recently on the turntable

Barbara Manning
one perfect green blanket
lately i keep scissors

Various
the best punk album in the world ... ever!

Sleater-Kinney
dig me out

The Flatlanders
more a legend than a band

Harvester
me climb mountain

The Rip
a timeless peace

Sneaky Feelings
send you

The Clean
boodle boodle boodle

Just over two years after we moved into this house, I've finished painting the inside of the fucker. Nursery, bedroom, hall, study, living room and kitchen. One by one they've fallen, scaled and conquered, sanded and painted. A project of fits and starts, that at times seemed never-ending - well, I've finished!

And, allowing myself a small moment of pride, it looks good. Nice yellows and creams and blues, and stripped back, waxed, wood in places. Tomorrow will be cleaning up and getting things back to their place, and we can enjoy things for a while. It seems so long since the place wasn't in a mess.

I feel like this is one thing I can now put behind me.

It's been cold here today, a wind keening in off the harbour, high grey cloud. We went down to Seatoun for a late brunch. Deb went for the french toast and maple syrup, while I got the the "Breaker's Breakfast" - sausage, bacon, mushrooms, hash browns and eggs, with a latte. Weekend brunch is an infinitely civilised affair. It's a concept only recently come to Wellington, but one that's been taken up with gusto. We treat ourselves every now and then to it.

The first of our ante-natal class has delivered. A baby boy last weekend, some five weeks ahead of schedule. Which scared the shit out of everyone in the class. They brought the baby in on Thursday for the obligatory oooh and aaahing. When we got home that night, Deb packed her hospital bag, just in case.