Madame Velvet Underground is for sale.

15^th June

Madame Velvet is looking good with her large pink cabriole legs – big pink chubby legs are only good on chairs but I like the way she has turned out – I hope you do too. Durable fabric and not too expensive. Everyone liked Tangerine Hobbit but no one has bought him so I guess he will have to be subjected to the ignominy of Trade Me. He needs to leave home I think – I need to be shedding my children, not getting more.

This weird widow life is one of faking and feinting all the time – you have to act OK to get by – even when half the time OK is really not what it is like. I have been reading a bit lately about grief and loss and how it affects people. It seems there are some things that happen to everyone (just about) and grief for whatever reason seems to affect most people in similar ways. We all know about “one day at a time” and “good days and bad days” but there are whole heap of other dimensions and behaviours that are not mentioned so much.

 We have crying in the car, we have thinking Tuesday is Wednesday, we have supermarket aversion, we have destructive circular thinking and a whole heap of other things. I seem to be perpetually losing my phone, searching for car keys and bumping into things. I guess it is really just lack of focus and concentration. Keeping track of what you are meant to be doing is a real struggle and in fact a friend who is struggling through her own grief, last week totally forgot the kind dinner invitation from well-meaning neighbours until they called to see where she was just as she was finishing dinner at home. So nothing for it but to pretend she was just a little delayed, leap up from the table, rush next door and sit down to a second dinner as if nothing had happened. 

But yesterday, I think I did the worst one. It is kind of hilarious and so cringe making you could scream. We bought a new BMW at Xmas and it has been rather unreliable to be honest but we box on. Last week it wouldn’t start so I called the AA. They duly towed it to Geff Gray BMW (yes, I’m going to name them- so sue me!). A few days later they called and quoted $3500 to fix it including a new starter motor. Yikes!!!! So we decided to take it somewhere else but they wouldn’t release the car until I had paid $185 for “extensive diagnostic testing”. The second garage found that what was wrong with it was a flat battery and so the majority of the faults it was showing were a result of the flat battery. Those cars have everything notoriously connected to an electronic system that if it goes wrong, you are totally stuffed.  So when we got it back, I thought Geff Gray should give me my $185 back. I mean, how can “extensive diagnostic testing” not identify that flat battery does not equate to new starter motor??? Even I would know that is what you would look at if a car won’t start.

So I drive down to the big posh showroom and there they all are in their tight-pants suits with brown shoes, slicked back hair and cool smiles. They must have recognised the car because as I walk in there is a distinct kind of float away from me, smooth movement to other parts of the showroom,( someone else can deal with HER), eyes fixed on computer screens that are weirdly positioned amongst all those huge immaculate cars.

So I demand to see the manager and proceed to rip a strip off him. You must remember, I am the deranged widow and not always operating quite sanely. There is this weird thing that comes over you, a kind of reckless red tide – it’s awful and crazy.  To his credit, despite being a smoothly put together chappie in a blue suit, he did promise to look into it ( yeah right) and he managed to get me out before anything too bad happened. But then it did!

 I go outside to the car parked right outside the big immaculate glass windows, get in with them all lurking on the other side of the glass trying not to be seen looking at me --- and the car won’t start.

I would have leapt into a sump hole, anything, a crocodile pit, a burning pyre – anything. After much panicking, I had to admit it – talk about embarrassing. I had to go back in and ask if I could leave the car parked there and then to make it even worse (yes, it could be), I tried it one last time before I left and it started.

In those cars you have to have your foot on the brake for it to start and I must have been so panicked by the altercation and my dopey widowhood, I just didn’t get it. That’s what I mean about not being on your game at all.

When I finally realised and got it started I just drove straight off, didn’t look at what I am sure were very smug smirks behind that big so clean window. Excruciating – but I am still going to hold out for the $185  - I have got nothing to lose now and I reckon its daylight robbery- even if I look like a total fool.

You can buy him for $800

7^th June

Here he is, dressed up and ready to party. When I pulled this old sofa apart I found it was an amazing work of art and incredibly well constructed. It is so sturdy and in really good condition. Usually I find broken springs and all manner of issues inside (plus chewing gum wrappers, pens, coins and a lot of pegs for some reason). But this was still exactly as it was when it was made by some very competent furniture maker. The springs are perfect and it has extra bracing as well. It is also really hard wood, Beech according to Reuben. That meant that I broke almost every one of the 500 staples in the blasted thing as I tried to get them out. Much damage to my hands, I guess it goes with the territory.

