Thank you the kind people who sent me e mails about the watering holes south of Christchurch. One suggested that I move the venue to Dunedin to avail myself of the really interesting and historic pubs on the way down there. Another suggested travelling across the Canterbury plains to take advantage of that big blue hotel at Methven.
Filling in the bald spots has been really interesting. I have learned a lot about funerals, country roads, the physics of what happens when a van overturns on a bridge. Like how long does it take a laden milk tanker to stop when the driver sees an accident blocking the road? What is the likelihood of fire? You don;t want to hear about what bodily functions do after death, but when mothers tell their daughters to always wear clean knickers in case of accidents - don't bother.
And I have had to listen to my characters; Ask myself, "What would they do?" my heroine's bossy mother, would she move in and start directing the funeral arrangements? Of course she would. And the wealthy Dairy Corporation owner who fancies the heroine, what does he do when her rat of a husband finally dies? They can't fall straight into each others arms, or beds, can they? But it has been fun working it all out.
Yesterday son Joe with his partner Kim brought a tall dark and handsome young man, with an inexplicable American accent, to lunch. They were travelling to Dunedin for Grandson Jed's other grandmother's seventieth birthday. Jed talked me through downloading things on to my Kindle reader, Joe put an icon on my screen to let me open Facebook, and they all had second helpings of the kumera, coriander and chillie soup I was trying out on them. I don't know where Jed got the accent from, but it's fascinating. My ten grandsons are all tall, handsome with I.Q.s like telephone numbers. Makes me wonder what the generation after them will be like!
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