Watched Bridget Jones’s Diary for the second time with my man. The last time we watched it, was about 2 years ago.

I am surprised I had never watched it before.

Who had time. Who had money, or had her shoes together.

This girl is not only beautiful, she is very seductive.

I would have married her the day I met her, if I were a straight man.

My man says she is is very much like me. Yes, she is not into science, or not crazy about physical chemistry, but she is a kind hearted, warm, innocent girl with no tricks who is a shoulder to everyone’s crisis.

And I guess that, she is very expressive. Her body reacts to the outside world before she even notices. Nothing is wrong with that. It makes interaction with her, easier.

I like to have a Christmas in the suburbs of London.

I actually like to have one in the suburbs on London, one in a cozy town in England, one in Wales, one in Northern Ireland, one in Edinburgh’s downtown, and one in the suburbs of Scotland.

And of course, one in Ireland.

Snowflakes drop down on your face, and you celebrate the opportunity of ending another year.

Isn’t that nice.

It might be hard to believe how Gold Rush ended up in New Zealand. Yet the Otago region on the South Island was once a hotspot for those in search of gold. Even in the show Brokenwood Mysteries, season eight features an episode all about the quest for gold.

That being said, today I want to speak to you about Arrowtown, a cozy little town near Queenstown in the Region of Otago.

It has a population of fewer than 3,000. The town was built along the Arrow River because of the gold rush. Even today, people still live in buildings dating back to the 1800s.

I haven’t been there, but I guess it has mild temperatures, but, but! includes all 4 seasons. Meaning that, you will see the transition in between the seasons.

This small town is surrounded by mountains. Some of them are bare, without trees or forests, while others are covered in them. Together, though, they give Arrowtown a rare beauty. All around it, there are ski fields—but that part doesn’t really matter to me.

From the photos I’ve seen, it’s the cafés with tables set out in front of the shops, the street-side coffee spots—like the ones Frodo in The Brokenwood Mysteries has, often called coffee trailers or carts—and the various festivals, especially the Autumn Festival, that make me want to see it all up close.

I’m not saying it’s perfect. But I have a feeling that one of our best trips could be travelling to New Zealand’s South Island in autumn or winter—say April or May, or even June and July. I could even say it might be a very good place to live forever, if you’re able to pursue your hobbies and, most importantly, if there’s a research lab nearby where I could work.

Imagine buying one of those cozy houses, warming it up in winter, and sitting with your family in front of the television, watching a film and simply enjoying the moment. The fireplace is keeping you warm, and you’re drinking smoky tea with your loved ones.

Watching those scenes, just the town, the houses, the streets, gives out a really safe, calm, cozy vibe. I can see myself putting on my boots, and walking by the quiet, cozy streets.

There was this classy, nice, pretty, neat, and cozy shop near our house that sold New Zealand clothing. But it was only for men.

My husband has some of those clothes. They’re really beautiful, sturdy, and fit him well, and they’re not unnecessarily bulky. But they truly keep the body warm against the cold.

When you wear their summer clothes, you really feel like it’s summer. When you wear their winter clothes, you understand that snow is coming—and your body will be protected. Good job, New Zealand.

I hope one day they make women’s clothes too. Everything we’ve bought for my husband has been high-quality, well-made, and from excellent materials.

Grace and Stevie love each other so much, that they are kind of best buds, than lovers.

I hope they will remain buds.

It’s not hopeless — but it carries history on its back, and history is heavy.

I like this girl, Janie. She is a detective in Death Valley.

Well, she’s Detective Sergeant Janie Mallowan, a young, ambitious cop in a small South Wales police team, to put it accurately.

Not only is she dedicated to her duties, she is a bit obsessed. Her obsession partly comes from grieving the loss of her best friend. It has turned to a coping mechanism for her mental state. But it is also part of who she is. It’s a fuel, kind of.

She loves to get a promotion, and she would do anything legal, and ethical, to have that come true.