I think he looks great and the fabric is actually “weather resistant” so, while this is not actually outdoor furniture at all, he could probably handle life on a covered deck or veranda. He is so heavy he will not blow over either. I hope someone wants to buy him.

I am getting better and better at this and faster which is great, it is a matter of keeping on having good ideas. I guess because I haven’t got much else to think about, there is space in my head to have ideas. At night, I lie in bed and think of colour combinations – not exactly riveting thoughts but better than thinking about what the hell is going to happen to me now and how I can possibly make sense of this lonely life. Displacement activity, but it seems to be working.

I have been very upset by the struggle and death of Lecretia Seales. The extensive media coverage has been agony. She had exactly the same brain tumour as Brian. It was obvious to me that she would die before any real conclusion had been reached. I don’t really support her cause though, I think when you are well, even having been told that you will die, you cannot imagine how tightly the human spirit wants to hold on to life at the end. To give the choice to someone else doesn’t feel right to me. And who will say what part of life is worth living?

I know there are many strong views on this topic out there but in my experience, staying alive even only just alive, seems to be a drive beyond reason. The majority of people will take almost anything at the end, just to stay alive. However, I guess it is something for everyone to think hard about but for me, I have had reason to think about this too much. I am sad that she has died though, by all accounts a very special woman.

On a more pedestrian note, I have all but finished my next chair- Velvet Underground. She is looking fab- watch this space.

Chill  -24th May

What to do about this old fatty? I bought him ages ago and have finally got time to get to him, but now I can’t decide what to do to him. He is actually in quite good condition, just a bit saggy in the middle like lots of us oldies. I will fix that up easily I think. I painted the frame black but can change that too.

 I had planned big orange spots with a white background and black piping, but can’t find any fabric like that. I think the style would suit a retro fabric but maybe I’m wrong. What do you think?Has anyone got a good idea?

I am having a chill weekend at Foxton and chilly it sure is. Cold and still, almost like time is standing still. There is a pervasive rotten smell somewhere in the house; I think a mouse has died somewhere but how do you find out where? I have lamely pulled out the fridge and looked behind it, but that’s about all, I’m not really up for tearinng the place to bits to find the entrails. I guess if I ignore it long enough it will go away. Oh, for a man to get all exercised about it and start ripping up floorboards and solving the problem. And so I just practise my learned helplessness and do nothing I guess.

But I wonder about what this weakling thing is. Those of you who know me, will know that I have always prided myself on being physically and mentally strong. After all, I am the one who walked across Spain alone and when Brian was sick, did everything, including managing to carry him  by myself when a few unexpected and scary dramas happened. I don’t know how now I could have actually carried a six foot man. Now I can’t even look for a mouse!!

Honestly, it’s pathetic. It may have something to do with being smaller sized these days but perhaps there is something about strength in numbers – when the number is one, it is as weak as it can be. But as I have said before, got to get tougher (but I’m still not going to look for that mouse.)

I read Duncan Garner’s piece in the Dom this morning about the death of his father and how he misses him. It was a bit sickly and clichéd but still poignant. Missing his father, missing his father seeing his son grown up and his grandson growing, are pretty standard parts of sorrow and I guess affect us all. His points - live for today, don’t work too hard and take every chance that comes your way, seem pretty on the money. I’m going to do exactly as he says. Fancy that? - a strange turn of events when I would be taking advice from someone like Duncan Garner – strange days indeed.

My lovely neighour here at Foxton (who is also a good and cheap builder by the way) came over with a fabulously baggy chair today and said I could have it. It will be able to be made very cool – aren’t some people nice?

Meanwhile the job in hand, if anyone has any good ideas about what I can do with The Hobbit, or if you want him and want me to reupholster him for you, let me know. L

These gorgeous chairs are not for sale. They belong to my friend Annie but I wanted to share them with you because they look so fab. They are original Don chairs in original condition. These chairs are becoming very hard to get now and very valuable. It is amazing since they were in every Nana’s house when we were younger and seemed so boring back then.

We were all much more interested in getting our hands on pink and grey sofas and those terrible modular sets from the eighties that never fitted in at the next house and seemed to make the living room shrink instantly. But now, times have changed and the beautiful clean design of chairs like these is being appreciated again - I’m glad.

