In Pursuit of the Trivial crown

My parents' house has a wealth of board games of all persuasions, collected over the past thirty years or so; but none of them has stood the test of time quite like Trivial Pursuit.

For years and years we had a version which was circa 1980. Despite my protests of it not possibly being fair for me to have to try and answer questions all based on facts that occurred before I even existed, it wasn't until 2003 that the upgrade came about. Now there is a little bit less Frank Sinatra and a touch more Michael Jackson.

So when nine of the extended Bramwell clan converged on the ranch for a weekend, it was only fitting that in between general over-consumption and getting the occasional plastic farm animal stuck between your toes thanks to the recent introduction of babies, a Trivial war be staged.

Three teams of three were formed. 'The Oldies', 'The Parents', and 'The Child-Free'.

The game ended up going on for about two hours longer than it should have because 'The Oldies' would spend fifteen minutes deliberating every single answer before they got sidetracked and had to ask for the question to be repeated. In fact they took so long that 'The Parents' had to go to bed, despite being in the lead. 'The Child-Free' eventually took out the 2009 title thanks to sheer stamina, outstanding general knowledge (despite their youth), and not having to get up at 6am every morning to feed a mini-person weet-bix.

The next showdown will be held at sunset, on the kitchen table. Just me, Dad and a pack of cards. Everything around us will fade for a good hour and a half whilst we battle it out at Gin.

Very special new beings

When I left New Zealand 14 months ago, baby Beth was a little, pink, wriggling thing constantly swaddled in blankets who didn't do much but sleep and eat.

Today she is simply the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life.

And this morning I got to feel her little brother or sister wriggling about; slowly preparing to meet the world in a couple of months time.

It is all just a little bit like the film 'Alien' but truly amazing all the same.

A day at the beach

There is nothing like a bit of sun, beer, surf and stunning scenery to help you get your head in order after a long, dark end to 2008.

Especially when it means spending time with one of the best people ever invented - my friend Kate.

All the while being in the knowledge that it is -8c and snowing at home.

My Top Five

My top five people right now (in no particular order of greatness)

1. My genius hairdresser Simon

For the first time in ten years my phobia of hairdressers is beginning to fade. So much so that I can sit in the chair without getting into a state of stress induced 'rigor mortis'. I have complete faith in this scissor wielding saint.

2. My friend, housemate and pillar of strength - Eloise

She is always at the end of the phone, bed, sofa, kitchen bench... for tears, laughter, wisdom and counselling. She never complains, and is always patient and understanding. And as much as she would be justified in doing so, in the last four months she has never screamed at me 'for god's sake woman - grow a backbone and pull yourself together!' Surely any other normal human being would have done that weeks ago.

3. Courtney Love

Nothing makes you feel more empowered than walking through the tube station crowds to 'Miss World'. I need to steal a little bit of her attitude and spirit right now.

4. Toyin - my co-pilot at Engage

She is so filled with spirit and energy that if I could only have one tenth of her love for life then I would be a happy woman. And for someone who has to work with me she is amazingly happy. All the time. An absolute joy.

5. My pair of parents

For never telling me what I should do; where I should go; or how I should live my life. Ever. For standing back and always just wanting what makes me happy. Even if it means being on the other side of the world. I was truly blessed to be born to them.

The Christmas Bat

My family has a large number of odd Christmas traditions. From the bachelor button in the Christmas pudding which we would all fight over annually; to the 'fly candle' (don't ask, it's a bit gross, and Mum put a stop to it a few years ago); to us 'kids' still insisting on having pillow cases from Father Christmas. With our names pinned on them. Chris gets the one with the Wombles on it.

But of them all, my most favourite family tradition is that of the 'Christmas Bat'.

Every Christmas Day someone has to dress up in my sister Nicki's ballet pantomime bat costume from when she was about ten. The first year it was my Dad. Then Chris had a go. And more recently, since someone was daft enough to marry into the Bramwell clan, the honour has gone to Dave (as seen below).

The Christmas Bat is charged with the responsibility of handing out the presents on Christmas Day afternoon. They then must remain in the costume for the rest of the evening. Even when, after copious glasses of wine, the previously erect ears start to flop right over.

The honour of the Emerald Fairy (the bat's special helper) goes to whoever can fit into my sister's 'tasteful' 80's Ball dress from her last year at high school.

I hear there is a fresh unsuspecting person in line for bat this year. Oh if only I could see his face when he hears the news.

Bucket, string and some aspirin....

I'm alone in my lounge right now apart from a squat fir tree propped up in the corner of the room, encased in mesh like a bank robber with his face in a stocking. He has a wooden base next to him which will eventually support him, once we 'let him out of the bag'.

