The Mothership Connection

With some nerves, trepidation and reluctance I phoned the organisers of the Grape Ride to get a late entrants spot in the 101k bike race. I paid over the odds to punish myself because Jen was coming over from London, with her friend Evie, to compete in the race – and if they made the effort….

The significance of the whole shebang was that the race is on Jen’s parent’s doorstep and it was going to be a huge surprise for them to find that their daughter had turned up out of the blue, without any forewarning. The race was also the same weekend as Jen’s mum’s birthday. What a great surprise! I was looking forward to being involved in the festivities but not a long bike ride – I hadn’t been on a bike since last November when I got wrote off by the car.

We got the ferry over and were picked up by Jen and father – he enthused about the shock and surprise of coming home to his daughter whom he suspected was in the UK. We got to their house and I walked into their kitchen and - lo and behold – my mum was also sitting at the kitchen table with Evie and Jen’s mum. Apparently my face was a complete picture and the blabbered expletives were amusing. My mum’s not been on a plane before and if I was a betting man, I would not put money on her randomly turning up on the other side of the world for her first trip. So double bubble surprises all round! Much mirth and merriment ensued and Lisa felt like the second coming of Cilla Black for keeping all the details of the Mothership landing quiet for a couple of months.

Jen, Evie and Myself set of for the ride the next morning, me on her dad’s mountain bike with full off road tires. We all got plenty of strange looks from the lycra clad, road bike, carbon frame brigade. The course goes through the vineyards of Marlborough and then heads out to the very windy and extremely hilly Queen Charlotte drive. I was struggling away at the back of the race, battling gravity and friction while the bike chewed up tarmac. The last 3^rd of the race was truly painful and a real test of spirit to actually finish, rather than throw bike into the bushes and thumb a lift back to finish line. It took 5 hours to complete and I immediately vowed that, should I do it again, I’d make sure to do some practice and get some slick tires on the bike.

That evening I deserved the wine, inhaled loads of food and nursed my saddle sore posterior.

Chelifer (the book scorpion)

We often get plenty of bugs in the flat due to the fact that we are the same level as the tree canopy and are surrounded by bush. We lead a harmonious existence with many of them, including some cheerful spiders, nervous winged bugs and a plethora of moths that get dazzled by our lights. A few weeks ago we noticed this crazy little creature that looked like a large mite with huge (relative to its body size) crab-like pincers, scuttling across the bathroom floor.

It was so cool that we left it to its own devices, and nothing to do with quasi buddhistic sentiment. Today we found another on the ceiling of the lounge and this time gone the extra courteous step of christening him/her Chelifer. A crap name but a given after we looked up what species of bug it actually was on the web. It is in fact a Pseudo Scorpion (kind of spider). Apt as both Lisa and I share that meaningless astrological sign and also like reading books. It has even increased in coolness after we learnt that it uses its pincers to catch lifts with flying insects by grabbing hold of their ankles whilst unaware. Maybe they have the courtesy to ask!? Who knows?

..Been a while!

Things started to seem circular. Should I post repetitive annual activities? Maybe a theme is required to keep it fresh? This blogging business is more difficult than it seems. Anyway - I had a couple of good excuses: it took a couple of months to get over the broken collar bone. I can't type with one hand (it's difficult enough with two). The painkillers weren't conducive to clarity of thought or applying myself to writing a 'diary'. It was also a good excuse.

Secondly, and only one day after getting the all clear from the hospital about the shoulder (I was keen to start physio), I was diagnosed with appendicitis, was sent directly back the hospital (didn't pass go) and immediately had an internal organ whipped out. Another convalescence, a bucket load more pills, more time at home and another good reason not to report anything.

During this time Jeremy paid a very welcome visit, as did uncle Jim (another accident waiting - oh there it goes - to happen), Dan and Yusoff (but could have warned me!). We had a great xmas. New year was great fun at Takaka. This years Womad was equally cool, and binding it all together was the usual nine to five.

It's all good!

More pictures loaded at flickr (link on the right).

Source to Sea.

..is a cycle ride on the south island, 100 miles long, split into three sections, from St Arnaud to Westport. There aren't too many reasons to visit Westport so I suspect some underhand skulduggery going on to boost tourist numbers for the year. The official line is that the route is mostly downhill, but I have my suspicions.

