Look Up To The Skies And See ...

There's hope yet for all us failed academics. Brian May has completed his PhD thesis and handed it in ... 36 years after abandoning it!

The astronomy thesis is entitled 'Radial Velocities in the Zodiacal Dust Cloud' which I guess explains all those 'soaring' guitar chords (sorry for that).

Maybe I should unearth all my half-finished jottings and submit a 'Mister Clive's Greatest Hits' compilation.

'Just Like That.'

I picked up the 'new' writstwatch yesterday in Auckland. Part of the deal was a choice between a Cartier cleaning kit or $100 worth of DVD's (the guy works for the biggest DVD distributer in NZ). So I went with the DVD's - 'Ocean's 11', '12' and '13', Scorsese's Dylan Pic, 'No Direction Home', 'Dead Gorgeous' and, .. dah-dah, 'The Best of Tommy Cooper'.

Of course, it was a no-brainer chosing which to watch but first I had to unravel the mystery of DVD Regions on my computer. These things really do my head in. Why do they have Regions? I've heard all the rationalisation but it doesn't cut it for me. Anyway my computer has now reached it flip-flop limit and is locked at zone 4; I'll have to put the stand-alone player to zone 1 which will lock it also.

The TC DVD runs for 48 minutes and I was crying after 1 minute and 35 seconds as was Michael Parkinson who was interviewing him. 'Spoon, jahr; jahr, spoon.' 'I went to the doctor's today. I said, "Doctor, it hurts when I do this." He said, "Don't do that."'

How can anyone have an audience crying with laughter by simply standing perfectly still?

Dry River: Dry Run!

So, this morning I met Cunning Clint (the architect, but be careful how you say the phrase) at the building site to peg the proposed building area out. We’re going to have to move the garage back to where I’d originally suggested it so you'll turn into the hillside as you approach the top of the driveway.

Anyway then CC and I drove to Martinborough to have a look at another house he’d designed and I then I tried to find Dry River Wines to deliver my Spring Release order.

Dry River Wines are one of the world's most renowned 'boutique' vineyards and I managed to get on their mailing list about six months ago after a year or so of waiting. I missed out on some good bottles last time they mailed me because I was out of town and didn’t get the order in soon enough. Only non-NZ people are allowed to fax orders in and no-one is allowed to order online. It's all done by snailmail. I think they'll have to change but I understand their reasoning, for instance, in the Spring Release some of the varieties are restricted to 100 bottles. Those will go, like, 'zap!' so they have to control and balance the ordering process.

As I was meeting Cunning Clint it sounded like a good idea to drive to Martinborough and hand-deliver the wine order. We (CC and CR) first drove to look at a house he'd designed so I could get a feel for 'value' and then I went in search of Dry River. Could I find the damned vineyard? Could I as hell as like! I found Dry River Rd and drove up it past a gazillion other vineyards but I didn’t see Dry River! At the very end of Dry River Rd is Blue Rock Rd or something like that, so a nice farmer (who had never heard of Dry River Wines!) suggested I keep going in the same direction as Blue Rock Rd forms a loop back to the road out of Martinborough. Off I went, very conscious of my fuel gauge being at blue rock bottom. Bloody hell, I was right in the depths of Middle Earth, Trolls learing out from behind Ents and giant spiders lurking everywhere. I never found the vineyard and I took so long finding the way back to Martinborough (and nearly totalled the crap 'loaner' car on the gravel road) that I had then to hare it over the Rimutakas for golf at 2pm. I was going to drop in to see how Toni was fairing with her baby imminent in two weeks but I was late.

And I lost the golf!

Lile Marlene

Went to the Threatre with a delicious Blonde tonight. Not the one in the picture, she's dead, but one who is also a 'theatrical' (albeit part-time), ten times as vivacious as the 'real' Marlene and a hundred times more than the 'World-Famous-in-New-Zealand' star of the show, Jennifer Ward-Lealand. Interesting signature she displays on her site, eh?

The Blonde was from out of town but knew Wellington because she used to work here. However, she had no idea where she was staying, totally the wrong end of town with her directions so I thought I had to pick her up and drive a fair way to the restaurant she'd given subtle hints about. I planned to arrive in the Jagwah and sweep her off her feet in the beige and olive leather, combined with what Elliot describes as 'Jaguar take elegance and shoves it right up your nose' ambiance and style; not to be. The car has been in the 'shop' for a month getting the stupid four-hits-in-seven-days, grill and radiator, nearside rear wing, rear bumper/fender and front offside wing bodywork repaired. They have to ship tiny parts out from England (where the real Jaguars live) and it takes time. So no fantastic car; taxi it was, driven by a Thai guy with compulsory Thai music and singing throughout the journey.

