Mine

Andy's

Andy was kind enough to decorate mine to at least distinguish it as a snowman. The improvement is arguably marginal.

Snow-person or snow-blob? You decide.

Living in different cities we don’t have a whole lot of opportunities to hand hold across the table and hug each other better, so we have been offering condolences to each other via email, along with a Wendy Cope poem. It’s our way of “Coping” (or “Cope-ing”). Get it? Well, we make each other laugh, at least…

We are both fans of the poet, Wendy Cope, who writes funny, rhyming poems that women like us relate to. Poems about psychologists and poems about men – relying upon, needing, and simultaneously loathing them – are the ones I like the best. She’s also quick to mock poets – I’m sure the irony is entirely intentional.

My friend, Shan, lent me her Wendy Cope anthologies, which is how I came to know and love Cope’s poems. My husband enjoys them, too, and we’ve been known to read her poems aloud to each other while Andy makes dinner. I like to think that Cope would get a certain satisfaction from that! My favourite collection is “If I Don’t Know”, although I do love them all, especially the title of “Making Cocoa for Kingsley Amis”. Brilliant.

Falling Man

and

Point Omega

Falling Man concerns a family in New York in the wake of September 11. Memory is obviously an underlying theme. I just finished reading this book, today, actually. There were parts of it that could have been written about Christchurch on and after February 22, this year. I found those parts both difficult to read, and reassuring. Reassuring because New York has moved forward and is still as desirable as ever, so that gives me hope that Christchurch will re-emerge from the ashes, too. Most of what is referred to about 9/11, though, is very specific to the events of that time and place. It’s a fairly good read, obviously a lot of depth and themes I could dig into deeper. Very carefully worded. This is Don DeLillo, after all. I’ve loved this author ever since I studied one of his books in my American Literature paper back in 1998. This is the first time I’ve ever got around to finishing one of his novels, though!

I just started reading Point Omega, today. I’m still a little confused what it’s about. It’s a thin novel. And, I hadn’t realised that it’s quite new – only published last year. So, we’ll see what I make of this one…

Really want to read Underworld and White Noise.

Friday’s earthquake measured Shindo 7. Shindo is the Japanese measure of an earthquake, similar to the Mercalli system (MMI) used in New Zealand. The Shindo system ranges from 0-7. Yesterday’s earthquake was given the highest Shindo rating possible. This link provides a visual of where the strongest forces of the earthquake were felt.

To add to the destruction in Japan, yesterday’s earthquake was followed by a devastating tsunami.

Japan is such a fascinating place, full of some of the most amazing people you could ever hope to meet. I’ve met a fair few Japanese people in my life and they never cease to make me smile. I’ve never visited Japan, before, although my husband has and several of my friends have lived, or do live, there. I still look forward to visiting Japan one day. My thoughts and prayers are with the people of Japan at this tragic time. Kia Kaha, Nihon.

****************************************************************************************************

Shag Rock at Sumner Beach - according to rumour it is half the size since the February earthquake

My husband isn’t on Facebook. His cell-phone remains trapped in his work office. Everyone was being asked not to use the landlines to keep them clear for emergency calls. So, I decided to send Andy’s best friend from high school – a guy he still catches up with at least once a year – an email via Facebook to let him know that Andy was fine. It turned out that he and some others had been trying to text Andy and wondered why he didn’t reply. In a follow-up email the same friend asked if I was still writing. I never replied, because I didn’t have the answer.

Monck's Bay/Redcliffs - rock-falls from the cliffs on the far right caused major damage

Writing is usually my go-to process for everything – recording my highs and lows; making lists; weaving a yarn; communicating with people; and working through problems. Crying is usually my go-to reaction for anything, from watching a romantic movie to releasing anger and sadness. My ability to write and cry has been significantly stymied since the fateful earthquake struck Christchurch on 22 February, this year. I’ve been able to well-up, but not pour over. I’ve been able to write, but not candidly. I have struggled and faded off at every attempt to write about the earthquake.

Here are some examples:

“Can I bring myself to write about the earthquake, yet? To date, I haven’t been able to write about it, except in emails to friends near and far.

Let’s talk around it, to begin with. I am in Auckland, now. One night, to see my friend’s play. Organised at the end of January, or the beginning of February. Around then, anyway.”

*

“I hear the roar of a train coming and I think: earthquake.

I see a Port-a-loo at a construction site and I think of the rows of them lining streets in Kaiapoi [after the September earthquake] (and now Chch) and the queues of people waiting to use them.

I see a group of people evacuated from an Auckland City building and I struggle to correlate their laughter and jovial cigarette smoking and excited chit-chat about doing something out of the ordinary with the distress, fear, screaming, crying, blood, smoke, moans and smell of gas associated with the evacuations to Latimer Square following the Feb 22nd earthquake in Chch CBD.

The mood at Gloria Jean café in Borders by Aotea Square was much more conducive to writing/studying than the Take Off café at Auckland Domestic Airport.”

*

“Got Andy to tell me some more details about what he saw on the day of the earthquake. Poor guy, I hope that he’s able to put those thoughts out of his mind, eventually.

Very hot day, today.”

I can’t seem to write about it without changing the topic as quickly as possible. Earthquake… hmm, how about the weather?

Corner Oxford Tce and Worcester St

I can’t, however, bring myself to write about anything else, either. It feels inappropriate to broach another subject without first covering this one: The earthquake. It’s too big. It subsumes everything else. Even writing.