Lisa and I had been training for three months to gird our loins, increase stamina and toughen up the hide on our rumps. One week out and on the last of these training runs I was cycling down a hill to meet up with Lisa before heading out around the bays (a 50k route with plenty of hills and a head wind that sadistically blows in your face no matter which direction you're going).


I had a cycle computer telling me that I was travelling at around 20k/hr when I spotted a guy on a give way junction edge out slightly, before accelerating full speed into my broadside. The slow motion event had a few expletives that were unfortunately not removed for the lunch time audience and included a crunching metal, bike vs car sound effect with some screeching tires and brakes. I closed my eyes and hoped for the best. I opened them again to find kindly locals throwing jackets over me while I wiggled toes and fingers to assess the damage. Thankfully only my collar bone was broken but I was ambulanced to hospital to make sure. Bike was a right-off and my highly effective high-vis reflective was cut off en route.

Lisa has been a star and a wonderful temporary replacement for my left arm. However, I have long known that my calling in life has been sitting at home undressed, watching DVDs, excuses for personal hygiene and bemoaning my plight during every waking hour. The road to recovery is an uncomfortable grind.

The following friday, Lisa took her bike on the ferry with a mate from work, met up with Jen's parents and made it for 8am race registration the next morning. She completed her section of the ride in around 2 hours, averaged over 22k/hr and hit a top speed of 55k/hr, which ain't bad with a tank of a mountain bike. Most of the other competitors had road bikes with carbon fibre this, titanium that, plenty of lycra and aerodynamic thighs. Pah!!



Reward for the considerable exertion was a night out in Granity.

Phoenix Fever!



Wellington has a decent sized stadium that is used mainly for rugby. I've been to a few games and it's a soulless affair. If ManU had the prawn sandwich brigade and Highbury was the library, then one might forgive you for thinking that you had just paid to be entertained at the local morgue. Why so? Sky shows all the games down the boozer and the stadium is occupied by a handful of corporate monkeys grinning inanely at clients. The whole insipid shebang has been reflected in the quantity of punters and the fact that most that do turn up don't have a pulse or took a confused, wrong turn after leaving the lobotomy ward.

Auckland had a team in the Australian A-league. Their franchise went bust when these same fools didn't understand that football was a different beast imbued with emotion and passion, with games that feed off crowd participation. That's until yellow fever arrived in Wellington. In general I hate property developers, however one local rich dude stumped up the cash to put a team from NZ back in the A-league from Wellington.

There are only 8 teams, no promotion, no relegation, there's no local rivalry or derby games (nearest team a good 4 hours flight away) and for the same reason no away support at games. But damn it, 10,000 people regularly turn up at home games to cheer on the Phoenix, and it's great fun. The crowd understand that anger combined with apoplectic joy, profane abuse and screaming songs at the top of your voice is not just acceptable in certain environments, but a primal cultural vacuum that needs to be filled.

Forza the Phoenix!!

The Whirlwind

We decided to split our trip back to the UK by flying with EVA Air, stopping over in Taiwan en route on the way there and back. We were really looking forward to leaving the miserable, gray, damp and windy Wellington, mid winter, to a south east Asian tropical island and then on to sunny Blighty for an Indian summer.




We landed and spent the first day walking the streets of Taipei like your average tourist; marveling at unfamiliar sights, sounds and smells and realising my Mandarin is worse than my Spanish, and my Spanish is crap. It became difficult ordering something other than offal, for Lisa, with any confidence. Whilst wandering around we wondered why on a wet Saturday not many people were out shopping and going about their daily routines. We were expecting some proper Asian hustle and bustle. Why do these people have sandbags in front of their shops and windows taped up? We were sure that Taipei isn't built on a flood plain and we hadn't heard of rampant looting. Whilst using our deductive skills on this matter we were being lashed with buckets of water, knocked down by outrageous winds, dodging street lamps blown from their housing and advertising hoardings taking advertising to another level as it flies at 90 miles per hour towards us. We even bought matching full length, blue, transparent ponchos - groovy. One of the few locals we came across on that Saturday highlighted that at noon the Super-typhoon Sepat passed over the island. The penny finally dropped.

The typhoon moved north to the Chinese mainland and displaced hundreds of thousands of people. Meanwhile, we spent a few days enjoying Taipei. An excellent city that dried itself off and came alive with all the vibrancy, colour and zeal we'd hoped for.

