I was going to wallow in self pity after a bit of a weepy day.
Mum's news jolted me out of it.
STRE & MTM, I may be calling on your joint contacts to deal with the grey-suited jerk of a nobody
who paper sifted the claim.
Too angry to type any more.
Wednesday, March 31, 2004
Tuesday, March 30, 2004
Trousers bursting, gut straining, that's right, dinner at The Tanners tonight.
This will be a quick posting as it's past 10, I'm knackered & I still face the drive home. Eric, this cd burner is too close to the keyboard, please reposition it immediately. Add it to your list of jobs please.
Met up with Bloo on Sunday night, it's fair to say we got on. Clamping your hand over the other's mouth became the recognised signal for 'stop, I need to urinate'. We talked solidly for 5 & a half hours.
It turned out we had many similar views & shared experiences.
It's true, we are both left handed, Saggitarian, Jehovah's Witnesses.
Who could have known ?
Despite my best efforts to go somewhere other than The Albert, we ended up there. I enjoyed my meal very much but I don't think Bloo was happy with his. He threw his chair roughly to the floor, not once, but twice to indicate his displeasure. We then played pool til they kicked us out & headed off on a picturesque moonlit tour of Cambridge whilst Bloo tried to remember where the hell his motel was.
We also paid a visit to the newly completed neddy statue
I thought it was very beautiful & am glad I saw it before leaving.
The weather has been stunning here the last couple of weeks, cold bright nights, fresh frosted mornings & hot, sunny days. The Waikato has shed it's surly, sogginess at the best possible time, I will have wonderful memories of this beautiful place.
Very sad to read on the BBC website of the death of Alistair Cooke. Radio 4 won't be the same.
Cx
This will be a quick posting as it's past 10, I'm knackered & I still face the drive home. Eric, this cd burner is too close to the keyboard, please reposition it immediately. Add it to your list of jobs please.
Met up with Bloo on Sunday night, it's fair to say we got on. Clamping your hand over the other's mouth became the recognised signal for 'stop, I need to urinate'. We talked solidly for 5 & a half hours.
It turned out we had many similar views & shared experiences.
It's true, we are both left handed, Saggitarian, Jehovah's Witnesses.
Who could have known ?
Despite my best efforts to go somewhere other than The Albert, we ended up there. I enjoyed my meal very much but I don't think Bloo was happy with his. He threw his chair roughly to the floor, not once, but twice to indicate his displeasure. We then played pool til they kicked us out & headed off on a picturesque moonlit tour of Cambridge whilst Bloo tried to remember where the hell his motel was.
We also paid a visit to the newly completed neddy statue
I thought it was very beautiful & am glad I saw it before leaving.
The weather has been stunning here the last couple of weeks, cold bright nights, fresh frosted mornings & hot, sunny days. The Waikato has shed it's surly, sogginess at the best possible time, I will have wonderful memories of this beautiful place.
Very sad to read on the BBC website of the death of Alistair Cooke. Radio 4 won't be the same.
Cx
Monday, March 29, 2004
Sunday, March 28, 2004
Strange thing, the human body ...
2 glasses of red wine Friday night ; hangover Saturday morning.
Numerous glasses of wine, more than 2 Vodka Cruisers ; no hangover Sunday morning.
Tonight my experiments with alcohol and the human nervous system continue.
I am due to meet up with Bloo aka Stu, an old-school friend of Stan's. He is on the NZ leg of his world tour & I plan
to take him to the Clubhouse in Cambridge (by way of a change from the Albert) for food, beer & pool.
Check out his travels at www.bloo4u.blogspot.com
Last night was a slightly disappointing night, the way they often are when you hope they will be good.
We started off at a beer festival at The National Hotel in Cambridge. This is a biker's haunt & it was, indeed
full of interesting 'characters'. We had been tempted by the $10 entry which promised 'continuous food'
together with a band and a DJ.
