Sadly, it appears that since I first posted it – in 2006 – Future Shop hasn’t changed its ways. I admit that I haven’t purchased anything from them online since then – Best Buy and Amazon are SOOOOOO much easier to work with – and I have only purchased the occasional DVD from them in-store (don’t get me started on the way their in-store Computer/Tech people treat their customers), but a company that has such ludicrous business practices is not one I want to have much to do with.

And I am looking for a new computer set-up for home too…

I admit it – I do not like to shop at Future Shops stores. The sales associates are pushy and assume that you don't know what you want (no matter how hard you try and prove that you do) and you often do not get the best deal at a storefront shop. I am an online purchaser and I tend to prefer it that way. Futureshop.ca had this great offer – 1GB USB Flash Drives for $20! Wonderful! That is cheap enough that you are going to want to get them becaus … Read More

via Kat's Passions

I was the odd duck: I wanted to write fiction. I wanted to write science fiction. Okay, so maybe more on the fantasy fiction side (my science expertise sucks), but when I was a kid they were all lumped together as one. I can’t say I was met with a lot of support: it wasn’t considered real writing, and so was often done is secret.

Despite that, I can’t really remember a time when I didn’t have a pen in hand and a book in the other.

As time went by I put away my writing. It wasn’t ‘real writing’ anyway, so I should focus on what was real: school, university, job, etc. The dream was still there but it was always something I would do later. After I got done the ‘important’ things.

Things that get bottled do eventually pop up. I discovered something called ‘fan fiction’ on the web and suddenly my dream of writing was back. I started writing; just as a test really.

• Could I create characters? Well, in fan fiction, depending on your flavour, the characters are already created for you. It is more a case of can you write them as created? Can you create additional character who fit into that world?
• Can I create a plot? A story has to have a plot. It has to have a reason for the characters to be there and a reason for things happening. A plot is best when it is compelling, complex, interesting: it needs to make you want to see the characters doing whatever they are doing. Sure I’ve read a lot of PWP (plot, what plot?) fics – essentially smut – and they are enjoyable in their own way, but a good story has something that draws you back. Was I capable of creating such a beast?
• How good are you at describing things? People, settings, situations? Sure some things are already set: if you are writing about characters from a TV show, you already know what they look like, but there is so much more. I had seen other fan fiction writers who get bogged down by this. Instead of describing a person, they do a head to toe description of what that person is wearing. Good if you are doing a Sex in the City fan fic, bad if you are doing that instead of explaining who that person is.
• And most importantly, could I write? Had I been deluding myself for years? Did I really have the chops?

I got lucky: people liked what I wrote. And their feedback was immediate. And those who didn’t like it usually didn’t like it more because they were philosophically opposed to certain plot points than the writing. I wrote more. I got more positive feedback. I won awards. I got better. I wrote more. All the time, thinking ‘yeah, I CAN do this. Now I really should start work on my real writing.

And then it stopped. Or rather I stopped.

I got writer’s block. No, to be honest it was more a case of Real Life interfering and being so focused on that I couldn’t come up with stuff any more. I tried writing new things: they sucked so bad, to my mind, they never saw the light of day. If I hated them, every one else would and then they would all know I’m not really a writer after all…

The ego of writers, this one at least, is very fragile. I can handle editorial corrections; its the ‘maybe you shouldn’t even be doing this’ corrections I can’t. And yeah I heard that. Mostly from myself, but I have heard this.

So I stopped writing. I focused on work. Guess what? Even there I stopped writing. I allowed myself to get marginalized in my job, moving more from the writing I had been doing to the technical side of things. Even there I wasn’t writing. It got to the point where even the emails I sent were simply jot points. I even had a person I worked with insist that I had to have her check my status reports for diction. I used to edit a published magazine for crying out loud! But that is how bad it got. I just couldn’t write.

