All by myself,

because Tim's on nights again. Naturally, I spent the time reading Stephen King and then couldn't get to sleep. Classic. Though hands up who knew Stephen King is such a good writer? I'd sort of trashed him into a Genre I would Never Read into my head but he is a brilliant plot worker, and uncannily astute, putting his finger on the pulse of what makes your flesh creep. So perfect to read by yourself at midnight after a long shift at work in an empty house. Good one, Han. Clever Connie.

***

Last weekend, gentle readers, it rained and rained and rained. Rain in New Zealand! I know you British readers are secretly rejoicing at the idea of this. We sat and moped because we couldn't think of anything you'd do in NZ when it rained. Quad biking? Surfing? Skiing? Kayaking? Everything fun seemed kind of damp and sad in the rain. Until we remembered caving.

Caving!

Nothing can go wrong in caving when it's torrential rain outside, right? You're already inside. And, flash floods, well, we'll probably just float to the top.

So we went caving.

In a boat!

Lies, that was just the motel we stayed in. A ship motel!
You may have noticed it is spectacularly sunny in that picture. Don't worry. Let me show you another one.

This is the day before, when it rained.

Those are hobbit holes.

The Shire was filmed round these parts. Though those aren't the actual hobbit holes. Those are just some spin off hobbit holes designed to trap unwary tourists with more cash than sense, and boy, did we want to be trapped. But it turned out other tourists with more cash than sense had got there before us and they were all booked out. So we had to go to the ship.

Wait a sec, is that a plane?? A plane motel?? We could stay in a plane motel??????

I'm just messing with you. I mean yes, it is a plane motel. But clearly we were too grown up for such fripperies. We were going on a boat (a m**********ing boat.)

The inside of the boat was mysteriously all in sepia, giving it an oldey look very appropriate to the situation. Well done, boat. Well done.

These photos are on my new point and shoot, btw. They're not as good. But they'll do, pig. They'll do.

Speaking of a pig.

There was a house pig on the boat. 

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This was pretty much the best weekend of my life.

And we haven't even got to the caving yet.

****

An even better upside to not being able to go skiing or surfing was that I got a lie in on Saturday morning, a Much Needed Lie In. I've been working and playing flat out and not daring to miss a thing in this speedily, too speedily passing year, and I was EXHAUSTED, man. I just wanted to lie in with Tim and get up and have breakfast at noon. And that is exactly what we did. And it was amazing.

We had eggs benedict with asparagus and also a fruit bowl and also yoghurt and also vietnamese coffee and also porridge. 

And also cough syrup, conveniently placed to my left. 

And then I had to go on a 4 hour car journey through windy windy NZ roads (state highway 4, the 4th biggest highway in NZ, is basically a single track road that is more windy than a droopy noodle that got caught up inside a tumbledrier) and I was more carsick than you could possibly imagine. Luckily I was accompanied by another equally suffering passenger, which made it slightly better - there's nothing quite as bad as feeling nauseous all by your lonesome. We just lolled around in the back, whimpering pathetically for four hours, me with my eyes tightly shut, Cat staring at the road for all she was worth. 

And then we got to the caves.

Holy shit!

They were amazing. They were just amazing. We abseiled down (it was pretty scary) and did a zip wire into a completely dark cave full of glow worms, and we paddled down a FREEZING underwater river with a pretty damn strong current, and we floated along in tubes, and we ate chocolate (and also got hot orange squash poured down the backs of our wetsuits in an attempt to keep us warm. A FUTILE attempt I might add), and we climbed out - no ropes, no safety harness, nothing - over 2 waterfalls, straddling the waterfall like one of those action movies where people climb up a chimney by putting hands and feet on either side. And all the while I kept thinking, I'm so grateful this is New Zealand and there is no health and safety here. Can you imagine this taking place in any other country? We are underground, climbing over waterfalls, in darkness. I am SO HAPPY!!!!

And afterwards we went home, and I ate dinosaur pasta.

It was tasty.