Seeing friends and family was an awesome prospect but the main reason for this trip back to the UK was to take part in The Wit's wedding. It was a true honour, and although we had a couple of doubts saving our dollars, we realised again that money or time should never enter into these equations. We were very lucky to have an excellent time at the wedding with great people in a great location. We also spent time in the spiritual home of Cambridge with the F-J's and the wonderful Amaya. We were regaled with the splendor of BasVegas. We ended our time in London and before we caught breath, realised three weeks were already over.

Another hidden agenda for the trip was to fill our luggage full of funky fashion. The fashion here is okay but seem to be half-arsed copies of UK trends with a six month lag. Trying to beat the beau's to it has always been a struggle for me - my new romantic quiff had an embarrassing longevity. While I had shoppers block, no matter how hard I tried, Lisa emulated Imelda Marcos in a frenzied shopping spree that put pressure on sweat shops in China.

We came back via Taipei again and this time felt like confident locals strolling round the city. In fact we enjoyed it so much that it was only with Lisa screaming into my sleeping ear that the fact of having already missed our flight became apparent and we had to spend two extra days de-stressing from the additional stress that such stupidity begets.

The whirlwind trip is over but pictorial evidence exists.

SHINE ON....

...you lucky diamond!!!! Oh yes, the curse of Burst! has been temporarily appeased. After another dreadful start to this season and taking unecessary punishment by opposition that shouldn't be allowed the unsavoury chance to roger us quite so stiffly - something had to be done. After in depth study of praised strategic soccer tomes, such as: If You're Second Your Nothing by Sir Alex, The Professor by Arsene and that legendary reference book for all aspiring guvnor's: 'Arry. I decided that rather than sticking with the headless chicken approach and hoping that people would listen to my frantic screams on the pitch - I'd show them a picture. This is the picture. 5 feckin dots and a couple of arrows. That's all. Nothing else. No science. No preying to mecca before each match. No sacrificial virgins' blood at half time. Zip. Nada. Just this picture.

The upshot has been three consecutive wins all in double figures. The worm has turned (prolonged evil laugh). And we now have team members that, although never playing the damn game before go by the monika of 'Hat-trick Hooper', people actually smile, confidence abounds!

However, to all silver linings there are clouds, and they come from likely quarters. You guessed it comrades - the corporate take-over of daily life is a fight that we all need to fight - be vigilant. We are all guilty of allowing greed to outweigh what is morally right, whether or not we are stakeholders in company A or not. Inactivity and nimby'ism is a human trait. So, thus we find ourselves playing on borrowed time on pitches that are soon to be turned into a Hilton hotel. There are no direct replacements or alternatives, however we can all rest easy at night considering that Paris and her cohorts were levitated to such high echelons of public respect via the money such organisations afforded.

They will all be hunted down and shown no mercy. In the fullness of time, once the seventh seal is broken on my party pack of 12; pestilence, death and team Burst! will smite their avaristic souls.

In the mean time these guys are doing an honourable job of fighting the good fight. Respect my brothers.

THE SNOW MOLE!

Taking advantage of the winter season and the fact that this could well be the one and only occasion we can get on the slopes this year, we headed to Ohakune for the weekend. We were real lucky with the weather, which afforded us great views from the top of mount Ruapehu looking over the uninterrupted panorama of Taranaki. Pretty interesting skiing on a volcano overlooking plains rather than other mountains formed in a tectonic range. The volcano is active and has had a few rumbles over past decades but nothing too serious. The only danger to locals this time round was me belting down the slopes full bifta.

The weekend also included a crazy party with loads of cool people and further proof that seven degrees of separation is a wildly over exaggerated statistic. We went with a mate from my work and expected to do the pleasantries all evening to combat eating peanuts in the corner of the kitchen, alone, nursing an endless beverage, hiding yawns with sycophantic smiles, obstructing cool people from the beer fridge and forming an uncomfortable menage et trois with some vigorously necking party-goers. Thankfully everyone was super friendly with us interlopers and I met both a guy who I did three interviews for a job with eight months ago, and a kiwi guy called Ian who I worked with at Lotus in sunny Staines. Small world indeed - big up to the Staines Massiff, Oi oi!!

