The last lot of little lobe jewels sold, so I set about making another pair - along with a few more which are at present at various stages of creation.
One pair are very tiny and are currently sleeping in my little wooden press, which I call the "Gus Press" only because my wee second cousin Gus has taken a shining to it each time he comes to visit.
The Literary Lobes can whisper your little stories back to you while you go about your business, whatever that may entail. Maybe you'll create stories in them to pencil in later? A word a day for 72 days?
Before this quiet day I spent in the studio creating, I disembarked a ferry in downtown Auckland last night bound for my getaway car. Yet I knew I'd have a sea of black-clad rugby fans to tackle en route (this is as close to a real-life tackle as I'll ever get), and I was sure that the only way I'd make it was to pop my earphones in my ears and blast some loud music while I literally bush crashed my way through the crowd.
With only metres to go before I clasped the door handle of the car with white knuckles, I realised that I was walking by a man wrapped snuggly in a French flag, and that simultaneously I was listening to Edith Piaf L'hymne à l'amour.
I had not even thought about the fact that this was the music of France, only that I loved it, and it was all I wanted to hear, as loud as I could get the volume to go as I moved through a crowd.
Edgar Allen Poe could have called me The woman in the crowd.
But - what would the All Blacks have thought of me?
Maybe something for my journal entry tonight.
À bientôt, j'espère...