doonermay

Dooner & the chocolate factory

2010-03-21T01:29:00.000-07:00

The closest one has ever got to feeling like Charlie. Not quite the golden ticket, but free stuff and none of the psychedlic intimidation, or oompah loompahs.

Return to sea - 10/12/09

2010-02-01T10:30:00.000-08:00

Despite failing to impress with knot tying, a second yacht crewing opportunity arises, with the 'cavalier' skipper Ted. After arrangements with work and trip planning, 'After You' is readied in the Napier marina, and the trip commences in fine conditions, with a good forecast for the voyage down the Wairarapa coast, and up the Cook Strait to Wellington.

Wind-free, oily-seas for a few hours presents little opportunity for sail time, but the wind picks up into the night. At a point in time before 6am (but well after departure), the coast guard radio issues a severe storm warning for the Castlepoint, Cook and Stephens shipping regions.....our route home. As the part of the crew containing myself attempt to get some shut-eye below decks, in growing swells, the skipper drops anchor behind Castle Rock, a place he never intended to anchor, but with growing winds.....needs must! The local fishermen do not recommend the anchorage either (though kindly donating seafood for our efforts).

After a sleepless few hours, mixed with meals, and some severe gusts shaking and rolling 'After You', the anchor is fortunately holding well. A reposition to get closer shelter from the land, and we settle in for what the coast guard reports indicate will be a long storm (storm / gale forecast for Saturday, Sunday and Monday). Cooking, sleeping, talking, eating and trips to the deck to feel the force of the winds (up to 75 knot gusts) and tie things tighter, all helping to pass time.

Time passes in this nautical bolt-hole, most of the daylight hours of the weekend. As the forecast drop in winds is brought forward, the storm jib is hooked up, and the boat readied to brave the notorious Cook Strait.

Quite a soaking into the night takes us south, and as a new weeks sun comes up, we round Cape Palliser and into the strait, heading slightly north to Wellington. The Cook Strait is good to us, not living up to a ferocious reputation, although not quite a pleasure cruise. Next battle is to meet and beat the Karori rip, but with winds in the wrong direction, tacking across Palliser Bay shows this to be a tough target.

The seas treat us well, though the winds are a tad unfavourable, and the genoa luffs a little too easily. The decision is taken to head for Wellington Harbour, after bashing away at the seas for almost another 24hours, and so into the harbour we take in the views and I anticipate the marina side May, a square meal and a shower. And the next (slightly postponed) adventure.

A different view - 26/11/09

2009-11-26T00:26:00.000-08:00

A break was taken from the strenuous school work, on offer of the chance to help crew a 36' ketch yacht from Tauranga to Napier. After making it to Tauranga, equipping, tidying and readying the vessel, the compasses (well GPS) were out and a course set for Motiti Island, White Island, Hicks Bay, Tolega Bay, the Mahia Peninsula and finally Napier. High jinks with the Coats family.

The actively volcanic White Island appeared under close scrutiny from CCTV, more likely for geothermal activity than reckless travellers traipsing around without hard hats on. To clear the sulphur from the lungs a spot of fishing resulted in catching the propellor twice, and an icy cold dip for Dooner to recover a fishing line from the rudder. Perfect preparation for helming into the night (in thermals), with some fairly exciting swells and winds (for a while there), on to Hicks Bay. Kind donation of crayfish from a local (fishing boat 'Heather') settled the sea stomachs, along with a few beers and the Paihia Bombs.

The final crossing of Hawkes Bay into Napier was rowdy 10hours, with SW swells providing the incentive to don safety lines and get salt-water-soaked for jobs out on deck. No safety lines for being back on dry land, despite the continued swaying after almost a week on the waves, particularly noticeable in a shower cubicle.

Master James macerated and slept between helming duty, Galley Goddess Emma served up swell defying gastronomy at (almost) every meal, and Skipper Ted kept the whole mission together with knot lessons, learning and laughs.

Back in the mix - a late update - 23/11/09

2009-11-23T23:40:00.000-08:00

So....back in the fold of the swing of things....

The latest academic term has swept by for the teacher, with visits from overseas dignitaries (from Shropshire), and a further week down south, along with salsa dancing, white water rafting at hen weekends and picnics in the botanical gardens. She even added in time to go car buying (although may be pushed for time for christmas buying), and to construct a hefty amount of knitwear.

In education, the balancing act of a couple working together appears a regular thing, and became reality for recent teacher aide 'Mr Down' at the teacher's school, despite his being sternly warned to keep relationship details on the QT from the young minds of the school. So three weeks helping with Maths, Science, English, Swear words, Filling water bombs and eating cakes in the staff room added to the old CV.

As Emily explored the Southern Alps, I accompanied a plethora of government types to a bach near the beach at Castlepoint. Several photos, some monopoly, idyllic animal painting, beach sports and generous gin portions filled a weekend completed with lighthouse and hill walks for some more mint views. Quite wholesome.

After an afternoon of sunshine in the botanical gardens, Wellington (and NZ) went all football for the final qualification game for the 2010 world cup....the All Whites (NZ) qualified, the White Noise area of the stadium took it's shirts off, and we all sunk some stadium beer before Indie discoing into the small hours. D to the R to the M.

Next up...plans for skipping isles and exploring the south for the summer....christmas....new years....who knows where? Hopefully some barbecues, camping and more big old views.
All after another injury scare. After stacking it well playing indoor footy, the wrist and knees took a bash. Tendon damage to the wrist, as well as uncovering a peculiarly healed break in another wrist bone, that may have happened with the last break, reassuringly overlooked. Tendon healing vibes please. Out.

