going, going, gone...

The shop after the June 13 earthquakes.

The convent post-quake

This is the chapel of the convent after the February 22 quake (and subsequent aftershocks)  - things got a lot worse after the June 13 shakes.

Stronger City

This poem by Gertrude Ryder Bennett, which was put on a plaque in Napier after the 1931 earthquake, is still relevant for 21st century Christchurch. And now available in tea towel form!

The convent pre-quake...

Christchurch, Sure to Rise from the rubble

My earthquake tea towel. Ironically, the much loved Edmonds Sure to Rise building (which I passed by on the bus to school every day and which was demolished by developers in the '90s) is unlikely to rise again, but I am hopeful that Christchurch can transform itself into a new beast from the rubble of the old.

This is a slightly selfish tea towel. I'm not donating the profits to the Red Cross, the Mayor's Fund or any other charity. The proceeds from these go into saving something of mine destroyed by the earthquake.

You see, last March, St Patricks Day to be exact, my husband and I bought a splendid 1930s brick convent and chapel in Lyttelton. We sold all we had to buy it  - because how many chances do you get to own something like that?

It was, still is, stupidly huge - 16 bedrooms, 3 staircases, 2 sacristies, and a holy water font in the priest's loo. There were cloisters and a refectory and a grotto and an ambulatory (which I'd never even heard of before). In short it was 1500 square metres of pure indulgent ridiculousness.

Our 5 year old son had a room that was just for clocks (he was more-than-slightly obsessed with them for a while there); my husband found a beautiful if woefully out of tune 1880s Bechstein grand piano (an online auction bargain) that fitted perfectly into the bay window of the library; I finally had a home for my 6-foot pair of scissors and my life size fibreglass donkey.

The chapel had been painted yellow, blue and pink - raw colours that fought against the beautiful Gothic stained glass windows with their crowns of thorns and bleeding hearts and words of Latin. Our first few months there were spent getting the chapel replastered and repainted, ripping up the nylon carpet to polish the floorboards underneath, and most importantly getting the windows repaired and protected.

By 11pm on Friday 3 September I had finally finished and furnished the chapel, bar the final clean which I was saving until morning.  The first earthquake struck in the early hours of September 4, cracking the chapel walls and covering the floor in plaster (at least I hadn't vacuumed already) but everything was still standing.

After the February 22 earthquake however, all was lost - the end wall of the chapel collapsed completely, and the rest of the convent, which had suffered only cosmetic damage first time round, cracked up and will have to be demolished. The cheapest option, and one which my insurance company was counting on, is a bulldozer straight through it all, smashing everything of interest and historical importance.

I love the old buildings of Christchurch tremendously. It would be comforting to think that architectural features and materials can be salvaged and re-used to give soul and a sense of history to the new Christchurch.

I can't save the old Girls' High buildings or the licorice allsort apartments but I can try to save the stained glass windows of the old Sisters of Mercy Convent in Lyttelton, one tea towel at a time.

Tea Towels Tea Towels Everywhere & not a Dish to Dry....

 Well, the shop God Save the Queen! is stuck in a red stickered Limbo, broken china all over the floor, but life goes on... And though, like much of Christchurch, I possess considerably fewer plates than I once did, I now have many more tea towels. Time I previously spent writing up little price stickers, I can devote to tea towel design. Everyone's designing them these days. It's the 21st century equivalent of tapestry samplers. And practical too!
This one is for the town where I live, Lyttelton. As you can see by the hand, it's that-a-ways.

God save God Save the Queen

I spent the morning of the 22nd of February tidying up God Save the Queen. Windows were cleaned. Newly acquired '60s schoolroom portraits of the Queen and Duke were placed in prime position on the back wall. Queen Victoria was dusted. Things I could not sell and things I could not bear to sell were bundled up into my niece's car to take home. I locked the door and looked forward to coming again with new stock on Thursday in preparation for the big Lyttelton Street Festival on Saturday.

An hour after I turned the red key for the final time the earthquake struck. The Queen and her husband were knocked off their perches, mannequins toppled, jars of buttons smashed on the floor. Queen Victoria remained in place, disapproving as ever.

Now the building has been red-stickered which means demolition is imminent, and six foot cordons are in place to stop access. The fire brigade went in last week when I wasn't around and rescued the mannequins and Queen Victoria, but I may have to say goodbye to my old shop display counters with their drawers of goodies...

 God save God Save the Queen!? Alas, I think it may be that the Queen is dead, long live ... ? Watch this space.