I can't really have weekends off with the amount of work I'm contracted to produce, but I decided that Saturday should be the mostly restful day, with Sunday limited to a sleep-in (the library doesn't open until 10am, but stays open until 11pm every day) and maybe a bit of internet action as I take breaks.
So yesterday I kept my promise to myself that I'd have breakfast at the local farmers' market. It was a good promise, and I've posted a photo-essay of my experience at Progressive Dinner Party. I was so fun and replete from looking at and touching and tasting all sorts of yummy things that I went for a big walk down towards the harbour, and finally found a great view of it:
I didn't walk right down to the shore as I had a lunchtime date with Sue Wootton, the Banjo poster poet, and I wanted to check out some of the vintage shops and ops shops before I met up with her. I found all sorts of things, mostly through the windows (I don't trust myself in antique and collectible shops, I'm such an impulse buyer and also quite clumsy, especially with a backpack) and was only prevented from buying lots of old clothes and books by the thought of all the postage to send them back to myself. I decided I would only buy things that REALLY sang to me.
Like this. I've always wanted a vintage swimsuit, since I have a vintage shape that looks crappy in modern swimwear, but most collecting people seem to only stock smaller sizes. Finally I found a pair that fit me, and I snapped them up:
They make me look like a happy young nana in a Kodak Polaroid, so I'm very happy with them.
I also had a wander through the Dunedin Art Gallery, which had a small but gorgeous hanging of Durer prints, and an amazing exhibition of Anatomy art, a wild mix of medical models, illustrations, books, furniture and specimens plus contemporary art that focuses on anatomy. I managed to see most of it, but must go back for a much closer look.
Then I met up with Sue -- by that time the heavens had fulfilled their threat to open and it was absolutely POURING. We went to the Regent Theatre to see one of the movies from the Dunedin Film Festival (it finishes today, and had a great selection of old & new films), The Father of My Children. It's a lovely film about an indy filmmaker who succumbs to the pressures of debt and lack of support and commits suicide, and how this affects his family. It's nowhere near as grim as it sounds. We came out of the theatre a bit weepy, and ran into a pair of Sue's friends who were also writers and had just seen the movie too. We asked them what they thought (having just told each other how much we liked it) and he said he disliked it intensely while she had loved it in the same way we had, which started a conversation (that made him quite grumpy) about whether it was a film made with a distinctly female sensibility that ended in a very vague but positive way that women could relate to more than men. (I'd be interested in any other opinions about this if you've seen the movie!)
After a sit in the cafe with Sue and her friend Liz, a local artist, I headed back to the Print Room and kept editioning. I'm getting better; my hit pile is now higher than my miss pile!
Colonel Duck wanted me to show more of where I'm staying, my actual room, so here goes:
Lounge area, which I've since rearranged to situate my wet washing next to the very warm radiator.
The little kitchen bit, which I use to store some alcohol and chocolate plus make some late night peppermint tea.
The bathroom, which is very hard to photograph because it's long and thin. Around the corner to the left is a shower unit, with endless hot water in a reasonable water-saving gush.
Bedroom, with my usual hastily made bed. I wouldn't bother except that someone comes in every day to empty the bins & change my towels, and I hate making a bad impression ;)
It's basic but comfortable and private, which is everything I need in a place of residence. The bed could be a touch firmer, but some rudimentary yoga and Tai Chi in the mornings sorts my back out.
OK, back to work. As usual, there are more photos at flickr.