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.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
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.
Monday, April 09, 2007
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.
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.
Monday, February 26, 2007
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.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
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.
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.
Monday, December 11, 2006
..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.
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.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
n i k y - n a - n o oIt'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
Monday, October 30, 2006
Monday, October 09, 2006
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.
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….
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….
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Sometime in August...
After two long weeks of saying fond farewells to friends and family the final crescendo took form of the final Kilburn house party. Life is all about pushing the envelope - a maxim for which our internal organs and mental stability were not entirely happy with - but we had a great time, so to hell with the consequences!! A huge thanks to all those that attended the do and made it a memorable event. Extra special thanks goes to Mark, Jason (who kindly donated wallet shoes and belt to less worthy Kilburnites whilst sleeping off hangover in a doorway on the highroad), Jungle and David 'you filthy savage!' for assisting with the entertainment and carrying the torch through to closing time on sunday.
Aftert a huge clean-up effort, transforming our lounge and kitchen back from a scale model of Beirut back to some semblance of normality (with myself mopping like a demon between heart palpitations and cold sweats) we started packing for the flight south.
Our flight was at 9pm but due to the inconsiderate actions of the axis of evil we had to be at Heathrow 4 hours earlier than planned just to stand in inordinately long queues that enlivened the holiday spirit and readied us for the ensuing 26 hour flight. Genius.
We then took flight for the final leg to Christchurch in time for the Ewer ski trip. We stayed in Castle Hill and ski'd both Porter's Heights and Mount Cheeseman fields. All great fun apart from the perilous dirt tracks that creep along the side of the mountains with precipitous drops and no barriers. After overcoming the fear and sweaty palms I still had enough nervous energy (and vin chaud) to ensure the skiing was top notch fun. It was great for Lise to rejoin the clan and me to get another glimpse of what I am letting myself in for.
PICTURES
As discussed, I have given up on posting photos on this site. Click here for a small selection of pics from August, including: the rise from his slumber of the mighty pagan fire horse at Tom's party, A pic of where we stayed in Oz and the view of the valley in the morning plus a few of skiing, apres ski golf etc. Nice!
After two long weeks of saying fond farewells to friends and family the final crescendo took form of the final Kilburn house party. Life is all about pushing the envelope - a maxim for which our internal organs and mental stability were not entirely happy with - but we had a great time, so to hell with the consequences!! A huge thanks to all those that attended the do and made it a memorable event. Extra special thanks goes to Mark, Jason (who kindly donated wallet shoes and belt to less worthy Kilburnites whilst sleeping off hangover in a doorway on the highroad), Jungle and David 'you filthy savage!' for assisting with the entertainment and carrying the torch through to closing time on sunday.
Aftert a huge clean-up effort, transforming our lounge and kitchen back from a scale model of Beirut back to some semblance of normality (with myself mopping like a demon between heart palpitations and cold sweats) we started packing for the flight south.
Our flight was at 9pm but due to the inconsiderate actions of the axis of evil we had to be at Heathrow 4 hours earlier than planned just to stand in inordinately long queues that enlivened the holiday spirit and readied us for the ensuing 26 hour flight. Genius.
So we arrived in Brisbane - thankfully with all (and considerable amounts of) baggage - jumped in a hire car and headed north up the Sunshine coast to the Glasshouse Mountains to visit my god mum. After all the frantic goings on of the last few weeks we couldn't have asked for a better opportunity to chill out and recharge the batteries.
We then took flight for the final leg to Christchurch in time for the Ewer ski trip. We stayed in Castle Hill and ski'd both Porter's Heights and Mount Cheeseman fields. All great fun apart from the perilous dirt tracks that creep along the side of the mountains with precipitous drops and no barriers. After overcoming the fear and sweaty palms I still had enough nervous energy (and vin chaud) to ensure the skiing was top notch fun. It was great for Lise to rejoin the clan and me to get another glimpse of what I am letting myself in for.
PICTURES
As discussed, I have given up on posting photos on this site. Click here for a small selection of pics from August, including: the rise from his slumber of the mighty pagan fire horse at Tom's party, A pic of where we stayed in Oz and the view of the valley in the morning plus a few of skiing, apres ski golf etc. Nice!
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Odysseus I presume....
The heroic bronzed adonis boards the good ship Granny Knot to set sail for New Zealand after becoming wildly frustrated with shipping agents and the prospect of airline food. Obviously things may take a little longer over sea, especially with the lure and temptation of sirens, mermaids, ferocious giant squids and meeting the mighty Poseidon on an off day.