Checking out the strangely evolved birds of NZ 1/10/09

2009-10-28T23:05:00.000-07:00

Naturists (or is it naturalists?)
The kiwi (the bird), being a bit of a fat flightless softy, has had a rough deal of it with the European introduction of the (cue colonial opinion) obviously much better European species such as cats, dogs, stoats, hedgehogs rats and gorse. If not eating the kiwi’s favourite foods, then they tend to be pulling it’s useless wings off (wings stunted by the curse of mammal free evolution – though some may dispute these true facts).

Thus chancing upon one of the comedic birds was a fair sledge of luck. Well not quite chancing. Going on a night walk in a place where they are monitored and defended with bait traps had to help a bit. After an hour and a bit walking, and discovering awesome kauri trees, massive kauri snails, cheese eating eels, huge spiders and a forest very much alive with activity; the clock and walk were counting down to home time. Then in a flash (of a red torch) the guide called ‘kiwi’ as the 40cm burly bird crossed the path at the gallop in front of us and galloped to cover. Worthy.

Sperlunking
E-May (as she is known to some) is getting braver. More regularly it is necessary to call her back from the edge of things, and more regularly she suggests overnight tramps than ever it would seem. In spite of this, and acceptably, the fear of dropping through a man-hole sized crack inside a cave, and then crawling through water for 15metres was ominous. The able guide, farmer and shearer Philip was able to comfort and persuade, going first, and promising to pull Emily through by her hair if she required.

She did it. But I quote: “#%$@ I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, #%$@”.

Following this, caverns full of glow worms, and hundreds, nay, thousands of stalactites, stalagmites brought a more positive (and expletive free) side back to conversations.

Fair play to the courage of her though, taking on the cave after a previous short lived snorkelling adventure. Choking in the swell at Goat island, being rescued on a rock, and then kicking the flippers with relentless vigour away from a harmless but intimidating sting ray.

The Seasonal Excursions Part Three: Springtime 26/9/09

2009-10-28T23:01:00.000-07:00

Northland
A trip up north. An escape from the windy walloping of a winter in Wellington. Probably not a scorcher, but surely some bikini time?
No.

The spring equinox, considered only briefly in the time of holiday preparations, unleashed natures best on the unsuspecting school holiday adventurers. Snow closures on the Taupo-Napier highway, Tsunami up north (and of course, in Samoa), and an earthquake outside Wellington. Side-stepped through good fortune rather than wisdom.

The rains however were unavoidable. Intermittently charging the rivers and streams, and rendering the local waterfalls the place to be (for rampant rapids), and adding to the sense of adventure on a number of walks (Wenderholm, Whangarei Falls, Mount Manaia, Hururu Falls & Waitangi Mangroves, St Paul (old volcano), Matai Bay, Cusack cattle move, Waipoua Forest, Trounson Kauri Park, Kaueranga Gorge( model dam, Edwards lookout, Billy Goats landing), Waiomu Kauri Grove, Square Kauri, Cathedral Cove, Lonely Bay, Cooks Beach and Hot Water Beach).

And when the campervan was rocking, this was generally due to gales, or my having lost something again. The wind roll and rat-a-tat of the rain drops at Cathedral Cove and somewhere by a field near Puhoi losing the most sleep.

Skirting Crime
After a day spent last minute tumble drying and packing, and exploiting hire company mix-ups for the free lend of some camping comfort extras, the need for a square (gas cooked) meal and relaxed park for the van was chief. The drive from Auckland to Bethell’s was greeted at nightfall with a beachside car park and a short walk out onto the black sand beach. On return the smashed window of a neighbouring car was debated with a family concerned, but familiar with local car crime.

We decided on a short search for alternative camp spots, but to no avail returned to find only three cars parked, in an otherwise puddle filled area. Each car by now had been done, with front window glass freshly absent. We followed gut instinct and decided to make ourselves absent, for a more rural location, distancing ourselves from dear old NZ car crime.

First Rumble

2009-08-30T01:32:00.000-07:00

New pad shaping up well, following remodelling and deep clean of the front deck and back yard, and initial testing with a (themeless) house drink up. The Devon St place is shared with the entertaining Dan and Ben, both holders of outstanding government jobs, keen sports participants and fans, and also purveyors of above average conversation. Key features of the place are a goat track entrance, hair-pin bend alternative entrance, rugby watching room, sea view (just) and yoghurt maker.

A further local feature is the close proximity to the Pacific ring of fire. This made its presence felt at 2am last Friday morning, with a window and bed rattling earthquake of 5.2R. More than enough to coax one from one's deep slumber, but fortunately we did not have to take cover in the doorways (just the duvets). Still, a good chance for an early morning house meeting.

Getting to know the new NZer housemates has been hunky dory / choice / sweet as, with blues nights, pre-work singalongs over porridge, driving lessons for Dan, water blasting, roast dinners and dancing in dry ice filled rooms.

May breaks silence over wine tasting debacle

2009-08-25T17:27:00.000-07:00

So, as a debut to this blog I thought I would share in this tale… By now we are at our 5th wine tasting, yes a little tipsy but still managing to portray the image of people who aren’t completely ignorant when it comes to tasting wine. Reener pulls off a nice description including forest fruits, Ben checks out the price of a case and following tasting the whites on offer, Dooner declares to the room that the next wine is particularly clear. The wine aficionado does not even try to suppress her smile as she tells him he is drinking water, to cleanse the palate! A classic moment in our wine tasting day. This strangely occurred in the same tasting room where Joe a year or so earlier ask what the red grape in the rose was.

Alpine banter and old faces - 13/7/09

2009-08-24T18:58:00.001-07:00

After a week of snow, scrabble, walks, runs and the gangster underworld of Christchurch, there was a faint glimmer of a stupid thought of upping the stakes and perhaps strapping ones wrist, and maybe getting some skis, and possibly taking it steady down a mountain run or two. Emily wasn't convinced. Fortunately a man named Jim arrived from Devon (via Sydney) and promoted the idea for some ski-field fun sufficiently.

