Should I stay or should I go?

I’ve been pondering what to do with this non-blog o’mine: Post regularly and actually use the damn thing? Widen my subject? Or just let it disappear down a rabbit hole? So this 30 days shizz is most fortunately timed. I hope the discipline of writing – let alone posting – every day for a month will help me reach a decision. Plus, it’ll be fun, no?


My fingers were ready to dance over the keyboard and kick off on Wednesday, but as it was an evenly-numbered date I was compelled to stall until the ninth. At which point I merely procrastinated and spent the evening coming up with cute tags for old posts instead…


Day 1: me me me me me me me



Snapped three weeks ago, after I had my hair hacked off


1.       For the past two weeks I’ve been looking after three hens for my landlord. Last night I made them fennel risotto for dinner.

2.       This morning I exfoliated with homemade coffee and brown sugar scrub. Then I moisturised with cocoa butter. I now smell like a Canterbury Cream-flavoured chocolate truffle.

3.       I have a thing for uneven numbers. I could never turn the volume to 20.

4.       I don’t drive. Nonetheless, I’ve owned three cars / gas-guzzling fashion statements: a 1956 convertible Morris Minor, a 1967 Ford Anglia (which I sold to one of the boys who revived the Matterhorn) and a 1969 Valiant Safari. It had been custom-built for the Chrysler dealer in Wellington, had tinted windows, and looked like a white hearse. It was stolen by joyriders who thrashed it, trashed it and dumped it in a firebreak on the Wainuiomata Hill.

5.       I went to 13 primary schools, if you include a stint learning by correspondence. Just the one secondary school though. Rita Angus was an old girl. I never knew that at the time. Might have made the whole dire experience more bearable. I took Latin for three years. Loved it. Everything I’ve ever studied since has had its roots in stuff I learned in that class in form three. My best friend and I quit university on the same day, totally unbeknownst to each other. I plan to go back when I’m a little old woman.

6.       I loathe my middle name but haven’t changed it because of mama’s cautionary tale – she changed hers and grew to prefer the original.

7.       I have a not-so-secret Good Life fantasy to plant an orchard, keep enough animals to keep me in meat and eggs and milk and cheese, spin my own wool and make delectable pickles and preserves from my own produce. But not in dungarees. Gumboots are sweet as but from the knees up, I’ll be rocking Margo’s look.

8.       I cycled the Otago Central Rail Trail in a frock. From Clyde to Middlemarch. I lived in Middlemarch when I was four years old and my dad was, briefly, the local GP. In total, I’ve lived in 16 different towns and cities, some of them more than once; Wellington for longest. It just pips London, where I lived in nine suburbs, of which I love Brixton best. Nowadays I live in a corrugated-clad shed in the Bay of Plenty. 

9.        I am exceedingly good at packing.

10.   I’m the eldest of three. I’ve always eaten my crusts because I longed to have ringlets like my brother and sister. Nicole has gorgeous curls which she usually straightens. Jase cut his off. My hair remained stubbornly straight until Christmas 2005, when he died. I like to think of my curls as his gift to me.

11.   I was born on a Wednesday. From time to time I panic about whether that means I’m doomed to a life of woe.

12.   I love making presents for people. But I also love shopping. I’d be an awesome personal shopper.

13.   Some of the random jobs I’ve had: rousie with a shearing gang, psychiatric hospital babysitter, radio announcer, council rose-gardener, actress, restaurateur, reporter, PR chick. If I wasn’t a writer I’d like to be an architect or an art gallery curator. Or an astronaut. I really fancy working in a design store. Dreamiest of dream jobs: cool hunter. Travel + Shopping = Fabulous. I will almost certainly run a B&B one of these days.

14.   I have a huge girlie crush on Mariella Frostrup and Kim Hill. Throaty voices + Brains = Dead Sexy.

15.   I don’t really eat glitter for breakfast. But I aspire to take that attitude into every day and view the world through a veil of sparkly fabulousness.



Sparkly fabulousness nicked from Ginger Jane


7 thoughts on “Should I stay or should I go?

  1. Anonymous says:

    Hey Lisa, I only know you from one of your incarnations, but thank you for inviting me to your 30-day challenge. Speaking from personal experience though, its very difficult to kill your own sheep dressed as Margo… maybe one pair of dungarees for those special occasions? Sx

  2. Lisa Wilde says:

    Hmmm – thank you for your words of wisdom, Scott. Maybe I could fashion an all-encompassing cape out of black plastic bin liners? That should do the trick. I could swirl it as I twirled towards the frolicking lambs with my cleaver and then use it to wrap their bloody carcasses and drag them back to my lair.

  3. Raquel says:

    We have a numbers thing in our house too – they’re known by our two girls as odd and evil. They’re also quite interested in age. Visitors are often asked – ‘are you odd or are you evil?’ Unlike you they much prefer evil!

  4. Lisa Wilde says:

    Your girls are so right – even numbers are evil. And so shall they be known in this house, too, from this day on. Come to think of it, I’m evil this year.

  5. leigh says:

    also evil this year and happy to be so. i love a bit of sparkle – seem to be much more into bling as i get older? literally treying to put a bit more sparkle in my days?

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