Libramentum

Please check out my new blog:

2010-07-23T16:09:00.001+12:00

Sezmeralda's Parlour

There's more stuff going on over there and it's unlikely I'll post here again.

That is all.

xx JLS xx

Limescale and Sodium Dichloroisocyanurate (800mg)

2010-04-29T02:32:00.009+12:00

A little while after I came to stay with Ju and her family, she asked her husband to turn down the thermostat on the hot water cylinder. The water ran just a tad too hot for her liking. This he dutifully did.
But the water now ran too cold. Barely warmer than tepid. (I love the word 'tepid' I think it should be applied to so much more than water temperature. Washed out colours & tasteless food for example). Ju asked her husband to turn the water back up a little bit. After a couple of days of procrastinating he finally turned the water up again.

I know what you're thinking. Too hot again, right?

Actually, no. We lost even the crappy half-arsed warm water of a cylinder not trying to heat the water to the type of water which conveyed the cool disdain of a cylinder not even bothering to heat the water because, well, it's just not interested anymore.

As the closest thing to an electrician in the house it was decided I would go and have a look to see if I could work out what was wrong (sans multimeter, dammit!). Ju's Husband showed me where the thermostat and heating element were and I had a bit of a look. We turned the knob for a bit and listened to the clicking of the switch. When fault-finding an unfamiliar electrical system on an aircraft with little guidance available, one of the methods we like to use is to compare the operation of the faulty system with a 'known good' system (ie, does the system on another aircraft exhibit the same characteristics?). Luckily for me, this hot water cylinder had another heating element and thermostat closer to the top of the tank.
I turned that knob for a bit, but the clicking sounds it made were a little too similar to be conclusive.

"Oh hello!"
Ju's Husband's voice sounded triumphant. As I had been playing with the upper (boost) element, he had continued investigating the lower (main) one. Lo and behold! It was clearly burnt out.

(There shouldn't be any of that black stuff there.)

Another was bought. I installed it. Clickety click.

A day (and several thermostat settings) later and we still didn't have hot water. It was getting a bit obvious the heater must be out too. At the least, something had to cause that little burn-out. I hated to have to admit it, but it was time to call in the plumber.

The block of houses that Ju and her family live in was built in 1952 by the council.

Devizes Rural District Council (since 1952)

This means the hot water cylinder is potentially fifty eight years old. It's probably not, but we do have very strong evidence it's a lot older than six. It's possibly around ten.

The water around here has a lot of limescale in it. (We're about half an hour's drive from Bath. Think limestone, think mineral water, and if you like, think of fat Romans having orgies in large public baths.) Anyway, most electric jugs come with filters for the water. The limescale leaves a skin over one's cup of tea which breaks up in a way that makes me think of the antarctic ice-shelf breaking up. Interestingly, although jugs come with filters to filter out minerals before boiling them (in NZ it's usually one or the other) the hot water cylinders don't. Can you imagine what happens to the hot water cylinders in this town? Scroll down then, and see...

THIS!

And THIS is what all those minerals will do to the element:

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Ju's Husband's Mum resurrected a highchair for Ju's Daughter to use when she gets big enough for one. Since the highchair has been in storage for a while, it got cleaned up and sterilised. I was intrigued with the information on the box of "Milton complete protection" sterilisation tablets.

First, here is a very serious sounding warning:

But look, it's okay Mum - they're fine to use for baby's food dishes and utensils:

(please click on the picture to see an enlargement which is easier to read)

Yeah, yeah, yeah. The picky amongst you will be quick to point out the warning is for undiluted tablets. I don't care, I still think it's funny. Oh by the way, did you notice that part of the product name that says -cyan- ? I don't know about you, but to me that sounds suspiciously as though it is a key ingredient in cyanide.

I'm just saying.

Ju's Daughter's Christening

2010-04-26T04:26:00.007+12:00

Ah yes, the Christening.

This special event was supposed to be held in January, but as those of you from England will know the weather was a little chilly back then. So chilly in fact that the water froze before it even fell from the sky, which made general travel about the countryside somewhat troublesome. So the upshot was that the Christening was postponed to a time of year when Ju's Little Sister and Ju's Mum could make it.

The Church is in Sussex, and since Ju, Ju's Husband and Ju's Daughter all live in Wiltshire, we travelled up to Meadow Barn Farm to stay with Ju's lovely in-laws on the Saturday. There we met many more members of the family - sisters, nieces, nephews, cousins, grandparents and friends. It was going to be a wonderful family event.
Speaking of family, the Church where all of this was to take place has seen plenty of family members through the years and is very close to where Ju's Husband's Grandparents live. The Church is very old, Norman, and is connected with a lovely big house of seven bedrooms which was built around 1060 by some monks who had come over from France. The Lovely Big House of Seven Bedrooms Built Around 1060 was until very recently the residence of the fore-mentioned Grandparents. I would have loved to have been able to see inside. Ju's Husband's Mum knew a lot of the history of both the house and the church and told stories about them both before and after the service.
Anyway, the original point of this paragraph was to reveal to you the name of the Church and Parish, mostly because I am a little immature, and found the name of this rather august and respected place highly amusing. Yes faithful readers, Ju's Daughter was Christening in Cocking Church. Don't believe me?

Inside front cover of the hymn book.

The girl of the hour was very well behaved. She was in a strange place and building, with a lot of people (known and unknown) paying her a lot of attention. There was some singing (of varying talents) and some standing up and sitting down. Then, right about the time she started to get a bit peckish, she was denied the comfort of her mother's arms (and her personal milk factory) and given over to a stranger for the unlikeliest bath she has yet to experience.

Needless to say, she wasn't really too impressed. Fortunately, although she cried, the howls were not demonic and it was only a short while before she could indulge in elevenses. Shortly thereafter her parents and new Godfather had the dubious honour of changing what was probably the pooey-est nappy she could manage given the short notice, in one of the back-row pews. (Good job Uncle James! You're a great Godfather!)

Spiritual safety assured for the now, we all returned to Meadow Barn Farm for the after match function where there was Fun, Cake, Toasts and Drinks.

Welcome to the family, Little One. It's a good think you've been Christened, 'cos you're in for a Hell of a ride!

First Week In England

2010-04-06T21:57:00.007+12:00

Ju's first response was obviously disbelief - "What are you doing here?" was soon followed by "I can't believe you're here!" And plenty of hugs throughout the rest of the evening. It certainly was an ego boost! The actual feelings and sensations aren't really possible to describe, but there was plenty of joy, and an underlying foundation of happiness which makes you remember that Home really is where the heart is.
(As an aside, did you know there is no differentiation in the French language between 'house' and 'home?' I read that in Bill Bryson's Mother Tongue.)

Strange as it may seem that although I am here in England for five to six weeks, I am not actually here for my big OE, and I am not here with sightseeing and touristing as my main objectives. I am here to stay with my sister and her family while Ju tries to finish her dissertation, and to be here for my niece's Christening. For my first week I have only been on short journey's as far as Devizes (literally 5 mins by car) and Trowbridge. Neither of these short trips were for their attractions - they were Quick Trips Into Town To Carry Out Various Jobs, such as groceries and interviews with planners and the like.

Now, given that my time here is spent entertaining the baby (and scrubbing her pooey nappies, and wiping up bits of sick, and giggling at the faces she pulls, and trying to get her to giggle at the faces I pull...) you can imagine that the only pictures I have are of said miniature person.

Here are some now:

Ju's Little Sister & Ju's Little Sister's Niece (aka Ju's Little Daughter) outside on the patio.
It was cold and I was worried about her ears freezing off.

Ju's Husband bathing his daughter (she loves bath-time).

As well as Ju, Ju's Husband and their daughter there are other members of the family living here. One who is allowed inside the house is Solo, their beautiful tabby cat. Solo is a little disgusted that the baby is taking away the majority of her cuddles, but she has a history of scorning cuddles anyway. On the other hand, she seems to see the baby as someone special (despite being an attention hog) and will race up to the door to her room if she hears Baby crying. When Ju went into town for about an hour and left me to babysit, I didn't hear my niece crying for quite a time. I simply wondered why Solo was suddenly so interested in getting out the door. Solo wasn't impressed with my behaviour, and let me know I wasn't a good babysitter at all!

Solo

Solo and the London Bridge
(It wasn't falling down, which leads me to suspect that nursery rhyme is not completely accurate.)

The other family members (and to be honest, it's a bit of a stretch to call them that) are a couple of naughty chooks who don't like to stay in the chicken run:

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For Easter, Mum sent us over some Cadbury Creme Eggs. It has been a tradition since Ju left New Zealand for Mum and me to send her Creme Eggs from New Zealand. They make them here in England, but they're not the same. When the eggs arrived, I reminded Ju that with Cadbury now being owned by Kraft (did I get that right?) the rumour has been that Creme Eggs are no longer to be manufactured in NZ, they will be shipped in from England. It was with despair and a desire to disbelieve that we bit into the specially posted eggs to find they were of the English variety. Closer inspection of the packet confirmed they were made in the UK, packed in Australia and shipped to NZ. It's the end of an era.

JUST AS WELL I BROUGHT PINEAPPLE LUMPS, WINE GUMS AND JET PLANES OVER WITH ME THEN ISN'T IT!!!???

To make us feel better about being scammed I decided (with much reminding by Ju's Husband) to bake homemade Hot Cross Buns for Easter. Luckily Ju's copy of the Edmond's Cookbook (55th Deluxe Edition) had the recipe. I whipped everything together, plumping out the fruit section with cranberries and using mandarin peel which Ju's Husband kindly cut into tiny squares for me, and put the dough in the linen cupboard over night.
Morning dawned, and with a little extra kneading, more time to rise and some heavenly baking, the delicious smell of Hot Cross Buns made Easter Sunday special.

Ju's Brother, Ju's Other Sister & I bought Ju a camera for her birthday.
That's why I have photos of my hot cross buns.

"Nah, this is just for the photo. Honestly Ju - YOU take the first bite!"
(Seriously, you first.)

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Though it's been grim and rainy here for most of the week there have been some exceptions. One morning while Ju, Ju's Husband and the Baby were in Devizes Doing Jobs and Making Their Appointments On Time, I became somewhat excited and enthusiastic about a small rogue shot of sunshine terrorising the clouds and put on an extra load of washing. Quite a large extra load actually. The house already had two clothes horses full of whites (read: nappies) but it was okay - these could dry on the line outside!!!

Or not.
They weren't dry when the family came home. The sun wasn't even bothering anymore. We all of us left for the afternoon to go into Trowbridge, and while we were there it rained twice and hailed once on the clothes.
They went on the clothes horses over night.

On another fine day we went for a walk.

For some reason, Ju's Husband started obsessing about collecting wood.

They didn't warn me it would be muddy, so I am wearing the wrong kind of footwear.
In hindsight, it had been raining solidly for the last three days, so they shouldn't have had to have warned me, should they?

At the end of the lane was this fantastic Hazel Grove.
I am definitely using this in one of my stories.

As you may be able to tell, Ju discovered her new camera can take pictures in black & white. Also, Ju's husband didn't know how to take the new camera OFF black & white.
Ju was in the process of posing as a super hero.
She can be as zany as me sometimes.

And that is really just about that. There hasn't been a lot else going on. I'm looking forward to my trip to Turkey which I haven't booked yet, and I'm looking forward to the Christening which Ju's Mum will be over for. We have a list of things which we'd like to get done while I'm here. A bike ride across Salisbury Plain, a trip to Bath, hopefully I will also get up to visit Lorenzo the Llama for a weekend. That would be awesome!!
But I think this post is long enough already, so more on all of that later.

To the United Kingdom

2010-04-01T04:51:00.004+13:00

Since about November or December last year, I have been in secret communication with my brother-in-law. Secret, because we didn't want my sister to find out.

Sounds a bit dodgy, doesn't it?

The truth is, we were planning the most fantastic present for her - a surprise visit! For the last few months Ju's Husband and I have been organising the best time for me to visit, and the dates I will need to be picked up from the airport. And the whole thing worked like a charm! Ju's Husband collected me from Heathrow in the afternoon of 29 March and brought me back to their place. I walked in the door behind him, then as he was greeting Ju I stepped to the side so she could see me and the grin on my face.

The first thing she said to me? "What are you doing here?"

But more on the first few days of my holiday later. For now here are some delirious ramblings from my time in the airports on the journey over:

28 March – San Francisco Airport
I still can't get over how completely hassle-free this airport turns out to be. Where I expected a forty five minute wait at border control, I only stood in line for five. Where I expected a drudge to put my bag on the wrong conveyor, I re-checked them myself at the correct counter. I feared I would be another forty minutes making my way through security, but even being moved aside and patted down for a body search barely took a moment of my time.

So in comparison to LAX, I am not only pleasantly surprised, I am actually relaxed and almost enjoying myself. I sit at the gate lounge (anyone who has travelled will agree they are too open for me to be able to say 'in' the gate lounge) and I watch the ground staff deal with people's questions with frendly efficiency. I'd like to take this time to work on either one of my stories, or on one of my characters for the dice-rolling games I play. I already have a character for Eclipse, and two for Casus Belli. I want to delve deeper into their natures, but I am too tired. It has been twelve hours on a plane for me already, and I am looking forward to another twelve or so. This time I am not just landing in a foreign country unvisited, but one in which I don't speak the local language. The sum total of my German (barely remembered from high school) is Guten Tag, Wie geht es das? and Ich habe zwei Schwestern und sie sind zillinge. The last is my favourite of course. I love the contortions required to pronounce the words.

I find myself wondering how different this string of thoughts would be if I wasn't slightly sleep deprived. Not very, probably.

Despite facing another long flight – let me check: another 10 hours and 50 minutes – I am at the moment glad that I am not stopping over for the night. I like San Francisco, and would love to spend more time in this beautiful city but I am also eager to be finished with this journey. I have no patience for the delay a stop-over would cause. It is thirty minutes to boarding, according to my boarding pass, and it is about twenty minutes too long a wait. Though I am yawning every half minute, I want to move. I want to get there.

When it was about 9am Sunday 28 March New Zealand time, I was probably in the shower. Since then I have lived out another twenty five hours or so with no shower. Twenty minutes ago I bought a new t-shirt from a souvenir shop and changed out of my long sleeved tee which was smelly and too hot for the plane anyway. I deodorised. I feel better.

If I keep typing and keep rambling and keep writing this for a post which may not eventuate, then perhaps I won't fall asleep. If I don't fall asleep now I certainly must on the flight. I need to sleep on the flight.

I need to sign off before your metaphorical ears drop off from the boredom induced by reading this post.

Auf Wiedersehn.

29 March 2010 – Frankfurt Airport
Now having travelled the next eleven hours or so I can admit there were times – long, painful, boring times – when I was tempted to think a day's stop in San Fran would have been a better idea. The Lufthansa flight had no personal entertainment. In fact it felt like a domestic flight which happened to last for eleven hours. There were large CRT television screens hanging from the roof over the aisles and the majority of the entertainments were advertising for the Star Alliance and music videos. There was also a movie which played for the middle section of the flight. I think it had Matt Damon and may have been a spy movie. I didn't bother with it.
Instead I tried to sleep.
It didn't work very well.

I was surprised that I was provided with no entry documents on the aircraft. As far as they seem to be concerned I was never here. No stamps on my passport, no forms handed in. I get out of one plane, and through an x-ray point to my next gate, then on to my next plane out of the country. Like a ghost. But it's not long now. In about an hour and a half I should be allowed into the gate lounge (I am allowed to say 'in' this time as they are cordened off from passing strangers) and boarding will undoubtedly follow soon after. The next flight will be like a domestic one for me – one hour and thirty minutes makes it pretty much the same as the Christchurch-Auckland journey.

I feel a bit stink for non-english speaking countries' airlines. The staff have to be fluent in english anyway, and all the signs are doubled. All notices are repeated in english. The attendant at the gate counter seems to have more of an english accent than german. I had always had the policy in the back of my head that if you visit a person's country you should be prepared to make an attempt at their language. But I'm actually terrified of greeting someone with Guten Morgan, or saying thank you with a danke shoen, just in case they spout forth with something I can't begin to fathom. I only fear this because I've been complimented on two seperate occasions by native speaking germans for my accent. (Thanks Mrs Oppenheim). Anyway, it's a stupid fear, completely unfounded, and I've avoided it in total by speaking english like everyone else.

Which leaves me here, sitting on the cold concrete floor until the gate lounge opens for me. I have now been flying for a total of almost twenty four hours, and it must be about thrity six since I last had a shower. Rachie will know how squirmy that's making me. I hope Ju doesn't mind hugging a smelly sister.

I think she won't mind.

Forty Nine

2009-10-31T03:39:00.020+13:00

The sensation of gently falling from the sky in a graceful swoon always contrasts with the sounds the aircraft makes around me. The hydraulics working overtime, the flaps lowering, the engines straining to maintain lift while dropping speed. Coming in for the landing is my second-to-favourite part of flying. We touched the runway on the go and the sound of engines roared to full volume as we were pushed into our seat belts while the tube around us strained. Then we were back in our seats and taxiing sedately into the terminal. I looked past the two people between myself and the window (I always chose aisle seats) and saw the grey tarmac was littered with the expected planes of a dozen airlines. Suddenly a new plane pulled into view, and as we slid in next to a towering B747, the Air New Zealand Koru on the tail invoked a wave of homesickness and yearning ache in my heart.

But we weren't home yet. Geoff and I had landed in San Francisco. We walked up the air bridge and looked over at the computers near the gate next to ours. We each were hoping there would be an Air New Zealand stewardess waiting to call people to their flight, but while the electronic scrolling sign was advertising a flight home there was no one to talk to. We left the airport feeling as though we'd been away far too long.

The train in to SFO proper was uneventful, and it didn't seem that long before we'd navigated our way through the streets to find our hostel, checked in and claimed our bunks. From there we collected some pamphlets from the front desk and started to plan our stay. Geoff's must-see was Alcatraz, and I was hoping to see Muir Woods. But overall I was pretty cruisey about where we were going to go. I knew our couple of days here wouldn't be long enough to see everything and I really wanted to see the city with my Aunt (who used to live here), so I wasn't expecting a lot from this trip. It was going to be a taste. What a taste it turned out to be!

That afternoon we thought we'd walk through Chinatown and down to the wharf to get a feel for how long it was going to take us the next day. Chinatown was a vibrant place full of activity, sounds and smells. In some part I was disappointed that a lot of the shops were very similar to the occasional Asian shop found at home - full of souvenirs and two-dollar junk.

I found myself drawn to the shops selling swords and heavy wooden carvings as there was some beautiful-looking craftsmanship. People would stand at the entrance to their shops in an effort to entice customers into their domain. One promised me they would get the sword to NZ for me and was disappointed when I respectfully declined.

Through China town we only made it along a couple more blocks before we decided we were getting hungry and the wharf was a bit far away for this trip. We started to think we would take the cable cars tomorrow instead of walking. The reminder of San Fran's famous attraction set us off in the direction of some of the cable lines in order to investigate that avenue of transport. But not before we saw evidence of Christmas spirit in the park:

I was fascinated by the idea of the cable cars. In Wellington (NZ) there is a well-known cable car and I had used it a couple of times when staying with cousins. There are two cars which work in tandem - one being pulled up the hill as the other rides down. It is a simple system - cars go straight up and straight down the steep hill and the car doesn't have to turn around at either end. These cable cars were obviously very different, and I was caught by the sound of the cable which I could hear running under the street.

Despite our grumbling stomachs we resolved to follow the tracks to the top of the hill, and I'm glad we did because we chanced upon the Cable Car Museum. We hadn't seen anything about it in our tourist flimsies, and it wasn't an extravagant affair. But it was the building where the cables were powered from and there were some wonderful posters explaining how the system worked as well as the history of cable cars in San Francisco.

After the museum we kept up our mission to the top of the hill. I can't remember if the following photo was taken from the very top or not, but the island out in the harbour is Alcatraz, and that's where we were off to the next day!

