Another old time capsule, this one including some anecdotes about my mother! What’s not to like?? Particularly as today is her birthday! Happy Birthday, Mum. Forever not quite 80.
From: Kirsty Jordan
Sent: Friday, 4 March 2016 2:24 PM
To: Wellington Anaesthesia All Staff
Subject: Tristesse
A bit of a sad week, this one. It was the official start of Autumn, and you can certainly feel it in the air. The nights are getting nippier, and the mornings darker. My daughter, who I thought would be having a whale of a time at Uni by now, is feeling lonely and isolated. Martin Crowe died. All the French films I’ve seen are a bit miserable, with adultery and death. My twins turned 15 yesterday, is that a sad thing? At least there was a little light relief earlier in the week, with Leo finally getting an Oscar, and Super Tuesday providing much entertainment – as long as you don’t think too hard about the possibility of The Don actually becoming the next POTUS.
Speaking of hilarity, a little boy was terrifically amused when I went by this morning, pointing at my scooter and saying “HA! That’s not a motorbike!”. And on Tuesday, another motorcyclist crept ahead of me at the traffic lights to look at my front wheels, and said “I thought I was imagining it!”. But, it’s an awesome way of commuting, and great fun to ride, so if anyone is thinking of getting one (you know who you are), I would really recommend doing it. If only because it would make me less conspicuous.
No longer driving is my Mum, who has finally decided to give up her drivers license, a decision for which all her fellow Aucklanders should be grateful. She’s never been a natural driver. Well do I remember a few years back, she was chatting away to me as she drove along the motorway, engine screaming in second gear, oblivious to the angry honks and gestures from her fellow drivers (she doesn’t believe the fast lane is a thing). She was stopped by a traffic cop two years ago for driving too slowly. When my Dad died many years ago, my Uncle suggested she take the opportunity to buy a little nana car. In retaliation, she bought a huge Ford van. My friends used to see this white ghost wagon driving by itself around town – she was too short to see over the steering wheel. (Reminds me of a certain cardiac surgeon). It’s many dings were testament to her technique of touch parking. The angry letters people used to leave on her windscreen just showed that some people are far too attached to their pristine bumpers (but isn’t that what they’re for?)
Anyway, down to business. (Eds note – I’m not including any of the work stuff today. Too sad about my Mum, plus the fact that Donald Trump is indeed the POTUS, God help them. Inject disinfectant to cure COVID! FFS.)