I have not updated this blog for some time. According to all good bloggers, this is very bad practice. Regular content is key. Flee to the south of France for a week without your laptop, and you’ll come back to find all your readers have died of lupus or defected to Steve Pavlina or summat.
The trouble is, things have been happening. And when one thing happens and I fail to record it, something else goes and happens too, and the psychological pressure of writing up a mega-long post doing full literaru justice to both events begins to weigh on the brain like a large, smallish brick. Add a few more eventful days and what do you get? A vicious cycle of sulking and resentment. So I have been grumpily ignoring this-here platform to the wider world for weeks, and only return now because a) I’m cleaning out the freezer, an event which demands publicity and b) I’m bored.
I used to sulk at my diaries too. Also at the freezer. This is why Steve Pavlina is mega-successful and I can’t afford olives. On the bright side, I found some oldish Kapiti double cookies and cream in the freezer. Who said virtue wasn’t its own reward?
Anyway. Events. Yus. Firstly, we now have a flatmate, who for consistency’s sake I shall refer to as Flatmate Man. He has brought with him a rather nice bookshelf filled with graphic novels, DVDs and Terry Pratchetts I haven’t read; also a copy of Nourishing Traditions. So life could be worse, even if I have to wear more clothes around the house. Plus, he reads this blog, so what can I say?
Secondly, my practically only small sister and I went to Rainbow’s End, New Zealand’s fanciest and also least fancy theme park. It was an interesting experience. The trip was largely to determine if my small sister is keen on rides, so she can save up to come with us to Disneyland next year (reliant on Helpdesk Man’s successful pursuit of lucre). As such, having Disneyland on the brain, it was diffcult to avoid noticing that Rainbow’s End lacks a certain lustre in comparison to the Happiest Place on Earth. The throoms were set into a fake rock wall, yes, presumably in an effort to make us feel excitingly like King Saul; but the stromgly-worded laminated list of instructions for cleaning said throoms rather spoilt the effect - particularly as they hadn’t been followed. There were a couple of new, shiny rides called the Invader and Power Surge; but also the Gold Rush ride, whose queue was twice as long as the ride as a pathetic homage to many years ago when the ride first opened and was actually popular. Being a Friday, there were approximately twenty people in the park and four staff members. This was good for queues but bad for motion sickness… it turned out riding the Invader three times running is less efficient a use of time than you might think. And it’s a little awkward riding seven rides with the same two guests - I don’t believe Miss Manners ever adequately delineated the nuances of such a relationship, particularly when much of it is conducted at high G-forces. Nevertheless, as long as we avoided the peeling arcade section and derelict hot dog stands we managed to keep the crippling depression at bay and have a rollicking time. The general atmosphere of the park can be summed up by the website’s description of the Cinema 180 attraction. Clearly worrying that the name Rainbow’s End might conjure up inappropriately fantastical images of joy and splendour, the website tempts would-be revellers thusly:
A more mundane feature of the design is the drain in the centre of the dished floor, which is carpeted with polyester swimming pool carpet. This is so the floor can be hosed down after the inevitable motion sickness felt by some patrons when watching Cinema 180°!
As it turned out, I very nearly availed myself of this technological wizardry during the film. But still though. And in other news, why is it that I can ride the Fear Fall five times without blinching and the Power surge with only a manic giggle, yet become paralysed with terror while floating past animatronic gnomes in an artificial log? The Log Flume is smegging creepy. I eschew it.