It was a well earned break for Lisa who had been locked up by the government to finish the youth parliament project. It went well but I am now re-acquainting myself with my girlfriend who had spent 14 hours a day, 7 days a week for the last month getting the show off the ground. The youths in question were both local and from neighboring pacific islands. Some of them were dragged from tropical paradise to midwinter Wellington. The poor buggers even had to suffer the indignity of hot water bottle lessons to stop them freezing to death. Funny that while we bemoan the cold and burn more energy to keep us warm that these guys, with no need for such necessities, will probably go back to find their homeland resembling another suburb of atlantis. Cause and effect - think it through.

A few more piccies!

Reality makeover

After getting blog-envy I decided to do a little refresh of our own (thanks to Heinzee). Hope you like it. Listing some infotainment links I realised that Radio4 is our major source of weekly entertainment (and I missed off the News Quiz and In Our Time). Thank you the Great British licence paying public - it is true quality, which you only realise when the local media turns out to be complete rubbish.

We shipped our tv over but I have to admit we still haven't switched it on yet (it'd make the anonymous Mr Smith proud). The program schedule in the UK was pretty dire with the ubiquitous and banal reality tv. Here, there are plenty of other reasons not to switch the box on: namely netball, CSI (et al) crime-a-thons and current affairs from the Daily Mail editorial graduates school churning out mind numbing, content-less, sensational, miss-leading bigotry for those with early on-set alzheimers.

Check out the links.

ESCAPE TO VICTORY!!

Never has a team lost so many games. Never has a team lost by so many goals. Never has a team looked so proud to have achieved so little.



8th place from 9 in league 6. The other team didn't turn up for the wooden spoon challenge so we got a bye and a trophy! A proud moment

MOONRIDE

Taking one for the company: I went up to Auckland for some corporate training where those of us with weak constitutions for this kind of crap get exposed to tedious mantras and parasitic executives, do sickening group hugs and align our life's values with that of the company's shareholders. As you can imagine all of my anger management therapy sessions came into good effect at not bursting a spleen and venting my fury at the automaton corporate monkey, career infatuated ,money oriented, lobotomised, bum licking, back stabbing, wank-word bingo officianado communists.

Thankfully I was allowed to leave this painful incarceration, fully inducted again into a world I abhor. However, I was in luck and visited the wonderful Auckland Ewer clan. Huge thanks to Jo and family for organising a great ANZAC day treat on Waiheke Island. I may have mentioned before that the Ewer clan have a genetic pre-disposition to enjoying the odd tipple (further proof for genetic traits and Darwinism, and another poke in the eye for intelligent design clap trap - no really). A stroke of luck: they have a vineyard of their own called Peacock Ridge to ensure that running dry whilst socialising has a statistically insignificant probability. Actually, buy some from this guys website NOW before stock runs out. Being a vintner in a land of many hobby vintners, struggling alongside the huge corporate (see above rant) vineyards that supply nice people like Tescopoly is a tough call, and not as romantic as it might sound. Support the small guys people and buy a decent drop that's good on the palate and good on the conscience (and not just another throw away fair trade sticker).

Whilst up in Auckland I was lucky enough to join the minions of metal at a great venue called the Power Station to see Lamb of God. Before you think I've been converted by the many god botherers of this land (a whole post another time on this subject) check the link for some brutal times in the kingdom of steel.

On the way back home I bumped into my good old mate and NZ rock legend Billy T K (see earlier post and picture above) . The guy is very self effacing, which probably comes from being mobbed by hoards of groupies for scores of years and still looking like you're still in your prime at 21 years of age - that's sex, drugs and rock and roll for you. I found out that he was travelling south after doing a couple of Jimi Hendrix songs for the Maori TV ANZAC tribute show. Respect my brother of rock, respect.

Lisa and I have been mountain biking pretty regularly of late. One reason for this is that I signed up for an event called Moonride. The training involved grinding up the side's of mountains with feeble legs and going down some steep and rocky descents that put my nerve and crash helmet to the test - dismounting over the handlebars is becoming a speciality of mine. Moonride is a 12 hour team event that allows you to do this in pitch dark - GENIUS!

Check out pictures here.

Burst!