In reality, not any more dangerous than the icy walking through avalanche zones, the ski boots fit, and it was somewhat (poor analogy) like riding a bike, despite being dressed like 'Goose' off of 'Top Gun'. Emily took like a (further poor analogy) duck to water, and soon the thrillseeker ditched the learner slopes for intermediate territory. The slopes weren't near as daunting as the drives in and out of Mt Hutt and Mt Dobson, with locals tales of cars careering off the mountain road. High gear, snow chains and keep up the speed we kept telling ourselves. And the Pulsar pulled through.

Beers and Bands with the Fran, Jim, Melbournians Meg and Nel, birthday present Claire and the ladies from Japan. Frances of Devon is keen for craft. And learning of the extended version of the bayeaux tapestry made from knitting machine parts worked up the Speights thirst in Geraldine. Up to the Burkes Pass is shrouded in heavy fog, but the pass serves as a boundary into a new world with snow covered plains leading to mountains and lakes, and the clearness of the light making gazing at the scenery disctinctly hazardous.

Typically touristy photos at Lake Tekapo precedes the famous Duncombe sausage hot-pot in the van. The unsealed road home conceals the 7.8 earthquake off Invercargill, which we should have felt. NZ is now a foot closer to Australia. The engine driven lifts and presence of only two other cars on arrival at Mt Dobson made for an charmed start on the mountain. Sunshine, snow and out of control children, with Emily on the intermediate slopes, and the rest of us tackling the natural halfpipe before back to Lake Tekapo for snowtubing and spa. Pretty fair day.

More people of note include the excellent New Zealander at Hampden fuel station, the annoying child of the year (so far) monopolising the jam night with a talentless racket, and the car rental lady with a skirt made of ties for letting us off of chipping the headlight with stone. Chur. Meals of note include a nice slab of Trumpeter in coriander, coconut and chilli courtesy of Fleur, and Jim's highly worthy van scran emporium. Choice.

Notes on the popular culture of Aotearoa - 23/8/09

2009-08-23T01:06:00.000-07:00

The New Zealand love of rugby is world renowned, and at times seems all consuming. Not least when Emily (continuing to surprise in her embracing the local culture) commented during week 2 of the NPC rugby "their backs aren't running very good lines". And that is whilst the Living channel is readily available too!

Great enjoyment was brought by overhearing Craig David's "Seven Days". The joy in the knowledge that I had managed to distance myself from hearing or even thinking of the south coast crooner in a good six-months. The joy of realising that respite is possible, and that exposure to the discography of Robbie Williams is similarly avoidable. Unfortunately Crowded House and Ronan Keating are less well discouraged.

Themed parties. Never been to as many. Fake Tatts n Hats, Outrageous Fortune.....

Adverts for sheep drench. As an alternative to hours of high profile, celebrity tit/arse showing adverts aiming to extract my cash in return for an overpriced mascara / car / magazine / insurance company / bank, adverts for sheep drench (and similar) and Weet-bix are two-a-penny. Almost tempted to combine them.

The search for creative genius continues amongst NZ's vast array of derivative musical acts.
There is a light however, and a recent blues night (gold coin entry) raised the bar considerably.

Otago V Southland NPC rugby: "They've got numbers out wide.......unfortunately they're low numbers"

More about dreams - 6/7/09

2009-08-13T23:36:00.000-07:00

About time I rekindled my diary writing for assistance of future recollection. Recently remembering a vivid dream I once had, I flew (in the dream) to Canada and hiked across snow covered back-country for what seemed like several days (unlikely), without food (obviously unlikely). The landscape was pristine untouched apline loveliness, and like any good dream it probably included choice music, and a dozen of my favourite things.

The reason for my recalling this was the most recent school holidays (which I persuade current bean counting employers to let me take off) which were partially spent in pristine untouched alpine loveliness. Staying in a hut called for maximum cold weather resilience (38F on arrival), and some fetching merino long john sartorial elegance. A 20-30cm snow dump preceded a gruelling hike into Temple Basin to gaze at the snowboarding masses (ridiculously quiet NZ ski-fields!). I consider the hire options and risk of re-breaking the wrist. Emily glares.

Knee-high, arse-high then chest-high (the snow!), but well worth braving for a hike up the Bealey Valley riverbed, traipsing carefully in the avalanche areas. Punchbowl Falls for snow man (woman) making and Waimakereri river crossings burnt us out. Cajun, bluegrass, and marshmallows; cheese, wine and chocolate; curry, steak and scrabble helped build us back up.

Akaroa on the Banks peninsula makes for entirely more serene holiday making (sweet place). Which is alright for some. The itch got the writer though. A run to a rather high 600m and shin destroying canter down the other side to Le Bons Bay culminated in a half marathon, low sugar levels, and a well scratched itch.

It also provided Emily the chance to pit her wits against the volcanic local geography, eeeeeeeking her way around twisting, steep, edgeless, unsealed roads. With the runner back in the driving seat, a road to Port Levy looks inviting, soon turns unsealed and winds up to 600m (ice free of charge). It is relieving to find someone else using the road at the top. A pleasant old chap stopping for a flask of mild hot drink no doubt. He assures me the road down the other side is navigable before venturing in the opposite direction. The last thing I notice is his number plate - 'BOTHER'. We drive on sheepishly, fortunately with no bother at all.

Winter whatnots - 27/6/09

2009-06-28T02:52:00.000-07:00

Characters
Joe and Irene, imminent departure of the Devonian and the Canadian, so many a catch-up for hearty walks, brisk drinks and stiff meals. Anj the birthday girl, whose BYO dinner contributed to Emily's shame, along with Larry (and her Norwegians) and seemingly half of Ireland who live in Welly. Newtown parties with Suzy Mojito, Ben's work-blondes and dancing to Blondie (for Em) and the Smiths (for Rob) at Atomic. International Pot Luck at Sayaka's, the writer's hesitance at 'hanging' with a gaggle of teachers was destabilised by an abundance of delicious international scran. Film-making at the 48hour film festival (more teachers!), and seeing it on the big screen in Wellywood.