The band, unsurprisingly perhaps at a biker's pub, favoured the GnR, AC/DC type stuff & when by 9.30pm
the promised food still hadn't materialised & the drizzle was starting to curl the newly-straightened hair,
yours truly was starting to feel a tad precious. It must be noted that my food intake on Saturday consisted of
a cheese sandwich at lunch to 'save room for the food in the evening' so I was hungry to say the least.
My polite enquiry at the bar was met with the reply 'The chef's closed the kitchen' accompanied by a smile & a shrug
of the shoulders. My policy of not complaining in NZ is mostly because there isn't much to complain about but also
because 'I'm on holiday' so I restricted myself to a look to convey my hunger & displeasure.
My ice-laden stare must have worked better than I realised. Some 10 minutes later, our party was approached
in the gardens, not once, but thrice by nervous-looking waitresses laden with sausages in bread.
I would like to say sausages in rolls but there is a bread shortage in NZ & every sausage comes inadequately
wrapped in one sad slice of bread. Splash out for the tourists guys, give us 2 slices. Please ?
The fact that these girls wound their way past other ravenous headbangers to get to us 1st spoke volumes.
Well done The National.
Once rain stopped play we headed off to ... where else ?
Unfortunately, there was also a band here too, who despite being a squigillion times better that the one at
The National, were playing stuff which just wasn't 'dancable to'. Think Ugly Kid Joe & my song for Millie.
So, we had a decent night, but it's never a classic for me unless I get to embarrass myself (& my party) on the floor.
Last night was memorable for the fact that we met our 1st belligerent drunk Kiwi.
Whilst waiting for the cab at the end of the night we were approached by an extremely tedious boor.
The usual tactics of politely asking him to go away, followed up with cutting him out of the group & then walking away
were all met with enthusiastic swearing as he assured us he was only trying to 'brighten our night up'.
Claire's observation that he had an extremely limited vocabulary just made him the more determined to impress
us with the f-word. Once the mini-van taxi arrived, who piled into the front seat ? By now, things were quite heated
with the man advising us that we were pig islanders & Brit bitches in 'his territory'.
Lyn's assertion that she was in fact, a Kiwi, was ignored.
I was on the verge of asking the taxi driver to stop & drop the bloke in the middle of nowhere when it turned out
he lived in the road we were in. We then explored every driveway in the dark at 0330 because Einstein was too
drunk to recognise his own house. We didn't get much mileage out of that, as you can imagine.
This incident won't sound unusual or isolated to anyone reading this in the UK, but he was the first real p-i-t-a
we have encountered whilst socialising. Shame it had to be on my last night out with the girls, but not bad
when you consider how many really lovely Kiwis we have met.
Right, enough being indoors, the house smells & I need a shower & some fresh air.
5 more days of work left, then a proper break for a few days.
Bill has offered the loan of a tent & I am planning some time away, walking, camping, relaxing & exploring
the top of the North Island. Sounds good doesn't it ?
Oh yes, I almost forgot. I haven't watched any of the 6 Nations but am reliably informed we came 3rd after
the French & the Irish. I want to explain something to forestall the enquiries I keep fielding from Kiwis
anxious to rub it in about the lacklustre performance of the team.
Imagine The All Blacks have just won the World Cup.
They played the final with style, verve & panache against worthy opponents.
They won in the last heartbeat of te game & accepted victory gracefully.
Now imagine your local team have lost a round of Super 12. You are an Aucklander for example
& The Blues have lost to The Chiefs (oh yes, they did didn't they ?)
Anyway, this is how relevant it is to ask a Pom how they feel about the losing the 6 Nations.
It would be nice to win it, of course, but in the grand scheme of rugby, when your team have
proved themselves on the international stage, it matters not a jot.
The End.
Not quite, cos England managed to beat someone at cricket. Now that's truly remarkable.
Wonder if Bloo will let me watch Kiwi Idol before we head out ?