The next morning we set out for the Wharf. This time we followed yesterday's decision and took the cable cars. They weren't a particularly expensive form of transport, but they had become such a tourist attraction that they wouldn't be worth using if one were to live in the city. The journey was interesting and it was great to see the principles we'd read about yesterday being put into practice!

We made it in time to buy our ticket out to the island and although there was a significant queue, it really wasn't long before we were on the ferry and on our way. Alcatraz was an amazing place and an amazing tour - I learnt so much about the place.
The island was initially a military prison, then a state penitentiary, home to some protesting Indians (of the 'Native American' kind) and finally a state park and tourist attraction. It really deserves a post of its own, so for this post I'll just put up some of my pictures which I especially like, and leave the explanation to another day.

Our next day in this fair city was spent with Dylan of Dylan's Tours. I've just been scouting around the internet to see if he has a website, and he doesn't, but there are a lot of reviews around and he's had positive comments all the way. I agree completely. IF YOU GO TO SAN FRANCISCO BOOK A DAY WITH DYLAN'S CITY TOURS! Even the locals think he's amazing! Dylan taught us so much about the city and took us to a little bit of everything. He managed to take us through most of the districts, including Mission, Marina, Castro, Tenderloin, Knob Hill and Twin Peaks. He even took us out to Muir Woods, so I was happy!
During our drive around I learnt that although people think of SFO as being all the populated areas around the bay, the city itself is actually squeezed into an area 7 miles by 7 miles, which makes it only 49 square miles in area. Combine this with the fact that the population of the area exploded around 1749 during the goldrush, and there is the reason for the football team calling themselves the 49ers!
Our fellow tourists were pretty much all Australian which made for great conversation and a little across-the-ditch teasing. Dylan had obviously had plenty of experience with the rivalry and put in his comedic two-cents in every now and then. Again I could write a post on its own about this day, and it would be filled with some amazing facts about the city, but I'll tease you with some photos instead:

At Twin Peaks, looking out over the city

Famous Hippie Hangout - Cnr of Haight & Ashbury

House of the Grateful Dead

The Bridge at the Gate to the Golden State

First Building to be erected in the area - the Chapel of St Francis of Assisi

(incidentally, the chapel at my high school was dedicated to the same)

Ju's Little Sister in front of the.. um.. pretty building. (hey, 12 months is a long time!)

Redwoods in Muir Woods

Hey! Where did New Zealand go?

That evening, although Dylan had recommended we go see the movie Milk, we were pretty done in from an exciting couple of days.

San Francisco was our last stop before we turned our noses in the direction of The Land Of The Long White Cloud (New Zealand) and I was glad we had booked more than a day in that great city. Though I was exhausted and ready to go home, I was entranced by San Fran and would love to return there some day. One day, I hope, I will be able to travel there with my Aunt and she can show me all her favourite places. Dylan's local and personal knowledge of the city was invaluable, but there were questions I wanted to ask here while I was there - questions I hope one day to have answered.
I'm not a city person. But I will be raving about this trip for a long time to come.

Interlude

2009-05-04T18:29:00.002+12:00

Good books and a belated promise

2009-04-17T14:35:00.015+12:00

Hi y'all.

I owe everyone a big apology! I promised a wicked post about my holiday at the end of my trip to Texas last year and I have failed to deliver. Yes, there were good books in the way.
Son of a Witch
The Magic Ship
The Lark and the Wren
umm.... I can't remember the rest.

Mum bought me both Don Quixote and Self Editing for Fiction Writers for my birthday - both at my request. I've not begun the Spanish saga yet but I'm looking forward to it.

But now! Photos and some textual dribble about my holiday in the states.

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Geoff and I intended to take three weeks and travel out of Dallas to San Diego. We'd go to the zoo, see the city and take a day trip or an over-nighter to Mexico. From SD we'd fly to San Francisco, then up to Seattle. From Seattle we'd drive over the Northern Border to Fort Langley in Canada for a night or two, drive back to Seattle and fly to Pennsylvania. From there to New York, Washington DC, and then the train back to Dallas. When we found out we'd only have time for about ten days at the end of our deployment, we frantically re-shuffled. Pennsylvania was move to Thanksgiving and I've already posted about my stay there in the snow, and Geoff's ridiculous burger. We dropped San Diego, New York, Washington and the train.

First up - Seattle.

We were met at the airport by Geoff's Aunt and Uncle. They're kiwis but the family has moved to the states. Their three children also live in Seattle. As well as his family, there were two other attractions which provided a draw-card for us. The Museum of Flight and the Boeing Factory.

Seattle

The Boeing Factory

Museum of Flight

I couldn't take pictures on our tour of the Boeing Factory, but since I work on planes it was all very fascinating. On the one side of the hangar is the 747 production line. We viewed them from a high balcony in the middle of the building, above the offices. It reduced the impact of their size but when I saw a man in the 'bucket' of a cherry picker, and how small he looked halfway up the vertical stabiliser (rudder/tail) I realised just how massive these birds are. Our tour guide was friendly, helpful and knew her stuff but it was obvious she wasn't an aircraft tradesperson. She did answer quite a few of my questions about employment there. It might be a great opportunity if I left NZ.
On the other side of the hangar there were plenty of other planes being constructed and at the head of them all the first Dreamliner. It had been all painted up for its presentation at a champagne unveiling, then returned to the 'shop as the work inside wasn't actually complete!

The Museum of Flight was pretty cool, and they had some great planes. They had the first Stealth Bomber and even a mock up of the Wright Brother's plane. (No Richard Pearce in sight however). It wasn't what I had expected though, and we didn't spend a great deal of time there.

Stearman C-3B

Mikoyan-Gurevich MiG-15

Douglas A-4F Skyhawk II

The Royal New Zealand Air Force used to fly Douglas A-4K Skyhawks as our main Strike Fighter force. Before they disbanded the strike wing.

Anyway, from Seattle we drove North and once again crossed the border into Canada to visit my cousins. Viki and Maurice live east of Vancouver in a little place called Fort Langley. It took less than two hours for us drive up.

I know it ain't llamas, but it was the best I could find!

I recommend clicking on this one to make it larger. It was such a beautiful sight. I love the mountains so much and really missed them when I was in Texas. Seeing the sun leave his last golden rays on this peak made me think tenderly of home.

After favouring the snowy peaks, the sun decided to light up the whole sky.

After an hilarious kerfuffle with mistaken houses, lost phone numbers and a cup of tea with some pommy ex-pats who live next door, we finally made it inside for a family catch up and some dinner.

Ju's Little Sister and Cousin Vicki

While I talked the night away about family and Canada and New Zealand, Geoff was happily entertained by the Wii. With a little hand-held controller he could play tennis against a character on the TV, go ten pin bowling or a goodly number of other games. It started snowing that night and before breakfast the next morning I took a picture of the little kiwi sitting in the back lawn. Another little wave of homesickness settled about me, but I was with family and home wouldn't be too far away. Besides - there was still so much to see!

When everything but the head is covered they know they've had a decent snowfall!!

Vicki decided she would take us to the fort before she went to work so we wrapped up warm and jumped in the car. There was a thick layer of snow on the window and the town looked very picturesque. It also looked very cold and not much fun to be in! I'm glad our Christmases are full of sunshine and fun. I like being warm!

Before we made it to the fort, we took a quick detour to the river. I'm sorry I can't remember the name of it anymore but Vicki thought it would be worth seeing. We parked in the lot a little way away from the ferry terminal and had to walk along a jetty. There was no one else around. Vicki decided the ferry would not be running today. Something about a new snow which always makes me marvel is how quiet it is. Heavy flakes come softly down around but never make a sound. The birds and insects must have huddled away somewhere. Only humans are stupid enough to venture outdoors.

It was still snowing too

No ferry today

We didn't go right into the fort either but had a look in the foyer of an info centre at the bottom of the hill. It had a large map of the area on one wall with all the forts and old trader routes mapped on it along with some Indian tribal camps. Vicki explained it wasn't a military fort but a trading centre from which the town got its name. There were some flint arrows and a couple of other odds and ends in glass cases but nothing that caught my real interest.

After dropping my cuz off at her work Geoff and I made our way back to Seattle. In the blizzard.

One thing I noticed about Canada was the friendliness of the people. It just reminded me so much of home. Not two hours away were people who wouldn't meet your eye in the street, and here living next door to my cousins was a wonderful family who invited two strangers into their home, fed them and plied them with funny stories until the neighbours came home. I know they're originally from the UK but to me it just confirms my belief that the Commonwealth is cooler than the USA.

Anyway, back to Seattle. Geoff's uncle took us for a drive around the city. It was definitely a bonus having a local tour guide who also understood how and what we would be thinking. He was informative and intelligent and understood both the American & the Kiwi view on life. It helped me understand some of the prejudices I had been harbouring while in Texas and I found I appreciated Americans a little bit more.

He took us to see:

THE TROLL

THE LOCKS

and

Some of his Cars:

Then we were off to visit even more of Geoff's family for a big reunion dinner. Thankfully everyone there was friendly and I never really felt out of place. The house was warm, the food delicious and the company just like home.

__________________________________

Coming up next: SAN FRANCISCO!!!

The Black Cat

2009-04-10T13:51:00.005+12:00

I had some sad news on the phone today. The sweetest member of our family has finally past away. She turned 20 years old just before Christmas 2008, and met her end only a couple of weeks ago. She was having trouble remaining upright and had lost her appetite and so the family decided it would be cruel to have her suffer much longer. I have known The Black Cat for more than three quarters of my own young life - even my Nan was not a part of my life this long. She was universally loved (even by my cat-disliking father) by all who met her. She was always up for a cuddle and a tummy rub but never forced herself on anyone. She caught her own rabbits, left us birds as gifts, and tried to teach us to hunt mice. This never stopped her from loving the rabbit mince Mum would buy her, or from quietly waiting all morning for something - anything - from a can of Chef.

Even the paparazzi loved her...

I remember the day we collected her - a frightened young kitten in a dark old shed. We picked her brother out first - I had always wanted a ginger cat, and the sweetest little red and orange kitten there ever was immediately captured my heart. We put him in the box. He jumped out. We put him in again. Then we went after Her. I remember seeing a tortie in the litter. I can't remember why we didn't go for her. It might have been Mum's decision. Mum would have known how flighty torties can be - probably not a good choice for a farming family.

She was in the shed. I don't remember when we spotted her. But she knew we were Big and Bad and we'd come to shake up her wee life. She hid behind some big green 40-gallon drums. We tied some paper to a piece of string and spent HOURS coaxing and tempting her from her hiding place. Okay I was only six, so it might not have been hours, but I don't think I've ever been so patient ever again. She was worth it though.

Favourite scratching places: Tummy and chin

She set a precedent that day hiding behind the drums. From then on the story of her kitten-hood is pretty much hiding behind things. The couch, the deep-freezer, the bed, the TV. She liked it under the house. Her brother was finally named (by me) Marmalade. Seeing it written down now it actually looks a bit girlie, but it ultimately doesn't matter as he was always referred to as Ginge anyway. Interestingly I am currently flatting with a man named Ginge. I bet Freud would have a field day.
She was never named. She officially belonged to my two older sisters (Ju, and Ju's Twin) and it wasn't that they couldn't agree on a name - it was a matter of 'no name is good enough for her.' Her whole life she was simply The Black Cat.

The Black Cat was almost the perfect pet. She could feed herself, she didn't worry if we were away for a long weekend. She loved the sun, she loved laps, she loved being cradled like a baby with her tummy being tickled. If visitors came she would wander over for a nosey and a possible pat. If Dad tossed her off HIS chair, she'd wait for him to get settled then jump up and sleep on his lap.
She was a silent cat. She'd sit by the door for half an hour waiting for it to open without once making a meow. Next to her brother - who clawed his laps, dribbled on his cuddler and let out a rousing Siamese yeowl every 20 seconds (that's an average, often it was every 2 seconds) - she was an angel.

The Black Cat accepting her prize for Most Popular Cat

Often we would come home from school and find the two cats on the back lawn. The Black Cat would be eating a rabbit like a mighty lioness and growling while her brother paced around her - the jackal who wanted her catch. We would frighten him away so she could eat her catch in piece. It wasn't until years later - long after I had left home and Ginge/Marmalade had gone - that we learned it was much more likely he had done the hunting, and she had stolen the rabbit off him. This made a rather embarrassing sense as we remembered it was always Ginge who caught lizards, skinks and mice.

There were other ways she wasn't quite the angel she made out to be. She disappeared for a few weeks with no word as to where and why she had left - not even a message with her brother. We worried and stressed. There are stray cats on the farm - people tend to dump their unwanted kittens out in the 'wilderness' where we come from. Had she been beaten up by another cat?
No.
She came home pregnant and quite unrepentant without an apology but definitely with a sense of "Well I'll just cuddle you a lot more these next couple of days to make up for it."

(Possibly evil)

She had four kittens, each given away to become Prince, Minty, Toya, and Mother Cat.
Prince and Minty fell victim to tragic accidents involving a backing car and a swimming pool respectively, and Toya went to live with the local doctor and her young Dalmatian dog. Presumably the three are still living together today. Mother Cat was so named because she stayed in the valley where we are from with the local school teacher and her daughter. True to form Mother Cat followed in her mother's footsteps and disappeared into the wilderness for weeks, only to return with a rounder belly and four little future kittens. Smokey and Katie were given away, but when Mother Cat returned to the wilderness - this time pretty much for ever - Tiger and Fluffy stayed in the family. Two beautiful big - BIG and LEAN - tabby cats who loved a cuddle as much as their Grandmother. The school teacher and her daughter always referred to The Black Cat as Grandmother Cat, but it never really caught on.

Years later when us kids had all moved out and Mum and Dad had almost moved to Ashburton (a nearby town) there wasn't really anyone at home to look after an ageing Black Cat. She was getting too skinny, and a bit wobbly for any of us to believe she could still be catching her own food. My sister (Ju's Twin) was managing the farm but living in a cottage. She would come and feed her but it was proving a logistical pain in the proverbial. So it was decided The Black Cat would move to the cottage to live.
Well! Goodness me but it must have been like Heaven on Earth for the old girl. She was suddenly warm again, fed again, and most importantly, loved again.
In her older age she became more vocal and voiced both her love and her hunger with quick meows which held at their core the Siamese in her blood. She was always attended instantly and with compassion. But mostly she slept, and gave the most delicious hugs of her life - pressing her head and shoulders against her cuddler with such fervour you'd think she'd never been hugged. Her claws grew long as she stopped sharpening them and they would hook into your jumper like a physical manifestation of her desire never to be let go.

More recently she couldn't stand or walk so well - 'wobble' grew into 'unsteady' and became 'unstable.' Her appetite waned and 'skinny' was really rather 'anorexic.' So, in an Of Mice and Men moment, she was put down.
She won't be at home the next time I visit.
And home will be a little bit lonelier because of it.

Goodbye Black Cat. You'll never be forgotten.

The New Year

2009-01-12T07:07:00.002+13:00

Hi y'all

Thanks for all your special Christmas and New Years wishes. I was having a splendid time in sunny Ashburton with my family, getting lots of work doing nothing in!

I did the sum total of about two jobs over my holiday. I helped Mum one morning with dead-heading her roses, (they are beautiful and smell divine). And I helped my brother one afternoon with pulling down some fences. Or rather pulling up some wire as my bit of fence had decided to hide underground for a bit. It was probably cooler there.

Anyhoo, now that I'm back in my flat in Auckland (and about to start work again) I have decided to clean out my room - give some clothes to the Sallies, throw out a lot of useless junk, and find some sort of storage for everything else. When I'm done there I'll be buying an old set of McLaren Amplirfiers (old but amazing) to drive my super-speakers, and THEN, I'm sure, I will be ready to sit down and write a little about my 5 days of holiday in America.

Unless I find a good book...

Travels

2008-12-20T13:28:00.000+13:00

It was snowing in Seattle,

It was icing in Fort Langely (Canada)

It is cool and sunny in San Francisco (no fog at all oh wonderful winter)

Alcatraz tomorrow

Home on Sunday.

Can't upload photos on the internet computers in the hostel, but there will be time when I'm back in NZ. I look forward to catching up on everyones' blogs when I'm not paying extortionate prices for the internet.

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU ALL!

Love, Ju's Little Sister.

Thanksgiving - NY, PA & Canada

2008-12-07T12:54:00.018+13:00

I hope you've all done your prerequisite reading - if not then please have a look at Denny's Beer Barrel Pub. You don't have to stay there long, but I recommend you check it out, and perhaps have a look at the FAQs as well.

***********************************************

My workmate Geoff and I flew up to Buffalo (New York state) for Thanksgiving and drove down to the border between NY and Pennsylvania (PA). There we stayed with a friend of mine and travelled south to Clearfield on Friday, and north to Niagara Falls on Saturday.

Hopefully clicking on the map for the larger picture will make it easy to see our travel path - Dallas to Chicago and on to Buffalo on the way there, Clearfield down in the middle of PA, and our flight home took us through Cincinnati.

******************************************************

When I can, I like to take a notebook with me and write down observations and thoughts which are inspired by the places I visit. I haven't used any of these notes to write posts because I feel that if I didn't remember it well enough to post then it wasn't worth it. But in the spirit of the holidays I thought I'd use my notes to write this post - raw and unedited, with whichever photos I can find to illustrate. So this post will be a little more scattered but hopefully just as fun to read. Anything in [square braces] is an aide, and not directly from my notebook.

***************************************************************

[Dallas-Fort Worth Airport]

Not as busy as I expected, I suppose everyone has already travelled.

...

The Lady in Pink should sit with her legs together when wearing a skirt. She's dressed her daughter in pink.
8 years old and already resigned.

...

I should have pulled my tripod from the bag in the hanger. I could have returned it on Monday before the Boeing arrived & no one need know.

...

[Flying out]

The Canterbury Plains always stretched away like a patchwork quilt drawn up to keep the mountains' feet warm. The other end would be teased at by the sea.
Dallas never stops. From the window seat the display of middle age spread roves out across the land until blue haze hides it from sight.
On the right there is more - trees and roads, subdivisions and strip malls and man made waterways. Dallas grows out not up.

...

The lady ahead of us had Valet carry-on. She put it in a shelf just before stepping on to the aircraft. I'm not sure if it was too big and had to be checked or if she was special.

...

...

street street street street street street street street street street
house house s house house s house house s house house s house
house house t house house t house house t house house t house
house house r house house r house house r house house r house
house house e house house e house house e house house e house
house house e house house e house house e house house e house
house house t house house t house house t house house t house
street street street street street street street street street street
house house s house house s house house s house house s house
house house t house house t house house t house house t house
house house r house house r house house r house house r house
house house e house house e house house e house house e house
house house e house house e house house e house house e house
house house t house house t house house t house house t house
street street street street street street street street street street

We flew over Chicago.

...

Travelling south through New York we can see how the country grew up. Every two or three miles is a new settlement just as the last nestled in the woods and snow. There is no room for franchise here - barely even for a gas station.
Houses meet the road with a snow hidden footpath and little else from front door to curb. The snow ploughs scatter brown grit behind them.

...

...

White flakes of teasing weather swirl in the air in front of us. At first I thought them to have blown off the trees but we could see the snow was real.
All around the country side is brown and white.

...

...

Denny's is great. Wooden building and cosy inside. The quiet murmur of well fed people ebbs and flows all around.

...

...

Behind us two burgers the size of small chickens are presented to the Challengers. Geoff's eyes light up. "They're pretty big for six pound pattys!"

We learn they are only three pounds. Geoff's nerves grow.

...

[Geoff's burger]
...

There is more to Denny's than the burger challenges, the menu is disproportionate to the size of the pub. They range from pasta, through tacos to any kind of burger you can think of. And they let you create their own. I order the Pennsylvania Beer Barrel Burger.

...

It has meat, meat, onions and cheese. No salad. It is delicious.

...

...

It is difficult to tell from my side of the table how well Geoff is going, it has only been 20 minutes. He plucks away at the food on his plate as though he is full.
I - in contrast - am full but not stuffed. I have time and inclination to wait for him.

...

[Geoff throws in the towel]

[Geoff and Denny]

...

...