Dooner's Dream
A very strange dream in the cold room. A sizeable group (including Dray, GLE, Owe and Spudboy) had travelled to NZ for a visit. We ran into them in town, where their jetlag had manifested itself in the form of two black eyes each. Curious. Rundle was also in town with the marines, and along with Sven we all went to a gig. It was spectacular, particularly since the audience sat on a large revolving roundabout and the band played on a circular stage all around the audience. What could this all mean?

Things otherwise, a bit of work (woah!), and watching of the Lions once a week....what a second test! Organising the next and subseqent rounds of galavanting. House parties in Wellington usually involve costumes or stupid themes. Fortunately they have taken a back seat of late in favour of drinks and conversation type events. Including White Russians, and brunette Kiwis.

Bones, thugs and harmonies - 23/6/09

2009-06-26T19:15:00.000-07:00

Been a bit of a while what what, so a potential flurry, of tale if not excitement.

Firstly, the wrist.....is out of cast. This is good, although doesn't mean it is healed, more that I can be trusted. Answers on the reality of a complete heal will be in a postcard next week, following CT scan. Instead - a splint, and a ridiculously weak wrist after 12 weeks stationary. And the skin was delightful. Like old parmesan. All clean now mind.

Some of the spare time has been employed in writing, recording and producing some drinking songs, of which bootlegs are circulating (and reportedly being danced and cried to). Further time has been spent at wild parties with young people and loud music, watching rugby (les bleus, the ABs and the Lions), and being generally amused by Emily's anti-social pub culture. Emily had a drinking problem the other week, when she was asked to leave a Wellington Irish bar for pouring Emer a glass of her own wine brought in after a BYO meal. Disgraceful behaviour, and I naturally sided with the bouncer who was quite polite (and built like a brick shithouse, as is usual for local doormen). Oh the shame of it (she repeated).

On the lookout for calcium, zinc and phosphorous - 21/5/09

2009-05-20T13:43:00.000-07:00

All ready for cast removal? Check.
Physio appointment made? Check.
Bike chain oiled? Check.
Training regime? Check.
Plans laid for snow fun? Check.
Job? Come back to that one.
Scaphoid? That one too.

After 8 weeks of wrist in cast, and a lack of left handed motor skills (can't touch thumb to any of the fingers), the excitement of removing the deteriorating forearm from it's fibreglass containment was running high. The process revealed a withered, scabby limb with some tenderness (of the bones, not the saw). The x-rays revealed insufficient healing, and the doctor revealed the need for a further 4weeks in cast. To add torment to injury, he also revealed there would be no rugby or snowboarding this season, and no mountain biking or guitar for the immediate future. Almost choked.

Perfect conditions to be knuckling down to some hard work to keep the brain from going stale. However....
Economic downturns have spread to my back sky-rocket, via the ailing job market. Having taken a soaking, a wind beating, and avoided an earthquake on the way to an interview perhaps it is time the stroke of luck arrived. Still, luck comes in the form of the Design IT teacher, for whom one bakes cakes and pasta bakes. The one that arrives home with VIZ and Dylan Moran on DVD to cheer up the one-armed bandito. And the one that involves him in a 48hour film competition to exercise musical creativity.

So...more time will be spent in the library, and checking the recruiters are awake, cooking and cleaning (slowly), piano playing (one hand and index finger) and walking/running where possible.
The wind of late has been special (as previously warned) - the small girls hanging on to lampposts variety, the running down steep hills and being held back (at Makara beach) variety, and the light jog consuming the energy of a sprint in the headwind variety. Jog on.

Hark at 'ee - information by the medium of tale - 30/4/09

2009-04-27T21:45:00.000-07:00

The Owl and the Pussycat
At Shambaala, Golden Bay we happened upon a French mademoiselle named Anne. Emily and Anne struck a friendship that saw them take to the seas, in a beautiful complimentary dinghy. They ventured into the breaking waves barely equipped with rowing knowledge, let alone honey. In waves of up to two feet they tamed the ocean in a manner reminiscent of King Canute, and provided ample opportunity for the broken wristed dry footed paparazzi prowling on the shore (see picture proof). The bounties of seafaring adventure were minimal (garlic mussels though), but the quiz team name of “the owl and the pussycat” was born, and demonstrated a more general intellect with a victory at the Mussel Inn pub quiz that evening (with assistance from our dutch and kiwi comrades).

Hitching Success
Golden Bay felt beautifully isolated (even for New Zealand), having ascended and descended a huge pass to get in. Hence it took a couple days (and some hefty mussel consumption) to muster the motivation for the return leg. After loading up it began quickly with a bareknuckle drive down the unsealed 2km to the main road (meditation teacher at the wheel), then a short ride with a local dairy farmer, before re-living childhood in the back of a car with the greater hits of Dire Straits (surely a proud indulgence or two YFOS fans?). The next step saw a lift from a Hertfordshire Hiker, over the Takaka Hill Highway and down to Motueka. Young family Rob, Roberta and Liam then took us to the outskirts of Nelson, where a good chap surprised his family by dropping us out in central Nelson as they awaited his lift.
The next stage of the journey (to Picton) was assisted hugely by climber Stacey on her way to Blenheim, leaving only a short ride from an older couple - in fine comfort, other than the perfume intensity and lipstick on the teeth. The chat was reasonable, although a strong south island bias!
The beauty of having a nice black fibre glass cast, is that using a stone (or better still chalk/ tippex) one can write destinations on the cast for thumbing a lift.....e.g. "anywhere but Picton....".
Road Music
Thanks to Ben, Pete & Nikki for the lends: Blur - Best Of (so not as many fillers as their others), Beatles - Love, Modest Mouse, DJ Shadow (night time driving), Dire Straits (day time driving without irony), Flaming Lips, Blondie (queue singstar Emily), Mint Chicks, Black Seeds (attempts to get into some NZ craft), Bright Eyes, Radiohead, Talking Heads, Supergrass (difficult third album), the Strokes, the Smiths (will one ever bore?), Roots Manuva (Sinny sin sins at christian camp - no i didn't!), Jurassic 5, Jeff Buckley, Hot Chip.