And I am not sure I am out of the woods. I started a few blogs, on subjects I am interested in, but the posts I wrote seem flat. I try for the fun, colloquial, friendly: it just sounds overly cheery and dull. I wrote one brief news-type article, something along the lines of something I had written a hundreds of times before, something that had been published before, and had someone read it. They wondered if I knew my audience, if I knew what I was trying to say, if I knew it came off sounding forced, if I knew that… that maybe I shouldn’t be writing.

Bam! That caused me to stop trying for a while.

Maybe the problem was that I was trying for a news-y story and it wasn’t really my bag. If I couldn’t write, maybe I should talk about other people’s writing. Of course to do that you have to read… I did some of that, but I am not sure I am a good critic. I know what I like and dislike; it is that fine line between being a sycophant and a reader, or a reader and a hater, that I am not sure I am treading well.

I thought that my problem then is that I am not writing what I love to write: fiction. So I should get back to that! That was the answer!

Remember what I said earlier about sucking so loud even I couldn’t take it? That about sums up my recent attempts. I tried writing when in the mood: yuck. I tried forcing it: oh my god, that stinks. I tried connecting with other writers: you really think you can show that to others? Are you nuts?

Maybe my problem is that I am seeing my writing as a way to get out of the horrific rut I have been in for several years. Maybe it doesn’t work that way. Maybe this is no way out of this rut. Maybe after years of giving up, compromising and making do I have hit The Big One: the rut I can’t ever get out of. The ‘it’s too late’ bump. The ‘it’s over, you’ve lost it’ bump. The ‘no, really, GIVE UP!’ point.

Maybe I have been deluding myself and I really can’t write. Or if I could, I have lost the ability.

What do I do now?

• The history (a few days old but still relevant)
• A wonderful recap, with theories
• In-depth thought about the lack of Amazon response
• The importance of keeping this issue uppermost in mind: the cost of freedom.
• Salon.com weighs in

It is days later and there still has been no official response – no apology – from Amazon.

I am deeply disgusted by this situation. I am in the process of changing my affiliates to other vendors, and once that process is completed I will be cancelling both my Amazon Affiliate account and my regular Amazon account. I am sure that my pulling away from them will not even be part of a drop in the buckets of money that they make, but I will feel better about my self for not supporting a bookseller that so blatantly practices censorship.

]]> http://passionkat.wordpress.com/2009/04/15/amazon-situation/feed/ 0 Kat http://passionkat.wordpress.com/2009/04/13/support-amazonfail/ http://passionkat.wordpress.com/2009/04/13/support-amazonfail/#comments Mon, 13 Apr 2009 15:01:16 +0000 Kat http://passionkat.wordpress.com/?p=117 Continue reading →]]> Amazon discriminates against gay books: You may have seen some of my Tweets about this Amazonfail/Amazon rank thing. Here is the nutshell:

As of 12 April 2009, Amazon.com has removed the sales rank figures from books containing sexual, erotic, romantic, gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgendered or queer content, rendering them impossible to find through basic search functions at the top of Amazon.com’s website. Titles stripped of their sales rankings include “Brokeback Mountain”, “Bastard Out of Carolina,” “Lady Chatterley’s Lover,” prominent romance novels, GLBTQ fiction novels, YA books, and narratives about gay people. Somehow though, despite is being focused at all ‘adult’ books, it seems to be solely gay and lesbian books that are affected. So while you can still easily find Playboys and the ilk, a young adult novel that explores a person coming to grip with their feelings for a same sex partner; the latter gets censored… or rather ‘rendered unsearchable.’

Needless to say, over the weekend the internet and the Twitter-verse went nuts! Amazon is, after all, a site that openly sells sex toys! However, if you want to purchase a gay or lesbian book from them, well, that is too naughty for them to allow.

The writing community (of which I dare to add myself) is pissed. This doesn’t just smack of censorship: this IS censorship!