Lyttelton - the epicentre of February's earthquake

The thing is, I’m fine. I get to pass my days in the town where I live, near enough to the city that Andy would commute there for work, far enough away that not a single thing in our house moved during the earthquake. This town isn’t the same as it was before – there are a couple of buildings here that have been braced, presumably to hold them in place until Historic Places Trust and insurance companies can come to some sort of agreement for the buildings’ restoration; and the population has rapidly increased as displaced residents of Christchurch seek refuge in the nearest safe town. I’m isolated from the disaster, but still a part of it. I can put it to the back of my mind, but not out of it. I’m affected, but in such a small way that I feel guilty for the times when I find myself standing still, feeling sad, forgetting what it was that I was in the middle of doing. I want to grieve, but feel guilty about what it is that I want to grieve for.

Getting baptised at Oxford Terrace Baptist Church

I want to grieve for Christchurch. As far as I know, no-one I know died or was seriously physically injured as a result of the earthquake. I have no-one to grieve for. Not intimately, though of course I grieve generally for the loss of lives taken.

OTBC following September's earthquake. It collapsed as a result of February's earthquake

I grieve for a place. A place I did know intimately. A place I loved. I grieve for the loss of historic buildings that, though only buildings, helped to make the city a beautiful place to be and added to its wealth of history. I grieve for the destruction of the landscape – the cliffs that have collapsed and the rivers and beaches that are currently too toxic to enjoy as sewage is currently being pumped into the waterways as a result of damaged sewerage pipes. I grieve for the peace I used to absorb walking around the picturesque parks and streets, whether I was walking home from university or enjoying my work lunch-break. I grieve for the things I never got around to doing, and now never will, such as visiting the Time Ball Station in Lyttelton, which was irreparably damaged in the earthquake.

At least I did experience a lot during my time in Christchurch. Here are some of my fondest memories:

• My granddad driving me and my family to visit the moa caves around Sumner
• Time enjoyed with friends at South of the Border, Dux de Lux, Honey Pot Café, Java and The Coffee House restaurants and cafes
• Eating lunch from the vendors operating out of trailers behind the Arts Centre
• Attending friends’ special events at The Great Hall
• Being baptised at Oxford Terrace Baptist Church
• Visiting the Christchurch Cathedral
• The pastel-coloured facades of New Regent Street
• Devonshire tea at Mona Vale
• Choosing books for my children at the Children’s Bookshop on Victoria Street
• Purchasing a cup-cake from The Cupcake Parlour
• Watching the New Brighton Guy Fawkes’ night fire-works from the top of the Port Hills
• Walking the Bridle Path track from Heathcote to Lyttelton
• Living in Redcliffs

My understanding is that while this business continues to operate, the building was destroyed in the earthquake

I’ll be able to do some of these things again, one day. Some of these things will have to remain happy memories, as it’s no longer a possibility to revisit them. That’s a melancholy thought.

The fountain at the Christchurch Botanic Gardens with the Arts Centre in the background

Christchurch holds so many happy memories for me, though. It’s where I met my first boyfriend and had my first kiss. It’s where I was baptised and got married. It’s where I went to university and got admitted to the Bar and met so many of my friends. No matter where life took me, I always wanted to come back here.

I like to think that I’ll have Christchurch back, one day. My Christchurch – a place of beauty, achievement, wonder and dreams. It won’t be any time, soon, though. Until then, I’ll have to rely on a lot of happy memories and paying tribute to this place through writing about it.

Writing? Yes. At least I can say that I’m writing, again.

Remove your watch

Step 2

Although you’ll be trying to follow the recipe for making bread from Jamie Oliver’s website, keep your laptop a safe distance from the baking space. Basically, take what you consider to be a safe distance, and then double it, and put your laptop there.

Step 3

Seriously consider placing a large tea-towel beneath your bread-making tray.

Step 4

Follow the recipe until you reach the bit after you’ve poured the water in the well.

Step 5

(This is where you’ll be glad your laptop was a metre from your prep area, and that you have a tea-towel under the bread tray.)

Skim read the 2nd stage of the recipe, and start moving the flour from the outside of the well into the water. Oops! Water EVERYWHERE. Once you’ve mopped up, re-read Jamie’s instructions. Oh, yeah, you were meant to add flour from INSIDE the well. Start doing that. Realise that this is working so much better, and water is no longer seeping out.

Step 6

Continue following the instructions until your dough has been “proving”/”proofing” (??) for 30 minutes. Nothing has happened. Look on internet for what to do if your bread isn’t increasing in size. After reading this site, discover that old yeast will prevent dough from rising, who knew? Following the advice, from the same site, warm the oven and place bowl of dough in pan of water in the warmed oven. (Remember to turn the oven off, after it’s been warmed).

Step 7

Check back 30 minutes later, and discover, to your surprise that the dough has, in fact, risen! Hoorah!

Step 8

Now, this is important, no matter how late at night it now is… no matter how tired you now are… DO NOT GO TO BED AND LEAVE YOUR DOUGH IN THE OVEN. If you do, in the morning, your dough will look like this:

Step 9

If you took my advice in Step 8, then carry on with the recipe and make yourself a lovely loaf of bread.

If you made my mistake and woke up to the above catastrophe, you’ll be having flash-backs of that folk tale about all the porridge coming out of the house and into the street. Salvage what you can; dispose of what you can’t; clean up the mess; and carry on. The bread will taste just as good as if you’d made it perfectly, from start to finish. A good metaphor for life, really….

Step 10

Even catastrophes can still turn out edible.

Excuse the hole in one side. Me being me, my first thought was to taste-test; it was an after-thought to take a photo of the first loaf of bread I ever made.