As though it has run from a glacier the wind bites deep into my chest. My jacket is futile. No one to hug me warm. Erie is in front of us flat and cool. I can't hear the falls.

...

They're not as loud as I imagined they should be. No deep rumbling bass to warn of impending trouble. The falls are matter of fact - neither humble nor ostentatious. They just are.

...

[Cold!]

[JLS and Josh]

[Geoff winds me up]

Pre-requisite Reading

2008-12-04T15:55:00.002+13:00

Before I make my next post about my trip to Pennsylvania for Thanksgiving, I need y'all to do a little background reading for me.

Check out this website: http://www.dennysbeerbarrelpub.com/

It may be a little confusing as to what the point of the website is, but have a poke around the site and see what the pub gets up to here and there. I can recommend the About Us! tab from along the top, or the FAQ link down the left.

In a couple of days or so I'll be putting up my post, so make sure you have a look before I do!

JLS

For Dad

2008-11-26T13:09:00.002+13:00

Don't see this very often in NZ, but surprisingly common here. Clever way to go about it I suppose!

(Sorry for the poor picture quality)

Oh, hurro!

2008-11-18T10:37:00.000+13:00

Joke stolen from "I can has Cheezburger" http://icanhascheezburger.com/?s=kate+moss

JLS and the Air Show

2008-11-12T13:54:00.015+13:00

PLANES! PLANES! PLANES!

Ju's Little Sister loves planes!

B-52 Bomber.
(eight engines!!)

Trying to reach one of the engines

JLS and the JSF
(Joint Strike Fighter - F35)

Apache

Fast Plane

Mean Plane

It's an A-10 Warthog.
(My Blarney Stone)

Skinny Plane

Blue Plane

Not a plane

But check out the horns

AWAC (Air Control Plane)

Plane on the Ground

Planes in the Air

Upside-down Plane

Up-up-and-Away! Planes

Cosy Planes

I had an absolutely fantastic day, and saw so many aircraft I really thought I'd never ever have the opportunity to lay eyes on. Because we were wearing our Air Force tees, we were able to start some great conversations with the aircrew manning the planes on display. The AWAC was available for the public to view inside and we waited until the crowds had died away and everyone was packing up before having a nosey for ourselves. The B-52 was so HUGE it really was an experience to walk through its undercarriage, and the A-10 Warthog was just pure GRUNT! GGGggggrrrr. There was some clever flying on display too and I hope to make a really great video of it - I might post it when it's complete (in about 3-5 years!!!)

I hope you enjoyed the walk about the flight line as much as I did!

JLS

Videos of Beale St

2008-11-04T14:47:00.001+13:00

Here are the videos promised in my last post:

Memphis, TN

2008-10-17T14:18:00.015+13:00

We were supposed to go to New Orleans. That was the plan. I couldn't have been more excited. I love jazz (though I'm a new entrant) and nothing could possibly be more exciting than being in a jazz bar in New Orleans. Not only would I have passed out from happiness but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have come home again. I'd still be there in a bar somewhere sleeping under the counter and doing dishes to pay for my meals. And every evening I'd be listening to jazz. Real jazz.

Jazz.

Then this happened. It was deemed unsafe to go to New Orleans on account of the weather. The alternative suggested was Memphis. I can't say I was impressed. (how could I miss out on All That Jazz?) I was informed that Memphis had its version of Bourbon St (Beale St) and that I would still be able to go out drinking. I was unconvinced. The idea of spending an evening on the turps has never been a motivation of mine. But eventually I was convinced to get over myself and give Memphis a go. I'm glad I did.

Here's the email that changed my mind:

Only fools rush in to a hurricane, and if we stay in the ghetto and pine for the green green grass of home we'll all get the GI Blues. So lets get out of the Ghetto and travel the lonesome highway, we can get a room at the Heartbreak Hotel and find a quiet spot to listen to some moody blues. But lets not get all shook up and find ourselves doin the jailhouse rock or worse crying in the chapel because you got drunk with a hard headed woman. Because you know if your a Hound dog you'll be returned to sender. Hey, maybe there's a museum or gallery worth visiting so we can check how great thou art is. It's now or never folks, pack your blue suede shoes and lets rock-a-hula-baby.

Thank-you, thank-you very much.

The drive was long. We left early on Saturday morning (after dropping in to Texas Roast for some coffee) and headed North and East from Dallas, Texas.
We traveled through a little town called Texarkana and into the state of Arkansas. (Texas + Arkansas = Texarkana. Get it?) The day was hot and the road long and flat.

We stopped at a terrible little Burger King for lunch (I wished we hadn't) then finally crossed the Mississippi into Tennessee and Memphis around 5pm.

Relaxing in the Hotel before going out for dinner

After checking in and a quick shower we piled back into our little minivans in search of food and music. See the thing Ju's Little Sister didn't realise when she said 'no' to Memphis, is that Memphis is the City of Blues. That's right. And she couldn't wait to get to listen to some. Of course the only place we were going to please everyone with food, booze, and blues was Beale St.

I was fascinated. I won't get into the music because as central as that was to my enjoyment of the city I can't possibly do it justice in this blog.

The city was warm and light and people were already out in force enjoying themselves. The liquor laws state that alcohol can be consumed on the street, but glass vessels are prohibited. This explained why, when we went into the BBQ-house and ordered Coronas, we were given plastic cups. Once the meal was finished we tipped the remaining beer into the cups and took it with us out the door. The bars all opened onto the street, and you could order your next beer or bourbon as you walked along without having to go inside. This was especially handy as a lot of places had a cover charge.

Our first priority was a quick drink and some good music and luckily for me the first bar we walked in to that night was the best house on the street - BB Kings. We negotiated the cover-fee (probably not with the savvy we thought we did) and were escorted to a corner table under the balcony. BB Kings has a house band. I didn't want to leave.
/sigh

We crossed the road for some BBQ Ribs then wandered up and down the street in the warm evening air marveling at the music emanating from the bars all around. There were little alleys which led to small parks where bands were playing for nothing more than tips. Blues, Rhythm, and even some Rockabilly. I'm still not sure exactly what that is. I went to bed that night very happy.

The next day we decided on a tour of Graceland and while I was impressed with all the memorabilia I did get the feeling they really focused on his earlier career and while there was a collection of all his jumpsuits - the less-than-perfect days were really glossed over. Perhaps I'm just not a big enough fan! It was special though and I really enjoyed myself.

From Graceland and Elvis Presley Boulevard three of us walked while the rest drove - destination: Sun Studios. On the way I found some of the buildings a little interesting. I don't know who would share my gentle fascination with the state of the area but I took photos any way, to remind myself of what the city was like:

It was no more than twenty minutes walk before we came upon our pot of gold.

Sun Studios and this really was the highlight of my trip. Upstairs are posters and amps, recording equipment, neon signs, recordings and paperwork from when Sun Studio was Memphis Recording Service, run by Sam Phillips and Marion Keisker. I have stood in the very room where Elvis, Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis, Roy Orbison and plenty of others all made their recordings. It was *Amazing!*

(you may want to click on some of these to see/read better)

When Sun Studios was simply Memphis Recording Service

Some of the old gear

The Elvis Case. Guitars played by him and the jacket worn on his first TV appearance (before they x-rated his wild legs).

706 Union Ave is the address of Sun Studios. Presumably Marty Stuart left his guitar at someones house...

I learned a lot about the music of the era and was impressed with the tour. I liked Sun Studios better than Graceland because the history was more encompassing and I felt I learned more about Elvis here than his old home. But I also learned about the making of more than Elvis (as already mentioned). I left Sun Studios with a t-shirt, two CDs and a great satisfaction that I'd come to Memphis after all.

We filled in the rest of our time visiting the blues bars at night and the area by day. The Civil Rights Museum where Martin Luther King Jr was shot was powerful but not quite what I had expected, and the paddle boat ride on the Mississippi was fun as well as informative. I learned there how the first Holiday Inn was started and that FedEx also originated in Memphis (Its headquarters are still there). I learned about the shifting of boundaries and the river as the country grew up as well as a bit here and there about river barges. I was intrigued - but I don't think I'll ever be eating catfish.

We went back to BB Kings on our last night

Some of the group decided to stay - and they did, all night.
But the rest of us took this last chance to explore the annual Folk and Blues Festival which was in full swing (unbeknown to us until we arrived).

I said at the start of this post that I wouldn't spend too much time talking about the music, and I'm glad I haven't because I've already gone on for longer than I thought I would. There are photos and stories I would love to cover but I think this is as long-winded as it should be.

Soon I will post up a couple of videos - a busker group playing on Beale street, and another busker doing some acrobatics. 'till then - adios.

Ju's.

Humour in the Supermarket

2008-09-07T12:52:00.010+12:00

Recently some friends and I spent Labor Weekend in Memphis, which I have to say, was the best experience I've had since I came to America. But more on that later (when I have the time and photos to do it justice).

More recently my friend Heed and I went to Krogers Supermarket and remembered to bring a camera with us. There were one or two items on the shelves we thought were worth a giggle so I thought I might share them with you.

Why bother with plain old 7up lemonade when you can have GinsengUp?

Those darn Gingers, they're just outrageous!

There's something missing from this soft drink.

Darn, if it was actually flat we could have stopped for some beer.
One for the TCA perhaps?

Beam me up Scotty it's Beer O'clock already.

Say no more, say no more.

So you want cola, and I want wine. Lets be efficient about this.

And below might be my personal favourite, but maybe not. I couldn't possibly comment.

(It's even spicy. Yum.)

Home and Living

2008-08-22T02:22:00.005+12:00

Value Place

Room 208

From another angle

View out Window

Cooking Dinner - note that spuds were done first, then corn in same pot.
Actually the handle on the lid is metal, and I have to use a towel to lift it and check on my work.

Ready to eat

Knuckling Down

2008-08-20T12:51:00.004+12:00

Our work has begun! Finally we are not just in Texas, but we are working too. I'm not really allowed to talk much about what we are working on, but I can say we are doing an audit.

With all the new systems I will soon be learning about there come also the manuals to use them properly. This is very important because we are operating and maintaining aircraft and if we don't follow the rules the plane could crash, and we all know crash=death. So we have lots of publications and manuals which we have to use whenever we operate or try to fix the equipment. Because the equipment and the systems are brand new, the publications are still being written.

So... here we are, making sure that what the contractors are writing is not just in line with the way the systems work, but also in line with the way we like our manuals to be written. Because some of the people working on the pubs are not engineers, but technical writers or editors this can be a very frustrating process. Fortunately for me I am coming into the end of it - after about two years the publications are over 70% complete, and all I have to do at this stage is make sure that requested changes have actually been incorporated.
Have I bored you all to death? Well the work I'm doing is even drier!!!

On the upside, they have allocated us two weeks to get the work done. We've been at it for two days and we reckon we'll be done by the end of tomorrow. That's the Maintenance Team anyway (my team). I'm not sure how the Operators are going.

After we finish auditing the publications we are going to audit the training package. This is the funny part, because after we audit the training package we will then go on the courses we have just audited! We will be checking everything about the training except for the tests. It doesn't stop there. Once we are on the course, we will then be doing more than an audit. We'll be doing full-on verification of both the pubs and the training. We'll be looking for mistakes, inconsistencies and discrepancies between the two, and from manual to manual.
Did I mention we have to pass the tests too? By the end of it each one of us will be the authority in our respective area. And that's a scary notion.

It's only been two days at work but I think I'm settling into a routine. There's little to do here and the books I ordered haven't turned up, so I enjoy cooking dinner (for once) because it actually gives me something to do. I have two hotplates, a microwave, one pot and a tiny fry pan. I don't have any microwave bowls but I have crockery. This has made cooking an interesting adventure as I have to think very carefully about what foods are going to go in which pot/pan and when. It's worked out so far, but the first night I cooked the spuds, then needed the same pot for the mince. Lucky you can eat potatoes cold eh?

Okay well I won't bore you anymore, I just wanted to brag about how fast we've been on this audit. No doubt I will have more to add at the end of the week about how wrong I was. Karma might yet be mentioned.

Till We Meet Again,
JLS

Ju's Little Sister Has Been A Bit Naughty

2008-08-17T12:14:00.004+12:00

Hmmm, yes - just a little bit naughty.

You see, in my last post I told you that our units weren't very well stocked when we arrived and so we all went shopping at the supermarket.
Then we went shopping somewhere else. We tried an electronics shop.

Special 'SDHC' card for storing photos from my camera and putting them onto my computer.

Special 'headset' for talking to people over the internet.Cable for connecting to the internet in our rooms.

We next day we went back to the supermarket. We went back to walmart.

Tracfone cellphone and airtime.

And for a long time (three days tops) this was enough to keep me happy.

On Friday we had our induction at the air base. We got to see the plane for the first time since she left New Zealand and all the cool new things on board. We had a look about the facility and located the cafeteria (very important) and our desks (slightly important). We met the other's who have been there for a few years now and we learnt what to expect and what would be expected of us. Suddenly twelve months of waiting for some surreal and unknown goal became quite real. This was the warm-up on the field, and Monday will be Game On, Kick-Off. First play. Just as well we already know where the cafe is.

Though the whole group were all going to go have a few drinks Friday after work I was toast. A week of headcold and no sleep was catching up with me and I went home to hit the sack. I was out for twelve hours, and dozed fairly deeply for another five or so.

Up and about today (Saturday) I realised I wouldn't be able to cope any longer (end of my three days) without music in my room. So I grabbed a couple of friends and we went to the largest electronics place I have ever been to - called Frys. We were in heaven. Really. We were. I wanted to buy the whole shop.

They had so much in the computer speaker range, and I really really really wanted the Bose Companion 5 system.

Bose Companion 5 - $360 (US)

Given this was well out of my price range, and having a perfectly decent and more expensive Hi Fi system at home this was not something I could justify. Boy did they sound Oh So Sweet though. !sigh!

My next choice was always going to be speakers by a brand called Creative. They really are a remarkable producer of impressive sound quality for a reasonable price. In fact their prices for mp3 players and other such equipment is competitive with the likes of such rip-offs as iPod and the 'getting-better' Sony, yet their performance blows both better known brands out of the water. They're nothing like the high-end Hi Fi such as Bose, B&W or the like, but in portable audio I believe they are almost unbeatable. So this was the collection I began to peruse (occasionally returning to Crampy who was standing in front of the Bose demo speakers attempting to temp me!)

The pair I picked were a little more than I intended to spend; they are Creative GigaWorks T20's and they are beautiful.

Creative GigaWorks T20 - $not-telling

While I wasn't drooling over them the way I was over the Bose set, they are a lovely set of speakers - well beyond what is really necessary for a computer - but simply wonderful all the same. Now I am going to finish my dinner then set up my laptop and new speakers in the common room so we can all have Saturday Night Movies.

Bye Then!
JLS

PS - Having run them for a day now there are no regrets, I love them!!!

My 1st Couple of Days

2008-08-14T08:50:00.004+12:00

To be honest folks, I haven't had a very pleasant couple of days. I do want to make it clear that this is not because I have discovered any great dislike for the people or places of Rockwall, TX. It is in fact because I have a horrid headcold. I have no idea how I would have coped with the jet lag, but my body is pretty worn out trying to cope with the loogey as well.

As I said the first night here we went to the next-door burger joint, and I see I got the spelling wrong - it's Whataburger. I ordered a #5 (bacon and cheese) and was served a #4 (chicken). I didn't complain as it seemed a combination of my kiwi accent and the poor guy's lack of understanding of the system. I guess he was new.

The next day we met at 11am to go to Walmart. There seems to have been a big deal made about this store in the past but I can't say I was particularly impressed. Perhaps our local Walmart is relatively small, but it just seemed like a large-scale 'The Warehouse.' Other Kiwis will understand what I mean I guess. We quickly scurried about buying fruit and veg, meat and salt, laundry powder and whatever else we could think of without first making a list. We gave ourselves half an hour before we had to meet up again, but (cats again) we left about 45-50 minutes later.

Our next stop was "Best Buys" and again for the Kiwi's this is like a Noel Leeming or Bond & Bond. And here might be a good place for a diverting little story.

Greg is one of our group who was actually born an Australian. We like to tease Greg and say he comes from Tasmania. It's kind of like teasing a South Islander that they come from Gore. No offence Gore ;-)
Greg's main priority as soon as he knew we were going shopping was to buy an electric jug for his instant coffee. In the appliance section of Walmart he was unable to find an electric jug. He found a perculator, but this wasn't good enough - he wanted boiling water for his instant coffee!!

After much discussion across accents and lingo, it was established by the lovely people at Walmart that what Greg wanted was a kettle! But alas, such a contraption as an electric kettle has never been heard of! He was to buy one which would go on the hot-plate of his stove, that was all he needed. Not good enough for our loveable Tasmanian, electric it must be!

Now we arrive at Best Buys and guess what? You know it! He went through the entire rigamarole again with the staff there. Again it was established that Greg must be out of his mind to want something which doesn't exist. Finally by the end of the day he caved in to the pressure and bought a stove-top kettle from Walmart when we went back for some cheap cell phones.

Right, now I've gone on about this in quite a drawn out fashion so I won't sport with you for much longer because the long and the short of it is - we went to another store today, and.... there were electric kettles for sale. But Greg's already made his purchase. Ha ha ha ha ah ha ha ha oh oh oh oh ho hoho. Bloody Tasmanians!

Right, sorry about that. I just wanted to share. Poor ol' Greg. He's a harmless soul and he just wanted his coffee.

Back to the post though. There's no point going over all our actions step by step because I imagine that's just boring so here are some impressions from my point of view.

I found I was intimidated by the idea of talking to Texans. We've been told so often that we speak too fast for them. I almost don't want to open my mouth and give it a go! I think I've done pretty well so far as I'm concious of speed and the fact that Kiwi's are very lazy speakers. (We tend to slur our words to get them out faster.)
For the most part the people here have been really friendly. I'm still undecided as to whether this is a superficial thing or genuine across the board.

We concentrate so hard when driving to keep right, and for the most part it works. I only drifted to the left after a 3-point turn on a deserted street and got distracted by conversation. However there are so many little things right/left that we don't think about.
In the supermarket car park we automatically walk down the left thinking it's out of the way but forcing oncoming traffic to drive around us. *IN* the supermarket we push our trolleys to the left to pass others instinctively - just as they go to their right which really doesn't work as we end up on the same side!!

We expect tax to be included in the price.

I might not lose my Kiwi accent as fast as I thought I would, as we are very much a group of Kiwis. I'll keep you posted on that one.

Okay I can't think of much more to tell you for the moment. I passed the theory for my drivers licence but I'm not ready to sit the practical, a few of us are doing that tomorrow. Please feel free to ask me lots of questions - I'm not too sure what to write about just now. I have some photos of the little unit I'm living in - perhaps I'll post them up next.

Love, JLS.

JLS lands in Texas

2008-08-13T09:27:00.004+12:00

It took us a little over 24 hours of flying and waiting in airports, but finally I am in another country!

There were about ten of us checking in at the QANTAS terminal at Auckland International Airport. We were too independent to bother with a group booking (honestly it was like trying to organise cats) and by the time we looked at our seats three of us decided to go back and have our seats changed so we were sitting next to each other. This proved to be a fatal mistake, as I was in the middle and I kept needing to get my bag down for my passport, or my books; or I needed to use the toilet or just go for a walk. Tools (who was in the isle) was not impressed.
Though I had blocked ears and a headache my sore throat had gone and I had some good books to read courtesy of my friend Blair. When my eyes were too sore to take any more in they turned out the lights and I managed to slip into a fitful doze.

Waiting at Auckland International for flight QF25 to Los Angeles

Disembarking at LAX was quicker than I thought - we were off the plane rather promptly and because we were there through work our visa's had a (low) diplomatic level. This meant we popped through border control without too much hassle. Luggage went through customs without our presence and were transferred onto our next flight for us. We'd been told there is only a 50-50 chance your bags will turn up with you so everyone was talking about what 'line' they dropped their luggage off at and wondered which group would receive their bags at the other end and which group would be without. Thinking about it now we should have laid bets on the outcome. If my friend Kolky had been there he would have organised a "two bucks in."

