tyellas | Cold Comfort

Eeeeeesh, time for another post, since my last one says "Christchurch Report". After yesterday's 6.3 quake repeat, my friends down there, cool and stoic previously, are now losing it, in tears, confronting more damage, etc. The latest may be the straw that breaks lots of backs.

I saw my Little Old Lady on Sunday; she's looking rosier, but isn't getting any of that lost lung capacity back. So she's rather trapped, at the moment. I lent her the DVD of Cold Comfort Farm, which I watched with a friend on Saturday night. Mmmmmm, Seth Starkadder. My friend was looking after her grandbaby, who took a dislike to me. Put in my arms for the obligatory visitor's cuddle, she looked at me aghast and began to wail. And didn't stop for two hours. I didn't know you weren't supposed to wear perfume around babies.

This week so far has been about freelancing and dealing with a sudden uptick in burlesque event developments. I also stopped by the art school to snap some shots of my flatmate's art installation, which is three and a half meters tall, two meters deep, and involves depictions of whale sharks and jellyfish. It looks great, but I have no idea where it's going after the show. And neither does he. If anybody with a very spacious house wants an art installation...