|Doesn't this saccharine sentiment make you want to boak?|
My Beloved has insisted that we spend more quality time together, especially as I've been working quite late most nights on the bloody timetable.
We had a couple of free nights accrued on a hotel loyalty card, so off we went to Wellington on Saturday, originally with the idea of watching the Chinese New Year celebrations, but then I remembered that we'd bought tickets for the Dominion Post Summer Concert in the grounds of the Governor-General's house, so we went to that instead of the New Year stuff.
M'son would normally be home on Saturday (so he could look after the dog) but he had a previous engagement, playing at a music festival in Nuova Lazio, so other arrangements would have to be made (more later)
|Does this little shit-machine look as if it's starving to death?|
We arrived at the venue for the concert, and faced a long walk up quite a steep driveway to the hill top where the Governor-General's house is situated. We picked up our picnic lunch (a wrap, a sandwich, a chocolate brownie, an apple and two bottles of wine (only 125ml unfortunately) and entered the main seating area. There was still about half an hour before the concert was due to start, but it was packed, and we had to make our way up to the back of the garden, up a steep hill to get some space to sit down.
|We're up the back somewhere|
We'd brought a couple of small folding chairs, but the slope was too steep to use them, and we went to Plan B, and lay down on our emergency picnic blanket instead. Once we got used to the idea of digging in our heels to avoid tumbling down the slope, we got reasonably comfortable, enjoying the warm weather.
The quality of the performance was excellent, but there was far too much vocal stuff from obscure operas to make it really enjoyable. As usual, the finale was the 1812 with the usual cannons (16) at the close. All OK I suppose, but if we come next year, we'll have to arrive a lot earlier.
I should also point out that for me, the best part of the day was looking at all the lovely girls in their summer frocks, tight white T-shirts and Jeans, mini skirts and on one lovely maiden, a black crocodile skin bustier. From my vantage point on the hillside, I was offered quite a selection of views, down blouses and T-shirts, up gleaming thighs and sweat-beaded cleavages. I tell you I just sat there and all was revealed. I didn't letch or stare, but just enjoyed the general ambiance.
|Just like this, but more and better|
After the concert had finished, it was off to the Novotel on The Terrace. We got booked in, and I left my Beloved to luxuriate in a deep bubble bath, while I want back home to feed the dog.
Oh yes, my Beloved had insisted that we (Ha!) go back to feed the bloody dog. "It wasn't fair to leave the poor wee thing for 36 hours with out attention or food" (It didn't stop her from leaving ME without attention or food for 14 bloody days two years ago, when she went to visit her sisters in Singapore. Did it?)
My argument, about leaving a large mound of food and an extra rubber ball was met with derision, so just to keep the peace (and a hope of some conjugals at a later date) I drove home and fed the f*cking dog.
|Does this little shit-machine still look as if it's starving to death?|
I got back to the hotel about 8pm and we went out for a very pleasant stroll around the quays, finishing up at Queen's Wharf in time to see the fireworks celebrating the end of the New Year celebrations.
Back to the hotel for an evening of fun and games.
I watched a comedy show, and my Beloved played solitaire snakes and ladders.
Just joking, we had a very lovely night.
Next day we had planned to drive home and then go for bike ride, but things didn't quite go as planned.
|Thankyou, Mr Pfizer|
I had used a little stimulant (I'm not as young as I used to be) for our evening together, and I discovered that the little blue pill's effects were intermittent and rather long lasting. The long-lasting effects meant that I couldn't in all decency go for a bike ride.
A. It was extremely uncomfortable with "things"bulging and compressing as I pedalled.
B. I was in danger of being arrested for indecent exposure, as my trusty ex-Army shorts were not made for that sort of thing. (Barbed wire, minefields, bayonet charges, opening bottles of beer they took in their stride, but intermittent biological pressure was really beyond their design parameters)
All in all, quite a pleasant weekend, but back to work on Monday.
I liked that quote of Wilde's:
"Work is the curse of the drinking classes"
Don't you agree?