After a fascinating security screening experience (my attention was captured by the colour x-ray of my bag) we made through to the domestic terminals at LAX. Here we had four hours to learn that tax isn't included in the sticker price on goods, a dime is 10c, a nickel is 5c and burger king tastes the same in LA as Auckland. We also learned that Americans can be amusing if you're a foreigner but foreigners aren't so amusing if you're American.

The passengers to DFW were called to board in the groups indicated on their boarding passes. But our passes were issued in Auckland and didn't have a group on them! OH NO!! We decided we were all going to board anyway (cats again) until the man announced passes issued elsewhere were going to be in group 5. So 'till group five we waited.
Finally after an hours delay we were on the plane. And after THAT my little group of independents looked like well behaved robots in formation compared to the pear-shaped cluster that made up the other passengers on board our 737.

People decided to swap sweats left right and, well everywhere. The air hostess just called out orders from the back of the plane. There was an extra passenger who had to leave. Then the weight and balance had to be recalculated, but instead of the pilot reading it off a graph (X-many passengers = W&B of Y) the maintainers on the ground had to work it out and run it out to the plane.
So another hour after boarding we were in position to take off.

It was a pretty boring flight. About 3 hours long, but with my ears it wasn't very pleasant. After landing I was in a bit of pain and being tired and grumpy I wasn't the best of company - just ask Kiwi Mother what I'm like to deal with when I'm like that!
Fortunately we all picked up our luggage, every article came through so congratulations American Airlines!

We were met by personnel who are already in the states on this project. They took us the 40 or so minutes to our accommodation and helped us check in. Then we went for food at the nearby 'Wattaburger' which is open 24 hours. Yay.

I've got to go out for dinner with the team now - so more on my initial experiences next blog.

Love JLS.

JLS says 'Bon Voyage'

2008-08-09T13:25:00.003+12:00

Monday 11 August I'll be on a plane to LAX, then changing planes to arrive in Fort Worth Airport, Dallas, Texas.
I'll be in Dallas for about three months and am posted there to take some courses on Communications and Radio-Navigation Systems. These systems (and many more) are being upgraded on many of our aircraft and the courses I am on are specific to the upgrade of our Maritime Surveillance planes.

I'll try to make regular posts as to what I've been up to in our spare time - my first long weekend in the states may well be spent in New Orleans and any suggestions of what to get up to while over there are encouraged!

My weeks will be long and dry as far as the workload is concerned, so I'm not sure what I'll have the energy to get up to on the weekends, but when I have something interesting I'll be sure to share it with you all.

Once my training is over my friend Geoff and I are planning to take three weeks to travel round the 'states, San Diego, San Fran, Seattle, Penn/Niagra Falls, Washington DC, NY, and back to Dallas for our flight home. Again - if anyone has any suggestions, or Must Sees, please let me know!

In the meantime, stay cool!

JLS

Waitomo Caves

2008-07-23T18:30:00.009+12:00

Of the small group of us travelling from New Zealand to Texas mid-August (tickets now booked) an even smaller section decided to travel half way down the North Island for a bit of an adventure jaunt. We were to stop partway down on Monday to go "Blackwater Rafting" through some caves then stay in Taupo and go skiing on Tuesday. Three of us would travel back to Auckland on the Wednesday and the rest took annual leave and remained for the week.

I clambered out of my bed around 0515 Monday morning and stumbled out of my room towards the bathroom. Plumpy was already waiting outside my bedroom door as he always does (evidently he does this for at least an hour as I don't usually get up until 0610) so I gave him his measure of diet food for breakfast and proceeded to cleanse myself of a less-than-decent night's sleep. Plumpy is wonderfully obedient. His biscuits live in an open bag on top of the dryer which he could jump onto very easily but he prefers to wait for me. I can leave meat on the bench and go to work and he won't eat it either (our love is built on trust).

Showered, dressed and packed I headed out the door with my cup of tea in a thermal mug and drove on to the Air Force base where I work. I left the car in a park and jumped in a worn-out Nissan Nivara (ute) with the others to head off south. Fortunately the motorways weren't too jammed. With a hiss and a roar we were off to Waitomo!

Waitomo is an area in the North Island which is filled (or emptied...) with a vast system of caves. Many of these beautiful caves are the home of glow worms and there are many different types of tours exploring them. We had booked ourselves in for "Haggis Honking Holes." Although I discovered I would not be rafting as I had thought I was assured we would still be getting wet - this was a proper Caving trip! Our guides introduced themselves at the headquarters as Luke - a tall skinny Australian - and Paerau, a charming Maori fella who was all charm and grins. For some reason Paerau also answered to "Eddy." At the end of the trip I had a group photo taken with Luke and Eddy, but it was on someone elses camera, someone who is still in Taupo 'till the end of the week so I will not be able to insert the picture until next week sometime.

Luke drove us all in a van onto a farm owned by a woman by the name of Haggis, hence the first part of the tour's name. Eddy explained 'Honking Holes' comes from a Dr Seuss poem. We were squeezed into wetsuits, gumboots and helmets and shown how to use our harness attachments to abseil down a little slope before we entered the caves. Luke was impressed with our amazing ability to follow instructions, do as we were told, and understand his explanations. No confused foreigners were we!

Finally after an equipment safety check by our guides we descended into the darkness. The water flowing through the cave was just above our ankles and rushing quite ferociously. As there were eight of us there was a bit of waiting in the cavern for each person to make the first 23 metre abseil one by one. I was third-to-last.
I locked off the rope as instructed, turned around, sat in my harness and pushed off the edge. I was swinging in the dark, only able to see my hands on the rope in front of me and the light from Luke's helmet.
"Take off the lock now Sarah, and away you go."
I carefully placed my hands on the rope as instructed and pulled it away from the 'rack' which locked it in place. I knew as soon as I unwound it from the top of the rack it would be imperative I kept the rope tight. If not - I might drop. I had little faith in my own ability to hold my weight. I eased the rope around. I didn't drop. Waves of relief swept through me as I placed my hands and let the rope start to feed through the rack. I was abseiling!!! I bounced down the side of the cave go - stop - go - go - go - stop! go.... hee hee, this is fun!
Argh!
The water and I crossed paths! Here I was looking about me (and my light not really reaching anything much) and the bloody waterfall decides to spray me with freezing cold winter water! There was nothing I could do but continue down. A the bottom Eddy had been my safety man and he turned on his much more powerful helmet-lamp
to help me unclip from the rope and back out of the way. I bumped into the others and was ordered to turn my light off. aha! This was to stop the next person from guessing how far they had to go! I looked up to see where I had come from and could not spot the top of the decent. We really were in the caves. Once everyone was down we squeezed between the walls to the next abseil. It wasn't as far down as the first (no others were) but it was a bit of a tighter chimney and we were told to stop partway down to smile for the camera.

Luke made me do a thumbs-up which is not my usual style so I felt a bit cheesy. And yup - I descended straight into the roaring rage of a waterfall. Not only was it cold, but it was pretty powerful too! We continued in a similar vein (pun intended ho ho ho) round corners and down waterfalls till we came to a longish sort of cavern and stopped to turn off our lights. There were the glow worms! Little green lights dotted about the ceiling of the cave. While Luke went ahead to see how close we were getting to the group in front (apparently we were catching up) Eddy taught us somethings about glow worms.

Glow worms do not have the usual method of excretement as the rest of us. Instead the mix their waste product with an enzyme and burn it off as light. This light in turn attracts the moths and mosquitoes which are found around water. The glow worms drop lots of little silk threads - up to a dozen or more each and these capture the insects.

When they change into their winged form there is no more eating - they live purely to mate. Then they are captured in the silk threads of other worms and eaten.

Their Latin name is Arachnocampa luminosa - arachno because of the silk threads used to capture prey, (campa is possibly to do with the caves? I can't remember) and luminosa because they're scared of the sun. There's a good site which tells you plenty about them here.

After the interesting intro to the 'worms we followed the water along the cave until it opened out. Luke was sitting at the other end with camera in hand and told us all we had to come through a tiny little space on our stomachs. The water was pretty high and not warm at all, but I enjoyed the sensation of seeing if I could squeeze through. Because I'm only little it really wasn't an issue - I wonder how I would have coped if I'd had to breath out and wiggle? I was more worried about getting water up my nose!!

The rest of the caving experience was more waterfalls and caverns, not really worth typing about and I can't remember them all in order anyway - but it was all definitely worth experiencing! I frequently wandered along behind the rest, searching the formations and shapes on the walls or turning my light off and looking at the green glow of the worms. I liked to imagine I was an explorer trying to make my way under the mountain. It was fun!
I wish my Dad had been there with me. He's the one who really got me interested in geology, who taught me about how limestone caves are formed and how water can shape the world around us. I wanted to experience with him they way the stalagmites and stalactites were growing, to share with him the fact it can take 800 years for them to grow a centimetre (and some of them were metres and metres long). Some of the formations were tiny little cylindrical 'straws' and they were hollow too. Some of them were coated on the outside and looked like coral growing down from the ceiling. Other's even looked like pristine curtains of white crystal shimmering out from the walls. It was just so amazing. And the other's weren't so interested in that side of it - not the way I was. I needed my geeks with me, my Ju's Little Sister's Best Friend, or my Ju, or Ju's Dad.

We finished going down waterfalls and started climbing up walls. Even though we were in gumboots (and if it wasn't for them, where would we be?) it was easier than it looked. The walls were easy to grip on and not slippery at all, and there were lots of little footholds. The hardest part was bending my knee with a rubbery wetsuit on! Halfway up we stopped for a cuppa and some biccies (cordial and chocolate fish) and there Luke took a group photo at my request.

He told us all to turn our lamps off. It was very dark. There were no glow worms. Just darkness. We all waved our hands in front of our faces and couldn't see them. I was disappointed when I caught sight of JC's watch glowing. Eddy told us to wait for our eyes to adjust, then admitted they already were - it would get no easier to see. We were told it was about 95-99% dark.
Eddy then went on the describe a group he'd taken through a year before. Upon hearing the percentage darkness a Texan proudly boasted "the caves at home are twice as dark as this!" Ha! Well I guess I'll find out how likely the story is while I'm living in Texas for three months starting this August.

Here's the real group photo by the way:

From this cave we were told to find our own way out (I was the only one who seemed interested in wandering off, so I'm the one who found the passage he he) and along the next tunnel we came across some lovely fossilised seashells. Then we clambered up a long and powerful but stepped waterfall to the last cavern in which there was a ladder to the surface. I waited till last and as the second-to-last guy climbed the ladder I turned my lamp off one last time and stood in the beautiful darkness with Eddy. He suggested I come back one day and go on the Ultimate Lost World Tour which takes seven hours and they feed you lunch and dinner. I will definitely be keen!

After all that excitement we trundled off to Taupo and drank the night away, then didn't go skiing at all because the weather closed in. But the caving was worth it.

Beautification

2008-06-08T17:02:00.008+12:00

What medium do you think the image below has been painted on? Canvas? Card?

I think you'll be surprised:

Guessed yet?

!!!

I am not joking! The distribution boxes around my area are being painted, and now there are a few that really look quite lovely. Here's the one which is just at the end of my street:

This one is painted with native birds of New Zealand. I hope Maalie will enjoy naming them all for you as a reminder of what he's missing out on by insisting on living in a lesser country. ;-)

This next box is down near the local shopping park.

And the third box I visited is not yet finished, and I'm not sure when it will be as it has been in this state for quite some time!

And just to satisfy your curiosity, here's a zoom-out of the original image:

Auckland Youth Orchestra (Updated)

2008-04-15T19:02:00.003+12:00

Now, I don't have any photos unfortunately but this Saturday just gone I went to the Auckland Youth Orchestra who were playing at the Town Hall for free.

The AYO have just this year begun a mentor program in conjunction with the Auckland Philharmonic Orchestra where some members of the APO agree to practice with and mentor the members of the AYO. My friend works behind the scenes as a liaison between the two - she organises the meetings, the practices and notices between the two to ensure they function well together without getting in the way of each other and without her message to me on Facebook I wouldn't have even known the event was on. Apparently this is the first year they have combined like this and it is all proving to be beneficial for the young guns and the seniors as well who claim to feel new life and excitement being surrounded by all this young blood!!

The evening was split into two parts and in the first half there was the Roman Carnival Overture by Hector Berloiz followed by "Trumpet Concerto in A Flat Major." It contained an amazing trumpet solo by a young man originally from England - he was quite talented but I found his mannerisms a little distracting to the music for me. I was in the stalls - fairly close - and a little to the left. I had a great view of the violins and past the conductor to the violas. There was an energetic fella on the cello and the percussion were up high and easy to see. Unfortunately I couldn't see any of the brass or woodwind, this was disappointing but then I did chose my own seat!

After the interval was Beethoven's Symphony No7 in A Major Op.92 and I was taken away. I don't go to the opera at all, and rarely have I been to an orchestral evening but there was no way I could tell this was not a professional team - they really were amazing.

According to the little programme the orchestra had plenty of violins 1 & 2, Viola, Cellos and Double Basses (4 of them!). Flute, Oboe, Clarinet, Bassoon, French Horns, Trumpet, Trombone, Tuba, one Timpani and the perscussion. Was anything missed out?

Jet Pilot Music Video

2008-04-07T12:45:00.001+12:00

Here's a little taste of what it might be like to be deployed with the RNZAF...

Wedding photos

2008-03-31T19:53:00.004+13:00

Sorry for my recent silence. I offer no excuse except lack of inspiration.
And comics.

Anyway, here are a few photos of Ju's wedding. I'm not sure if I'm really allowed to share them with the world, or if you'll get bored of them so I just chose a few good ones and we'll leave it at that.

Wedding Cars
A "Bold-as-Brass" Leyland p76, and behind it the same in "Country Cream."

Ju and Ju's Dad
Shortly before entering the Chapel

Ju's husband
As Ju enters the chapel

Ju and Ju's twin
At the reception

Ju's Twin, Ju's Little Brother, Ju's Husband, Ju and Ju's Little Sister
Outside the Chapel after the ceremony

Ju and Ju's husband about to drive off into the sunset.
Actually, just to the photo shoot, then on to the reception (but don't tell anyone I told you).

Ju's Hen's Night

2008-03-10T22:27:00.003+13:00

Ju's Twin, Ju's Cousin, Ju and Ju's Little Sister

Ju ditches AD, and agrees to marry a young man who promises to build her a bouncy castle

There's plenty of dancing

No one is left out of the party

Just Popped Out

2008-03-06T17:31:00.002+13:00

Hi all,

I am currently back home for Ju's Wedding, and while internet is occasionally available I don't really have the time for blogging. I am loooking forward to catching up again in a couple of weeks. Lorenzo please keep Martin on his toes.

Plumpy is without his Mum and her computer, so he won't be able to blog either.

All the best and I'll try to get a good post up about it. It may even be published this year. ;-)

Regards,
Ju's Little Sister.

Tales from the Pacific Part I

2008-02-19T18:27:00.008+13:00

The boat was sleek and still very shiny, straight out of the boatmakers, she was on her delivery voyage – her maiden voyage. The crew was scarce – just enough to navigate the majesty that was the South Pacific.

Yet like all medieval monarchs, the ocean is fickle in her gifts. What had seemed a good outlay for the voyage soon changed to the rumblings of a jealous woman. Not just any woman, but an empress who was used to having her desires fulfilled. This empress desired the smooth white craft slipping playfully through her waters as though it were a dolphin. The empress crouched and gathered her energies ready to pounce.

ooo OOO ooo

Monsreal watched the distant storm with a weather-worn squint. He'd heard there was a brand new little schooner out there, ripe for the taking. He lowered his left hand from his scarred brow and gripped the rail in anticipation, the boat wasn't all he'd be having by the time this storm was over.
Captain Rudolph Marcus Monsreal was not a man who raised his voice unless absolutely necessary. He didn't bother turning to face the bosun standing next to him. Brugs was watching the same storm through his spyglass.
"Have the men prepare. We're courting Lady Storm this day." He instructed in a gruff but quiet voice - let his right-hand man do all the shouting. Brugs continued his inspection for a moment then lowered the glass and contracted it with a dramatic snap. He turned to his captain.
"Arr! Do yar really think we gonnarr find the wee craft an the salty sea dogs who sail her, Cap'n?" He asked doubtfully. Monsreal remained staring out at the wall of dark cloud in front of them and curled his upper lip as he sucked a piece of meat from between his teeth. Then he did turn to his bosun and Brugs tried not to meet the impenitratable gaze of his captain.
"We'll find her Brugs, and we'll take her."

ooo OOO ooo

The graceful schooner continued to glide through the waves which were beginning to build. The storm had grown up all around them. The wind picked up and whipped the crew with its cruel blows, using water to scratch at their eyes, cheeks and fingers. The crew were no amateurs however, and though they were wary of the weather, they had no need yet to be afraid. They drove the vessel hard, using the storm to her best advantage, letting the craft show them what she was made of.
Greta loved taking the tiller, it was by far the most delightful job to have on the craft. She watched the gauge to measure her angle in the water and loved to feel the pull of the craft as she strained under her. She delighted in riding the vessel to its limits.
"You'll take her too far off course, listing like that." Dan complained. Greta rolled her eyes at him. It was HER turn at the tiller, she could sail how she liked. And she liked to see the speed indicator running higher than the other crew members would sail her. More than the chronic joy of controlling the craft, Greta loved the extreme (though brief) control of the crew themselves when she chose to tack. One day Greta was going to leave this crew and apply for a new job. A job as a skipper, and then she wouldn't have to share the tiller with anyone.
Unfortunately her two hours in control were over soon, and Roger took over. Roger wasn't as bad as Dan for being lame, she thought, but he still could do a lot more with the craft than he bothered to. She sat near him and they chatted for a while, Greta giving steering suggestions every now and then. Roger took them in good humour but didn't change his style.
"The storm's only getting worse, Greta, it's best to err on the side of caution."
This time Greta didn't actually roll her eyes - though she did mentally. She and Dan had been married three years now, and she could treat him with loving contempt without causing too much friction or unease. Good natured as Roger was, he would probably be insulted if a woman who'd only been sailing six years to his thirty did the same at him. She rubbed rain and saltwater off her face and swept back her saturated hair, trying to plaster it back on her scalp.

A few hours later and even Greta wasn't trying for speed. It was all she could do to hold the vessel onto ANY course as the waves rolled under and over the craft. Twice in the rain she lost grip of the wheel and when Dan staggered over to her and asked if she wanted him to take over, she gladly stepped down. She would have stayed out here with him, but the weather was getting far too wild. She would be better below, where she could look up the weather report, and observe how Roger dealt with the situation.
Sandra, Cooper, and Fred were sitting on the portside beds, quiet and drawn. Both Bill and Marie looked as though they were about to be sick. Everyone had put their life jackets on long ago. Greta was about to ask Roger if she could do anything to help him when there was an almighty crack and the vessel begin to right herself.
What the...? Roger and Greta both ran for the stairs, Dan would neither tack nor gybe on his own - he couldn't - so what was going on? When she came up top it looked to Greta as though Dan had just stood back up from a fall. Roger had already asked what was going on. Greta noticed Dan was only holding the wheel with one loose hand. Why?
Dan looked disturbed.
"Something snapped, and the tiller went slack. The boat came up on her own."
He looked briefly at Greta, then back at Roger.
"We've lost steering."

A Bargain

2008-02-14T09:51:00.005+13:00

I haven't been on the internet in a long time - as you are probably aware. Work's been a bit hectic and if I haven't been AT work, I've been sleeping. Or to be honest, reading books, which I have always enjoyed more than the internet so I apologise for abandoning you all. I have no idea how you've managed without Plumpy and myself - in all honesty I was surprised to discover the place is still in tact without us. (wink wink)

Anyway, for lack of anything else to share, here's the latest bargain I have found;

Four tool boxes full of old but properly made tools, which are sturdy and reliable.

I like the wee baby tool box the best, and I have always wanted an oil can just like Dad's. Except his is a red one, so I suppose it goes a but faster than mine. Never mind - you can't win them all.