Cx
2 glasses of red wine Friday night ; hangover Saturday morning.
Numerous glasses of wine, more than 2 Vodka Cruisers ; no hangover Sunday morning.
Tonight my experiments with alcohol and the human nervous system continue.
I am due to meet up with Bloo aka Stu, an old-school friend of Stan's. He is on the NZ leg of his world tour & I plan
to take him to the Clubhouse in Cambridge (by way of a change from the Albert) for food, beer & pool.
Check out his travels at www.bloo4u.blogspot.com
Last night was a slightly disappointing night, the way they often are when you hope they will be good.
We started off at a beer festival at The National Hotel in Cambridge. This is a biker's haunt & it was, indeed
full of interesting 'characters'. We had been tempted by the $10 entry which promised 'continuous food'
together with a band and a DJ.
The band, unsurprisingly perhaps at a biker's pub, favoured the GnR, AC/DC type stuff & when by 9.30pm
the promised food still hadn't materialised & the drizzle was starting to curl the newly-straightened hair,
yours truly was starting to feel a tad precious. It must be noted that my food intake on Saturday consisted of
a cheese sandwich at lunch to 'save room for the food in the evening' so I was hungry to say the least.
My polite enquiry at the bar was met with the reply 'The chef's closed the kitchen' accompanied by a smile & a shrug
of the shoulders. My policy of not complaining in NZ is mostly because there isn't much to complain about but also
because 'I'm on holiday' so I restricted myself to a look to convey my hunger & displeasure.
My ice-laden stare must have worked better than I realised. Some 10 minutes later, our party was approached
in the gardens, not once, but thrice by nervous-looking waitresses laden with sausages in bread.
I would like to say sausages in rolls but there is a bread shortage in NZ & every sausage comes inadequately
wrapped in one sad slice of bread. Splash out for the tourists guys, give us 2 slices. Please ?
The fact that these girls wound their way past other ravenous headbangers to get to us 1st spoke volumes.
Well done The National.
Once rain stopped play we headed off to ... where else ?
Unfortunately, there was also a band here too, who despite being a squigillion times better that the one at
The National, were playing stuff which just wasn't 'dancable to'. Think Ugly Kid Joe & my song for Millie.
So, we had a decent night, but it's never a classic for me unless I get to embarrass myself (& my party) on the floor.
Last night was memorable for the fact that we met our 1st belligerent drunk Kiwi.
Whilst waiting for the cab at the end of the night we were approached by an extremely tedious boor.
The usual tactics of politely asking him to go away, followed up with cutting him out of the group & then walking away
were all met with enthusiastic swearing as he assured us he was only trying to 'brighten our night up'.
Claire's observation that he had an extremely limited vocabulary just made him the more determined to impress
us with the f-word. Once the mini-van taxi arrived, who piled into the front seat ? By now, things were quite heated
with the man advising us that we were pig islanders & Brit bitches in 'his territory'.
Lyn's assertion that she was in fact, a Kiwi, was ignored.
I was on the verge of asking the taxi driver to stop & drop the bloke in the middle of nowhere when it turned out
he lived in the road we were in. We then explored every driveway in the dark at 0330 because Einstein was too
drunk to recognise his own house. We didn't get much mileage out of that, as you can imagine.
This incident won't sound unusual or isolated to anyone reading this in the UK, but he was the first real p-i-t-a
we have encountered whilst socialising. Shame it had to be on my last night out with the girls, but not bad
when you consider how many really lovely Kiwis we have met.
Right, enough being indoors, the house smells & I need a shower & some fresh air.
5 more days of work left, then a proper break for a few days.
Bill has offered the loan of a tent & I am planning some time away, walking, camping, relaxing & exploring
the top of the North Island. Sounds good doesn't it ?