Oh man, I wish you guys were all here with me! You would LOVE it! Not just the dinosaur pasta. All of it. Maybe not the cough syrup. Though it is surprisingly effective. But otherwise, pretty much all of it. 

The end :-)

Optics has broken my mind

Also, I have just spent the last hour reading whitnall's tubercle and the lamina papyracea and the roof of the orbit.

Here is a passage from the book I am reading.

The orbit
a. is separated from the ethmoidal air cells by the lamina papyrecia
b. is connected to the pterygopalatine fossa by the inferior orbital foramen
c. is in communication with the middle cranial fossa via the superior orbital fissure
d. lies superior to the maxillary sinus
e. is connected to the middle meatus via the nasolacrimal duct

I couldn't stop my eyes from glazing over as I got to c, every time I read it. It reminded me so strongly of this scene in Godard's Le Weekend I insist you watch it now. Pray start from 4.08 for the relevant part. Does anyone know the answers?? Oh, Emily. People who ask these things come to a bad end. :-(

How can I only be on page 3????

Fun fun fun in the sun sun sun

On the weekend, we had a BBQ.

Tim was away skiing his heart out, but I had for once allowed common sense to sway me. And common sense told me that if I was taking codeine so I could breathe without pain, then going snowboarding might be slightly rash.

I hate common sense.

But I love codeine! This is the first time I've ever taken codeine, and, oh my frick. It is magic. It is magic in a tiny capsule. I went to a pharmacy and purchased some codeine and the pharmacist was doing her job properly and advising me very seriously that codeine is not to be taken lightly and did I know that it wouldn't cure the cause of my cough and it was just a pain killer and did I know about the side effects, and for the first and I hope last time I used my status and squealed, "I'M A DOCTOR!" in probably the least convincing way ever (Tim, standing next to me, added not entirely necessarily, "I'm a doctor too", which I'm not sure actually helped my cause.) And then I added, "Please just give me the codeine" and she said "ok." And then we had a nice chat about how healthcare was different in the UK and NZ and she said, "ah, good on ya" and "sweet as" and other NZisms which I have grown to treasure.

***

I want you all to watch this video, and imagine what it's like to live in New Zealand. It's surprisingly accurate.


***

I also enjoyed this video, even though it tells you it's funny (an accurate estimate). I feel New Zealand comes off better than Australia does.

When we first met everyone here, the first thing everyone asks is, "why New Zealand?" which is another way of asking, "why not Australia?" Luke had the best answer I guess, which is, "Well, Australia is full of Aussies". Not to portray him as a rank xenophobe, he went on to clarify, "they're just all so competitive! You're in a pub, having a drink, and some Aussie bloke'll come up to you. "Hey mate, I bet I could drink my pint faster than you." And I'm like, "Yes. You probably could. Please leave me alone so I can enjoy my drink in peace." And then he'd call you a pom and punch you in the face.

And that just wouldn't happen in New Zealand."

Let's all raise a (non competitive) glass to the Kiwis and their gentle natures. Sweet as.

***

Another blogpost with no structure! You must be used to these by now. I may as well just carry on. Don't think of this as lack of effort. Think of it as postmodern, or something.

***

Anyway, to the BBQ. We assembled and BBQd and it was gloriously glorious. More and more people came but I forgot to take pictures, because I was too busy shoving food into my face. But here is a photo of me, looking proudly at the flames of my creation. Because I lit it like the competent woman I am.  And Tim wasn't even within 100km of me. SUCK ON THAT, ROBERT!



***

So sunny and glorious!
It was quite a delicious BBQ, with pork and mango skewers, balsamic and mint marinaded lamb, crispy squid, honey and soy chicken, a pumpkin and ricotta pie (not BBQable, sadly), an apple, walnut and lettuce salad, and of course more beer than you could shake a stick at.