Galavanting North Island Week 2 - 26/4/09

2009-04-27T19:17:00.000-07:00

Roads less travelled, tracks heavily walked.
Whanganui River Road - partly unsealed, sand-stone walls, bush, sheep and corners aplenty.
Route 52 - A long 3hours. Sheep stations, angular hills and the occasional metropolis (ahem).
Silica Rapids - sweet two hour walk near Whakapapa.
Tongariro Alpine Crossing - Early (5.30am), frosty start for 23km walk in smouldering and bleak volcano territory. Spectacular and intimidating, but if Frodo can, then so can we (film location of the fiery abyss of Mount Doom). Wrist wearing well, though no particular stumbles.
Te Mata Peak - Fair rugged, and sheep orientated. Notable for a good clamber, big view and a scared Em as she drove up a single lane rode with significant near vertical drops either side. One handed driver took the wheel going back down.
Hot stream dip at Taupo - back to the Waikato River (to sit like a gnome).

Camping it up
Em never has had much luck with camping. After two rain drenched UK trips, so far this week saw rain, gales and frost (Waikanae, Whanganui River Road and Whakapapa respectively). Still, no trees came through the tent, and we didn't freeze in the -2C mountain temperatures (vege thai curry not a mild one thankfully). And thanks to installing Em in a sleeing bag with only her nose showing, I even think she'll go again. Those in the know will be shocked to hear of her donning hiking boots, anorak and rucksack for a 23km walk and 900m ascent (see above and photos for the 09 look). Doon slept with jumper over face. After three days in the tent, the treat of some meat, bed and ale was well received (does any drinking city outside Ireland not have an Irish bar?).

Digs, Drinks & Scran
Wet camp, Christian camp, Windy camp, Frosty camp. Farmstay. Familiar Taupo retreat.
Speights, post-camp ales, chilly-bin water, Rose wine off of Hawke's Bay. Many a vege thai curry, and later in the week some more substantial lamb bangers n mash.

Good Good Friday
Not regularly subscribing to established traditions, this Good Friday involved copious red meat. Official house outing, with entourage – intention of a good walk around the Otari Wilton bush was dashed when the public barbecue was ignited, and the steaks and Speights were gregory'd.

Galavanting South Island Week 1 - 17/4/09

2009-04-27T17:35:00.000-07:00

Observations and Quotes
'The south island looks much taller than it does on the maps' - small child observation.
'I like the fairies' - another small child delighting in the ferry journey.
'A gaggle of gawping grockels' - Em practises alliteration on the Interislander ferry.
'Mika is close to my heart' - fortunately young Eva didn't mean the guilty dis-pleasure musician.
'Anyone for a coffee?', 'I'd rather a beer, Dan' - quick guessing of cousin Smith's true intention.
'The babbling brook sparkles in the sunshine' - Em continues alliteration practise.
'He's got himself a good christian woman' - Gossipping bather with a classic at the hot springs.
'I didn't think teachers hitched' - Roberta, one of our hitch rides.

Foods, Drinks and Digs
Speights Gold Medal Ale, Mussels (green lipped, and off the beach), Pak n Save picnic lunches, Free Choc Pudding, breakfasts and easter eggs (at certain backpackers), Sauvignon Blanc (Sav) from various bottles, Pelorus at Cloudy Bay, Fish n Chips, Roast Pork, Best Burger (Christchurch), BBQ at the nurses home and subsequent BBQ leftovers picnic, Jailhouse, Sequoia and Shambhala for enjoyable digs. Weet-bix, banana and superb chocolate birthday cake. Damn fine cider (Motueka and Mussel Inn).

Entertainments and Folks
Johnny Cash covers in Picton, High Fidelity in Kaikoura, Andy n Sandy, Wine tasting, Dave & Edie in Christchurch, Hot tubs and Spa's (with bagged arm and floats), Dan and Andy, Mademoiselle Anne, Yoga class including the flexible french pair and teacher BJ (real name), the Dutch three, Hawaii Ray and Penny, The Owl and The Pussycat, Oceana, Carol & family and quiztime success. Nelson Speights pub (ping pong, man food and cleavage), Nelson market. Tawa teachers on the homeward bound ferry.

Walks and Drives
Bobs Bay, Snout Walk and Tirohanga Walkway in Picton, Coastal walk on the Kaikoura Peninsula (and the loss of Sandy), Buller Gorge (and the Andy rock fall), aborted Farewell Spit walk, Wharariki (wow) beach, Shamhala lane (skips, glow worms and murder tales)
Lewis Pass, Pacific coast, Takaka hill highway. Beaches at Golden Bay. Centre of New Zealand.

The Life of Leisure

2009-04-05T14:54:00.000-07:00

For some, a life of leisure is a gift, and understandably so. I don't think they had a cast on.
The lack of an opposable left thumb has left in me in an under evolved state, unable to complete simple tasks. Buttons for instance. Buttering another.
With no work, mountain biking, guitar, sport and minimal cooking, I am left hoping that Wednesday's assessment with the hand doctor will result in "Oh Mr Down, there appears to have been a mistake (bro), let me take off the cast and you are free to go (cuzz)". And for the aching to stop, at the touch of a beautiful miracle working nurse.
Devising new ways to occupy ones time has seen one:

Attend a Monet exhibition
Write and record piano music (for one hand)
Visit the beach for photography and reading
Write a short story
Spend (seemingly) hours creating a pasta bake
Journey planning
Look for an office job (for one hand)
Walk a fair way with an old friend
Eat, drink and be merry
Clean the house very slowly
Rarely washing

There are plans to extend this repertoire in the following week. I had better get cracking.

