake her new friend with disastrous results. It was based on a Jane Austen novel. No, not the one with Mr Darcy in it. This gig is a bit unreal for me. Y'all talking in American accents, which I find very amusing. I'm sure the angels will be entertained.



Sunday, 27 November 2016

Raising Cain - Eve's Lament

Cain deliberately disobeys me
He's a hopeless child
I would send him to the Land of Nod
But he won't go

Abel is my golden child
Always giving good gifts
Spoiling his mum
With wool for sewing

Cain on the other hand
Reminds me of forbidden fruit
He offers them to me
Mocking all my best efforts

I talk to Adam about this
We agree he must go
As soon as he turns 180 years old
We are kicking him out

Saturday, 19 November 2016

Two Turtledoves...



According to the Jewish calendar, Jesus was born in the month of Tishri the 15th 3758. His birthday was on the first day of the Feast of the Tabernacles which is also the Jewish New Year. In the Bible the holiday is celebrated with seven days of feasting. On the eighth day Jesus was circumcised according to custom, and Mary and Joseph offered two turtledoves as a sacrifice for their firstborn son.  These dates correspond to mid-September in our calendar  and the autumn harvest. Now I’m not entirely clear why everyone celebrates his birthday on 25th December but never mind, Happy Belated Birthday Jesus!