***

Speaking of food, the day before Tim and I went shopping and we bought not only the BBQ above, but also matching pink dressing gowns which are now embroidered with our rap names (long story), and also (to get to the food), lemon fish, which is very tasty, and tastes nothing like lemon sole. I think I bought it because it sounded like it might be like lemon sole. The sole point of similarity (I'm so witty) is the lemon in its name. It's not like lemon sole. No.

We cooked it in a parsley, caper, lemon and butter sauce, and ate a million asparaguses (asparagi?) with it. I enclose this picture for your delectation.



It was just as tasty as it looks there, or perhaps even better.

Just ask Tim. He was there.

***

This post is full of videos! Today during lunchtime teaching the consultant played this video, apropos of nothing. Much like this blog post. Apropos of nothing. I recommend it. I'm not sure what his point was, apart from Mitchell and Webb are funny, sometimes? A good point, well made, one I can get behind.

***

Today Helen and I had a spare half hour. I got a message from her saying, "up for some slit lamp action?" and I messaged back, "dilate yourself and I'll be up there in 5" (what thrilling lives we lead.) She had just finished putting tropicamide in her eyes when I got there, so I dilated myself too. Tropicamide takes about 10-15 minutes to work so we both just left, agreeing to meet back in 10 minutes in the little dark slit lamp room, feeling all the world like some bizarre secret cult initiation ceremony had just taken place.

Word of advice: if you do dilate your eyes for some slit lamp practice I recommend only doing one as otherwise everything gets very bright and blurry for a long time afterwards. Helen did both and that was a mistake. Mark my words.

I on the other hand had a great time looking through my non dilated eye and my dilated eye. It's like putting the camera down another f-stop! is what I thought. Left eye: over-exposed! Narrow depth of field. Right eye: correct exposure. Broad depth of field. It was also fun opening and closing each eye separately as my poor lenses kept adjusting between them and I could almost hear the auto-focus going in my head. And then I realised I've spent too much time with my camera.

***

I can't help it really anyway because I've just bought a new camera! It's UNBELIEVABLY exciting because it's smash proof and freeze proof and dust proof and waterproof (down to 5 metres) and EVERYTHING. And you can set the white balance and ISO. And it has a panorama setting. And it's so, so, dinky and beautiful.

I'm sorry, Canon. But I love my Panasonic too.

Not as much as you!

Never as much as you!

But. Quite a lot.

***

What else happened today that was exciting? I got home and there was a SACK of books in the living room. My books from America had got here! OPTICS. The Eye and Basic Sciences. MCQs for FRCOphth part I. There's about a million pages of identical appearing ray diagrams. And I'm going to memorise them all!

I know you wish you had my life. 

***

Tim is working late again today so I am all on my ownsome, drinking soup in front of the TV and listening to euronews in French, understanding approximately 40% of it. It's a bit hard to make the effort to pay attention, as Europe just seems so far away. The Spanish version is better (thank frick for that, all those weeks in Cuba) but I'm at 70% here. Language skills fading. And my Mandarin is really tragic. And I've got to learn those ray diagrams. And I'm not doing anything useful apart from typing in my blog. Sigh sigh sigh.

The only news that's on Kiwi TV is the imminent premier of The Hobbit, which has got everyone going. Quote: "I think New Zealand does premiers better than anywhere, even LA." Oh, bless you.

***

One last video, I promise. This is one of the most beautiful documentaries ever. Tim and I have been watching it and practising our Mandarin together. And it even comes with English subtitles if you don't feel like learning Chinese. What more could you want?

Asparagus season!

Oh, asparagus season! Tasty tasty asparagus season! How I love you! I love you!

I am in asparagus raptures. 

On Wednesday I was dying of jealousy because Tom Robson had posted a picture of some delicious asparagus he was eating in England.

I thought about winter in New Zealand.

Cabbage.

Pumpkin.

I like them both, but it was getting wearing.

More pumpkin.

Not very tasty squash (perhaps it was ornamental, Pooley.)

Leeks.

Winter winter winter vegetables. I was sick of winter vegetables. 