Memoirs of a broken man - 30/3/09

2009-03-29T15:03:00.000-07:00

Emily hasn't suspected a thing.
I have managed to get out of this work thing and am sat around again.
It was quite simple really. Join a local rugby club. Train a little, and show up for a local 10-a-side tournament. Attempt to force your way through too many of the opposition, at the end of game 2. Get concussion and break your scaphoid, temporarily forgetting you have actually played rugby on this fine 25C saturday (hard pitch).

So, after regaining a little of my senses (what little there was), it was decreed I should not play the final because of the fuzzy warm feeling and forgetfullness. The boys did do a good job fortunately, and MSP Internationals won the tournament. The sprained wrist turned out to include a broken bone, possibly requiring a screw (the wrist), and not requiring any shovelling, weeding or pruning. So for at least 8 weeks, I am supposedly giving up on sport, guitar, biking and having an outdoors job. Ouch. Suggestions on a postcard (or the comments below).

Memoirs of the working man - 27/3/09

2009-03-29T14:59:00.000-07:00

Gardening all week.
Lovely weather.
Good to be out in it, tending the gardens of the local oscar winners (for LOTR).
Additionally, thrashing around the city on the bike is assisting the fitness.

Memoirs of a Volunteer - 19/3/09

2009-03-18T20:28:00.000-07:00

Well, with weeks trotting by, one thought one should finally get ones arse into gear. After some celebrating being another year greater (not better).
The birthday was possibly the soberest this millennia, although I did allow myself a few Speights over the weekend, during at house party at our manor. An enjoyable evening spent floor sliding, chopsing and meeting people, judging at the "female housemate cakermaker contest", having another Speights, and witnessing first hand the social experiment that is "Hipster". With tight jeans, make-up and meticulously messy hair these mammals were flighty beasts, but once familiarised, a most interesting quarry. And no-one got thrown off the deck.
For details of the "female housemate cakermaker contest" - click on the photo of the notes.

So, birthday season mainly comprised a couple days of eating curry and mountain biking around the local vicinity (was it mentioned it's fair hilly?). I had also volunteered some time at the Karori Wildlife Sanctuary http://www.sanctuary.org.nz/. Pretty swell place this, if you like the outdoors, and native NZ birds that appear to regard themselves as mammals. I also spent several hours wielding a machete at the NZ bush, all in the name of ecology it would seem, to clear paths on the sanctuary.

Still meeting lots of good people who are very supportive following our change of scene. On the odd occasion however, it feels almost certain that in giving directions, certain people may be inclined to mislead. On purpose. This may also be a paranoia.
Fortunately assistance is on hand from maps for navigating, the corkscrew hills into surrounding valleys.

Em's teaching going well, although she has developed a (literally not metaphorical) pain in the neck, and is currently unable to ambiturn. Don't think this is linked to the floor sliding, or the drink habit, but may have something to do with the headlocks. Along with the first contact training of the rugby season, there are now pains in two necks. Physio.....

Today some paid work was actually achieved, weeding, pruning and tidying in the gardens of the wealthy of Wellington. Should soon have our first travel tokens in the piggy bank of excursion, and an idea of what, where and who to go and see.

It appears the comments are now ticketyboo, so let us know how ye be?.

Twisting the knobs

2009-03-10T20:05:00.001-07:00

Still trying to get the comments gumbo working.......
Now think it may be cracked.......

Memoirs of a Kept Man 2 – 9/3/09

2009-03-09T14:24:00.000-07:00

Job hunting is proving tedious, with a potential reluctance of local gardeners to employ someone that may just have worked in accountancy for a few years. Therefore, a little time is spent throwing the net wider and meeting some finance recruitment people - there is not a lot of work in this field either - something to do with a global recession.

Which all means that more time can be spent being a kept man, and doing less useful but more interesting thing. Therefore, recent days have been spent doing furniture restoration, running, gymming, walking, gallery-ing, gigging, film watching, cleaning, blagging, drinking, market shopping, blogging, photographing, piano playing, barbecuing, chatting, statting, thinking and strumming.

Saw a real life All Black at the top of our steps today. Ma'a Nonu out for a run.

The Wellington Fringe - 1/3/09

2009-03-09T14:10:00.000-07:00

We arrived in Wellington perfectly (/accidentally) timed for the start of the NZ Fringe Festival, and so as a good way to get involved in the community and meet people we volunteered. As well as the OpenStudios art event (see previous) where we sort of worked, we also pestered people with surveys at events, and helped out preparations for the Fringe Awards ceremony.

Saw some really good shows - Turbine (envirocomdrama on alternative energy), the Navigators (a circus event with trapeze, hoops, balancing, lifts etc, with the backdrop of the sun setting on the harbour).

On the flipside, paid to go and see“Of Montreal”, which was disappointing, and spent some time watching the 2 + 2 = 5 Ensemble. Now I don’t mind a bit of fancy dress. Even for a band. Neither do I mind eccentric people. Occasionally the music of the 2 + 2 = 5 Ensemble was enjoyable, however the peculiarity of the whole ensemble detracted a little too much. I will try not to let this taint my acceptance of other bands which choose to be led by ginger bearded chaps dressed as rabbits. Provided they are not pretentious.

The Fringe awards ceremony is great fun, with live music and comedy theatre (and German lager). Alex Rodriguez from the OpenStudios day wins the award for the open studios day (superb drunken speech, mentioning Em and I!). Flight of the Conchords also receives an award, although Bret can’t quite follow Alex’s speech! Meet several people including Willem (director of the Navigators), Adam Page (musician), German songwriter Dota Kehr and her band. Far too many free Becks, and a late one, followed by a run(!) home up Palliser Rd at midnight. Am twatted. Em already in bed.