A time for some nostalgia, but not a lot: I was thinking of the fond memories of working at COR and struggled to see the wood for the trees. Clarity finally shone through, as once a week there was a light at the end of the tunnel, and not just the Met line re-surfacing at Finchley Road homeward bound. 5-a-side footy was great fun and showed how a bunch of no-hoper's can learn upstanding ethics, such as team work and camaraderie. In fact the highs and lows of playing the beautiful game was something I missed and hoped to find something similar over here. Thankfully the opportunity arose.

Wellington has a 5-a-side indoor soccer league (football by any other name assumes an oval ball, big thighs and soap on a rope). After settling in the job I rallied the troops and got 9 people interested in signing up. The fact that most of the players hadn't kicked a soccer ball since early childhood, have never offered four letter punditry whilst screaming at an lcd screen and the back of someone else's head down their local, have never been intellectually neutered by wasting their dull-as-dishwater lives with Sky pre-match build-up or lobotomised by Soccer AM. My expectations were naturally low. The season comprises 2 qualifiers, 8 league games and a play-off for the cup or wooden spoon. The first match we lost 14-1 and we were a right shambles. The second match we played our trump, and current NZ international goalie. He scored 10 goals on his tod while we all stood stationary marveling at his skills - it was a hollow victory really but you take what you can get. The league organisers thought our first game was the blip and stuck us in a higher league than we'd hoped.

Our international ringer was called away on duty to South America - he was on the bench against Venezuela last week. The flaw in our plan was exposed and we lost the first league match 12-2. The next game wasn't much better and we got stuffed 10-3. I was just about to throw in the managerial towel and assumed that the team was destined for the misery of a typical England Euro qualification campaign or a Happy Hammers premiership relegation battle. 3-0 down at half time on our last match, all hope was gone. But, just like Rocky and Hulk Hogan before us. When the chips were down. When all the other team's mates turned up expecting to see another right royal rogering of the enfeebled opposition. The clenched fist shook in defiance, the pupils narrowed through crazed stares into the halogen strip lighting of the sports hall, and the spittle of fury dribbled down the bruised cheek of pride. Yes. The team suddenly clicked. Ferguson would have had tears in his eyes watching the fluid passing movements and Arsene Wenger would have no gallic shrug to explain the reversal in fortune. 6 goals without reply (a 6-3 win!!). The team now have the taste of blood in their mouths and victory will be ours again.

Burst! is the name of our team. For those keen on a blankety blank cheque book and pen:
.....of speed, .......hopes, .....a blood vessel - answers on a postcard please.



Lisa and I went to WOMAD last month and had a great time grooving to all manner of bands from around the globe. Some great highlights including Femi Kuti and Salif Kaieta as excellent headline acts. It was also great to see the Gotan Project and the divine Lila Downs again. A 3 day festival in awesome surrounds but as is typical with any festival - it bleedin p'd down for half of it. Didn't spoil the fun though. We stayed in billet style sleeping arrangements in an arena, squeezed in with hundreds of other punters on foam mattresses and the loudest slamming toilet door coupled with drunk revelers with bursting bladders. An experience, but not conducive to sleep or calming frayed nerves and short fuses.

A few more pictures can be found at the usual place.

L'ete est arrive!

After goading the weather in my previous posts we have finally had a few weeks of sunshine, below gale force winds and temperatures that enable the gentleman to wear suitable summer attire of short trousers, a natty sun hat and once again place the tweed back in the wardrobe.

After this resounding success I thought I'd try my goading skills out on Jesus. If I can change weather patterns why can't I apply the same principle to the second coming. For the first time in years I dusted off some classic vinyl (having recently re-purchased a turntable). Black Sabbath's eponymous and Slayer's Hell Awaits have both been played backwards on a regular basis (you miss out on soo much with CD's). I have been moshing round the bedroom to the back catalogue of Bathory (unfortunately I couldn't get hold of a severed goats head or loin cloth big enough) much to Lisa's dismay. The music is, surprisingly, growing on Lise but I can report that the messiah has not yet arrived. So there's two reasons in my mind:

A) Richard Dawkins is right - because I can't goad any reaction, let alone materialisation, from the omnipotent being - he does not exist.

B) Richard Dawkins is right - The fact that there is no god means there is no devil either - therefore, me playing my satanic records backwards was just an evil gimmick to trick me out of my pocket money and would never actually work. Yes I feel cheap and dirty, but that's rock and roll for you.

