I have retired to the cottage for a little peace & quiet after a particularly fraught breakfast time. The kids seemed to be having a competition to see who could eat in the most annoying fashion. There was no clear winner. Conversation was restricted to a series of instructions about how to eat properly, each one met with ‘but Mu-um’ or ‘but Da-ad’ As ever, my admiration for parents tolerance tells me that my childless state was the right choice for me.
I have only been up 2 hours & I feel exhausted. I have a lot of questions to ask my Mum, foremost being, as a kid, did I disagree with every single thing she asked me to do ? I can’t imagine I did, not because I was an angel but because it was so much more ‘seen & not heard’ mentality when I was growing up. Not that I disagree with that, in fact I would take it further, I propose children should raise their hand for permission to speak. If they speak out of turn, they should be zapped with one of those ‘anti-bark’ dog-collars.
Let me clarify, in case that sounds a tad harsh. Obviously, you would give the child fair warning, tell them they were wearing a collar & only give them a short zap. I think zapping them for no reason, just to keep them on their toes, would constitute cruelty.
Eric seems amenable to giving it a go but I think Michelle has reservations.
I want to tell you about last night & I’m not making it up honest.
The Wild West night was held at the Hinuera Rugby Club, which had been decked out in a western theme. We met at the Tanner’s neighbours, the Edgars, Ian & Clare. Ian is an ex-professional polo player who now drives heavy machinery. What more could you ask for ? To be single. There were about 12 of us there & we all pitched into the minibus, which Clare had arranged for us at about 8.15pm.
The costumes at the venue ranged from the predictable, spurs, sixguns & stetsons to the more unusual. One man had come dressed as Lily Savage for reasons best known to himself. The band, ‘Dead Goat’, were best described as enthusiastic amateurs. The only compliment I can pay them is that their songs were recognisable. There was the usual d-I-v-o-r-c-e & dead dog fodder & I don’t know if I was dismayed or pleased to hear they sneaked an ELO number in there too. I had a couple of dances & resisted the urge to head-bang to ‘Blanket on the ground’. Wonder if they knew any Linkin Park ?
The highlight of the evening came in the form of ‘Flick’s fantastic crabs’. Not, as Stan suggested, one man’s tour of NZ with his pubic pals, but crab racing. For the uninitiated, I will elaborate. The crabs (freshly caught to ensure no prior training) were released from under a bucket into a ring about 10’ in diameter. The first crab to reach the side of the ring was declared the winner. Each crab had been bid for in an auction & in true Kiwi fashion, each name was either a rugby term, abuse or a local road name.
Hence there were the ‘Taotaoroa Rd tighta**es’
the ‘Pond Rd Poofters’ & so on.
After 3 rounds of ‘fastest crab’ there was ‘slowest crab’. For this one, I confidently backed the crab which I was sure was comatose in the last 2 rounds. Need I tell you that the crab picked this moment to explode towards the perimeter in a burst of sideways movement, the speed of which would have shamed an All-Black winger ? We could have been there all night with the other crabs, but fortunately, Lily Savage leapt into the ring & some boot-stomping/flamenco dancing on her part got the slackers moving uncertainly. One feisty crab did make the mistake of trying to stand up to this platinum Amazonian vision & I did fear for it’s safety as her knee-high, white, leatherette effect boots were missing it’s vaguely waving pincers by a matter of millimetres. Think of the tale that crab can tell it’s grandkids now.
As the racing progressed, the volunteers who were responsible for rounding up the crabs at the end of each race got a little more blasé. I think there may have been a little heavy-handling too, judging by the fact that each time the crabs moved towards the outside of the ring, they left a number of ownerless legs in the centre.
I lost $20 & my requests for a urine test & a stewards enquiry fell on deaf ears. I learned a valuable lesson & next time I won’t be betting unless I see the crabs in the paddock first.
We got home at about 12.30 in time to see a valiant Ireland succumb to a lack-lustre Australia. I can only imagine how loudly Garth must have been shouting at the tv, Cocky. Needless to say, all Kiwis hate to see Australia winning at any sport, especially rugby. I was disappointed to hear Samoa were beaten by South Africa, we have the game to watch on video at some stage.
As for Andrew, who Clare wanted to set me up with ? To do the story justice, I have to rewind to the 1st rugby game I went to with the Tanners. On that occasion, we were joined by one of the Edgar’s friends. He got blind drunk & spent the evening swaying, blinking myopically like a startled bush-baby & clinging to passers-by. He said little or nothing & Eric couldn’t decide if it was shyness or the inability to speak, due to the alcohol.
When Clare opened the door yesterday evening, (you’re ahead of me here aren’t you ?) who should I see, standing in their dining room ? ‘Carol, I don’t believe you’ve met Andrew ? ’ trilled Clare gaily. Good manners prevented me from saying ‘I have, he was comatose at the rugby game’
Michelle valiantly did all the leg-work & informed me that he plays polo, wants a horse, has dogs & jogs on the beach near his home. He is also very bright & doing a degree in something to do with soil-science. It all sounds very promising doesn’t it ? Pity he wasn’t my type. Eric was very keen for me to hook up with him & I wondered why. Turns out he used to manage a timber yard & Eric needs timber to finish his kitchen. And they say romance is dead.