93 Spanners! (Imperial)

44 Screwdrivers

26 Files (+5 spare handles)

Some other things like Pincers and Seceteurs, Pliers and Vicegrips. A Ballpien Hammer, spare head and 8 Metric Spanners.

The other three toolboxes, ratchet drives, sockets, baby stilsons, adjustable spanners and about 5 sets of feeler guages.

I haven't even included the 'misc' section, which had all sorts of crazy things! Even a compression guage, though why I want to test the compression of the cylinders in my car remains a mystery! Why would I want all these tools you might ask. Well it is true that I am by trade more intersted in electrical and electronic tools, which tend to be smaller and a little more delicate - jeweller's screwdrivers, soldering irons and tweezers mostly. But one day I hope to be allowed to restore my father's Morris Freeway back to a roadworthy condition. And since it's made by BMC Australia, I will need reliable imperial tools. Probably whitworth, knowing my luck (not many of those spanners in the mix).

Anyway, the most exciting thing about the whole thing is the cost - $50 New Zealand. This is NOTHING. I would not be able to buy 50 spanners new, for that price, not even ONE of the toolboxes for less than $40. And these are a much better quality than you can find in the stores these days. Simply Brilliant.

New Years

2008-01-22T22:05:00.000+13:00

There was a bit of an issue over the New Years break. My older sister Mel is running a high country station almost on her own and it is so intensive that she rarely even gets to leave in the weekend - let alone have a decent catch up with her friends.

This year she was determined to spend a bit of time with her man, then visit a lot of friends in the lower part of the South Island. The issue is that she has a friend from the US staying. He has no car, no phone, and didn't know the phone numbers of his only other NZ contacts (of which there were two).

So I agreed to leave the compost and the birds at Strowan and make my way to a meeting point about 40mins south of Ashburton at a place called Arundel. There I collected Josh and brought him back while Mel + man travelled to the lakes district. Actually I think they only made it as far as Twizel at the time.

Josh and I industriously deadheaded some of the roses in the gardens at Strowan. (There are over 200 of the buggers). Then as New Years approached we clambered into my brother's diesel Toyota Starlet and started to make our way down to Wanaka.
The day was hot and dry and I really developed some serious driver's arm. We didn't really stop on the way down - except for fuel, lunch and a couple of snapshots here and there. I thought Josh would have been interested in some of the sights as we travelled but I suppose it was all the same to him.

As we arrived in Wanaaka we made contact with the sister, and ended up pitching my most fantastic tent on the back lawn of her friend's house. Donna's husband works on the farm which is owned by Shania Twain (and husband) and that family pay the rent on the house so it sounds to me like the perfect setup!

New Years Eve however was a bit of the let-down. Wanaka is one of the most popular venues in New Zealand for the event so it was very crowded. I did meet up with some old classmates from high school though which was great.

In the end I walked up the hill to go to bed almost immediately after the new year came in, as I wasn't feeling very well. Please don't assume I was off my trolly! Not true.

Anyway, the point of this most wasn't to tell you all about my pear-shaped New Years, that's all just setting the scene. Because on the way back home Josh and I stopped at Lake Pukaki which is between the road and New Zealand's highest Mountain - Mt Cook.
Mt Cook is also known by the local Maori as Aoraki. (Standardisation of the Maori language has brought in the North Island dialects, and officially the Maori name for Mt Cook is actually Aorangi).

So below are some photos I took of Lake Pukaki, Josh, and in the distance - over the lake, the beautiful Aoraki.

Sir Edmund Hillary

2008-01-19T16:00:00.000+13:00

I am standing Vigil for Sir Edmund Hillary as he lies in state as part of the RNZAF Catafalque Guard.

Therefore I will be practicing all weekend and unable to stay tuned to the blogging arena. Just in case you are looking out for me - my stints will be somewhere between 1600 and 2000 NZT on Monday and 0400 - 0800 NZT Tuesday.

And now I should like to propose a toast to that most amazing yet modest man, Sir Ed!

The Compost and the Birds at Strowan

2008-01-18T14:34:00.000+13:00

"Strowan" is the house and grounds (oooooh!) my parents have bought for their retirement. Problem is, they're not very good at retiring.
Mum now has two houses and two gardens to look after (they haven't moved out of the homestead yet) and Dad is busy turning the old sheds into...well, sheds! And along with my brother Jim, he has been turning the paddocks into bales of hay.

Anyway, I thought the Llama might be interested in Dad's compost heap. I'm not sure how much Dad knows about composting, but I'm sure in this instance he's decided, 'The bigger, the better!'

Yes, the planks are so that he can back the mower up and dump the clippings directly onto the heap.

On another note - it was so hot and dry at Strowan, the sparrows were desperate for a bath. They had to be satisfied with a shower.

Note: This might look better if you click on the picture for the larger image!

More soon!

Filler

2007-12-29T11:51:00.000+13:00

Hi all,

I am sorry for my recent silence;

I have been at my parents house for the Christmas holidays. There is no cell phone range and practically no internet - certainly not enough to view pictures. It took mum 30minutes to download seven emails which were purely text - no attachments or pictures at all.

I am at our 'other house' at the moment, relaxing after an amazing Christmas day and preparing for a busy New Years!

I hope you all have had a wonderful time with friends and family, and I look forward to reading your blogs when I have the time and the internet in the new year. Thank you all for your holiday wishes - it was almost as cool as receiving a card in the mail (wink).

Much love and best wishes,
Ju's Little Sister.

PS - I see Plumps has put a picture up.

Strange...

2007-12-20T19:14:00.000+13:00

My latest post has published itself below "something girlie," scroll down please...

:-)

Something Girlie

2007-12-18T18:41:00.000+13:00

Martin told me to do 'something girlie' like knitting, instead of taking electrikery to pieces. I have decided not to be insulted, and instead to post one of my hobbies which is actually 'girlie.' I use inverted comma's because I think it is mean of society to stereotype so cruelly.

Anyway - here's what's in my little orange bag off crafts. Well... one craft. ;-)

Yup, you guessed it - I like to do a little cross-stitch. This current project is the most ambitious I have tried, and I don't find a lot of time for it (because once I'm set up I don't like to move for a couple of hours or more, which can be tricky these days.) I don't find the hobby very relaxing, but I do find it very satisfying. With cross-stitch there is very strong evidence of one's progress, which I like. The poem in the top photo is me just mucking about with the alphabet. I may try to design my own images around the poem one day - I have a CD that goes into the computer and will convert pictures into cross-stitch designs, but I haven't tried it yet. I'll finish this first.

See how the picture is built up using lots and lots of tiny little crosses? (and half crosses). It is quite laborious, and the big rule is: don't use knots!!! You are not allowed to tie any knots in your cross stitch as it warps the cloth so that it won't sit flat. I still have lots of colours to put into the little section just above, and that is only part of the lower right quarter of the design.

Plumpy wanted to be included in the photo shoot, to show Elbi and Scaredy &co. that he has a sensitive side. ;-)

A Salute to my Ancestors...sort of

2007-12-15T10:11:00.000+13:00

Stace and Dean swapped rooms last week. This means Stace gets the master bedroom upstairs with onsuite and more space than she is going to know what to do with. Dean has moved downstairs in the room next to mine, and now I have to share my bathroom with a boy - eeeeeew!

I'm a lazy person most of the time and often I can't be bothered wandering over to my bedroom door and closing it before I change from day-time clothes to uniform (if I'm on night shift) or out of my uniform on days. It's just a quick change of clothes right? I lived in a hostel for the five years of my secondary schooling and am quite in the habit of not caring if a girl happens to walk by when I'm half-dressed. On the other hand - this is Dean. What to do? Should I change my habits and actually make the effort to walk three steps and close the door?

NO!

Another solution is required. And this is what I came up with:

Sorry to my friends from Wales - I don't have your national flag.

I have taken quite a leap of faith with this post, and there is a lot of room for comments to be made about hostel girls, about bathrooms shared with boys and about nudity. I would appreciate it if you refrained please. This post is about my new doorway and the lovely flag I have raised there. Runcibility will not be accepted as an excuse. Comments which will offend me will be delected. Comments about what a clever idea I have had are MORE than welcome ;-)

WHERE DOES A GEEK LIVE?

2007-12-13T21:31:00.001+13:00

In a Geekery!

My desk at the moment, all that junk is my Xbox 360 which I have had to pull apart again - this time to see if I can work out what's wrong with it. It is broken :-( But I think it won't be impossible for me to fix myself. We'll see.

A close up. Is is Geeky of me to say I love my mouse? It's the best. It is wireless, AND lives in a little docking cradle thing which recharges it when I'm not using it. Genius.

Ages ago I posted the picture on the left - the Xbox I changed from white with green lights to black with blue lights. Now it is no colour and no lights. But one day....!

Bets are on,
3:1 against that I'll get it going again...

Early Morning Visitor

2007-12-11T14:55:00.000+13:00

Okay, okay - I'm sorry.
Thank you for being so patient and for making it so clear you really like my blog. I really think you are just missing my comments on your blogs!

Last week I was on the early shift and that left me very tired and drained, and since then I have been struggling with Christmas Shopping! Woe is Me!!!

I don't have a lot to say today, or very much time to say it so I shall just share with you some pictures of a handsome creature who snuck into my bed this morning. I had opened the window to listen to the native birds living in the back yard give their dawn chorus and forgot to shut it again before I fell back into an early morning doze.
Shortly after I had arisen from bed I had cause to lift my sheets in search of my cell phone which I had been texting Ju on, and had discarded under a pillow or just out of reach in favour of snuggling down for some decent sleeping-in.

Instead of the phone, I found this little friend - who at first didn't want to be disturbed and scuttled under the sheets again...

YIKES!!

Now I'm sure Simon would scoff, but he's an Aussie and perfectly within his rights to do so. I am no fan of spiders, and to think I'd been rolling round in bed with this one was enough to give me the creepy-crawlie-heebie-jeebies. In fact it was rather like being attacked with a good dose of non-existant flustra eeeeerrrrrk!

I have been brushing at invisible insects for the rest of the day! And now, I must go to work. Kisses and MERRY CHRISTMAS! xxJLSxx

The Gardener

2007-11-26T14:06:00.000+13:00

BEFORE

AFTER

WHAT DO YOU MEAN I WAS SUPPOSED TO LEAVE SOME BEHIND?

OH WELL, I'LL PUT NEW ONES IN THEN!

Favourite Poem

2007-11-21T22:22:00.000+13:00

This is one of my Dad's favourite poems, and also one of mine. I have known the first two verses by heart for many years now, and have made a resolution to learn the rest, two-by-two (because it's much friendlier with two...)

I have learned R. Kipling's 'IF' by heart and recite it to myself now and again - to keep in practice, and to remind myself of that which I most wish to achieve in life.

There is a lesson in this poem too, which is called "The Old Sailor" and is one of Alan Alexander Milne's:

The Old Sailor
by A.A. Milne

There was once an old sailor my grandfather knew
Who had so many things which he wanted to do
That, whenever he thought it was time to begin,
He couldn't because of the state he was in.

He was shipwrecked, and lived on a island for weeks,
And he wanted a hat, and he wanted some breeks;
And he wanted some nets, or a line and some hooks
For the turtles and things which you read of in books.

And, thinking of this, he remembered a thing
Which he wanted (for water) and that was a spring;
And he thought that to talk to he'd look for, and keep
(If he found it) a goat, or some chickens and sheep.

Then, because of the weather, he wanted a hut
With a door (to come in by) which opened and shut
(With a jerk, which was useful if snakes were about),
And a very strong lock to keep savages out.

He began on the fish-hooks, and when he'd begun
He decided he couldn't because of the sun.
So he knew what he ought to begin with, and that
Was to find, or to make, a large sun-stopping hat.

He was making the hat with some leaves from a tree,
When he thought, "I'm as hot as a body can be,
And I've nothing to take for my terrible thirst;
So I'll look for a spring, and I'll look for it first."

Then he thought as he started, "Oh, dear and oh, dear!
I'll be lonely tomorrow with nobody here!"
So he made in his note-book a couple of notes:
"I must first find some chickens" and "No, I mean goats."

He had just seen a goat (which he knew by the shape)
When he thought, "But I must have boat for escape.
But a boat means a sail, which means needles and thread;
So I'd better sit down and make needles instead."

He began on a needle, but thought as he worked,
That, if this was an island where savages lurked,
Sitting safe in his hut he'd have nothing to fear,
Whereas now they might suddenly breathe in his ear!

So he thought of his hut ... and he thought of his boat,
And his hat and his breeks, and his chickens and goat,
And the hooks (for his food) and the spring (for his thirst) ...
But he never could think which he ought to do first.

And so in the end he did nothing at all,
But basked on the shingle wrapped up in a shawl.
And I think it was dreadful the way he behaved -
He did nothing but bask until he was saved!

Armistice Memorial

2007-11-15T11:48:00.000+13:00

You may remember from my Easter post about a high country station known as Mesopotamia. This is the land I grew up on, and where I took my friend Megs for a holiday. This November I returned again to my roots, but this time I was on duty.

I had been invited by the secretary of the Geraldine Returned Services Association to attend the Remembrance Service they were holding at the memorial outside my old primary school.

Mesopotamia Primary School.
10 pupils at max
1x Classroom
1x Kitchen
Boys loo, Girls loo
Shed
Playground of about 18,000 acres

I had been invited because I would be able to represent both the services (as I am in the Air Force) and the most prominent family in the area (Prouting). The Prouting's are in the third generation of running Mesopotamia. This may not seem like a lot to Ye Olde Brits over there on the top of the world, but it is pretty significant for bright and shiny new little New Zealand. My father was on the committee which was formed to research the names to be put on the commemoration stone. Though there are plenty of men who had worked on the station at some point in their lives who fell in the Great War, the committee decided it would be a never-ending task to find them all, and some would always be missed. So they opted to place the names of the men who left the station directly to join up.

Commemoration Stone
Remains of Samuel Butler's Dairy

Frank Boucher, Joe Jobberns, Alex MacRae, Snowy Dalton, Jack MacRae and John McNeil.

The men above all worked together. Jack MacRae was the manager of Mesopotamia, Frank Boucher was the head shepherd. The rest were the other shepherds - or musterers, as they were known. There were eight men in the gang who left to serve. Only two came home.

I went up the day before to take the above photos (without the threat of people getting in the way) and discovered my cousin Sue tidying up the school grounds. In the truck was her daughter Pieta - keeping out of trouble.

Pietey, looking all-too-innocent...

Sunday I managed to turn up five minutes before the bus. They had about an hour's journey from Geraldine up the valley on the winding, dusty, gravel road. Before the service began I met and talked with the men of the RSA who I had already been in contact with. It was nice to put faces to names.

Meeting the President, the Secretary and the Researcher...

Reading "The Gospel According to St John, Chapter 15 Verses 7 to 13 (I think)

Giving my speech. Oh No! There is a cave in my tie. Unprofessional. I blame the lack of mirrors on a farm.

My Dad giving his speech. I think he made his up on the spot.

Famous NZ artist Austin Deans, Mayor of Timaru Jannie Annear, President Geraldine RSA Robert Wood, Vicar, Me, Thom Pike (also of G.RSA)

My Mum (left) and her sister Sue (right). That's the wreath in the middle, leaning on the stone

And below is the best picture of all. This is my Mum. She is also Ju's Mum. She is one of the loveliest people in the world, but she hates having her photo taken. I think she and Lorenzo would love having a couple of gins together.
Mum is wearing her father's medals from WWII, we don't have his father's medals from WWI.
Isn't she just gorgeous?

CASSATA

2007-10-21T17:00:00.000+13:00

Today I made Cassata, because tonight I am going out to a friend's for dinner.

The friend is Emma, my ex-flatmate, and she was going to cook some food for another friend named Anke. Anke's Mutti is German. Anyway, Anke is living in barracks, which means she eats at the mess or she eats out so the offer of a home cooked meal was too good to resist.

Being a social butterfly, Emma didn't want to have dinner for two, and I was the next person to be invited. I was pencilled in for a movie/dinner/drinks with another friend on the weekend, so we arranged for the meal to be on Sunday night. I had caught the sight of a lovely looking dessert in my illustrated copy of the Edmond's Cookbook and thought this would be the perfect opportunity to try it out. "I'll bring dessert" I stated proudly.

The next time I saw Emma, I learned our good friend Macchi and her husband Mike were coming too, and they were bringing the cheese board. Emma was in more of a dilemma now - Macchi is pregnant and Emma had to ask lots of questions to find out what foods Macchi will eat. During the course of the day I discovered that Anke (who is supposed to be bringing the DVD's) hadn't replied to Emma's text messages. It will be a surprise to find out tonight if Anke will make it after all. By the way, I don't care what Macchi can eat. She'll either eat it or not. Tough luck if not.

Anyway, I started out by tidying the bench and putting all the ingredients across the front in the order that I would need them, wiping the bench perfectly clean and having a neat stack of implements nearby.

Then I took a litre of chocolate ice cream and mixed it up with half a teaspoon of vanilla essence before smoothing it out to line the bowl. It was still pretty soft so I put it in the freezer and made a mental note to try again when it was a little bit firmer.

Next I had to turn 300ml of runny cream into stiff whipped cream. I don't have a whip, or an egg beater so I decided to pour half out of the bottle and shake it like a Polaroid picture,then repeat the process with the second half. After a while I realised that dancing round the lounge to Bowie's Jean Genie was not conducive to detecting when the cream was suitably stiff in time, and I discovered I had made - not whipped cream - but butter. Mmmm.
It was off to the dairy and $2 later I had 300 more millilitres of cream. This time Bowie was paused and I listened carefully to make sure I didn't over do it. And this time I was successful. Bowie was permitted to move on to his next song - Sorrow.

Now it was time to chop! up 1/2 cup of dark chocolate, 1/2 cup of toasted almonds (replaced with silvered almonds) and 1 cup of glace fruit. Well no one likes plastic cherries, so I replaced that cup with half a cup of white macadamia chocolate, and half a cup of walnuts.

Then these all were folded into the cream - along with 2 Tablespoons of icing sugar. About this point I realised that while this batch of cream was not butter, it probably was a little too mixed. Never mind - it can't be helped now!

Now I take the ice cream out of the freezer, touch up the shape, and put the cream into the hollow. Yum. Edmond's said I should cover with foil and freeze again, but there is no foil left in the house because my flatmates did not buy any on the last shop. My fault for not going I suppose. Anyway, I just put it in the freezer without the foil. What're they gonna do, huh?

And this is what it is supposed to look like! But I won't find out how good mine is, or if it tastes nice until tonight. Maybe - if you're lucky - I'll let you know!

Breakfast at The Brigham, with Jim

2007-10-19T01:13:00.001+13:00

I have been intending to post this all week, but I lost my camera for a while. I wasn't worried as I knew it would turn up. And it did. Between the door and the seat in my car. Lucky it didn't fall out!

Last weekend my brother (nickname Jim) came up to Auckland to visit. He was flown in on Friday night and I drove him to Hamilton to meet up with another friend on Sunday. Saturday morning we went out for breakfast.

Now, as much as I love my brother (and I do, very much) this post isn't about his stay. This is mostly because he's not the sort of bloke to have a blog written about him. He's talented, but modest. He's a friendly guy, but this weekend a bit quiet - mostly because staying with me means he has time to relax and not do anything. I get the impression this is rare for Jim. So although Jim is my main character in this post, today I am writing about The Brigham.

The Brigham is a little eatery which used to be known as Serendipity and is nestled away behind some hedges and trees from a busy-ish, rural-ish road. Brigham Creek Road is the 'main drag' driven by most of my work mates as they make their way from Married Quarters in Hobsonville, to the operational Air Force base at Whenuapai. All the same, if you didn't slow down to have a gander at the sign - you wouldn't know The Brigham was there.

It is a quiet little place, possibly once a house, and the gardens are lovely. They hold weddings there. When it was Serendipity, it was one of the best places to go to for an all-day breakfast. The pancakes Jim ordered were a special for the day, now that the place is under different ownership. We sat out on the balcony in the sun and talked and ate at a leisurely pace.