They have been recovered and reupholstered by me and I love them. I guess they are good to go for another generation. I am having fun with the upholstery, I have so many ideas and not enough time to implement them all. I wish I could just do this.

I have been torturing myself today thinking about Brian’s funeral and the eulogy I gave. I wish I had said so much more. There was so much I missed out but I guess it must always feel like that for everyone. The truth is,  from the beginning when they said that he would die, I was terrified thinking about the funeral more than anything. It is like that thing when you are pregnant for the first time and you can only think about the birth, you never imagine what is on the other side of the momentous event. What life will be like when you actually have the baby to live with you.

When I thought about Brian dying, I could never get past the terror of the funeral. I couldn’t really imagine what was on the other side. Now I know, wish I didn’t. I knew it would be big and couldn’t imagine how I could organise it, let alone endure it. I didn’t realise how many people would rise to the occasion like me. How many people would help us in so many unexpected and selfless ways.  

But now we are looking forward, trying not to look back too much and to make the most of every day. There is nothing like loss like this to crystalize your thinking.

And so, I have all these ideas for more furniture swirling round in my head.  I have been playing around with the idea of using old fabrics in different ways, lace and old quilts and things like that. I just have to figure out how to stop them falling to pieces too quickly. I’ll let you know if I ever figure it out.

Sunday 10th May

1st May

This is what I did at Anzac weekend.  He’s looking good, especially when you consider what he looked like before. He is already off to his new home – nice.

 I had to keep away from the whole Gallipoli extravaganza despite the fact that I think it was wonderful, especially in Wellington with the war memorial light show and Te Papa and all. But for me, too hard. I know Brian would have been all over it. We have always gone to the dawn parade and one time memorably ended up strolling down to Pipitea Marae beside John Key. He chatted on in a friendly way and never once even looked like touching my ponytail, I wonder why that was?

 I couldn’t face going alone and anyway, nowadays I try to keep out of anything emotional since I can never be quite sure how I am going to react. Weddings, funerals, babies getting born, all those cry cry times. I seem to sometimes cry too much and sometimes not at all. A bit confusing.

So, I jacked out of it all and went to Foxton and worked on this lovely chair. He is great and the first thing I have done that went perfectly right first time. Usually, I have to undo and redo things because I have made some error but this time, got it in one. Maybe getting a bit more skilful or just got lucky. Not lucky when I just about cut my bloody thumb off with the Stanley knife though. It really really hurt and it really really bled and I felt like such a big baby plus no one knew or cared. Gotta get tougher I guess.

Velvet underground looking pretty shabby.

18^th April

So I made it home again. A funny thing, driving down and getting on the ferry was terrifying, but the return was just like old times. I felt exactly as I used to, resigned, obedient, driving exactly where the efficient and friendly crew persons tell you and no anxiety at all. Does that mean I have relearnt and conquered one thing? Perhaps.

After the upholstery course and freezing in grey old Christchurch, I drove through the magnificent Lewis Pass to that ever gorgeous and sunny Nelson. I passed the entrance to the St James Walkway where Brian and spent a horrendous four days tramping in the rain and snow one summer. It was so awful we walked two days in one - eleven hours – we just couldn’t wait to get out of there. 

Somewhere on the drive, I started to feel like a normal person, just a woman driving a (very nice) car. It was hypnotic, being ordinary but it was fleeting and completely ruined by the music from Brian’s funeral unexpectedly coming on to my ipod, tears again. But I survived and enjoyed Nelson.

I spent a lot of time there when I was younger and singler and I enjoyed remembering those days – learning to drive a Model A over the hills to Picton. What were we thinking of? It seems almost an impossible task to me now but then it was fun, an adventure (and I’m not that old; I just had a mad boyfriend who liked vintage cars and bought two, so I got to drive one!).

Nelson was a delight and nothing spoilt the mood, even the three and a half hour delay at the ferry was alright. I am amazed at the bad PR those people get when in fact, I was warned by text and email, the staff were uber-friendly, competent, they had drinks and toilets for us as we waited in the line and then they got those hundreds of vehicles onto that ferry with such impressive precision. I don’t think their bad press in warranted at all. It was easy.

