Fresh out of the black hole of our teeny lockdown in NZ. 14 days this time, it’s nothing really. I’ve probably had bender weekends that lasted longer than that. (A particularly nefarious jaunt to Paris in my mid 20s springs to mind. The 12th arrondissement was never the same.) A mini-kin cease and desist, trifling in the global scheme of lockdowns. This time around, there wasn’t that edge of exhilaration in believing we were being invited to perform a starring role in a sci fi blockbuster about saving the world from an evil mutating virus, which caused people to sing […] The post ‘All you can ..read more

For a long time, before children, my husband Mr Grouch and I co-existed happily without a TV. He was spared the blusterous intrusion of reality TV (bypassing the entire Kardashian Jenner time-space-gender continuum), and I was saved from the boredom of televised rugby games, where I would be rudely shushed by an entire room for asking important questions such as, “Which one is Shane Warne again?”. It was a convenient truce.  A few years ago, faced with energetic, destructive toddlers, we did what any new-age parents practicing conscious mindfulness would do, we invested in a giant plasma ..read more

It’s been almost 20 years since I left Wellington and it’s murderous wind, and this was my first visit back.  The city was way too edgy and cultured for me to be able appreciate back then. Why would I visit a cafe when I could have an instant coffee mocha in a cereal bowl at home? Plays? Art galleries? Nah, I’mma watch reruns of Shortland Street on VHS in my unmade bed.  I’m shocked to learn that the same bars and eateries which were around two decades ago are still here today. They look exactly the same both outside and […] The post Gone with the wind appeared first on ISLAND GROUCH ..read more

When I was about 21, living in Wellington, my parents very kindly bought me a metallic grey Suzuki Jimmy jeep. I thought it was the coolest car anyone had ever seen, and while it definitely wasn’t, it was a huge a step up from borrowing my Dad’s Ford station wagon, which permanently had bars at the back seats to stop our overexcitable yellow Labradors from jumping over to ride shot gun and lovingly lick your face at the lights.  My jeep had the licence plate JP83, a couple of numbers less than the standard plate but otherwise meaningless. I had […] The post It’s a sign appeared first on I ..read more

Something I am loving about being back in New Zealand is that babysitters are much cheaper and easier to find than in Sydney. In Bondi, the only people we could ever find to babysit were backpackers, and they would usually cancel last minute to attend a house party or by the time we were ready for our next date (usually a year later) had left the country due to visa issues.  On our (annual) dinner date in Sydney about 6 months ago, Mr Grouch got hit on by a woman at the adjacent table to us when I got up […] The post Save room for dessert appeared first on ISLAND GROUCH ..read more

Mr Grouch and I both left New Zealand over 20 years ago and have spent the past 15 years living in Sydney. I swore we would never leave. Some of my favourite people in the whole world live in Australia (shout out to my fellow winos and credit card blow outs). It seemed unfathomable to attempt to live anywhere but Bondi Beach with its golden sand beaches, azure waters, kale smoothies and lycra-clad influencer wannabes. I loved the warm climate, the health food fads, the fickle fashion trends, the high turnover of local bars and restaurants (at least there is […] The post I, like totally, love y ..read more

Reflections from a survivor after being locked inside with tiny despots. That was the longest holiday from society, also sobriety. (Seriously, I am flammable right now.) Given the complete fustercluck (pretty sure that’s German translation for Trump) of the world right now, it feels rather heedless to complain about anything from the safe haven of our little country which is actually on the cusp of coronavirus elimination. I don’t want to sound like one of those bratty Willy Wonka Golden ticket holders – Veruca Salt (“Daddy I want a squirrel – now!”) or maybe the fatty who gets stuck ..read more

At some point during that interminable lockdown was our 7th wedding anniversary. For the 7th time, we forgot about celebrating it. However, I am positive that this year we spent the day together and I can hundy percent guarantee I cooked us dinner – but the closest we got to bang bang was me running the vacuum cleaner near my lover’s bare feet. At the very onset of the stay home edict, Mr Grouch cranked up his already highly-piqued germaphobe meter. He became convinced one of us was going to be infected with the virus and imposed a ‘no touching’ […] The post Homemade bleach & foreplay appe ..read more

So it seems that everyone is now baking bread for Instagram show and tell. I am shocked. At first, I suspected these loaves were the gluttonous quarantine-sized version of hash cookies, but it turns out these are made with flour, yeast, salt, water and a pinch of self righteousness.  I was so sure that carbs were outlawed in the last decade, the kind of thing you ate alone, in the dark, after a hefty drinking session, and certainly not something you would contaminate your carefully managed social profile with. If you or members of your family would like a more palatable […] The post ..read more

When I was about 4 years old someone gave me a pillow case which had a picture of Garfield dressed as a grouchy ram, with huge curling horns, and the words: ARIES, March 21-April 19COURAGEOUS, BLUNT AND DIRECTTHIS PERSON HAS THE COMPASSION OF A ROCK For someone who is sensitive, speaks (to this day) in a silly squeaky voice, has a squishy exterior, is a coward for conflict and a pathetic people pleaser, I knew from an early age that these Western horoscope predictions did not apply to me. Over my life, whenever I have had the misfortune to read […] The post The Year of the Pig appeared first o ..read more