Jim's pancakes with bacon, banana and maple syrup

Now, however, it caters more to midday-meals. I decided to compromise with my meal, and asked for the potato salad to be replaced with hash browns. Mmmmmm.

3 Chicken Kebabs with peanut sauce and potato salad.

I decided to respect Jim's privacy and did not even go so far as to ask to take his photo. Instead I copied the wonderful photographic talent of Merisi, and took a sneaky snapshot of his reflection in the window.

After the meal and some pleasant chatter, we made our way off the balcony and went for a wander through the gardens. But not all the way - it was a wild and untamed wilderness out there and we didn't want to get lost.

Entry to the wilderness

Keeping each other in sight...

Dangerous Swampland

Although there were sections where the garden and grounds catered to different tastes, there never seemed to be a solid border delineating one part of the grounds from another. Through the arch was a path to trees and grass, a dove cote, and plenty of dappled sunlight to wander or picnic within. Or directly outside the 'house' was a little cobbled courtyard with neat little rows of resine chairs and a lectern, waiting for a best man to come along sometime and give his speech. Down the side were rather dainty little citrus bushes. And between the two was the above water feature, which ended at the main grounds. Patrons could opt to eat here and alone, rather than with the others back on the balcony or inside.

We stood at the end of the water feature, and looked out into the lawns and trees, and Jim spotted a dotard*, a lone Pukeko amongst the ducks.

View from the above picnic table

We turned then, and made our way along the arduous jungle track towards the tiny shack, and I couldn't possibly resist taking a photo of that too.

And lastly, just before we went inside to pay our bill and leave forever, I caught side of a meticulously manicured piece of garden, which was within view of more outdoor eating spots.

Beyond - into the real unknown. Notice the top of the tree-fern in the mid ground, it is in a gully!!!

* FOOTNOTE: Word Imps may recognise the term dotard from the Imperfect lineup in September. It was my first entry, which happened to be my first winning entry too! For my definition you'll have to go here.

Captain James Feeds the Boys

2007-10-04T14:13:00.000+13:00

I asked in my last post a tricky question and there were a couple of interesting answers. How did Captain Cook get his sailors to want to eat the sauerkraut he supplied for their health?

Lorenzo the Llama thought the cabbage would have to be soaked in rum;

Maalie thought the ships surgeon explained in graphic detail the effects of not eating the vitamin laden vegetable;

And Merisi suggested sauerkraut was delicious enough for anyone to clamour for a plate-full

Sorry Merisi, but the majority of sailors of the time didn't think eating sauerkraut was their idea of a good time. Captain James Cook did though.

He was pretty well known in nautical circles for coming home from months and months at sea without losing a single crew-member to scurvy. Quite a feat when you consider the food with all the vitamins (fruit) is the food that goes off and is therefore not worth carrying on a ship as you sail the seven seas.

(HM Bark Endeavour)

Sauerkraut was the answer - preserved with all its natural goodness (if not delectable flavour) it would keep his men healthy and fit for duty.

But is telling the crew enough? We tell people every day that cigarettes are bad for your health, and yet people still smoke. New Zealand puts a lot of money into advertising 5+ a Day as the best way to keep healthy (at least 5 servings of fruit and veg a day). Yet still people don't. I know I don't, and that's probably why I have a head cold right now. Weak.
And on the subject of rum? A good solution and probably one I'd try, but lets be honest - the crew would mutiny as soon as they found out you'd been puring their precious rations all over sour cabbage!

Now after all this hype I bet you are thinking "The real answer had better be good! or we'll mutiny!"
Well I think the answer is a good one. It's not spectacular, and it's not frightening or violent or wicked. But it is incredibly intelligent and I think it says a great deal about Captain Cook and how well he knew human nature.

To get his sailors to want to eat sauerkraut, he first restricted it to the officers mess.

Nothing else could have made it quite so popular, don't you think?

Careless Backyard

2007-09-30T17:41:00.000+13:00

In an effort to compete with Simon's beautiful garden, I have.... um... well I have no garden at all actually. But out the back of the section I live on there is an interesting little wilderness full of flora and fauna which is both native and introduced. But at the moment the most beautiful dispays are the koru unfurling from the tops of the tree-ferns.

It is raining today which is common for Auckland. There is no wind so the water falls straight down in no-nonesense drops which I am sure the ferns love.

The house is split-level & semi-detached and behind the back fence the land drops away quite sharply. Plumpy of course loves to go exploring in there but Maalie will be pleased to know he has never brought back a bird. I would love to stroke his ego and say it is because he is too wise to bring them to me, but in all my brutal honesty I would have to say it is probably because he can't catch anything. The sudden lack of all four eye teeth probably doesn't help.

See the difference in height between the top of the fern in the foreground, and the top of the fern just behind the fence. I am suspicious though that the lower one is also shorter ;-)
The next photo is just to the other side of our main foreground fern;

Good Golly Miss Molly!
Check out the koru in that one!!

The next door neighbours (who live in the other half of the building) don't bother with a back fence, which I think is a grand idea. Their lawn stops, and the wilderness begins!

The neighbours have used a convenient Cabbage Tree (Cordyline australis) to help with the washing - which is getting wetter, not drier. Captain Cook made his crew eat the flowers of this plant to prevent them from getting scurvy. Hopefully Kiwi Nomad will not correct me and say it was rickets he was preventing....

I should like to invite Merisi to click and enlarge this last picture (and anyone else who cares to). Merisi displayed an interest in Simon's fern - though his had a lorikeet as well, and my birds are hiding from the rain! Look at the abundance of koru (fiddleheads)!

Lastly a quiz, which I expect Maalie to be able to answer. (No pressure Maalie). Captain James Cook of HMB Endeavour chose to fight off scurvey by feeding his crew sauerkraut. How did he manage to popularise this dish amongst the sailors?

Pirate Speak

2007-09-20T13:44:00.000+12:00

Avast!
September the 19th be International Talk Like a Pirate Day! I know a salty sea llama be livin it up on her fine sailin ship - lootin a-pillagin an' a-plunderin on the fair ocean. We be hopin that saucy wench be havin a fine time an be stealin plenty a-booty, and not makin her way to the bottom of Davy Jones' Locker!

I be puttin up this lesson, so ye be talkin' like a sea dog yerself!

Yo Ho!

All the best me harties.
Aarrrrrrr!

Things unInteresting

2007-09-12T20:31:00.000+12:00

Tonight for some reason I had an inexplicable desire to share with you all the sorry state of my refrigerator. Now to be fair, the fridge doesn't actually belong to me. It was here when I moved into the flat. In order to protect my flatmates at least a little bit I am renaming them the uni-sexual pseudonyms Chris and Sam.

But first, here is an overview of my fridge.

When I had a little party here in this flat (I called it my flat warming, any excuse!) a couple of my friends from hockey came by. One in particular was astounded at the size of my cat, Plumpy (check out his blog here) and couldn't get over not just how big he was, but also how ummmm... engorged he appeared around the belly. So the next week at practice she brought in a news paper clipping and told the entire team my cat made it into the local rag. After passing it around the team (who all judged me for over-feeding my cat) she handed the paper to me and said it would pay to take the article home and give it some serious thought. Though I was offended she lied to the team about my cat (who was NOT the one featured in the photo) and though I was insulted she thought I should 'ease up' on the amount of food he was given, I did place the clipping in pride of place underneath all the other junk on the fridge.

Lets take a closer look at the healthy selection of food stored not a moment longer than its use-by date, shall we?

Here is the upper few shelves. See how the very top shelf is not used at all. This is because it has an extra door to lift, which is FAAAAAR to hard to get into. The juice on the next shelf looks fairly innocent, but I've seen it moving about the fridge from shelf to shelf over the last few months. I think it gets shifted when it's in the way. No one wants to drink it because it's old, and no one wants to throw it out in case it belongs to someone else.
The dip was my mistake, I made it but didn't have enough chips to finish it with. I put it in the fridge for safe keeping. It's probably the safest place in the house - no one will touch it. It's been there a week now and there's oil lifting to the surface. I don't want to talk about the potato dish that Sam made and refuses to finish.

Now I put the raw meat in for dramatic effect. It's actually dinner tomorrow night. I have hockey practice so need something quick and easy for tea. Pre-crumbed schnitzel it is! So you may rest assured I do not have 'off' meat in the fridge.

The bottom shelves are my pet hate. When we buy fruit and veges from the supermarket (even though they are better and cheaper at the fruit shop down the road, they are put into plastic bags which aren't even designed to allow the food to breath. There is a different supermarket a little further away which provides brown paper bags for my mushrooms, but that's not the supermarket we go to! No one, not even me, bothers to remove the veges from the bags before putting them in the crisper bin. Sort of defeats the purpose doesn't it?

At the moment there is tonight's mince (it will be lasagne soon MMMMMmmmmm) hanging around not so far away from Sam's emergency dinner. Again Sam has let me down not only by failing to finish a meal, but also storing it away in the fridge for further personal growth.

Last, and pretty much least, is the door. Mostly I include this because it is a little sad how empty it is. It isn't filled up with sauces and juices and exciting additions to one's evening meal. In fact, it doesn't even fit a standard 1.5L soft drink bottle! Sam's fantas, Chris's Coke and my Pepsi have to lie down on the shelves. But I can't drink cold beverages very well so mine lives in the pantry anyway! Oh for small mercies har har har! There is a little jar of crushed garlic in there now though. I added it today.

I tell you, Chris has to have his eggs. Not that they get eaten! But who knows, with the top layer coming up to their 'use-by' date, they might be about ready for use in a nice pavlova. (A Kiwi invention Simon, not Australian!!!)

It hasn't been a particularly pleasant post, I know. It was probably boring too. But I it has certainly produced at least one positive result. With the absence of both my flatmates (they are in the UK) I have now cleaned out the fridge! It is fresh, wholesome and healthy. Finally!

Hootchy Kootchy Honeys

2007-09-11T18:59:00.000+12:00

I know I have left my blog to die as quietly and as depressingly as the last embers of a fire are turned to filthy slush under the building weight of oncoming rain. But to be honest, that is how I have been feeling myself a little.

Perhaps it is anaemia, but I think it is just the daily rut of routine which has drained away the last of my imagination. I am used to this. Sometimes I will go through a stage where for several months I am up until the wee hours of the morning, tapping away at the computer. These are the moments I cannot stop for the story flows into and through my mind almost faster than I can commit it to record. At the moment I have 5 different stories saved onto this computer. I have probably about 3 on an old hard drive from my desk top which I think I will never be able to access again and countless more on paper written at work when there is nothing else to do, or school when there is nothing else to do, or when there is an important exam to study for and I'd really rather not. One of these stories some of you may have read earlier on this blog. Another (my favourite) is saved into four different files in Microsoft Word, each consisting of about 70-75 pages in justified, hyphenated text.
But sometimes, like now, I go through stages where I feel like I have come out of the swimming pool after swimming laps for hours. Drained. Washed out. Unrefreshed. Times like these I like to read everyone else's blog. I have forced myself to comment because though I have things to say, I can't be bothered loading the comments pages.

I complained about it at work;

TOOLS: How have you been Sez?
SEZ: Alright. Do you really want to know or are you just starting conversation?
TOOLS: Go on then.
SEZ: I'm sick of it. Sick of the same days, the same faults. I don't do anything in the weekends. I'm even over hockey - it's long past time the season should have ended.
TOOLS: Well I might be going surfing this weekend. Do you want to come?
SEZ: Do I have to surf?

Tools laughs at Sez and takes another drag on his cigarette.

TOOLS: No, but it could be good to get out to the beach, get some sea air. It's a bit of a drive out there too, always good.

Sez shrugs at Tools
Entrance Sergeant

SERGEANT: Have you finished those functionals on zero-five?
SEZ: Nah, just having a cuppa. Should be finished by lunch though.
TOOLS: Yeah, I better get back to my faults too.

Tools stubs out cigarette and places in ash-tray. Exit Tools
Sez drains last of drink.
Exeunt.

But the surf-trip never happened. (I was paraphrasing, by the way) Instead, something better happened. My friend texted me. She asked if I was interested in joining her at The Classic on Saturday night to go see Hootchy Kootchy Girls Burlesque Show, $25? Well now - after all my bitching I could hardly turn her down - could I?

So to see New Zealand's up and coming Burlesque Dancers, I was about to go.

Hootchy Kootchy Girls

Burlesque is making a come-back!

There weren't many of us in the little theatre, but we had lots of fun!

The show actually started before we made it from drinks in the foyer to the main stage area. We were drinking our wine/juice/bourbon and happily minding our own business before the show. There were five of us and we were watching the two girls at the door. One appeared to be selling posters and the other candy. Hmmm. As the room became more crowded we noticed another lady who appeared different to the rest. She was in a trench coat and a pinstriped Dick Tracey hat. She had a large camera and was taking photos of everyone. Finally she came to our dark little corner.
"And 'oo do we 'av 'ere??" She asks in a heavy but well-executed French accent. "Four, non, Five people 'oo are 'ere to see the Hootchy Kootchy girls!! Canaoui 'av a photo of you all togtheur?"
I laughed to myself that we, five individuals, allowed ourselves to be directed into place by a woman we had never met for a photo we would never see. Human nature never ceases to amaze!

Finally the show was on! We moved into the main room and were politely informed that cameras were not allowed. But Peachy la Rue, their photographer would take many photos on the night, and we could leave our emails addresses with Miss Print in the Foyer so that we may be informed later how to view the photos she took on line. Miss Print was also selling posters.

Throughout the night we were entertained with corny jokes, hilarious 'dance offs,' sexy dancing, good fun and even a reverse strip. It was a great evening and during the break one of my party and I managed to drag Peachy la Rue out into the foyer to take photos of him (the friend) and a Kiwi Comedian (there to enjoy the show). This was because my friend is always told he looks like this comedian and he wanted photographic proof they looked nothing alike. Peachy was more than happy to oblige, but declared they did look the same.

I bought a poster, and for the same price as a plain one ($20) I could get one signed by the girls. Peachy (of course), Coco Martini, Pacific Passion, Crystal Night-Light, Judy Garment, The Hootchy Kootchy Queen (their director) and Tony (the MC).

We bugged Peachy, Judy and the Queen during intermission for personal autographs to accompany the show-names. After the show we bugged the rest of the performers.
Coco Martini was astounded to hear we had managed to get the personal autograph of Peachy. She told us the woman almost NEVER broke out of character. (We gleefully informed her we had actually heard her speak (for only a few moments) in a Kiwi accent.) CM laughed and said for the first two months of their acquaintance she had believed Peachy was genuinely French.

Hockey

The next day was a very important hockey game. Although I am getting pretty sick of the season we have been playing better and better these last four games or so. And this was no exception. Before the weekend the tables had been:
Howick-Pakauranga = 39 points
Sommerville Blue = 32 points
Western Districts = 31

We are Western Districts, and we needed to win this game to beat Sommerville and play the Howick Pack in the final. As always, we played like champions (because we are!) and won the game 3-1
It's the finals this weekend. The points are now out the window. If we win on Sunday we take out the whole competition. It's getting big! I am very excited again!

There's always more...

AND!!! I have a farewell party to go to this Saturday, an old friend contacted me and we'll go out for some food and a movie next week. My sister - YES, JU! - and I spoke over the internet, web cameras and all for the first time ever. It was the first time I've seen her happy smiling face in over a year! (Ju is in the UK and I am here in Kiwi Land.)
Also... Peachy pulled us aside as we were leaving The Classic and invited us to another party later on in the year! It could be because we hassled her and her friends all night, or it could be because one of us (the one who looks like a well-known NZ comedian) happened to be sitting at a table with friends of the organisers. It's who you know!!!

My New Favourite Song

2007-08-27T21:44:00.001+12:00

(Not sure what the previous favourite song was...)

"Whistle for the Choir"

The Fratellis

And you can see Jon Fratelli perfoming the song unaccompanied here!

Core Military Skills

2007-08-24T17:11:00.001+12:00

This week I have been on my 5 day Core Militray Skills Initial Refresher course.

The reason the Air Force runs a course like this is because we are tradesmen - ahem, tradespeople - first and airmen, or military personel second. Unlike the army where people are soldiers first and tradesmen second. So it became apparent in the last few years of joint exercises and deployments that we were a little lacking in weapons skills and needed extensive PDT (Pre Deployment Training) before racing away to save the world.
This course is designed to brush us up on the skills we learned on recruit course, then we will have a one day refresher every year. The end result is less time required for PDT.

The week starts out pretty full on and eases down day by day till Friday which is the test and then the afternoon off. Tough life eh?

MONDAY

Turned up at "Expeditionary Support Squadron." Carried out course admin. Had a quick half hour practice at handling weapons (Steyr 5.6mm Automatic Rifle) including Commands (Load, Action, Instant, Watch and Shoot, Fire), Instant Actions (what to do if we pull the trigger and the rifle does not fire - Suspected Gas Stoppage, Confirmed Gas Stoppage, Blockage, Reload, Unload drills) and Stripping the Weapon (bolt group, butt group, trigger group, gas plug and barrel)

Theory and Practical NBC. NBC stands for Nuclear, Biological, Chemical warfare. We need to know what to do if an atom bomb goes off (close eyes, drop to ground with hands and weapons under body, pray). How to recognise symptoms of biological poisoning and what to do (instant action or IA) if someone screams GAS! GAS! GAS!

The Chemical Safety Rule

Chemical IA if any of the following happens
EXPERIENCE: Bombardment of any kind
SIGHT any low flying strange or hostile aircraft
SEE any suspicious mist, smoke, droplets or splashes
NOTICE the following in yourself or others
- dim vision
- tight chest/difficulty breathing
- excess salivation
- runny nose
- pinpointed puplis
HEAR any alarm

We learned how to put a respirator (gas mask) on in less than nine seconds while holding breath and with your eyes closed. How to change the cannister (outer air filter) with eyes closed and breath held. How to shove biscuits under the mask, how to drink water, how to play soccer in full kit. Now we'd been taught all this before. It was just a refresher to kick-start us back into it all again.

TUESDAY

More theory. How to search a bomb site, for victims. How to help the civil defence after a cyclone. What to do in the event of discovering an IED (Improvised Explosive Device) or UXO (Unexploded Ordinance). Safety distances to keep people away from IED's. Confirm, Clear, Cordon, Control.
After lunch we went out for a little patrol in the trees. What to do in the event your patrol is shot at by the enemy
"CONTACT FRONT!"
Dash, Dive, Roll/Crawl, Observe, Aim, Fire (according to the rules of engagement).

Observation galleries - how to see hidden things. How to direct a group's fire at the enemy.
"Rifle Section! One Hundred Metres! Two knuckles right of white tree, enemy in the open, Open Fire!"
How to make up a range card so that everyone knows where the white tree is, and so that we don't fire outside of our designated arcs.
VCP - Vehicle Check Point. 5 areas to search, Interior, Exterior, Underneath, Boot, Engine Bay.
Detaining personal. Don't strip search them!!! Tell them why they are being detained, remain with them until you can hand them over to an MP, member of Air Security or the NZ Police.
More practice at TOETs (Test Of Elimentary Training) which is really just handling the weapon.
Load - load the magizine
Action - cock the rifle
And so on.
Home. Assignments to be completed ready for tomorrow.

WEDNESDAY

First Aid.
Primary Survey, DRSABC. CPR. Severe Bleeding.
Fractures. Poisons.
Burns:-
- Thermal
- Radiation
- Electrical
- Chemical
- Phosphorous
Blanket stretchers, knot tying (clove hitch, sheet bend, reef, bowline, figure of eight) rope maintenance, types of bandages and dressings.
CPR test. ratio of 30 compressions to 2 breaths.

THURSDAY

Fire Lecture. Actions on discovering a fire. Types of Fire Extinguishers
CO2, Water, Dry Powder, Foam, Fire Blanket. What was really interesting was BCF. This is almost completely banned as it is harmful to the ozone. However it is also required to put out magnesium and some other metals which are used in aircraft. If these metals catch fire it is really the only way to put them out and so BCF extinguishers are contained on the air craft only. The Air Force Fire Engines are different to the ones civilians have as they are designed specifically for aircraft fires. Though they also cover building fires and car crashes around and near the base.