Amazon is saying it is a “glitch“, however one author of gay books received this email from Amazon in reaction to his query:

In consideration of our entire customer base, we exclude “adult” material from appearing in some searches and best seller lists. Since these lists are generated using sales ranks, adult materials must also be excluded from that feature.

Hence, if you have further questions, kindly write back to us.

Best regards,

Member Services

Amazon.com Advantage

Look, most of us probably wouldn’t be buying one of the books affected… but that doesn’t give Amazon the right to deny them to those people who do want to purchase them. Support This is not a glitch: Amazonfail!

Boycott Amazon! Refuse to support a bookseller that thinks it has the right to tell YOU – the book buyer – what you can and cannot read.

Update: Perhaps as a bid to ‘fix their glitch’ Amazon is now delisting romance writers and books about feminism, as well as books about disability and sexuality.

]]> http://passionkat.wordpress.com/2009/04/13/support-amazonfail/feed/ 0 Kat http://passionkat.wordpress.com/2009/02/28/the-waffle-challenge/ http://passionkat.wordpress.com/2009/02/28/the-waffle-challenge/#comments Sat, 28 Feb 2009 19:13:26 +0000 Kat http://passionkat.wordpress.com/?p=100 Continue reading →]]> I like waffles. I also like pancakes. And up until recently I could have both: I had a little machine that had a waffle iron setup on one side and a flat griddle on the other. Sure that griddle was supposed to be for grilled sandwiches but I don’t make those, and it was the perfect size for doing my fave dollar sized lil pancakes (especially since I only make a small amount of batter… I am only one person).

My machine died a few weeks ago. It was a very sad day. The first time I’d used the machine in almost 6 months (which tells you that as much as I like waffles and pancakes I don’t like ‘em enough to make ‘em much). But I shrugged it off and figured it was okay: I could just get a new machine. After all the last time I’d gone to the stores looking at them, there were lots to choose from…

Boy, was I wrong!

See, it appears that in the interim waffles had become popular. Belgian waffles, specifically. So no one makes the type of machine that does waffles on one side and griddle on the other. You have to get separate machines.

I discovered this when I went to the Canadian Tire website (that’s where I got my original machine). The only machine I could find that did both was a George Foreman grill extravaganza, priced at $150. Umm, no.

So I went to The Eaton Centre and started with The Bay Downtown (I had a gift card). They had a larger selection, so I figured I’d find something. After about 20 minutes of fruitless searching I spot a Sales Associate and go over to ask her. She sees me coming and starts walking away. Fast. I kid you not! I had to chase her back to her register before she’d even acknowledge me (though she had checked over her shoulder a few times as she scurried away). WTF?!

I ask her where the waffle irons are: she says in the Cuisinart section. Funny: that is where we both were before you started your Forrest Gump impression. I go back… still no waffle irons. I search and finally find one mixed in with another company’s stuff. $130. Umm NO. Also, not the type that switches to be a griddle. $130 for just a waffle iron.

I walk through the mall, heading for Sears. I stop at Personal Edge, which is a very small store that sells house wares. There are 3 Sales people there: one at cash, two holding up the wall chatting. I search around and find the waffle irons. Cute; they make a flower design in the grill. Very cutesy and so not me, but I’ll take it under advisement after all it may only make waffles, but it was only $40. Also I am leaving one of the Sales people (male and female) who had been so vigourously ensuring that the wall didn’t fall down asked if I needed help. Sure, lady: you’d just ignored me until I found what I needed on my own and NOW you want to help? I think you are better keeping that wall up; it appears to be all you’re good for.

I go to Sears. As I am going up the elevator I see that Sears Canada is going to have to lay off 300 people because of the recession. I thought it was a shame; then I got to house wares and discovered someone I would like to nominate for lay off.