I'd arranged to pick The Blond up at precisely 6.15pm. She was sitting on the pavement waiting; no biggie because she could stop traffic just by waiting to cross the road even though she tried to convince me she'd paid $7 for the dress she was wearing.

Hadn't seen her for about three years so nice garble as we walked to The Duxton grill. One of the hotel's reviews says,
Dining at The Grill Restaurant
The Grill restaurant is one of the most popular restaurants in the capital, The Grill Restaurant has won many awards for its outstanding cuisine and service.

As the adverts here say, 'Yeah, right!' I had booked for the Dine and Dash service so we could ensure making the show; 6.30pm table for an 8pm show. Well the staff gave us the impression that 90 minutes was a bit of a problem. We were instructed to order quickly so it could all happen and they could have us out of there by 7.45 and we could walk to the Theatre in time. Absolutely fine but we hadn't seen each other in years so talking was more important than reading the menue! We eventually got the hang of it and ordered. Well, at least I did; The Blonde ordered two entrees instead of an entree and a main. Blonde does that to you. The waitress, however, must have been on her first night because she was S-L-O-W. And her head continually nodded slowly as if on a slightly malfunctioning spring. She continually came up to us asking if the food was alright but instead of asking. 'How's it all going?" she asked. 'Is - the - food - alright?' and gently nodded her head in time with the inflection.

Actually the food was not spectacular. Definitely nothing to write home about which is what I'm doing now! And they had us done and dusted by just after 7pm which left 45 minutes before we needed to leave. So we dawdled and then left for the theatre bar. Normally the walk from The Duxton to Downstage would take about 10 minutes but The Blond had been seduced by the wickedest pair of FM boots you have ever seen and she was having trouble walking. No-one else was having trouble because she looked spectacular but trouble she was having. We arrived and went to the bar looking for seats so she could rest her calves! No chance. No seats and the bar was gridlocked by geriatrics! Apart from The Blonde I was the youngest person in there.

The show started 'on time' which should have been a warning. When did you ever go to a concert which started on time? Jennifer W-L was good, sometimes very good, but not mind-blowingly awesome. She sang for 35 minutes then took a a 30 minute break! Then she returned for another 35 minutes and finished! She wandered offstage and, after the predictable demand for an encore (at that stage she hadn't sung the title song of the show so an encore was a real surprise!) she came back to do 'Falling In Love Again' but only once and for what seemed an abbreviated version. The one thing that was more authentic than I expected was the absence of 'Vot am I to do?' and the inclusion of 'What am I to do?' in the signature song. My memories of Fraulein Dietrich are obviously flawed.

Deathly Hallows

n.b.
PLOT
SPOILER
ALERT

If you haven't read the book don't read on!

I did well. Harry Potter arrived from Amazon on Thursday so I collected it around 6 in the evening when I got back from an all-day First Aid Course! That's five days after the launch and I had managed to totally avoid all plot-spoilers - good for me.

I buy from Amazon USA so the cover is the one at the top. If I'd bought in New Zealand it would be this one. Why do they do that? I prefer the NZ one. The leaky cauldren has a page where you can view all the various covers from around the world for all seven books and there's quite an assortment. I hope all the words inside are the same no matter where you buy.

So I read the first 500 pages through to 1.30am then another 100 or so the following morning. Back from work Friday and finished off the 759 pages at 1.15am Saturday morning. And, as you all will know, the last word isn't 'scar'; that sits eleven words from the end.

JK has always said she wrote the final chapter right at the beginning of the series but I reckon the 'Dear Padfoot' letter from Lily on page 180 is what she wrote back then. Up to that point the book felt as though it had been written by someone other than JK but then it picked up her usual style but not as extreme as usual. The entrance to Gringotts (p531) is a tad unconvincing but the exit on the dragon's back is genuine HP - see the Kiwi cover. So somewhat unconvincing until p576 when Hogwarts eventually makes its appearance then she's all-systems go and its a real HP book.

On p548 I sussed out that Harry was a Horcrux (or I actually sussed he and Voldmort - we can all say that now, can't we? - were the same which is pretty close to Harry having part of Voldemort's soul, isn't it?). On p601 I thought the sorting hat would be a Horcrux so I got that one wrong and I was convinced Hagrid was the one who would be killed but apparently JK was under a threat from her sister if she did that so he escaped.

My guess is JK was thinking, 'Gee, I wish I had eight books to spread the tale across,' but there are only seven years of secondary school so I guess she was stuck. It could have been reduced to six and a half books though. All that wandering around the countryside and house-sitting was a waste of time. Get to Hogwarts and get the job done!

Terrific; absolutely as great a feat as LOTR, no question about it. 'History of Hogwarts' here we come.