This was the lovely sight from the shuttle to the airport this afternoon. I was beginning to relax at that point after a fitful sleep and busy morning. Felix disappeared at the time I was to take him to the Cattery. My sister and I took Mum to the doctor for a pre admission check up, then to her respite care provider where we settled her into her room. There seemed to be multiple forms to fill in some of which we were sure we’d completed before. Watching the clock, we headed home anxious to see if Felix had appeared. At a set of traffic lights we got the fright of our lives when an SUV in front of us reversed suddenly. That’s the first time I’ve used my car horn.

At home, Felix was curled up on Mum’s bed. He was shoved into his cat carrier and we made it to the Cattery in time.

It seemed easy from there: tidying the house, switching things off, locking up. The airport shuttle was on time.

At the airport I discovered my flight had been cancelled. I could have wept. All those months of planning. Pulling myself together, I negotiated a flight to Auckland, despite being offered flights the next day via Wellington. That’s the hard part done, I thought. Now all I need is a rental car from Auckland to Hamilton. But no, you could only rent a car if you returned it to Auckland.

I was on the plane before takeoff wondering what I could do. Then I heard a woman across the aisle telling another passenger that their flight to Hamilton had been cancelled – as was their flight the day before. I joined in the conversation and the upshot was I made it to Hamilton with them on a shuttle they had ordered. I couldn’t believe my luck.

Yesterday my Auckland cousin asked if I’d be up their way on this trip and I said no, not this time. Little did I know. All I saw of the city were lights and motorway in the dark.

So here I am in my hotel in Hamilton, almost as planned, and extremely relieved that I can (fingers crossed) proceed with my plans.

This kiwi author’s experience of working at Facebook moves from ambitious optimism to nightmarish horror. I guess we know that Facebook (now Meta, but we all still call it Facebook) has difficulty preventing some of the terrible things which are posted across the world, and the data collection and selling, but the extent of it is made clear here. Worse, it is, in fact, usually preventable. Think Myanmar where there were no controls on how Facebook was used. Think the 2016 US elections when most of Trump’s campaign money came from Facebook, Wynn-Williams claims, and disinformation did its work. Apparently, those at the top of the organisation simply don’t care – hence the title. The organisation also has the ‘usual’ issues of overwork, ethical slippage and sexual harassment.

The book is almost like a novel at times and becomes tense and suspenseful. The author has survived a number of medical misadventures – the book begins with the shark attack she survived as a teenager – and these incidents seem analogous with her workplace conditions and challenges. With her diplomatic background it is part of her job to promote Facebook to world leaders by arranging strategic meetings for Zuckerberg and to brief him beforehand. In the end, it seems the rather dumb and very rich boss doesn’t care who is damaged as he strives for power and as the money rolls in. The part where Barack Obama gives him a piece of his mind is very satisfying to read. It is also heartening to learn that the author, post Facebook, goes on to work in more ethical ways to develop policies for AI and other tech developments which we struggle to comprehend and contain.

Curiosity killed the cat, satisfaction brought him back.

This morning I climbed the ladder to inspect progress on the community swimming pool over the fence, Felix climbed a nearby tree to have a look too.

There was concrete being poured. You can see the extent of the groundwork that’s been done over the last few months. It seems a long way from completion though and perhaps not likely to meet the October target.

Back to Felix and curiosity: Yesterday morning he climbed the rose arch for a better perspective on life in general – and me walking underneath.

Worryingly, he followed me partway to the shops yesterday afternoon during rush hour traffic. He wasn’t home when I returned, so I called for him as I searched along the street. There he was, in the garden of the house on the corner – on the busy street. He resisted being picked up and carried, but happily followed me home. Phew!

It is cheering to see the floral clock in Victoria Square sporting a smiley face. Usually, the planting is a bit uninspiring and old fashioned, which you’d expect with this kind of floral display. Some cheerful gardeners have come up with a new look.

I saw another cheerful piece of art in a mall this afternoon.

Similarly cheering, are the first flowers on a kowhai tree at my sister’s house.

Put on a Happy Face was written by Lee Adams (lyrics) and Charles Strouse (music). Here’s a taste:

And if you’re feeling cross and bitterish
Don’t sit and whine
Think of banana split and licorice
And you’ll feel fine

Watch Dick van Dyke perform it – with smiley faces – on YouTube here (there’s tap dancing).

At my sister’s house, my sister, Mum and I lifted our feet for the robotic vacuum cleaner busily doing its thing while we relaxed on the sofas. Here is it emerging from under the coffee table. It has little whirly whiskers, reminding me of the mechanical mice in Ray Bradbury’s story There Will Come Soft Rains. The mechanical mice sweep the floor and, while they disappear into the skirting boards, this robot cleverly parks itself on its recharging post.