I couldn’t find any waffle irons (are you getting the theme?) so I went to find a Sales person. I found two talking to each other. Unlike the PE people they were actually talking work, discussing schedules. Neither bothered paying attention to the person waiting for assistance. After a minute or two they finished and that is when the woman (male one just walked off. Apparently male Sales people don’t actually interact with customers) asked if I needed help. I said I wanted a waffle iron. She said well we only have one. And then stared at me. I think, “lady, if you have one could you at least show it to me?” I say, “could I see it please?” She shows me over to one on a display rack that I hadn’t seen where the waffle iron is out of its box on display. The box is above. She points at it. I pick up box: no price. I say “could you please tell me the price?” “$60.” I am still not impressed; after all it only does waffles. I decide to try a different approach. “Okay, so how about…” That is as far as I get. She says, “excuse me a moment” and walks away. I figure there is a shoplifter or something, but no. What it turns out to be is another customer (a thin, blonde one. The type that have the power to render us larger chicks invisible). The Sales person I had to wait for in order to get her to serve me leaves me, in the middle of ‘serving’ me, to go over to serve another customer. WTF?!

I have someone I’d like to nominate for lay off. There you go Sears Canada; only 299 to go. And with the manner in which your Sales people serve their customers… I am sure you’ll fill that list in now time.

I search around again, on my own, and finally find griddles (if I can’t have waffles, maybe pancakes would be okay). They are in the $60 and up range, which means in order to get the one machine I wanted I’d have to get two machines, costing approximately the same amount as that George Foreman thingy. Oh, which Sears had, but at almost $200.

That was enough misery for one day. I gave up.

But I am still looking. So I went to Home Hardware (waffle iron only: $55, griddle $60) and Canadian Tire (waffle iron only: $50, griddle $60). The Bay Yonge and Bloor (waffle iron only: $340!!!!)

I even looked up online (Cayne’s: waffle iron only $50), Overstock.com (waffle iron only $40… shipping HORRIFYING!).

I looked in the US: Target (waffle iron only: $30US… and have to go there to get one). Wal-Mart: ditto.

I suppose I could also try Wal-Mart Canada or Zellers, but frankly I am getting tired and pissed. Why aren’t those other machines not made any more? As well as allowing you to switch plates, they allowed you to take the plate out and put it in the dishwasher. None of the others do that: what happens if the waffle doesn’t come out properly? Get out the chisel? Throw it away and get a new one?

Now I suppose you are thinking the same thing I am: it shouldn’t take so damn long to find a decent waffle iron. I suppose I could just but one to the cheapo ones, but as none of them give me any assurance that they can be cleaned properly, without have to be replaced, I am being wary.

But I am also damned frustrated.

And Eggos are yucky.

First let me just say it: yep, I’m fat. I am not huge fat, but I am definitely larger than I should be. Think more like Queen Latifah than Ruby (who I commend tremendously for not only working at losing as much weight as she has – and will – but for also doing it in the public eye). Yes, I am trying to lose the weight, but it is not going to happen over night. In the meantime I have to put up with this…

I was out walking and this woman walking along also bumped into me. She was walking straight towards me. Wasn’t reading a book, looking in a window or anything. No distractions. Just walking along, like normal avoiding other people who were walking towards her. No reason to think that she wouldn’t do the same for me. However, though I tried to avoid her, she plowed straight into me. And then she looked incredibly surprised. “Sorry, I didn’t see you.”

Question: how could you NOT see me? (yeah, I was having one of those self-loathing ‘I am a whale. Not just any whale: a blue whale’ days).

If this had been an isolated incident, I would just shrug it off, but it’s not. When I am out walking I average at least one ‘didn’t see you’ incident a day. I have the black and blue shoulders to prove it. Apparently when I am walking along in public, I am invisible. I must be like someone from that Buffy episode.

It is actually a little worse when I am taking the subway. Whether the platform is full or empty… I am the only person that people seem to stand in front of. I had one experience where I was standing along the wall, waiting for the subway, and there was no one within 20 feet of me all around… and then this person came up and closer to the tracks, but directly in front of me. Sure, if a train had been coming I could have understood, but no, they just decided that there was the place to stop.