So, we've been here for six whole months already!! Wahoo! Japanese has become the new Indian but apart from that it's the same same but different. Time has flown and we've crammed loads in, including:

Big Day Out: My highlights were Muse, Trivium and the John Butler Trio

Wellington Cup race day: 10 races, no winners, no places, no feckin clue what was going on!

X-Air: Crazy dudes on bmx's, skateboards, things with wheels and sometimes without wheels.

Roger and Bruce's party: Indeed! back down on the west coast having a ball with the locals.

Cuba St Carnival: Great bands but they need to learn that a parade with shite kiwi noises is just bloody embarrassing.

Pictures.

The Full Bifta.

MJ, power dancer extraordinaire saved enough energy from the marital bed to entrance the locals with flailing arms and robust robot disco dementia - it's not the Roxy you chief! ..but more on that later.


The weather is worthy of mentioning again mainly because it's pretty shite at the moment and the shadenfreude amongst you might take cheer. Wellingtonians are checking the annals of history trying to find a colder, more murky, damp and dismal december. Many a work colleague can be seen doing an envious daily weather check of Oz between google'ing SADS remedies. While the rest of the world bakes and has year-long Indian summers, sods law scientists could have predicted that on my first resident southern hemisphere summer, it would be total crap.

Armchair meteorologists claim the following two reasons as to why this might be: A) the El Nino phenomenon changing currents in the Pacific making weather patterns look like my early attempts at Spirographs. Good luck to Ian and Clarke - the Peruvian prophets of doom - and hopefully Lima is blue skies and Pimms o'clock. B) The dreaded global warming means more cold air is being dragged north, funneling Arctic winds over Wellington.

Ah yes - Happy new year!! from Lisa and myself. And this is what we did over the dying embers of 2006:

I survived my first week of work and a 12 hour drinking binge with new work mates, intact.

Lisa got a job as an event manager for a the NZ Youth Parliament. Not as challenging as promoting the Saudi womens lib referendum on hot pants but a really exciting opportunity with no life threatening consequences. As such we both entered the christmas period more relaxed knowing we were earning cash in the new year. It's not often you hear a sigh of relief expressed at once again becoming a corporate monkey.

Due to cack weather our plane was cancelled heading to the South Island as they couldn't see the runway. Luckily we were able to catch a later plane and headed to Christchurch in time to have a festive drink-up and meal with Lisa's cousin Rory and family + the "feck me she gets everywhere" inimitable Di.

The next day we caught the bus over to the West Coast through Arthurs Pass where in summer it snows. At the other end we were picked up by Lisa's dad and spent a few days speed sampling wine and foie gras'ing our innards with cheese and salami. The Summer Solstice was the holidays main event where we gathered at 9mile beach to celebrate celebrating. The day was excellent and included making the best use of a glorious longest day with loads of booze and food (thats where the picture's from on this page). As Ra descended into the surf the feisty pagans (loons) went for a dip in the sea. Not for us mind - it was chuffin' freezing.

We arrived on xmas eve in Granity to spend the next few days and crimbo dinner with Lisa's mum and mates. Very relaxing, great company and chilled right out. When you're further away from the out of control Generation Game conveyor belt that is christmas in the UK, you can reflect upon how you'd been taken for a mug and rogered during the season of giving. Nice to see you, to see you nice. We spent a few days with Lisa's sister, nephew and niece in Motueka and we stayed with (I do not believe it!) Di's family for one night before flying back to Welly.

From shorts, t-shirt and flip-flops we got off the plane to gale force winds, rain and New years eve. This year was of special note as the newly-wed happy couple Jacko had flown all the way from sunny Ramsbottom to join in the fun. We partook a meal of oriental influence whilst listening to jazz - very sophisticated. We imbibed ourselves with cocktails - refreshingly suave. We engaged in polite and witty conversation - riveting stuff. We stopped off to get some party pills (all above board) and danced like navel gazing indie kids till sunrise to most of the stone roses back catalogue and many other indie favourites and early electronica - it was ace. Gayle looked pretty peaky the next day and that was before getting onto the ferry. Hope they enjoyed the rest of the road trip. Haven't heard from them since.


Pictorial evidence can be found at the usual place.