In the aftenoon it's off to the range. I can't hit a rabbit at 10m with a shotgun, but I can get a marksman on a 200m range with a semi-automatic rifle. This however is the 25m range and too short to wualify for marksman. Still - 60/66, a pretty good score for a girl ;-)

More assignments, more study. Test tomorrow.

FRIDAY
Test. 97% (I got one question wrong.)
Operational Test. Ours was the best group our instructor had seen. A quick 40 minute search and rescue. Victim has severe bleeding in upper arm. Unconcious. Stretchered back to the Incident Control Point. Pass.

Home.
Sleep.

I have two games of hockey this Sunday. 1st on one side of the city in the morning then off to the other side for the afternoon game. I'm not too keen.

Ficton

2007-08-21T20:02:00.000+12:00

Greetings all, and my apologies for the long silence. Between one thing and another I have been lacking in the time and/or inspiration to write you a decent post. In the meantime, here is the beginning of one of my many (unfinished) stories, which I tap out on the computer whenever my imagination threatens to overload. It is similar in style to Simon's blog but I wrote this long before I discovered An Ordinary Life! I hope you enjoy.

The girl sat nervously on her grey pony. The animal shifted beneath her, picking up the tremblings of its rider.

“Father I am scared.”

A big man near the head of the column turned to look at her. Though his face was hidden behind a great black beard his blue eyes met the girl’s and he smiled.

“Mac will look after you, lass. You are safe.”

The girl relaxed a little with the reassurance but her father did not. He turned back to the front and she could tell he was waiting for something. The strong young man-at-arms known as Mac moved his own mare closer to his charge, determined not to fail in the task his Lord had given him. Other men gathered close, some on their strong chargers and others on foot. All of them were well armed and ready to protect their Lord and his daughter. All of them were waiting for the ambush. The girl looked nervously about her. For the most part their journey had taken them through fields and villages, but to get into the valley that was their destination they now had to pass through a dark wood. Across the narrow path in front of them was a felled tree. Mac had told her it was a simple but effective way to stop travellers so they could be surrounded and attacked.. Now her vision was filled with all the different ways the bad men might try and kill her father. Finally, in the silence, the Lord at the head of the column barked orders and men began to move. Six men at arms were deployed with what axes they could find – two tree axes and four war axes – to start clearing the road. A pair each went to the ends of the large trunk and began hacking their way through. The remaining two soldiers cleared the trunk of branches. By the time the men were finished they would be able to roll the wood out of the way. But it would take a long while. Lord Tratham would not allow any man to become complacent as he over saw the task. The men respected their Lord, and did not grumble when he did not join them in the hard work. If they had been in the safety of his own lands he might have helped, but he needed to remain on his horse to be ready when the attack came.

The girl became restless. She had been riding all day and wanted a break. In the beginning her journey had been an adventure. Her father had chosen to bring her in a goods wagon, saying that a carriage would draw too much unwanted attention. The girl had taken to giving up the wagon and instead riding her pony next to him, asking questions about the land they were travelling through. He had humored her for the most part, but occassionaly he complained that young ladies should not make great journeys on horseback and she should act like the noblewoman she would grow up to be, and take her place in the wagon. She would obey for as long as she could, but curiosity always had her calling for her pony before the day was done. Now she wondered if it would be safer in the wagon, which was covered. She heard one of the men give a grunt and was surprised to see him grab at her pony. Stepper shied into Mac’s mare and the girl nearly lost her seat as she watched the man. He had missed Stepper and fell to the ground. The end of an arrow was sticking out of his neck and blood was spurting from him. The girl screamed.

Her father whipped his horse around and shouted at Mac. As the air suddenly became a rain of arrows Mac grabbed the girl’s reins and hauled Stepper to him. Tratham was shouting more orders to the rest of the men and trying to get to his daughter. Just as he began to draw near the enemy swept out from the trees and into his men.

“Get Sari out of here! Get her to the castle, NOW!”

The girl could not say goodbye to her father, her voice had frozen, and she was whisked away. She looked back and their eyes met briefly before an arrow suddenly appeared in his chest and he turned his horse back into the fighting.

“Father!” She screamed. She nearly fell as the pony cleared the fallen tree and followed Mac’s Windward as she galloped away.

They didn’t get far before Stepper stumbled. Sari kept moving forward and she landed on the front of the saddle. It hurt and she cried out but Stepper could not stand again and fell forward. Without thinking the girl leapt from her pony and rolled in the dust. She fell further than she thought she would and when she finally stopped she lay still, trying not to cry. It was cooler and softer where she had landed than on the road and Sari didn’t move. Her head hurt where she had banged and she was sure there were scratches on her arms. They stung. She heard shouts and the sounds of fighting. Somewhere back where her father was a horse screamed and she whimpered when she heard it. Someone came down into the ditch where she lay and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Are you alright Milady? Will I be needin to carry ye?”

It was Mac. She sniffed and looked up at him. “I’m alright thank you, just sore. May I ride with you on Windward?”

He looked sad.

“I be greatly sorry Milady, but Windward bolted when I came for you. We’ll be on foot for now.”

Sari stood on trembling legs and brushed down her skirts.

“Very well.”

They made their way cautiously through the woods. Mac kept them off the road but he seemed to know which direction they should be travelling in. After an hour or so they heard the thunderous rumble of many running horses. They crept over to the road and peered through the undergrowth. As many as forty mounted horsemen thundered past. They all wielded an axe and a sword each. There were no shields and no coats of arms. The men were not riding to Tratham’s rescue.

From Start to Finish

2007-07-07T14:09:00.000+12:00

(THE FINAL PIECE:)

THE FINISHED PUZZLE:

And this morning I awoke to see it is the end of the rain - for a little while at least.
Might be time to bake some more beer bread...

RAINY DAY ACTIVITIES

2007-07-02T19:13:00.000+12:00

THE CLUE

THE WORK STATION

THE PROGRESS

( so far )

FLIGHT OF THE CONCHORDS

2007-06-21T20:40:00.000+12:00

They're New Zealand's fourth most popular Folk Parody Duo and they've taken the States by storm. When they were spied at an international comedy festival they were snapped up and given a Friday night slot on HBO!

Here's a taste;

And on a more serious note - a look at The Issues;

Damper

2007-06-16T13:10:00.000+12:00

3 Cups Self-raising flour
3 Tbsp Sugar
1 tsp Salt
1 Can of Beer

All ingredients into bowl and mix with fork. Makes something of a cross between a batter and dough. Spoon into loaf-tin. Bake at 180 degrees Celcius until golden brown on top.

Or (if you're Ju's Little Sister) Bake at 180 degrees until pleasantly charred on top...

But my flatmates love me, because I make beautiful smells waft from the kitchen on a cold Saturday morning, and they like the idea of eating bread that has beer in it.

It's good to come from Down Under!

Need a study break?

2007-06-10T23:24:00.000+12:00

I've been told the best type of study break is one where you stop thinking. Can't stop thinking? Try making the right and left side of your brain work at the same time. Easiest way to do this (so I'm told, and I might be wrong) is to use your hand on the far side of your bodies' centre line.

For example, right hand holds left ear lobe while left hand holds nose. Now switch them so left had lets go of nose and grabs right ear lobe while right hand lets go of left ear lobe and grabs nose. You HAVE TO GET THIS RIGHT! No cheating and grabbing around blindly for something near your eye hoping it's your nose! Do it properly and slowly, then try to speed up the process. I'm told that working on doing this well stops you from thinking about anything else - you have to concentrate to get both sides of the brain working together.

But personally, I like to take a break by clicking the red dot. Trust me, it's mindless.

Penalty Stroke

2007-06-10T21:44:00.001+12:00

I apologise for the delay in this post. Unfortunately I still don't have any images of me in the hockey tournament, but I do have this short video of a penalty stroke. Strokes are awarded in field hockey when a goal may have been scored if not for the illegal action which stopped it. For example the ball was going straight for the goal but someone other than the goalie kicked it away.

Playing this round was RNZAF Base Auckland mens versus the Wellington team. (Wellington doesn't have an Air Force base but the team was made up of players from Defence House and The HQ for Defence. Wellington in red, and Auckland in blue. (I was playing for the Auckland women's team later that day. Wellington didn't have a goalie, so in the spirit of the tournament, Auckland's reserve goalie played for them. This is the essence of our interbase tournaments. It's about the game and we'll do a lot to get the games played. For example the Auckland mens goalie played as centre forward for the Woodbourne team when they played both Ohakea and Wellington. Our women's team was made up of players from Auckland and Wellington, and Ohakea and Woodbourne joined forces to make up our only comptetition in the tournament!

So anyway, here the Auckland men's are playing against their reserve goalie who is playing for Wellington mens. WEllington had a stroke called against them. All players except the man taking the stroke and the goalie have to return to hlaf way. Goalie must have his feet (usually his heels) on the line, and the opposition must push the ball from the spot.

A quick filler

2007-05-31T16:12:00.000+12:00

Hi all,

At Simon's urging I am writing a new post, but I warn you it will be short! This last week I have been at our annual Air Force Hockey Inter-base Tournament. This requires five days of leave, though due to travel on Monday and Friday there are only three days of game time. This usually happens to work out well as there are usually only three teams in the tourney! This year however the men had four teams - Auckland, Ohakea, Wellington and Woodbourne, while the women managed to scratch together only two - Ohakea and Auckland. So we had our round robin on Tuesday (OH vs AK) and the final today, Thursday (AK vs OH).
I am very tired! Auckland didn't have a strong team this year and Ohakea did, so as goal keeper I was working for the full 70 minutes. At the moment my back hurts!

I have no bruises to show, and tonight is the final function and prize giving. I expect to make the services team and travel to the middle of the North Island as part of the RNZAF Hockey team to take on the New Zealand Army team and the RNZN team in our Services Tournament. The only reason I am so cocky is because we always take two goalies to the services, and guess what? We only have two goalies!!! The men's competition is a little stiffer though ;-)

And that's it from me - I have to go put make up on now and get into some gears for the party. Hopefully at some point soon I will have photos for you, but not until I have had a very long sleep!!!

All the best,
Ju's.

Answer to a riddle

2007-04-20T10:58:00.000+12:00

I have to say I'm a little disappointed no one took up the challenge of the meaning of 'Erewhon.' I am going to assume the blog was so exciting you all forgot about it by the time you reached the end of the blog. I'm going to tell you anyway because I think it's rather clever.

Samuel Butler named a part of New Zealand 'Erewhon,' because it is 'Nowhere' spelt backwards.

Okay, you might say, the 'w' and the 'h' have not been translated properly and I tell you that was simply in the interest of phonetics.

The people who live on Erewhon station literally live - nowhere!

Back to Geekery

2007-04-18T22:17:00.000+12:00

Hi Team.

I know I've been very picturesque and romantic and exciting lately but it's time to get back to something a little more ... techie.

Take 1x XBox

Now, with a special tool and a bit of careful work (Voiding the waranty in the process...)

You get something that looks like this;

I had two goals in mind. First of all, everyone (well, except for the mad hatters who really go crazy) has the same stock standard white and grey Xbox.

BORING!

So Ju's Little Sister decided she wanted to spice things up a bit. I have searched the sites, Xbox-scene, Trademe, xbox.com and many more. The easiest thing to do is buy a vinyl 'skin' which is can come looking like anything, pictures, patterns, abstract - you name it, they've got it. Vinyl skins can be removed and changed at will, though I understand they're a little tricky to get on just right. But while I think white is boring (because it's the same as everyone else) I don't like clutter or too much activity all over my possessions. So I was always looking for a plain colour, which I eventually found as a complete new case. I chose black. Original, I know BUT!

Goal two: With a bit of soldering;

I've shown you all my robot PCBs (green square thing with shiny bits ) so you should recognise this no worries! There were four tiny little diodes about 3-4 mm long and 1mm wide and one even smaller which I removed (trying not to damage the board as I did so) and five diodes about 2mm long and >1mm wide which I soldered on - not as they would normally, but sitting on their sides and facing inwards along the board. I took the board into work to do as they have precision temperature soldering irons and tiny little tips to make it easier. Not to mention vices for PCBs and a myriad of other handy tools like heat sinking tweezers and flux etc. When I was finished I was sure I had broken two of the diodes from heat alone and was not looking foward to having to buy more.

I brought it home and reassembled the Xbox (with the black case) and with trepidation I turned it on.

HURRAH!

The diodes (which were Light Emitting Diodes, or LEDs) all worked, and now instead of a white box with green lights, I had a black one with blue lights!

Oh, did I mention I replaced the shell for the controller as well?

Okay, so it looks silly in the photos (which I will be the first to admit, aren't that good.) but it actually looks quite stylie in real life. Ah yes, another moment of pure geek satisfaction.

Now I have a spare case just lying around. What shall I do with it? Well, one of the trades in the Royal New Zealand Air Force (called Safety & Surface trade) specialises, amongst other things, in painting. AND, not only are they brilliant at spray painting things like planes and cars and bikes and whatever you can think of, but they are also pretty good at making and placing decals as well. I've asked around and for the price of some beers or some baking there are one or two who are happy to take my little project under their wing. Tomorrow Matt is going to bring in a couple of colour books for me to choose the colour and I'll go talk to Tab since I hear she has already designed a sticker based on Alice in Wonderland.
As you probably won't recall from my post on the XBox LAN my name was Alice, since I am a little like the afore mentioned character when it comes to computer games. However when you try to play XBox over the 'real' internet no two players in the world are allowed to have the same name (or Gamertag). So I had to think of something else.
During the LANs I usually get killed more than I kill others, so when I did sneak up behind a player and knock him over the head, as it were, he would often call out the words from a popular song - "Alice? Who the [expletive] is Alice?" So after much trail and error, I ended up with a gamertag of: Who tF is Alice.
No bull.

I have in my mind exactly what I'd like to have stuck to the side of the Xbox, but because of the delicate nature of the wording I am hesitant about whether I should display any of it here on blogspot. However, in the interests of the story, I think it would be rude not to. So I have posted the ummm, moderated version. Of course, there's no guarantee I'll use this case (if the stickers can even be made) , it will live in the wardrobe for the most part. And it certainly will not be visible in certain company. Family for instance, and young children. ;-)
On the other hand, it certainly will be original.

So, any ideas for the background colour?

(They can do anything, even that cameleon paint!)

www.mesopotamia.co.nz

2007-04-17T14:17:00.000+12:00

I went up my mountain in a fog, and then got above the mist; going higher and higher, I would look down upon a sea of whiteness, through which would be thrust innumerable mountain-tops that looked like islands. I am there now, as I write, I fancy that I can see the downs, the huts, the plain and the river-bed - that torrent pathway of desolation, with its distant roar of water, oh wonderful! Wonderful! So lonely, and so solemn, with the sad grey clouds above and no sounds save a lost lamb bleating upon the mountain-side, as though its little heart were breaking.

Erewhon, Samuel Butler

Post script: This excerpt was first read to me by my mother, who holds a talent few who I have met can claim to share. From her mouth this is not an excerpt, not a reading, not simply words on a page - but an experience. When she comes to the end she pauses and tries not to cry as she feels every ounce of lonelines that Samuel Butler is trying to convey. I know that she would do anything to take the imaginary lamb to her own breast and love it as her own. When Mother reads it, it makes me cry. When I read it, it is not Butler's voice nor my own I hear, but Mother's, and the lonliness, beauty and homesickness rises up and is so powerful, that I cry again.

Tui's namesake

2007-04-15T21:44:00.000+12:00

This is a photo of one of the lawns around our house. In the forground on the left is a toi toi bush. These are also sometimes called tui tui bushes, it's a matter of pronounciation. There is a stream on our farm which has quite a number of these pretty plants and not suprisingly it's called (wait for it...) Tui Creek.

The next time I go home (probably not until Christamas I am afraid) I will try and get a more expressive photo for you.

Notes on the last

2007-04-14T07:43:00.000+12:00

I just wanted to mention one or two things about my post: Easter at Helms Deep.

1. I seem to have consistenty misspelled "Butler" by swapping the t and the l.
2. My Grandfather, Malcom V. Prouting, bought Messy from the bank long before it went to his sons.
3.A note on my description of travelling upstream to find some water (Priority1. Get the dog some water);
The terrain that the Alma flows across and through once it leaves the gully is ancient gravel river bed. The land was formed by glacier, then claimed by glacial and snow-fed rivers. This is why the Rangitata is known as a braided riverbed. It is free to wind about and make its own path across the wide flat valley floor, and carves new 'streams' each year as it floods with the spring melt. Where the Alma emerges from the mountains to the side it has shifted its own fair share of broken down greywacke rock and built up a high causeway of gravel that follows its path from the mouth of the gully out to the Rangitata. You could see how high this was in the pictures, we had to scramble down one bank and the stream has since eaten into its own creation another level again.

When we aproached the Alma from the side, following a rough hunters track, and made our way up onto the causeway, we discovered old stream bed but no water. None. The place was as dry as a lizard's back. But only a few metres upstream, say 50m, there was a trickle of beautiful clear snow-fed water. And another 50-100m up the stream the water was rushing so fast and deep I could only wade through in places (and you saw how high my 'gumboots' were) and the dog didn't want to attempt it at all.
The madly rushing water upstream was gradually soaked in through the gravel until it was running underground and would have come out into the Rangitata again somewhere lower.

Now isn't that amazing???

Easter at Helms Deep

2007-04-12T18:45:00.000+12:00

This Good Friday I flew with my friend Megsie and her four month old German Wire-haired Pointer 'Orion' from the North to the South Island of New Zealand. From Christchurch we drove three hours south and inland until we came to the entrance to the beautiful valley where I grew up. Welcome to the Rangitata Gorge. Our journey continued right up to the head of the valley in the above picture until we reached my parents' farm and the house where I grew up. That evening we settled in and Megs met my sister and brother, my parents she had met before. My older sister Mel (Ju's twin) manages the farm while Dad looks on and tries to let go. Brother Andrew has worked for over a year as a well-paid tractor driver but has recently shifted this job to the weekends so that he can attend an apprenticship at an engineering firm. Since he had the weekend off he came up home as well since I rarely get to see any of them anymore.

It rained on Friday night while we were all tucked up in our respective beds, and Saturday dawned dull and grey, and threatening to rain again at any moment. Nevertheless I was keen to show Megs the land where I grew up and she was just as keen to discover it. The photos on the blog were taken on her camera, so there might be some things I mention but don't have photos for.
Mesopotamia Station sits right at the very head of the valley and was originally settled by an English scholar and author, Samuel Butler.

Samuel Butler's Original Homestead

Butler named the place 'Mesopotamia' after ancient Mesopotamia which lies between the Euphrates and Tigiris Rivers in what is today Iraq. The word is greek, and is made of mesos meaning 'between' and potamos meaning 'river.' -ia is a suffix which denotes the name of a place. Therefore Mesopotamia literally means "the land between two rivers." In Iraq these were the previously mentioned bodies of water, and here in South Canterbury, New Zealand Butler refers to Forest Creek and Bush Stream. Not rivers perhaps, but romantic and fitting. But Mesopotamia has never really been resistricted by the Bush Stream, though Forest creek is in fact its southerly border.
He also named the land directly on the other side of the river too, and even wrote a book about it. The name of the country across the river is called Erewhon, even today. The origin of the word Erewhon is not greek. I challenge readers to tell me what it means. If you already know then don't spoil it for the rest!