It is also annoying when there are a bunch of us, all leaning against the wall. A new person comes along and just guess who they decide to stand in front of? Yeah, yeah, I know what you are going to say, but I am not paranoid. It just always happens. Even a friend of mine remarked about it: “why is it, whenever I am with you and we’re waiting fr the train, someone always stands right in front of you?” I dunno; apparently I am invisible. (In one memorable situation, she mentioned this, I replied, and the person who had stationed themselves in front of me jumped, and looked at me in surprise. Yep, me = invisible).

The one place I seem to be VERY visible is in restaurants. Particularly at dessert time.

I was out to dinner with a business acquaintance the other day. First time at that restaurant, first time out with her. We had a pleasant dinner, chatting away, things were fine. Then the waiter came and cleared our dinner plates. He turned to me and said “do you want some dessert?” I said I didn’t and then turned to my companion and asked if she wanted anything and she declined. The waiter looked at me and asked, “are YOU sure?” Even my companion looked uncomfortable by his insistent tone.

What is that about? I am overweight, therefore I am dying to have dessert? Guess what? I don’t have dessert that often! I might grab a cookie once in a while, but my usual ‘sweet’ is a whip of licorice, some fruit or some gum. And even if I did like dessert, I rarely get them when I go out. You would be surprised (or not) by the number of sneers I get from other people if I am caught eating something sweet in public. Apparently when it comes to me around food… I am VERY visible.

You think I’m joking?

I don’t know many other people who have been chased after by those kids selling chocolate for their schools. I even had one accuse me of lying when I said I don’t eat chocolate (great salemanship there, kid). I also can’t make eye contact with anyone selling candies, popcorn, cookies or cakes because if I do they yell at me/chase after me. And in the rare moments when I do get something sweet (i.e. ice cream on a hot day) I get the sneers.

Clearly:

• me, just being me = invisible
• me, around food = visible

Especially after seeing stories like this, about this poor koala. I love koalas…

I know times are tough all over, but if you can help out… please do

If you would prefer to help the people who have been hurt by these fires, please donate here:

100% total hard drive failure.

Everything on that computer is gone. My entire novel, all my WIPs, all my emails, my contact lists, everything.

My entire life.

And before you ask, yes I have some backups but not an entire one. The USB drive on the machine had been acting up, so while I have some of that stuff, I am missing great, gaping tracts of it. Stuff that cannot be retrieved, must be recreated.

I am so fucked.

I had read somewhere, and I cannot for the life of me remember where, that some of the Queen Mary’s most famous spooks were the ghosts of servicemen who had died there during World War 2. No, I am not saying that there aren’t ghosts of servicemen, just that the story I had read was wrong: I had heard that they had died because they were sleeping in the first class pool, which is situated right over the engines (true and true), and that when the boat sailed through the Panama Canal, the heat from the engines combined with the heat of being close to the Equator resulting in overly cooked servicemen.

The Queen Mary is too big to go through the Panama Canal. Ergo, that last part isn’t true.

It is true, however, that the Queen Mary was used as a troop ship in the Second World War, however it operated in the North Atlantic, and I get the feeling that those troops who got assigned bunks in the pool area were probably happy about the extra warmth they would have gotten from the engines.

One of the highlights of my return from my trip Down Under was doing the “Dining with Spirits” tour on the Queen Mary, in Long Beach California. It was a last minute sign-up; I would have booked ahead of time but had been sure I would still be suffering from jet lag. Fortunately I had slept most of the day so I was fine and raring to go by the time I got to the ship.

I was also very excited because the Queen Mary has quite the reputation in ghost tour circles. I’ve seen a few ghost hunt shows about the ship, and was eager to try my own hunt.

Arriving at the ship is almost daunting… dark, overcast night, empty streets and then suddenly there she is: this huge behemoth ocean liner rising before you. I’ve been on cruise ships in the Caribbean before, but somehow the Queen Mary just seems more overwhelming.