..INTO THE PANDEMONIUM



Well, you'll be pleased to know that my sensational headline statement has been irrefutably qualified by my good self. Some explanation is probably necessary: I have been reading a couple of non-fiction books that have had the (probably desired) effect of agitating my bile, shortening my fuse and increasing my general anxiety with mankind. If I had enough money I would have already bought you each both of the following books for a festive present and hired local thugs to ensure you read every page, digested it (metaphorically), answered some reasoned questions as to why you would not join me in apoplectic fits of frustration AND if it failed to change one aspect of world view or action then, said thug would be well within his primitive rights to recycle the tomes where the sun didn't shine.

The books are: The mighty Dawkins with The God Delusion and George Monbiot's Heat.

Religion and the environment are two great topics for discussion over the roast turkey and brussel sprouts. Enlightening stuff and a bargain at under a tenner each. Far less than I would have paid to cause you bodily harm for not reading them.

The pandemonium has also increased because under much duress I have been coerced into joining the rat-race again. I was proud of my stint of anarchy - beholden to no man, no authority, no shower or alarm clock. Lisa was happily turning our patriarchal society on it's head by being the bread-winner, alas, my pride (read Lisa) could not take any more. So, with a heavy heart I'm now trying to flog the unsuspecting people of New Zealand government telecommunication apparatus - who would have thought!? A huge thanks goes out to Andy and Steve for saying nice things about me - respect brothers.

Luckily the start of work has also coincided with xmas and a long overdue holiday(summer solstice parties just around the corner). We are off to the south island to spend the festive period with the family and I for one can't wait to put my feet up. At least now I can sleep off my hangover with a clearer conscience of knowing I can pay for the bar tab.

These pictures are of Lisa and I biking from Wellington to Makara beach and back. Mountain biking is now close to our hearts, and due to saddle soreness, too close for comfort to our back sides.



Have a great time my friends and speak again in 2007.

n i k y - n a - n o o


It's strange that although not having a 9 to 5, every day is chock-a-block and time slips past at a steady but energetic pace. Reasons for this have mainly been thus:

Flat hunting.
We had to find ourselves a place in which to live. This has been achieved on a pretty tight budget - in fact I've seen gnats with bigger. We spent two weekends trawling round prospective places after searching classifieds twice a week. "..ahh, the red lights and latex sheets come provided..", "..Feck me! how much!?" and "..yes, natural daylight would be a bonus" were some of the comments when walking into these places. However we struck it pretty lucky with where we are. Who cares if most houses built here wouldn't pass fit for a Butlins caravan, there's plenty of wood to burn and you can always put on more jumpers. Wool is one thing we're not short of. View from the lounge is pretty cool and we're only a 30 minute walk down to town - it just takes an Edmund Hilary'esque effort to get back up.

Job hunting.
It's a full time job don't you know! We both work tirelessly towards gainful employment but there have been times when I shouldn't have been so hasty with the flat plus income mentioned above. Indeed we've been for a few interviews but things seem to take a bit slower on the decision front and things are getting slower in readiness for christmas. In a small city there just aren't so many options but something, we reassure ourselves, is just around the corner - no, not the dole office smart arse.

Entertaining.
Lisa's Dad was in town to do some research for his column in the paper, which involved going to a few of the best wine bars and sampling their wares. We also took in some jazz, which rounded off a splendid cultural evening. We went out with fellow Kilburnites Paul and Kate for Paul's birthday drinks. Di - former K-house party host and erstwhile flatmate - was here too with Si over on holiday. We've now got a pretty good idea of the coolest places in town to get boozed should anyone else wish to pass through. And! it has also been both Lisa and I's birthday over the last couple of weeks. Belated gifts are still being accepted.

Unpacking.
n i k y - n a - n o o took safe stewardship of our goods from old London town, keeping a tattered yet beady eye on the packages en route, and assisting with the unpacking (when he is not idly reading the local paper). Our whole lives to-date fitted into 36 boxes and I think I have only heard of Mother Theresa being able to lead a more uncluttered life. I think that was probably due to her not spending most of the money raised whilst being the lead singer for Deicide - before Glen took up the mantle - on CD's. More fool her.

We're also now on Skype. Email me if you want my address for a chat.

PICTURES

Gawd Bless The Queen!..

(Oh my gosh, pictures are back!)