Down at the windy market – 22/2/09

2009-03-06T15:26:00.001-08:00

First real experience with some fair winds at a trip to the Sunday morning market on the harbour. We get as much fruit, veg and fresh fish as we could carry, for some pretty sweet prices. The blustery northerly gives the fruit and veg stalls a problem or two – although they seem adept in coping. The wind round the buildings gusts enough to force some quick foot work.

Cuba St Carnival - 21/2/09

2009-03-06T15:25:00.001-08:00

At the Cuba St Carnival, along with the music, outfits, food and fun we saw a good example of the NZ approach to crowd safety. Following Olmecha Supreme’s set, an organiser got on the mic to warn a group of eager spectators - “Can you guys get your crew off the thing-a-me-bob. No one is allowed on the thing-a-me-bob………. unless your nude”. Nice.

Memoirs of a Kept Man – 16/2/09

2009-03-06T15:23:00.000-08:00

The first day where I wave goodbye to Emily as she buses off to earn a crust at Tawa College. Food shop, cleaning and furniture hunting for me.

Good sunny days at the moment. Following the purchase of a desk at the Salvation Army, several hours are spent kicking up a dust whilst sanding the desk (originally white, blue and covered in stickers).

Go to Mighty Mighty to see the Trons – a robotic band, average tunes, but engineers would love it, and they are fairly entertaining (whilst lacking charisma).
Next day, tag along with Turtle and friends to the Hurricanes V Highlanders Super 14 game. Refereeing is pretty shabby (even with my knowledge of rules and cheating in rucks), and the game not the best, but the Hurricanes pull a late win out of the bag, and I get quite vocal about supporting my new town.
On the way back home with Turtle, we run into Em on the bus, who has been out for drinks and Japanese food with a teacher friend (she said she’d go home!). She is slightly tipsy (and sheepish!), so quite funny. This really is a small town.

New house, old coincidence - 15/2/09

2009-03-06T15:22:00.000-08:00

Another early one, this time to watch England V Wales in the Six Nations rugby. We lose. I am confused by the selection policy.

At Rowena’s, Emily is dozing away as I return and pack up for our big move. At 11am we make the last leg (for the moment) of our luggage haul, to Roseneath. Get settled into our room (for the week) and have a good chat to Rhys (the departing housemate). Also meet Ben and Pete (the other housemates) for the second time.

It turns out that Rhys is a friend of Phil James’, and that he has met Hayley. A coincidence of decent proportion.

We settle into the new place, which is a four bedroom house overlooking Evans Bay, mounted on the steep hillside, with a path of around 100 steps and slopes down to it. Lots of space, and good living areas, with a piano included, and sweet views.

A Creative St Valentines Day – 14/2/09

2009-03-06T15:21:00.001-08:00

Day out volunteering at the Fringe 09 Arts Festival. We are assigned the Island Bay area to look after four artists (Alex, Marci, Anne-Marie and Michael). Spend most of the day with Alex (eating beans, playing guitar, moving exhibition pieces, painting a picture of mountains for Em), and have a chat to the other artists.

After fish supper, and under the guise of going to watch the Hurricanes’ rugby game, I take Em for desert at “Strawberry Fare”, for a taste sensation. Then we go to watch the Hurricanes game.

Notes from a seafaring town – 13/2/09

2009-03-06T15:20:00.001-08:00

Greater than a quarter of a century it has taken for me to discover the origination of the word “posh”. For those like me whom are less well read, it is an acronym of 'Port out, starboard home', relating to the words printed on tickets for the most expensive berths on the shaded side of the ships transporting passengers between the UK and India. Made famous to all but me it would seem in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.
Only thing is, there is no evidence to confirm this (particularly at the shipping companies), and it appears that the meaning was contrived retrospectively.
Posh was also the Romany word for money, originally meaning “halfpenny”.

Sealing the deal - 11/2/09

2009-03-06T15:17:00.000-08:00

Pre-interview nerves from Em, and tetchiness from me! Spending 3 weeks with only each other has been 99% perfect, but the 1% sometimes shows, but going to the gym and having some time apart helps resolve the pointless tensions.

One’s best is done to ease the nerves of Emily en-route to Tawa College for her interview. After a missed train, and not insignificant walk she gets to the interview on time. I walk around the town of Tawa, which nestled in it’s pleasant surroundings, I decide quickly would not be our perfect base (despite its thirteen churches and only one bar – perhaps I missed some). Tawa was a dry town until 4 or so years ago. Fortunately Emily is advised to make a similar decision by her interviewer (on location), and is also offered the job!! Smiles aplenty.

The early evening is spent sweatily scaling Mt Vic once more, to view a house in Roseneath. After the many steps down through some civilised jungle, we find the house, which has a lot of character, and we like pretty well instantly. We chat with the flatmates (Rhys, Pete and Ben) for a while, and take a less extreme route back to our hostel accommodation).

After steak (/veggie sausage) dinner, we have a beer and do some admin. Excitedly we received a call from Ben to offer us the place in Roseneath. We accept. Deals sealed.

The NZ 7s - 6/2/09

2009-03-06T15:10:00.000-08:00

The NZ 7s rugby appears to be a tournament, which for the fans at least, is not particularly centred on the rugby.

Literally everyone is dressed up, there are amongst many others – Lobsters, Pizzas, Carrots, Diner Waitresses, Austin Powers, the Doctours, Little Red Riding Hood, German Barmaids, Incredible Hulks, Most Superheroes, the Wellington Bucket Fountain, Santa, and several Jokers (the Heath Ledger version).