There are a couple paranormal tours offered on board, but the one available that night was Dining with the Spirits, which included “upscale dining at the award-winning Sir Winston’s, followed by an intimate tour of the ship’s paranormal host spots.” Well, I was going to have to eat dinner anyway…

We were a small group that night (under 20), which I understand is quite the rarity. We all gathered in the bar area of Sir Winston’s, the ships ‘most elegant restaurant’. The bar is decorated with many pictures from the ship’s heyday, including some of its celebrity passengers. I met a couple who were not only doing the dinner/tour but also staying on board at the ship’s hotel. They were not the only couple doing so, I later discovered; most of the folks on the tour were staying there. Our paranormal guide says the ship is most ‘active’ around 4 a.m., so staying over is definitely something I’ll want to try next time.

Sir Winston’s definitely lived up to its elegant promise. The food was excellent and wonderfully presented. The group at my table spent most of dinner telling each other stories about strange encounters they had experienced or other ghost tours they had been on. Needless to say, we were primed.

Halfway through dinner we were joined by Andrew, who is one of the ship historians. He dashed the story I had heard, but confirmed another – yes, despite being unarmed the Queen Mary has sunk a boat. Sadly, it was an escort ship during WWII (a so-called ‘friendly fire’ type incident), and may account for some of the paranormal experiences. The ship also carried my POWs, which could also account for other ‘things that go bump in the night.’

Erika Frost, our paranormal tour guide joined us for dessert. She gave us an overview of where we were going and what to expect. She also gave us this directive: if taking pictures, take a few in rapid succession: If you get an orb on one and not on another, that is to be ‘trusted’ more than if you only take one picture. That one could just be of dust; a couple pics will clarify that. She also warned us that many folks did experience unexplained camera problems on the tour.

Another thing she mentioned is that the boat is completely stationary. While still surrounded by water, it was wedged pretty hard in, and so it just simply didn’t move. Any rocking feeling we might experience would be due to electromagnetic waves, something she says occur a lot in such a highly charged paranormal area. Indeed, some folks had mentioned it during dinner, though not all of us felt it.

I did also want to mention one slightly weird thing that happened during dinner. At one point I went to the washroom, walking through the restaurant’s lobby and bar. As I approached the lobby there was an overwhelming smell of cigar. Even the maître mentioned that someone in the bar must be smoking and he hoped the bartender would tell them to stop. When I went down the stairs to the bar, the smell was fainter, but more importantly – the place was empty.

Our first stop was one of the engine rooms, where a spirit called Johnny resides. He had been crushed in an accident many years ago, and is considered one of the ship’s most famous residents. Erika said she felt his presence, which I did not, though myself and a couple others felt there was someone else, hiding in the back area. Erika confirmed that there is another man whose spirit has been felt in that area but little is known about him; he’s shy and not that talkative. We stopped and some of us were given a chance to try dowsing. While the metal rods did do a lot of moving around, I am still not sure I felt a presence. One woman though, felt someone brushing against her a lot, and Erika did say that ‘Johnny’ really seemed to like her.

One of the next stops was in the very bowels of the ship, right at the front, where the POWs had been kept. Haunted or not, this area was downright creepy. We turned off our flashlights, sat in a circle and just tried to commune with whoever might be there. For a while it was pitch-black, but then you could see shadows of people walking by the hatch door. Something you thought nothing of until you realized we were in an area that was locked to other people – we had to have a security guard let us in – and there were no lights on upstairs in order to cast shadows. We also heard several knocks and muttering voices.

It was here that I took some rapid succession pics that actually showed some orb shaped things.





And one of the other women who had ‘seen’ the other man down in the engine room confirmed my feeling that there was someone in the far right corner; a woman. Probably a nurse.

We all got out of that area quite quickly.

The last area we went to was the first class pool area. This is considered another one of the ship’s hot spots, and one of our tour participants had told a story about an experience he’d had there a few decades before; something that had scared him enough that this was his first time back.