And after I gazed in dark and glowering envy at Tom's delicious asparagus (is it asparagus or asparaguses? Also, and perhaps more importantly, is there innuendo in the previous sentence?) I went to New World to do my sad winter vegetable shop.

And THERE THEY WERE.

So beautiful!

Imagine that, but a MILLION of them. All green and delicious and asparagusy.

And very reasonably priced too.

And as well as asparagus, there were green beans, and all sorts of mushrooms. And, strangely, pineapples. 

Spring! Springen is icumen in!

Naturally I bought everything.

And then after that I went to my nearest fishmonger, which is called Deli-ca-Sea. I know, gentle readers, you will all find this as hilarious as I did. Which is to say, not that hilarious, but it grows on you. By degrees, over weeks, you grow accustomed to the idea: it no longer vexes you: you are no longer distressed by the concept. One day you find yourself telling someone the name and expecting some kind of acknowledging smile in return. Socially speaking, it's like a fishy version of dinosaur comics.

Only Kirsty will know what this means. But she knows.

Moving on swiftly, Delica-Sea is the most upper middle shop I have ever come across with its fresh scallops and its parmesan and rosemary breadcrumbs and pink sea salt (is it like pink lemonade and pink champagne?) and other items of which I had heard but rumours of. I wandered around the shop with my mouth open like this :-O and was accosted by a friendly man who wanted to know if I was having a nice day and if I needed help choosing a tasty fish to eat.

It turned out I did. 

New Zealand fish are different from our fish!

The main difference is that they are all locally sourced and therefore I hadn't a fricking clue what the hell any of them were. Next, they arestrange colours, like green, because they all eat kelp or somesuch. And are called things like butterfish. And other names that are more difficult to spell or pronounce. Like tarkeierekreninincekininininin. Or something. 

I did not recognise the majority of the fish I saw in the fishmonger's, and there were only 6 types. Argh! Of the two I recognised, one was monkfish, and the other was a John Dory, which might be the silliest looking fish ever, the kind of fish you draw when you're 5. I had no idea how to cook John Dory. Nevertheless, I seriously contemplated buying it and then leaving forever and never, ever returning because I was so embarrassed at my fishy ineptitude.

Me: "HELP ME. Which one is tasty?"

Fish guy: "Well, they're all tasty.:

Me: "I KNEW YOU WOULD SAY THAT. THAT HASN'T HELPED ME AT ALL."

Fish guy: "Why don't you buy the monkfish?"

Me: "OK!"

I buy the monkfish and leave the store in a panic and then realise I have no idea how to cook monkfish and seem to remember someone telling me once that monkfish was really hard to cook and tasted like poo. It's too late now though obviously because I pretended to the man in the shop that I knew all about monkfish and now I can't possibly go back and ask him what to do.

All I can think is: Jamie Oliver will help me. 

***

Jamie Oliver is truly the saint of all inept British people who don't know what to do with fish as his channel 4 programme was quite brilliant and wonderful and made me love him even more. Yes, I love Jamie Oliver. He is so earnest and dad-like and loveable. I love him. That's an end to the matter.

Anyhow, Jamie taught me how to cook monkfish and that was all good and proper. And as I sat there eating my monkfish and choi sum and other asian vegetables, I thought

I love New Zealand.

Say it loud and say it proud! 

It's a flipping awesome country.

Just on the subject of food, I love how seasonal food is. I love how exciting it is when asparagus comes into season. I love that you have to wait for it and it's something special. I love that everything is locally sourced.

I love that every animal is grass pastured and free range (more or less.)

I love that the fish comes from the New Zealand coast and not trawled in the Atlantic. 

I love that restaurants have strict seasonal menus.

And I love asparagus.

I love it so much that I cooked it and I boiled an egg and I put lemon juice and olive oil and salt and pepper over it. 

And also some cheese. 

You can never have too much cheese.

Look at that cheese!

I love it so much that I took 4 photos of it. 4. 

What kind of saddo does that make me?

Answer: a very happy one.

This is literally the best thing ever.

Apart from, generally, New Zealand.