This is Lise outside the High Commission awaiting to pledge allegiance. Yes, Lisa today officially became a British citizen - well, 1 in 10 New Zealanders are so why not keep up with the Jones'.

G&T's all round, we're off to celebrate.

Comment is free!

Well I am glad to see that we have one confirmed viewer of the blog. It makes it feel all very worthwhile, don’t you think. Thank you Doug for your comment. Whilst on the topic, not comment slackness but the effects of carbon on the environment in which we live, I emplore you all to go down to your local cinema and watch “an inconvenient truth” if you haven’t already.

For those that already have an interest, it’s an erudite call to arms. For those who aren’t aware, it is a compelling overview of the facts that will probably have great influence on your remaining time on this planet. And for those who don’t give a damn, may highlight some of the possible pitfalls and ironies in remorselessly busting a gut with the retirement plan invested in BP and beachfront villas.

September

Fresh from the vigour’s of skiing we loaded up our gear and made tracks to the west coast.

I nearly forgot how strenuous the ascent to Lisa’s dad’s house was; up an overgrown path, over mossy boulders and streams till you reach a small clearing in which the house dominates with impressive views over the bush and sea. The walk may have been pretty tiring, even for us fit young athletic types but to our surprise Lisa’s dad could outpace us all the way. This is even more remarkable as he had one foot in plaster after severing all the tendons after dropping corrugated iron on it. Jesus! I better quit moaning and toughen up.
Days were spent chilling out while learning to appreciate the finer qualities of wine - Lisa’s dad is a true connoisseur: running a course at the local college, writing a regular column for the local rag and having consumed more than his fare share of plonk.

We then got dropped off at Lisa’s mum’s a further hour and a half up the coast road. On the first night we hit the local boozer in Granity to see New Zealand’s local guitar legend, Billy TK - and dare I say, best of all the guitar legends. Apparently he started around the same time as his contemporary - Jimi Hendrix - and sounds much alike. However, unlike Jimi who plied his skills in London, Billy decided to stay faithful to his homeland, managed to sell a total of 85 LP’s and due to the unfortunate lack in supply of hard drugs, still lives. Rock and roll my friend.

The weather can get reasonably dull on the coast, especially when magnificent uninterrupted views of the sea indistinguishably blur into the horizon, and it rains for grey day after day. For those used to civilisation, being stranded in a house with no visible neighbours, the pub being 8 miles away and the only means of transport disappearing for a few days, what do you do? Rock gently too a throe? Lick the window? Solve world debt? Hmm? I started to cryogenically imbalm myself with G&T until rescue came. Thankfully the weather cleared so we decided to burst excitably from the house, walk the dogs and release all our energy hammering in fence posts. Ahhh the country life - a calling?

On the home straight we called in at Jen’s ma and pa en route. We stayed the night and were delighted with the planned activity of going round the local Marlborough vinyards tasting loads off different bottles of vino. Hmm wine tasting - a calling?

These things have recently occupied our time and thoughts: the ferry, hills, reading, southerly gales, job searching, iron thighs, walking, an earthquake, cable car, money, coffee, cake, beer, shopping, the coldness, an ozone hole, insulation, visiting guests, bizarre costumes, big drums.

Yes we have arrived in Wellington. Actually we are very fortunate to be house sitting for someone, which has been a complete godsend before we rent a place of our own. We have travelled many thousands of miles and have ended up one vowel further away from where we departed - Kelburn. Here the similarities end. This is a really nice suburb with a village feel and a distinct lack of kebab shops, curry houses, dog crap on the pavement, the pervading smell of urine, rubbish strewn everywhere, caustic pollution, threatening thugs, the mentally insane roaming the streets, 24-7 police sirens, time-warp Irish pubs, puke, dust, grime and loud music. Yep, and as you’ve already guessed, I kinda miss it. However Wellington does have a really good vibe, with loads of entertainment, plenty of culture and enough activities to encourage us to make this place home for the foreseeable.

The picture saga continues. Can't load onto here and having all kinds of problems with Kodak so, please find them here.

So, back to finding that calling….

AAaaaaarrrrrgghh!!!


I have been having many words with this blog - tourettes style. No matter how hard I try I can't add pictures to it anymore. I am as yet reluctant to blame user error. Why the hell won't it let me do what I bloody well want it to do?!? (answers on a postcard please).... Arse!!