My grandfather was employed as a manager for Mesopotamia when it was owned by the bank (long after Butler was gone) and then later bought it from the bank and ran it himself (with a myriad of sheperds and other farm hands...). When his sons were grown the massive station was split into three farms, and given to three of those sons. My Uncle Laurie took over the main station, still called Mesopotamia, my own father owns the farm next door "The Tui" Station, and my Uncle Ray and his family took over Garondale Station, which borders Forest Creek. (This has since been sold and renamed Forest Creek Station.) As I was growing up I went to Mesopotamia Primary school - school roll of ten - and learned a great deal about the history of the area I called my home.
The one-room primary school is situated right next to the site of Butler's original homestead and you can still see the outline of the sod-walls were they have sunk into the ground with time. I wish I had a photo. More impressive is the ruins of his dairy, made of stone and crumbling next to the homestead. The door frame (though wooden) is still there. But not all the history (and I'm sure the brits reading this will be laughing at my idea of history, but New Zealand is very young so you have to gove her a chance.) is about Butler. The wagon in the picture below has never been out of the shed as long as I have been driving past it on the way to school or visit my cousins, but my Dad can remember a childhood with it in full service.

I haven't posted the close up, but it is marked with 'Mesopotamia' in a semi-circle on the side, which I have always thought was pretty darn cool.

After visiting the school we ducked a few hundred metres up the road to drop in on my cousins who are now running the station, and on the way back my brother was good enough to take Megs and I in the truck out the back of The Tui.
My Dad farms perendale sheep, aberdeen angus cattle and red deer - all for meat. Megs and her husband hunt wild fellow deer in the North Island, so she was impressed to catch sight of our magnificent specimens, and she even heard one of them having a good roar! She tried to get some photos of them without the fences, all to show her husband and make him jealous, but unfortunately the ones we were looking at were in quite a small paddock.

Two stags and their hinds.
(hind = doe)

Easter Sunday dawned beautiful and sunny - perfect for a picnic. The sandwiches were made in no time, the billy packed and off we went. We were going to help Megs discover Middle Earth. I'm not sure if I have mentioned this, but there are two places - one over the river by Erewhon (have you figure it out yet?) and one further up the river on Mesopotamia. Mt Sunday lies across the river from us. Compared to all the mountains around us it look like an insignificant mound, but this little glacial remenant was the site of Rohan's Edoras.

The picture above is almost split in two horizontally. Tussock and black matagouri in the foreground, and mountains and sky in the background.
From the left of the photo, follow the line along the top of the black vegetation, just inside the edge of the picture is a little hill lying in front of the larger hills behind it. It doesn't even stretch into the middle of the image. That is Mt Sunday, and perched atop was the village of Edoras.

On our side of the river, and much further up yet lies the mouth and delta of a stream which emerges from the deep gully it has carved from the mountains. This is where we were headed, and this is where we would stop for a traditional kiwi 'billy-tea.'

But before we reached our destination we came across a little two (TWO!!) roomed musterer's hut. This is known as the Black Mountain Hut, but is also sometimes refered to as the Alma Hut. The hut itself is rather boring to look at from the outside, and inside there is a fireplace, bench and some bunk beds. There are more bunk beds in the tiny ajoining room. There is no running water and for a long time there had been no electricity. But now if you want to bring a generator with you then you can run it outside and you'll have lights at night. As far as hygeine is concerned, there is a shielded space designed for you to hang up a bladder of water for a shower and pictured below is the loo-with-a-view. A long-drop, or 'dunny' as its refered to in NZ, is a hole in the ground with a seat build over it. This one has three walls and the view fortunately faces away from the hut. Megs took a photo of the back of it.

Loo-with-a-view

After a poke around and watering the dog, we headed on for another ten minutes or so to reach the mouth of the Alma Stream, and Helms Deep.

Priority 1:
Get the dog some water.

Orion and I scramble down to the first level of stream-bed

Then we clamber up-stream to find some water
(running through the second level of the stream bed)

At last! Orion drinks his fill

Priority 1a:
Boil the Billy.

Boiling the billy is a Kiwi term for boiling water and making a cup of tea. The Billy is the soot-black pot you can see swinging over the fire. The water is boiled then a handful of tea-leaves is thrown in (almost literally) and the 'billy' stews.

Then it's off-the-fire! with anything that's handy and poured straight from the billy into your cup. So the next time you turn on the jug for a cuppa, have a think about the effort it took us to make this one!

But finally the tea was drunk, the sandwiches eaten and we made our way up the Alma to where it emerged from the gully. This was were Peter Jackson had the studio-built replica of Helms Deep transposed by computer. I tried to get the magnificent (and I really mean that) MAGNIFICENT arial view of the fortress from the movie, where it is full day and you can see the fort nestled right inside the valley - an impenterable marvel of design and build. Unfortunately the internet only seems to have dark, night-time, stormy pre-battle images, so here are the two for your comparison;

I really think the angles are all wrong!

So to finish off this rather long-winded post, I have added a couple of shots from the movie Lord of the Rings, The Two Towers;

As I mentioned, the village of Edoras (Riders of Rohan) was built on top of little Mt Sunday, which lies across the river from us. In this shot you can see Eowyn (Miranda Otto) as she steps out of the main hall. The mountains on the other side of the river belong to Mesopotamia Station, and the flats to the far left (also on the far side of the river) are known as Butler Downs. What you can see of the Butler Downs is owned by "Messy Station" too, but most of the downs make up "The Tui" Station, my father's property (further to the left, out of shot.)

You can only just see the edge of 'old' Mesopotamia under the mountain on the very right of the picture. As you must really have been able to appreciate - where I grew up there are mountains all around!

Thank you for sticking through the whole of this post. It took a while to write it, and I hope you enjoyed it. Megs, Orion and I made it safely back into horrid Auckland City on Monday afternoon, and I have been dying slowly inside to be back in front of a computer screen at work instead of out in the glorious South Canterbury High Country!

Notes on copyright for last two images:

It's Best To Be Prepared

2007-03-28T20:09:00.000+12:00

Imagine....

Some intelligent people have realised that New Zealand is a possible platform for the takeover of Australia. (It might happen, no one scorned John Marsden for his 'Tomorrow' series!). In order to take over the country, terrorists have infiltrated the Beehive (Parliament Buildings) and are holding hostages. The SAS are busy saving the rest of the world, the armed defenders are at a sports tournament in Christchurch and the rest of New Zealand's answer to counter terrorism has come down with a malicious case of dystentry.
But all is not lost.

All over the country there are groups of civilians who are ready to step up to the mark, people who have practiced their tactical assult methods and are ready to move in as a cohesive group to save the day...

Okay, so I'm taking the piss, but be warned - this post is about die-hard fans of tactical war games. Incidentally some of them are my friends and I was given the oportunity to see for myself what they get up to 'of an evening.' I was asked by one of these friends to come along to a particular night in order to take photos as a 'non combatant.' (perhaps, a foreign correspondant - a war journalist?)
My friend's boss and workmates had shown a lot of interest in this RAM (Random Action Marker) and he had offered to take them through their paces for a night. They dutifully turned up to learn how to handle the weapons and go through some basic tactics. I arrived a while later after having hitched a ride with the rest of the group (also good mates of mine), who were to comprise the 'enemy party.'

To explain what I'm talking about here;
Think of paint ball. You know what paint ball is? A whole lot of work colleagues go to a field or forest, get dressed in overalls, pick up ungainly looking pneumatic plastic shooter thingys with a huge canister (hopper?) attached at the top for some big looking balls of paint. Then they run around the paddock trying to steal flags screaming things like "You go, I'll cover you!" And generally feeling very militant and something like the guys from Platoon.

To translate this to RAM. Take away the paintball guns and replace them with replicas, realistic replicas, of military weapons, replace the big balls of paint with small and speedy little rounds of paint encircled with a ring of metal for loading into a magazine (Which also go 'tink tink tink' as they are ejected out and fall to the floor - rather like spent brass rounds...). Take away the overalls and replace them with DPM - destructive pattern material (Camo) - sets of clothes, webbing and holsters. Take away the rectangular field designed to race from one end to another and replace it with an empty, two storey building late at night. Lastly, remove the 'capture the flag' scenario and put in place an 'enemy party' complete with hostage trying to hold their position while the good guys have to find them, eliminate them, rescure the hostage and get him/her back to HQ safely. Oh! And gung-ho shouts of martyrdom are left at the wayside. Genuine calls of "contact front!" "This room clear!" and "HIT!" are the order of the night. Please see an example of a typical player of RAM, detailed below.

The scenario was fairly simple. The team had to enter the building and find the terrorists, 'kill' them all without shooting the hostage and extract the hostage back to their HQ (the room they started in) without letting him get shot. In order to do this they had to make their way through some corridors, up the stairs, through more corridors with rooms to the side which might hold the enemy, to more rooms and back again.

Please bear in mind - it was eight o'clock at night, coming into winter - it was DARK in there! People had to switch on torches attached to the ends of the barrels of their weapons just to clear the nooks and crannies. I couldn't aim the camera - the digital screen at the back was blank, and the strength of the flash was not only amazing, but destroys any idea of how hard it was to see. I was stumbling up the stairs!

In the picture above, the team has made it up the stairs and through the maze of rooms to this large area. They know the terrorists are in the next room. If someone gets 'hit' they must walk five metres behind the last person in the group and come back before they may re-enter the game. Because these folk are new to the game they have been given this option of 'respawn' to help them out. In the next game which was played by the sportsmen themselves, there were no respawns, and some where 'out' after only five minutes in the game!

I like the next three photos a lot, because they are almost as good as the video would have been. It was really hard for me to get these shots. As I mentioned I couldn't aim the camera, not with the view finder, and not with the digital screen. Both only showed me shadow. The hostage is in the white shirt. As I stand at the top of the stairs, the team makes their way down, taking the hostage with them when MORE terrorists (who have snuck into the building behind them) open fire - directly up the stairs!

Arrgh!

Contact! Contact front!
Back up! Back up! Protect the hostage!

The team covers the hostage while their 'coach' opens fire (guns blazing?) on the hostiles

Finally there was a lull in gunfire and the team has a little time to collect their thoughts and their men as their coach encourages them and coaches them through their next moves. Fortunately a couple of more experienced members of the team snuck down the opposing stairwell and took out a couple of the terrorists. Now the workmates regroup. These two below are about to follow the hostage and the rest of the escort down the bottom of the stairs. They're a little more alert now!

Grrr!

A lurker (my term) at the bottom of the stairs

Finally, after a little more stress and shots fired, the team managed to get the hostage back to their own room. Their coach would not let up on them though - they had to clear that room too in case their were more enemies camped out there! The hostage had been hit - orange paint on his white shirt told the truth - but in the spirit of good fun and a fair go for first timers, it was declared a mere flesh wound.

In victory did they celebrate with the letting off of many rounds and the emptying of magazines into the walls and floors so that no others may come to harm from their weapons of local destruction.

I wish I had pictures of some of the bruises. Not from this game, which was relatively calm and controlled. I saw some terrible results from the next game. The work-friends had gone home satisfied, and my friends the regulars took on a team from a different club. These folk ran off different rules, and I understand they had bored out some of their weapons to make them go faster. I don't know how that works so don't ask. There were blood blisters and some very angry spots of grazed and broken skin, ringed by deep purple and angry red. I'm glad I don't play the game - I am happy enough with hockey.

It was certainly interesting and though I give my mates a bit of stick for their odd choice of recreation you have to give them credit - they work very hard at doing things properly, and have a pretty rigid concept of honour when it comes to calling out that they've been hit. So that was my introduction to RAM. I just have to resist the temptation of trying to join in!

Incidentally, has anyone noticed that it's been many years now since the Chernobyl Disaster and there are still no superheroes?

I Think I Need New Armour

2007-03-14T15:52:00.000+13:00

Ball came from this angle
Hit at approx this point

Bruise made through protection
(Half day later)

A Quick Update

2007-03-14T08:03:00.000+13:00

My apologies for my recent silence. I would say I have been super-busy, but to be honest I just haven't had the inclination. My activities over the last couple of weeks don't seem to warrant comment - let alone a full post.

But last weekend I went to Auckland's Aquarium - Kelly Tarlton's Underwater World - to have a look at the fish. Though the smell was not particularly pleasant it was not overpowering either and there was plenty to see which kept a person both distracted and fascinated. The best part of the place was the tunnel under the water. For the first section we got to watch a variety of small sharks, the sleekest of all being the notoriously aggressive mako. It was interesting looking at the difference between the breeds - they were all roughly the same size with different dorsals, tails, gill-fins and nose/mouths. I was most fasinated by the rays however. Kelly Tarlton's had several short-tailed sting rays and a couple of eagle rays. A short-tailed ray can weigh up to 200kg for only being 2 or 3 metres in length, though they can grow up to 4.3 metres in length. Seeing them in the tunnel was cool as one of them was very active, swimming up and down the tank and scratching his (her?) belly on the top of the tunnel. We got so many clear views of the ray's mouth and gills which are all on the white underside of the ray, and one of them even had brown-ish speckles on their underbelly, so even a fish can be a ginge!!!

There were plenty of other sights to see - puffer fish, angel fish, sea horses, moray eels and the hugest snapper I have seen. One of the moray eels was quite curious about us and followed us for a way along the tunnel. Though the skin is red-brown and looks very dry, the eyes were a bright blue and looked much more intelligent than your average cold-hearted fish! We watched an octopus squeeze his entire body into a film canister in order to get the fish inside and saw crays so massive Sarge almost cried.
Maalie - birds were not left out. Kelly Tarlton's has an antarctic section with two varieties of penguin - King and Gentoo.
Though we missed the feeding time for the penguins we were allowed to jump in a little 'snow mobile' and take a tour round the outside of their enclosure. They were a lot bigger than I had expected, but very very cool.

King Penguin

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The week so far has included for me two hockey practices. I am in a quandry at the moment, as the team I played for last year has gone up a grade from Champ 2 Women to Camp 1 Women. This is wonderful as nearly all the girls in the team deserve to play in the next grade up and it's nice to see they have the oportunity. The old Champ 1 team had mostly gone up a grade too, into a new grade which has just been created this year. Above the senior grade are the premier grades. Last year there were two - Prem 1 and Prem 2. Now there is Prem 3.
Here's the problem. The team created for the new grade (mostly the old Champ 1 team) doesn't have a Goal Keeper as the regular has taken time off for her new baby. So both the new Champ 1 team (my old team) and the new Prem 3 team want me to play with them. I have the choice of jumping up one grade from last year or one and a half grades. I have been making a list in my head of the pros and cons of each and I still don't know what I want to do! Champ 1 is still a step up and will be a challenge, all my friends are in the team, the practice times are better but playing day is worse. It's cheaper. (Though still expensive.)
Prem 3 has a coach who knows what to do with a GK, worse practice times but I'll play on Saturdays, costs more - but their old GK is happy to start playing again as soon as I go to Texas which I am doing for work in the middle of the year.
The dilema!

So at the moment I am attending both practice sessions which is interesting as I am pretty exhausted by the second one. All my muscles for spending an hour bouncing on my toes and holding my hands out at right angles are SCREAMING at me and my gear is still waterlogged from the rain!

Haha - it's good to be back!
This Saturday we have 'club day' where every team in my club (Western Districts) will play their equivalent from a different association. Western is a part of the Auckland Hockey assoc. and we're playing a club from the North Shore assoc. To help me make my desicion I'm playing for both the Champ 1 and Prem 3 teams - one after the other!!! I'll try to get someone to take photos for me and post them up, when I recover!!!

Names

2007-02-16T11:47:00.000+13:00

I am fascinated by names and their meanings - most especially, surnames. I was told once that the suffix "-ing" means "people of." (possibly Saxon...anyone?)
As Mac- is Scot for 'son of,' and O'- is Irish for the same, so too is '-s' in dutch.
Smith, Weaver, Taylor, Miller are pretty straight forward, and I heard of an English name 'Sykes' because the family came from an area where there were rather a lot of them in the fields.

My name is Prouting, and since my origin is English, does that mean I am decended from the 'People of Prout?' The surname on my mother's side is Hamlin. This is easier - the Hamlins came from a place in England known as Ham Hill - famous (??) for its Ham Stone. So doesn't that mean '-lin' is the tag meaning "people of?"

To go further, my mother belongs to the Scotish Clan of Robertson. Why are they anglicised to Robert-son, when my friend remains Gaelic with Mac-Donald?

I had a friend at school whose last name is Risk. She told me that after a lot of research her family discovered they had not always been "Risks" but after a terrible voyage (probably to New Zealand or America) they were trying to cross a river. Half the family said "screw that, I choose life," and the other half said "well risk it." (pls note my extensive use of poetic liscence.) Lo! and behold the family members who made it to the other side thenceforth became known as the Risks.

Again on my mother's side there is the German name - Nieman. I was telling Mum (after a few German lessons at school) that when an 'i' and an 'e' are placed together in a german word, the second vowel is sounded. For example, german for four - vier - is pronounced 'fear.' The 'e' is second, the 'e' is sounded. But with the number two - zwei - the vowel sound is quite clearly and 'i' as in sky. ;-)
Therefore (after all that) the name is pronounced Nee-man. After this lecture Mum looked at me and smiled a little before explaining that the family changed their original spelling, from Neiman to Nieman, to make it look less German during the war. So that was the end of that!

Where does your name come from?

New Plymouth Wedding

2007-02-12T20:12:00.000+13:00

This weekend I was in New Plymouth at the bottom-ish west of the North Island. My friends Nick and Conna were getting married! The weather was hot hot hot, and the venue absoloutely gorgeous!

Okurukuru Vinyard is just outside of New Plymouth and overlooks the Tasman Sea. The building, vines and grounds were picture perfect for such a special day.

Standing on the balcony of Okurukuru looking out over the ocean,
and down on to the wedding spot.

The wedding was scheduled to take place at five o'clock and Nick and Conna had the rare treat of spending almost the whole day together as they gadded about the countryside having their photos taken. As time rolled slowly by, and the waiting guests realised five of the clock had been and gone many minutes ago, from out of nowhere a helicopter, thundered into view and spun about above us. To the sound of the soundtrack to Mission Impossible, the groom and his men came out of the chopper and down to the guests. There they mingled and chatted as the helicopter left to pick up the girls.

They too made a grand entrance, though we weren't allowed to see them exiting the chopper, we watched from below as they made their way along the balcony above and behind us, then round the end of the building and down the stairs. At the bottom Nick moved forward and shook Conna's father's hand, kissed her mother, and collected his bride-to-be. Conna was radiant.
Nick collects Conna from her parents

Together the couple moved to the centre spot where they said beautiful vows and celebrated with some very lovely poetry recited on their behalf. Then the young children were encouraged to come forward and between the couple and the younglings, butterflies were released to float away with wishes and prayers. It was very beautiful and I am sorry I couldn't manage to capture it on film.

Inside the venue for speeches and dinner was unfortunately very hot. I was unfortunately unaccompanied (someone couldn't make it...) so Conna and one of her bridesmaids (another good friend of mine, Megsie) planted me at the end of the table with two larikins - Andrew and Andrew. We weren't sure if they were there to entertain me, or I was there to keep them in check! But they were certainly great entertainment, and Conna's brother Andrew practiced some very gentlemanly charm!

Too bad about the sun!
The picture behind the high table was absolutely gogeous,
The four hangings around it showed quotes for
Love, Wisdom, Peace and Happiness

Later on in the evening we drifted outside for some fresh air, as it was quite stuffy inside!

Bridesmaid Megsie in black at the back, next to her husband and the best man, Rowan.
Conna sits at the table next to Megsie, and you can see the back of Nick's head across from her.
Surrounded by friends.

The first dance was lovely, and it was compulsory for all guests to join in! Nick and Conna looked wonderful and wonderfully happy as they moved together as though they had been dancing all their lives. Not bad for one-and-a-half lessons!!! Later on in the night, after the sun had gone down;

We were encouraged to gather out on the balcony for a surprise. What was it? Fireworks! Certainly a sparkling event for a sparkling day. We returned inside for more dancing, more wedding cake (chocolate), more wine or coffee as the mood took us :-)

As a rugby playing, beer drinking woman (who scrubbed up into a very stunning picture) Conna had a little difficulty with the throwing of the bouquet. In fact, she was so excited by the concept she threw it over and above us single chicks, and it landed at the feet of the flowergirl who was allowed to keep it. My parents will be most upset to hear she might get married before me!!!

It was a wonderful night, and the bbq the next day was also wonderful, though a lot more relaxed. I managed to sleep most of the 5 hour journey home.