Almost as soon as we arrived one man started asking about the little girl in the corner.

Erika supplied her name, which I am afraid I have forgotten. She is also one of the more famous ghosts aboard, believed to have been a young girl who drowned in the second class pool area, but when it was closed and turned into more cabin space, had moved to this pool area.

Frankly I was more unnerved by the person I felt watching from the upstairs balcony.

After a wander around the area we were asked if we wanted to enter the change room area, where there was supposed to be a ‘vortex’ – portal to the other side. The man who’d told his story had said his experience had happened right at the end of the hall of change rooms…. so guess where I went? Yep. I didn’t taunt the ghosts, as he said he’d done, I just went down to the end, turned off my flashlight (as all the others did) and waited. Let me also say, the nearest person to me was three rooms down. No one close to me at all.

So who the heck as rubbing my feet?

First the right then the left, then a pause, then left then right. And my skirt was lifting a little at the bottom.

There was also a feeling that something else was in the room with me. So I stepped out into the hallway… just as Erika said, “Whoever is down at the end, there is a strong presence down there with you.” “Yes,” I replied. “Which is why I moved out to the hall.”

When I mentioned the feet thing to her later, she laughed and said, “Oh, you probably got one of the cats then.” The Queen Mary had, in its heyday, a bit of a rodent problem. So cats were brought on board to take care of it. And many had never left… As soon as she said it, it made total sense: it had felt exactly like a cat brushing back and forth around my feet. And it wasn’t the first time I’d had cats show up for me on a ghost tour. It would seem that, despite not having a real cat at present, I am still a cat person.

All in all, an interesting experience. I am not sure how much of it was my imagination or if I did encounter something paranormal, but I did enjoy the evening. And I definitely would like to return for a night in the hotel and another tour. Maybe that one that starts at midnight…

Unfortunately, Air New Zealand decided that my bags needed to stay in San Francisco even though I had left. I arrived in Sydney, after a long 13 hour flight to Auckland, an hour rest and then a 3 hour bump over to Australia, to discover that my bags had been left in the US. Actually, that was discovered about 6 hours after my arrival – until then no one knew where they were.

The first day I was more concerned about getting clean clothes, but as days pass that quickly fades when you have trucked around the world to spend Christmas with your nephew – his first Christmas – and with your somewhat estranged side of the family, and have arrived empty-handed. Literally. Definitely not the way to make a good impression.

The Sydney Morning Herald reported, while I was in Australia, that several thousand travellers had had their bags go missing, and I also heard from several Aussies that both Qantas and Air NZ have a ‘propensity’ for losing bags around the holidays. I am not sure if there was any truth in the rumour that one Qantas flight from London Heathrow has arrived filled with travellers, but sans all luggage, but I can certainly believe it.

It took almost four days for my bags to show up. After Christmas. After having to sit there like a beggar at the table, feeling like crap whenever anyone handed me a present to open, knowing that the best part of Christmas is the giving of gifts – and I had nothing to give (yet).

Four days. A day and a half of which they had sat in Auckland waiting for someone to notice that they belonged in Australia not New Zealand. During that time I had called Baggage Services about six times, sitting on hold for on average an hour each time. Air New Zealand graciously compensated me $100AUD for my troubles… but I had to come to them and get it.

They failed to compensate me for having to replace one suitcase – when my bags did finally show up one of them wouldn’t roll properly. I opened up the back to see why the handle wouldn’t work and discover that the entire infrastructure was bent inward in a reverse V. I am afraid to think of how it was thrown in order to have created such a deep bend.

I said ‘ruined’ didn’t I? Well, perhaps not entirely, I did get to spend time with my family and to play with my nephew, but the first few days of my trip were marred by a preoccupation with the bags. Christmas Day was unenjoyable because I was unable to give the presents I had spend months selecting. By the time they did show up it was very anticlimatic, and I still felt like the beggar child. So no, not entirely ruined.