Undaunted we set sail with our good friends and skippers Mel and Nick on Saturday morning from Portsmouth. After beating into strong winds and straining sinew to keep Granny on tack we finally made it all the way to Bucklers Hard. Much joyous drinking and celebration ensued. With a foggy head and after an extended lie in the next morning, skipper sat us down to consider the following: Wellington is 11,119 miles and 93 days away. The Ewer family ski trip is a mere 21 days away. We had just covered the least perilous 16 miles to Bucklers Hard and Mel was keen to get back to work on Monday.
Dissapointment was evident from the crew but reality took precedent as we headed back home, enabling us to start packing for the more conventional plane flight south.
Travelling by Granny Knot all the way to Wellington, although a romantic idea would also be very stupid. I start to get cabin fever after two days and it also takes at least a month to acquire sturdy enough sea legs to go below deck. However, sailing is considerably kinder to the environment than 747's burning tons of fosil fuels that have serious environmental consequences. So with an environmental conscience Lisa and I decided to carbon neutralise our flights, which is cheaper than you would think to invest in excellent carbon reducing 'grass roots' projects.
Even if you're just on your way to Torremolinos for a knees up, be aware and try to stop global warming turning Kilburn into Death Valley (....hmmm, hang on a second!..)
The heroic bronzed adonis boards the good ship Granny Knot to set sail for New Zealand after becoming wildly frustrated with shipping agents and the prospect of airline food. Obviously things may take a little longer over sea, especially with the lure and temptation of sirens, mermaids, ferocious giant squids and meeting the mighty Poseidon on an off day.Undaunted we set sail with our good friends and skippers Mel and Nick on Saturday morning from Portsmouth. After beating into strong winds and straining sinew to keep Granny on tack we finally made it all the way to Bucklers Hard. Much joyous drinking and celebration ensued. With a foggy head and after an extended lie in the next morning, skipper sat us down to consider the following: Wellington is 11,119 miles and 93 days away. The Ewer family ski trip is a mere 21 days away. We had just covered the least perilous 16 miles to Bucklers Hard and Mel was keen to get back to work on Monday.
Dissapointment was evident from the crew but reality took precedent as we headed back home, enabling us to start packing for the more conventional plane flight south.
Travelling by Granny Knot all the way to Wellington, although a romantic idea would also be very stupid. I start to get cabin fever after two days and it also takes at least a month to acquire sturdy enough sea legs to go below deck. However, sailing is considerably kinder to the environment than 747's burning tons of fosil fuels that have serious environmental consequences. So with an environmental conscience Lisa and I decided to carbon neutralise our flights, which is cheaper than you would think to invest in excellent carbon reducing 'grass roots' projects.
Even if you're just on your way to Torremolinos for a knees up, be aware and try to stop global warming turning Kilburn into Death Valley (....hmmm, hang on a second!..)
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Welcome Amaya!The Ferry-Jones' have a daughter and I became an uncle for the first time over the weekend . Quite extraordinary and good to know that at least some of the Jones germ line is making it onto the next generation. Lisa is also completely chuffed to become an aunt again. Amaya is only just over a day old when we visited and look! her head's almost as big as Lisa's already!!!
Friday, July 14, 2006
Going with the Flow..
After a year toying with the possibility of (rather inevitably) moving back to Lisa's native New Zealand we've finally decided to go for it. After going on hols there a couple of times and finding it agreeable, I was then press-ganged into paying exorbitant amounts of money to their government and had medics probe me all in the name of a stamp in the passport. Jesus! don't they know I'm a valuable asset, not some run-of-the-mill Daily Mail'esque sponging, evil, communist, immigrant villain.
After a year toying with the possibility of (rather inevitably) moving back to Lisa's native New Zealand we've finally decided to go for it. After going on hols there a couple of times and finding it agreeable, I was then press-ganged into paying exorbitant amounts of money to their government and had medics probe me all in the name of a stamp in the passport. Jesus! don't they know I'm a valuable asset, not some run-of-the-mill Daily Mail'esque sponging, evil, communist, immigrant villain.
The waves of excitement, nerves, packing and characteristic spells of self induced apathy are ensuring that these final weeks are flying by. One-way tickets have been purchased for the 15th August and notice has already been handed in with employers, landlords and my Amazon cd purchasing account (sell your shares now!).
We are stopping en route in Brisbane to visit GM, arriving on the south island just in time to join the Ewer family's annual ski trip. A leisurely jaunt up the west coast will be rapidly followed by frantic efforts to find jobs and accommodation, which we are aiming to do in Wellington but no set plans.
All exciting stuff, but hang on. Before we go......
Leaving bash.
We're organising another one of our do's (the fifth and final dalliance) in Kilburn to provide us with a fitting farewell, memory loss, sleep deprivation and plenty of collatoral damage to cope with the next morning. It's going to be in conjunction with our house mates who are also moving onto pastures new (Aotearoa and Archway). Party details will be sent shortly, otherwise email me to find out the score. It will be on Saturday August the 12th.
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