Twas a Good Friday

Good Friday at church was different this year.
I slunk in half way through and sat at the back in a plastic chair. I stared at 1970's concrete block - craving the romance of a stained-glass arched windows. This was the new venue of Sumner All Saints Church, which was still sitting sad and empty under the shade of a shaky cliff - red stickered.

We listened to a floaty quartet singing opera in Latin, then a wee somber sermon about all those suffering and in need. Usually one is praying for the third world  but now it was...sigh...US. I don't think the collection plate was very full.

The after-chat was "oh i know someone who can fix your roof" and how the 16th April's 5.3 shake was  AS SHAKY and destructive as Feb 22nd. Or so it was in our rocky pocket of the city. We, the Sumnerians have to keep talking about it because in other parts of Christchurch some people kept driving... oblivious to my crashing of windows, roofs and...oh no not MORE china (my 'fault' for not doing the dishes). I despise drinking and eating from plastic.
My neighbour said today he has just lost his third TV in as many quakes. I am watching Forest Gump on a 12 inch one - which is probably why i can concentrate on this blog.

We then decided to drive to Oxford to a friends house. It was like going on a holiday. No earthquake signs.  China in cabinets bulged precariously and a cupid statue posed on its tippy toes.
I sat in the lush leather armchair with a glass of bubbles. (my champagne flutes are ALL broken ) The faulty foot-rest pinged up and flung me into relax mode. Jett the black, smoochy cat resumed lap position. I had a view of the foothills against symmetrically planted cypress trees and moss-adorned lion statues. (Mine have ALL smashed). No depressing tarpaulins and ropes and cracked things.
It was a piece of South of France that I didn't even have to fly to.

In the background, 51-year-old Kristy crooned to her new keyboard, along with Eddie. She has only started singing a year ago even though her voice was incredibly professional, deep and sultry - like liqueur chocolate. She had just won a competition and is off to the World Championships of Performing Arts in Hollywood. Her husband, an award winning photo-journalist, among other skills,  had to eventually leave us to go work at The Press. Kristy conveyed to me the workings of their busy careered-crammed lives, entwined with their 20-acre abode and six kids.
I reclined guiltily. Apparently being organised was the answer she told me.
Noted.( And thats why I'm here - even though it IS a public holiday.)

I finally threw dribbly feline off my lap. Feeling floaty and jealous after our fill of bubbles and song, we opened the front door... and was greeted with another cat...devouring the EASTER BUNNY... and NOT a chocolate one.
There is always a little hell to every slice of heaven.

Happy Easter from the chocolate-lovin' word chick xx
P.S. indulge a little.