To describe his dancing I have to ask you to imagine the following.
Imagine a loose-limbed Thunderbird puppet, hinged only at the waist. Now, picture a man milking a cow whilst standing. Mix this with music that no-one else can hear & you’re just about there.
I know I sound harsh & I am sure I have entertained many an audience with my drunken forays onto the dance-floor. However, we women always have one thing over you chaps on the dancefloor. Irrespective of how much alcohol has been consumed, we still retain that mystical ingredient which seems to elude most men ; rhythm.
There are, I concede, a couple of men who not only get it, but are very good dancers, Hadleigh springs to mind. Hadleigh is always the first onto the dance-floor & the last to leave. He thinks nothing of dancing entirely alone & not in a ‘look-at-me’ fashion but because he loves dancing. Please chaps, watch Hadleigh & take note.
I knew yesterday was going to be a good day. The 1st 2 records I heard after the alarm went off at 05.30 were Nickelback ‘Someday’ & Linkin Park ‘Numb’. Your day can’t be bad when it starts like that.
My drive to work was quite spooky as I drove through swirling mist & the breaking dawn. In my absence the stud has blossomed & looks very beautiful. The pastures are knee-deep & studded with buttercups. The neddies have lost their woolly coats & are wearing glossy, fine pelts. It was lovely to be back amongst the gees again, I have missed them very much whilst I have been off.
In typical Kiwi fashion, my light duties consist of everything I did before, with the exception of mucking out the waist-deep straw in the mare & foal beds. I am being careful with my back though, thanks for all the warnings, it’s like having numerous Mums. If any job is too much for me, I won’t be too scared to say so – honest.
Clare, who had just arrived when I went off sick, has usurped me as tractor-driver, in my absence. Humph.
Poor Clare had a real baptism of fire whilst performing her 1st foal watch. The foal was still-born & had ruptured the mare whilst being pulled out. The mare haemorrhaged & was shot by Brent as she could not be saved. What made it even sadder was, of all the mares on the place, it was one of Brent’s mares.
Imagine how Clare must have felt helping at that one ? Makes me glad all my early foalings were straightforward & without drama.
Speaking of foalings, I may be working nights & doing permanent foal-watch for a while. One of the 2 permanent night-duty ladies has been asked to leave as she has missed 3 foalings. It is suspected she has been sleeping on duty. I wouldn’t mind doing nights for a maximum of, say a month as it would ease me into work with minimum strain on my back. I would also be helping work out, as they are struggling to get anyone to cover for Amanda & there is the bonus of working with the mares al the time.
I did foal-watch yesterday from 9am to 11am. It consisted of watching 7 gorgeous, bulging mares whilst sitting in the paddock on the quad-bike with them. I know I have talked about it before but I find being with the in-foal mares very enjoyable. They almost all have lovely natures & are so serene compared to the yearlings. I tend to spend about 20 minutes with each one, gently scratching & rubbing all the bits they cannot reach for themselves. I love seeing how relaxed they become. Their lower lips hang softly & they sigh blissfully to themselves as an itch they have been trying to reach is scratched. Occasionally, as yesterday, one mum will resent the others diverting your attention & will follow as you walk to the others, chasing them away to hog the cuddles.
A weird thing happened yesterday, I don’t know if you will believe me, but I’ll tell you anyway. On the 1st October I ordered a poster to be sent to my Mum in time for her birthday on the 5th. Like her daughter, she appreciates the male vision of perfection that is Aragorn, especially as depicted in the ‘Return of the King’ film poster. The poster was 48-hour delivery guaranteed. It never turned up & the company had blanked my numerous e-mails asking where it had got to. As I was doing foal-watch yesterday, I was reading a book, which I brought with me from the UK. Inside the book was a smaller copy of the poster, which I had put there in England, & promptly forgotten about. Mum texted me to say thank-you for the poster which had arrived, a month late. As I bent down to pick up my phone a piece of paper fluttered out of my book & I was looking at the same image she was texting me about. Well, I thought it was weird anyway.
The weather is unsettled today, wild gusting winds, interspersed with bright sunshine & heavy showers. Michelle is painting today, one of the kid’s rooms, I think. Eric is working on the kitchen cupboards & the kids are running riot playing outdoor games indoors. Hopefully the weather will brighten long enough for them to work off some energy in the pool. The wetsuits were dispensed with rapidly & Harriette especially, will happily play for hours despite blue limbs. They appear much hardier (or should that be foolhardy) than their Kiwi friends who will take a dip, splash around & get out shortly afterwards.
Back to short Blog-rations for you lot as of tomorrow, now that I’m back in the world of the workers, so make the most of this epic entry.
Thanks for the e-mail Col, didn’t get the numerous references to California til I saw the World Section of the Waikato Times. Mrs Colin must be gutted about the rugby. Enjoy your p & q, will reply soon.
So long pardners,
Cx
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