Busytown: Cry me a river
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It's interesting that a rather itinerant sort like Fairburn could have afforded that house back then, but now it would only be within reach of someone who makes money from money.
Surely the reason that he could afford it was that, at the time, it was way out in the sticks, where no sane person would actually want to live? And then as the region slowly gentrifies, the prices rise and force the poets and the hippies out. You can certainly see this effect in, say, Eastbourne in Wellington. In the 70s it was way, way out past the black stump, with prices relatively cheap because it wasn't fashionable. These days it's one of the most moneyed parts of Lower Hutt.
Which is to say: I'm sure there are places the poets can afford, they're just further out still.
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Rather a nice pamphlet from North Shore City Council about the North Shore's literary heritate ..
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Oops, heritage.
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Have recently changed my commute from Sthn mtwy madness to cycle- ferry- cycle to the office, shower on arrival. It's early days but feeling great even though it is slower and (personaly) more expensive..Cool to be on the harbour every day, always something different to see. Highly recomened to those who can make it work.
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Surely the reason that he could afford it was that, at the time, it was way out in the sticks, where no sane person would actually want to live? And then as the region slowly gentrifies, the prices rise and force the poets and the hippies out.
Sorta. But those Devonport villas were built as fairly grand houses in the first place. It's not like Ponsonby.
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Surely the reason that he could afford it was that, at the time, it was way out in the sticks, where no sane person would actually want to live? And then as the region slowly gentrifies, the prices rise and force the poets and the hippies out.
Sorta. But those Devonport villas were built as fairly grand houses in the first place. It's not like Ponsonby.
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It's interesting that a rather itinerant sort like Fairburn could have afforded that house back then, but now it would only be within reach of someone who makes money from money.
I just rang up my mum. The house was owned by the Mays family (Fairburn was married to Jocelyn Mays*). Jocelyn's grandfather, Oliver Mays, was the "founder of Devonport" and also owned a grand old house further up the hill on Mays Street (guess where that name came from...). The house on King Edward Parade had been lived in by a number of disabled and elderly aunts, and the Fairburns moved in to help look after them.
* My grandma's sister.
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Speaking of matters literary, readers may be saddened to hear that Frank McCourt has died.
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It's not been a good week for old fellers: also Walter Cronkite, and the world's oldest (and possibly coolest) man, Henry Allingham.
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@giovanni tiso: I have heard it said that you know you have lived in a place a long time when you give directions that take the form "Turn left at the place where the Circuit City (or whatever) used to be."
I caught myself doing it the other day, as we celebrate 5 years at the same address (easily the longest continuous stint of my adult life).
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The house on King Edward Parade had been lived in by a number of disabled and elderly aunts, and the Fairburns moved in to help look after them.
Well, Jocelyn did, I'm sure. Rex would have been too busy popping down the butcher's for some sausages and coming back three weeks later. Our cultural heroes did not tend to help much about the house ...
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Interesting that the real estate blurb doesn't mention the literary connection but instead waxes lyrical about the indoor outdoor flow, six car garaging and spacious decks on which to sip one's G&T. Philistines!
Indeed.... but at least one of the photo's did prove that the "ferries at the bottom of the garden" was not just poetic license but literally true.
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I'm still chortling over
like a bouncy castle with a slow leak, you're letting us all down
Thanks, Jolisa, another brilliant post :-)
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Rex would have been too busy popping down the butcher's for some sausages and coming back three weeks later. Our cultural heroes did not tend to help much about the house...
Heh, so true!
One of the best pieces of advice I've had on writing came from a veteran Australian television writer. She said every writer needs a wife. (She never had one and ended up burnt out, unable to get out of bed for several years.)
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It was a relief when Fiona started writing again, and thus better understood why I walked around in a self-obsessed daze sometimes. It's easier if you both do it.
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She said every writer needs a wife. (She never had one and ended up burnt out, unable to get out of bed for several years.)
Yeah, mandatory advice for all artists and writers - if you don't have money, marry it. Otherwise get a wife.
why I walked around in a self-obsessed daze sometimes. It's easier if you both do it.
Do you spark off each other creatively? Critique each other's work, or do you go for outside influence? creative partnerships are interesting things, how you find a balance that works - it can take a long time to work through the options until you find your optimum working conditions, just for yourself, let alone combining that with everything else.
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Interesting bio of ARD Fairburn on the Book Council site and it also links to the Dictionary of NZ Biography essay (www.dnzb.govt.nz). Met and married Jocelyn Mays who was an Auckland art student at the Slade in London. [An NZer on her OE in the 1930s - that's another thread] They returned to NZ and he was a relief worker in the Depression. Moved to Devonport in 1946. Died 1957.
The volume of his letters edited by Lauris Edmond (OUP,1981) is worth reading to get a sense of the man. (And just incidentally it was the first book I indexed). Had some pretty rigid ideas about things but not unusual for his era.
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Nothing really to add except that was a really nicely written piece, Jolisa Gracewood.
Loved your diatribe about driving- I think it's even worse in smaller towns in NZ. Mind you, the very fact they gave me a licence is a damning indictment on our country's road safety....
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Loved your diatribe about driving- I think it's even worse in smaller towns in NZ. Mind you, the very fact they gave me a licence is a damning indictment on our country's road safety....
My grandparents lived in a small town in Southland. Towards the end of their lives, whenever we visited, the locals would discreetly take dad aside and ask if he could try to convince them not to drive into Invercargill any more. Around the town, everyone knew what their car looked like and drove accordingly, but in the big smoke people wouldn't recognise them and make allowances for their idiosyncratic driving styles.
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My great-grandparents, also from a small town in Southland, drove a car jointly. He steered and she shifted gears. They did not, needless to say, have a licence.
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My grandparents, who lived in a small village in the Peak District in northern England, never owned a car and walked all over the countryside to go to church, visit friends and to the local shops. I think they were fairly typical. It wasn't that they couldn't afford it - they did go on holidays to Norway quite frequently - it just didnt' figure into their lifestyle.
I don't think this way of life was ever a goer in New Zealand as our countryside is developed quite differently, but it's still interesting how totally our rate of car ownership has changed (harking back for a minute to the six car garaging offered by the Fairburn house in Devonport).
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I don't know if I'm going soft in my old age, but I vigourously agree on the Auckland driver suckitude. When someone blasts past me or runs an orange light, I have to think to myself "well, his wife must be in labour I guess". It's the only way to keep oneself sane.
And go Matipo School! When we were investigating schools to move near to, I almost cried three times over Matipo: once when seeing that they have a modern, regularly updated website; once when viewing their brilliant ERO report; and finally when walking into their tree and sculpture lined grounds.
Public education: fuck yeah!
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I guess it's a matter of where your reference points lie but after a few years in Asia, I've been in a state of joyous bliss over the driving in Auckland. So polite, so gracious, and there is so little of it.
Apart from Ponsonby Rd that is.... (where there is still little of it but they drive like fucking maniacs).
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Just a bit of editing and...
I almost cried three times when walking into their tree and sculpture.
Ouch. ;-)
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but this time: Auckland, what the hell??!! Where did you go? What are you doing? And what idiot taught you to drive?
Honestly, I was shaken. Has it always been this bad? Has the city always been utterly in thrall to the car? Why did the Auckland chicken cross the road?
Precisely. I felt exactly this way on a visit back to Auckland in March for the first time in 2 years. The city felt like an empty skeleton of a place, lacking human infrastructure; a commercial, car-centred place where people live to work.
I'd add that my sister was not happy with my characterisation and reminded me of all the special things about the green sup-tropical Pacific city!
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