She’s sharp, but flubs social cues, blurts comments, and wears her emotions just enough that she’s relatable instead of polished and dull. That’s actually why Dua Lipa disinterests me (and Taylor Swift, and Justin Bieber, for another reason, and Mariah Kerry, and NSYNC, Jonas Brothers, Cold Play, and many others.)

Her energy is strange, and resonates well with mine. Strange in a good way. I get you, girl.

Her lack of filter and quirky delivery are sources of comedy, which makes her fun to watch. She makes you laugh with her, not at her. She just says things out loud in perfect honety.

She has real pain and ambition — that mix of vulnerability and competence. And as funny as it sounds, John Chapel resonates well with her, as a mentor, father, possibly a little grand father, and a male figure she never had.

That’s why I enjoy that show. It’s not that the storyline is special. It’s Janie.

One of the peculiar things about listening to podcasts while cooking or making crafts is that, because you can’t easily change the episode, you end up listening all the way to the end.

Did you know there’s a website called Murderpedia?! It lists killers, complete with their personal details and the murders they committed.

How do I know this? From an Australian podcast broadcast out of Adelaide. It’s called Weird Crap in Australia.

I thought by “weird crap” it meant stuff that seems strange, new, or interesting to the rest of the world, but is normal for Australians. Like people having kangaroo suits at home and using them to rescue kangaroo babies.

That kind of thinking is what got me listening to this podcast, and now I know things about Australia’s 1960s and 70s serial killers that even Australian documentaries never mentioned.

I love the months of December, January, February, and March. I also love November—if it’s somewhere truly cold, like Maine or Canada, or up in the far reaches of Europe around the Baltics, Caucasus, or anywhere with a spirit like the Balkans. Cold air calms my head. It soothes my nerves, and—more importantly—it makes my brain work better. My cheeks turn redder, my face looks lively again, flushed as if I’ve put on makeup; the pale of my skin fills with colour.

I don’t like summer here. I don’t like spring or autumn either. My face gets puffy. I gain weight. You have no idea how hard it was to bring my weight down. Feeling agile in warm weather is almost impossible for me. I get dizzy constantly, my vision goes off, and all I want is to put ice on my head and sleep.

Sea water is good—sure—but we’re not very close to it. I like cold water. Places like Baja California, San Diego, or Hawaii make sense to me only if you go for a week or two every couple of months: swim, cleanse your body in the sea, refresh your skin, enjoy the sun, eat well—and then return home to a cool climate.

We haven’t been to Peru yet, so I don’t know what it’s like. Maybe it’s wonderfully cool. It doesn’t matter that it’s on the equator. What matters is good sun—and cold air.

Another joy of living in cold places like New England, the UK, Argentina, the Baltics, or Canada’s East and West Coasts is that you can actually see the seasons change. And more importantly, you can spend much longer walking outside in nothing more than a light shirt and thin trousers.

The ponds freeze over. River water turns wild at first, then grows quieter, because everything freezes. Sparrows sing less—but still, once or twice a day, they do sing. Everything goes silent. And the mind finally settles.

I’m not a heat person. I like warmth only for romantic trips or work travel. I’ve just started going out in minus five degrees Celsius wearing a T-shirt and light trousers. Yes, it’s cold—but it’s delicious. Afterwards I come home, take a hot shower, put on some cream, and everything is fine.

Even my husband is starting to like cold weather. He says it keeps his brain more alert. Maybe it’s time, in a while, to move north again. Somewhere cosy and lovely in New England. Or further north in California. And then travel—to warm places and cold places around the world.

It’s fun, isn’t it?!

I’m genuinely happy to have made it this far. I can hardly believe I survived—hardly believe I lived long enough to see myself after thirty.

Your thirties are that rare stretch of life where you still have youth and energy, but you also have experience—and wisdom. And when all of those come together, it’s only natural that life feels more beautiful.

Most importantly, in your thirties, the older you get, the fewer wrong crowds you attract. And that, too, is one of its quiet, underrated beauties.

“Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.”

A famous quote by the ancient Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu.

Found this on a tissue box we purchased a while ago.