I carried him home on my shoulder this very cold winter's evening. My breath tumbled in front of my face, and my fingers stung with cold despite being wrapped in gloves.

When I was a kid Dad would go out onto the farm and find a festive looking pine tree branch to become our Christmas tree. More recently, Mum has gotten someone to deliver a suitable branch to the house. Usually it is enormous. As in about ten feet of 'enormousness'.

Our Christmas tree 'Herbert' will (hopefully) sit nicely on his wooden base.

Mum props the pine tree in a bucket, goes out into the paddock to get the appropriately sized rocks, then fills the bucket with water and aspirin to keep tree alive for the next two weeks. Then she will string it up in some elaborate fashion so it doesn't topple over on some unsuspecting relative.

Herbert au naturale

This week we will go out and buy decorations so Herbert feels suitably like a cross dresser whilst he sits in the corner of our room for the festive season.

Dressed up Herbert

Every year Mum will go to the hall cupboard and pull down the same cardboard box of Christmas decorations she has had since I can remember. She will pull out the toilet roll covered in crepe paper to look like a cracker; the angel cut out coloured in with crayon I did when I was five; and of course the string of Christmas lights she has had since she married my Dad. Over 40 years ago. Some of the bulbs have blown. But they still work.

The Bramwell Xmas Tree 2008

I remember once when I was about ten, sneaking into the lounge in the middle of the night and sitting underneath one of those big pine branches. I sat there amongst the piles of wrapped underwear from various aunties. All the lights were out except those persistent coloured tree lights. And even though by that time I knew there was no Father Christmas; and I knew the small, soft parcel from Auntie Colleen was underwear, Christmas was magical all the same.

Welcome Home

Sometimes in a quiet moment at work I daydreamed about how I would react should I get that 'the work permit is yours' e mail. Of all the scenarios I invented, there was not one where I get the news in my red fluffy pyjamas with a 39 degree fever and a jackhammer in my head. But you can't plan these things. And that is how it happened. And maybe I was too sick to do a little solo (no one is watching) dance in my teeny bedroom, but I smiled to myself for a little bit. And then exhaled properly for the first time in weeks.

So the champagne remains unopened, but it is in the fridge. Until I'm fully recovered. And I can now start working through my list of things I had put off until my work permit came through. Membership to the Tate. A subscription to Vanity Fair. Book another trip to New York. Get on with my life.

The relief is almost indescribable. Sometimes I just sit back and let it wash over me.

London Limbo

My fate currently rests in the hands of a seemingly nameless, faceless Home Office employee.

In two weeks time I should know whether I can stay in this country I now call home; continue working at the place where I finally actually get a little bit of respect and responsibility; and keep my lovely house with my even lovelier housemates.

I don't want to think about the alternative. Maybe because I haven't thought of one yet. The idea makes me feel a bit sick really..

The Democratic Right

Nine years ago I cast my first vote in a general election. I can remember the day so vividly, even still. On a sunny Saturday morning, myself and my friend Janine took a stroll down to the Aro Street polling booth after having decorated our flat with stolen election advertising the previous night.

Mine was one of the votes to bring in Helen Clark and the Labour Party who would reign in New Zealand until today.

This week I cast my fourth vote in a New Zealand election. By fax. Much to the amusement of my colleagues.

And as I lay in bed this morning, with Radio New Zealand streaming live to my duvet, I followed the fall of that party and leader I helped elect all those years ago.

Earlier on this week I woke to a text message at 4am telling me history had been made. The headline on the Metro one day later said it all. 'The day America became a little cool again'. It was a happy day in the office that Wednesday.

And two days ago a nice lady stopped by my house to inform me that I am eligible to vote in this country's general elections too.

How nice. Women can't even vote in Saudi Arabia and I get to vote in two countries.

Where has the time gone..

If someone had asked me 20 years ago, what I would be doing on the 3rd of November, 2008, I can't think what I would have said.

But 15 years ago, I'm pretty sure I would have said I would be a star of the stage.

10 years ago I would have been a touch more realistic and would have said working for the United Nations as an environmental development officer in Sri Lanka.

Five years ago I would have said I would be now working in my first international posting for the New Zealand Foreign Affairs and Trade. Maybe somewhere in South America.

One year ago I would have said I would have just started my intensive Japanese language studies for my Masters research.

And here I am. The third day into November - 2008 and I'm sitting by myself in a crappy 1980's office building, waiting for an engineer to come out to fix the alarm system at 7pm on a Monday night. Not only is it dark outside, but it is raining. And I'm meant to be sitting in a Covent Garden theatre right now watching a play.

I can't see much light on this dark Monday night.