We spend a few hours watching games, blowing bubbles, dressed as fairies, then head to a bar outside the stadium for a few cheaper (than stadium) drinks. Later on, major supporting of underdogs Kenya who beat South Africa and we bump into the 80 strong group of Doctours (who are staying at Rowena’s, our current digs) on the way out the ground. The Doctours are very much on tour, smuggling vodka and coke into the stadium in urine bags, and drinking / singing from 8am until 4am (with some exceptional snoring in between times!).

A good result in the end for those who are still watching (and English), with England sneaking a late win in the final against New Zealand. Emily shows rare interest in sport, jumping out of chair and shouting at the team (in encouragement).

Em goes to hell and back on a mountain-bike - 1/2/09

2009-03-02T12:46:00.000-08:00

Wake up feeling pretty hellish, with that sinking feeling that drinking vodka and powerade has never been scientifically proven to produce (but still does, despite the electrolytes). Hayden, Lawrence (former Barnes) and Trevor Symons are all partly to blame. “Naked Bus” to Taupo. Sweet scenery on the way, with steep sheep-laden hills, lots of farmland, and obedient cows walking in for their milking.

Hire bikes and take off towards Huka Falls. Ride down into the tracks, whilst teaching Em about gears (luckily I am not judged on the results!). We take a track which turns out to be a loop. Good fun, and gets Em a little more confident on hills (with no skills). Since nowhere nearer the falls, we have lunch by the hot water stream, and then take on the 40 minute ride to the falls. Okay, 40 minutes in fit New Zealand Mountain Bikers standards maybe? Takes us about 90 minutes, with Em pushing bike up most hills (gears!?).
We head to the dam downstream. An easier ride, although covering more distance (and despite the sand traps and flies). We then ride the roads back into town. Heading uphill for the best part of an hour does nothing to quell Emily’s “hate” of mountain biking!

Fortunately, with all the uphill comes a good stretch of downhill, and despite losing bolts from the crank on my bike (I bodge it), we make it back. Emily kicks her bike as we depart. I take the quiet option and decree not to suggest biking again too soon.

Waiheke 28/1/09

2009-02-25T11:46:00.000-08:00

A short boat ride out of Auckland, more beautiful weather, and great views await us at the top of the 184-step stair case from the beach to the backpackers (Em in heels). Get a bead on, and following check in, splash it up with a swim in the sea. Later we meet a Gemma O’Grady look-(and sound)-a-like, although perhaps several years older.

A nice plan - no plan. This is a nice if unfamiliar feeling.
Swim in the sea again. Sit and watch a scatty lady charging about the sea book (or camera) in hand. Another lady films some sort of yoga. A muscular looking man drags his sea-kayak down to the water, with his small dog following on behind. A trip for them both in the boat is aborted when the waves turn the kayak upside down (with the yappy dog in it). After a brief rescue, and return to the beach, the tough guy tenderly makes friends with his drowned pet again. This is their last seafaring adventure of the day.

Really beautiful place. Swims, beach runs, mussels, bushwalks, and happy 3 hours with Monteiths Original for $4. Sweet.

Wilkommen / Bienvenue / Kia Ora NZ – 26/1/09

2009-02-25T11:40:00.000-08:00

For those in the know, Em is fairly new to the idea of a backpack (and also flat shoes). Whilst “practical” is rarely suitable for a delightful modern lady person, occasionally it is necessary. Fortunately she has come prepared, although perhaps over-prepared as she struggles with her 20kg sack up the volcanic Auckland hills in her sensible sk8r boi daps (on the way to the digs).

How about that for a first day – sun, seafood, wine, live fish filleting competition, and live music (most notably the Gee Bees, so perhaps not the best showing). We are well contented, as intended. Shouting contest between the food sellers “HOT CHIPS AND PRAWNS”.

Hong Kong – 22/1/09

2009-02-25T11:29:00.000-08:00

Our residence for the stay in Hong Kong is in Kowloon on the 10th floor, and the favourable rates have meant surrendering natural light, which is deemed a luxury in this space conscious town. During the stay I wake up bewildered in the middle of the night, confusing 3am with 3pm and thinking we have missed valuable exploring time, the lack of natural light playing havoc with my simple brain. A quick check out the landing window confirms it is dark.

Favourite things:
A local unsteadily transporting 6 gas cylinders on a rickety bike – both comical, and an accident waiting to happen
Bamboo scaffolding
Coconut cake breakfasts and Blue Girl beer
Tai O fishing village (made of tin), and the Big Buddha on Lantau
Locals amused faces as I attempt to order off the Cantonese menu
Devising the politest and most comical ways of deflecting hawkers selling tailored suits and watches
Seeing birds of prey circling the top of Hong Kong island
Locals willing to help (particularly en-route to flower market)
Advertising boards and neon lights crossing the streets
Raymond, our helpful host

Not so favourite things:
Dead pigs in the market (Em)
The eleventy-millionth hawker offering suits and watches
Chickens feet and face on the dinner plates
Milk – nutty and sweet – Hmmm

Last evening in the buzzing atmosphere of Victoria Market (a tip for Chinese new year from people we met). A flower market full with thousands of people, buying flowers, food, hats with ox on, blow up ox (tis the year of the ox!), and generally revelling. I make the error of not buying a lovely hat with cartoon cows (ox) on it to add to the array of stupid hats. Rued it ever since.

Advertising Promotion - Noodles and beef at the airport takeaway (by the stairs, being used by the airport workers, which must be a good sign) is real nice and very economical for an airport.

Last Bix – 21/1/09

2009-02-25T11:13:00.000-08:00

An end to the past few days spent in a hurricane of organising activity is signalled with the need to leave the country. Early start to finish packing, and a final round of Weetabix (six mind - who knows when the next meal will be?).
After freshening up with the tester perfumes in duty free, we take off, I take a real beating at Tetris from the IT teacher and then wait for the next meal. The vegetarian option actually looks quite nice. And it comes earlier.