And in Nelson look what I bought – Velvet Underground - sad old sack he is but I can see him spruced up and looking very chipper after a makeover – watch this space, he is next for the treatment.

Miss Magnolia keeping up with the neighbours and looking good.

Miss Magnolia

12^th April

Here she is – Miss Magnolia. She started life and Mr Beige with an unobtrusive Draylon coat and strange wings around the top. Now she is stylish and streamlined. Meet Miss Magnolia, the outcome of the weekend upholstery workshop in Christchurch.

It was fun, if a little weird, driving early on Saturday morning over to a place called Rockinghorse Road, the very outer reaches of Christchurch amongst totally munted roads and gardens, with a windswept landscape and freezing temperatures. But the garage where we all assembled with our little projects was friendly, the projects ambitious, some probably a bit too ambitious, and Miss Magnolia began to take shape.

For me, thrust into the company of strangers who all seemed to know each other or have some type of common language that I couldn’t tap into, it was pretty out there. They were all talking about biking round Europe and sailing boats around the Pacific and people I didn’t know!! Hell, I had just driven from Wellington, it seemed like international travel to me. However, we all got on with it and eventually after two days of tack pulling, fabric stretching and managing to find the place twice with the help of GPS, she is now ready for a new home.

Meanwhile, her mother (me that is!!) is totally wrecked. It seems I have energy supplies that are finite now. What I used to do without really thinking about it, now feels like work and the struggle of talking all day, facing new people, the expectations of others, friends and family who only mean well, is hard work. I am totally wrecked.

There is this thing that happens, all of a sudden this kind of red balloon bursts in your head and the urge to escape, to get out of this conversation and be alone is overwhelming. It is neither polite nor explainable, so I have learnt now to just sit and it will pass but it makes you tired. Has anyone else ever felt like that? I never have before but now it happens often – makeitstop.com seems part of this new life.

But Miss Magnolia is magnificent and she is for sale if you want her - $380. Go on, do it!!

This is Mr Beige in his original state. Too boring.

9^th April 2015

This is what you do if you are a widow, have got nothing left to lose and somehow have to find out how to get the gains. You enrol for an upholstery course in Christchurch when you actually live in Wellington, then you figure out how to make it work.

So, first find something to upholster – check. Find somewhere to stay- check. Find a vehicle that you can drive down there which is big enough to transport the said chair needing to be upholstered - check – uncheck.

I thought I had it all sorted , booked the ferry, alerted the family down south about my imminent arrival and then two days before I am leaving, Reuben’s new, fancy, highly technical and electronic BMW starts doing that scary thing where all of a sudden all the electrics start shouting out warnings – engine overheating – STOP engine IMMEDIATELY – beep beep beep. Major spanner in the works but Reuben gets on the case, assures me it is merely a technical fault and “Don’t worry Mum, you’ll be fine” is the soothing, not very reassuring response.

So, first I have to drive on to the ferry.  I have done this many times before but somehow, when you are a widow, even a small thing like that seems terrifying. I am appalled by the confidence I seem have lost. Why was I so scared? I really can’t say but all I know is I was scared. It’s just so silly.

I was even more scared getting off the ferry and then starting to drive in the virtually unpopulated South Island in a car that might all of a sudden start sending up huge warnings about the engine overheating. Now I know what you’re thinking – how can she be so lame and to be honest, so am I. How did I get so lame? But it seems lame I am.

But – there are some small miracles. So far the car is playing nicely, not blowing up on one of these roads with no one else around and certainly with no big BP or Z garages with nice young men ready to help. And here I am, in a weird little motel in this weird little place called Gore Bay – hellish wind outside, black as anything – no street lights or cars – no internet or phone.

But – I am OK, did it – well not exactly, half way there and Brian came too. I decided that I would bring his ashes with me, take him on his last big South Island grand tour.

In the last few years before he became too ill to do it, each year in early April he went on a big trip down south. He toured around in his beloved old 1972 Fiat – we were amazed that it made it- and visited all his old friends and haunts – returning in time for my birthday in late April. Actually he had the stroke that signalled the presence of the brain tumour just a couple of weeks after returning from his last trip in 2012. So, I thought he would love to come too. I just popped the casket in the car (front seat) and off we went. Is that weird? I don’t care if it is or not – he would have loved it but it’s a real nuisance that he couldn’t drive that blasted car on and off the ferry.