We raised our heads as our Maori guide finished grace and as if on cue, out the window the Prince of Wales Feathers geyser began to play.
Posts by Janet Hart
If I had my way on this autumn day, I’d be standing with my back to the sea, near Seddon in Marlborough, amidst grape vines with their lime green and gold lines. And I’d be looking out over gentle tanned hills, up to a great hunk of a mountain streaked with snow.
Instead, I’ve got to make do with the cover of a book.
In the big picture New Zealand prospered in the 1960s. Materialism boomed, the economy flourished, brand-new houses dotted the suburbs and pop music and miniskirts and thumbing noses at conventions, gave spice to the day.
But on the edge of the lupins and the sand hills east of Christchurch, Cheryl Nicol’s childhood memory of 60s life, was one of make-do. In her memoir, A Parallel Universe, as the title suggests, a different world existed. Life was hard. The picture, is grim.
I never imagined I’d sit with my mother as she died. Or view her a few days later.
But then I never imagined we would be right there in our kitchen with our vet, Brendan, as he gave Bill his last injection. The ‘we’, included Suzy, Bill’s canine litter-mate of thirteen years.
When this wacky titled book, turned up – some new age novel I thought.
Not so. This is a true story about the jihadist takeover of the real Timbuktu and the remarkable story of one man’s finding, collecting and then saving hundreds of thousands of priceless manuscripts in Timbuktu.