Oh yes, I almost forgot. I haven't watched any of the 6 Nations but am reliably informed we came 3rd after
the French & the Irish. I want to explain something to forestall the enquiries I keep fielding from Kiwis
anxious to rub it in about the lacklustre performance of the team.
Imagine The All Blacks have just won the World Cup.
They played the final with style, verve & panache against worthy opponents.
They won in the last heartbeat of te game & accepted victory gracefully.
Now imagine your local team have lost a round of Super 12. You are an Aucklander for example
& The Blues have lost to The Chiefs (oh yes, they did didn't they ?)
Anyway, this is how relevant it is to ask a Pom how they feel about the losing the 6 Nations.
It would be nice to win it, of course, but in the grand scheme of rugby, when your team have
proved themselves on the international stage, it matters not a jot.
The End.
Not quite, cos England managed to beat someone at cricket. Now that's truly remarkable.
Wonder if Bloo will let me watch Kiwi Idol before we head out ?
Cx
Friday, March 26, 2004
Saturday am, 0730, supposed to be having a lie-in, can't sleep so ...
... thought I'd write to you lot.
I have a stinking hangover after 2 glasses of red last night. How unfair is that ?
Things got a little animated here last night when we were discussing work & in specific, the boss.
We were supposed to be watching 'Priscilla Queen of the desert' & having a quiet chill-out night prior to our night
out tonight so why did we end up talking about work ? Oh well. Net result, one glass of red spilt (not guilty) & tears
shed (not mine, cos I'm bleedin' 'ard). 10 minutes of typing & I have corrected 8 mistakes so far, Stan you would be
in your elephant.
Name checks at the beginning, for a change & because I have too many e-mails to reply individually & my head hurts.
Mummeh As things stand, I am advised to return to work on the 29th April. That's the bad news. The
good news is that now that I am coming back to a normal job, I get days off PLUS bank holidays. My rosta is
0900 - 1800 on the 29th. Early turn on the 30th, then rest day on the 1st & 2nd, followed by BHL on the 3rd.
Which of course is Lloyd's birthday (& Bill's too, another co-inkidinky) So, whatever happens, I can come see you
straight after earlies on the Friday, stay Saturday & leave late Monday, as I am late-turn on the Tuesday.
Would you like a Barley-Marley visit too, or would she freak out the mogs ?
Let me know.
Stu Please see above, VK have decided they don't need extra security checks.
They obviously didn't find out about the band of pistoleros I have been house-sharing with.
Please may BM come a-visiting if Mummeh is up to a bouncing Spangle ?
Has Fog been stealing any more food recently ? I was thinking maybe you could fit bells to his
paws to alert house-owners to the fact that there is a glutton prowling in their kitchen ?
MTM Check out the cartoon. Co-inkidinky ? I think not.
There are obviously dark powers at work here. Either that or the Big Fella's hacking into your e-mails ?
As well as his Mum's. Sorry, low blow, couldn't resist. Take a de-merit for no offering yesterday.
Unless of course you had pressing business with a ukelele.
Chef Cycling is obviously too dangerous if you are going to sustain injuries like that.
From now on, you may only ride your bike on the street directly in front of your house.
You will wear full protective gear at all times including elbow pads & you will not venture out of sight.
Rest up, take it easy, make it your goal to read ALL of Q4A before returning to work.
There will be questions to test your understanding of the subject.
Trudes You can't read this, you're across the Tasman in Ozzie.
Your mobile doesn't seem to be working there either.
Your pooter is also broked so, all in all, I'm buggered trying to get hold of you. Oh well.
Hope you are enjoying yourself & that the weather is lovely, as it is here at the moment.
Stop press. Scrub the above, as I type, you have txd across the waves, glad to hear the sun is shining for you.
If I had known I could get people to reply to texts just by blogging to them I could have saved
a shedload of 20 cents !
Weeny The kikkens here are gorgeous, I wish I could bring a couple of them back for you.
I will take pics in the next couple of days for you, they are calm enough to let me touch them when they eat now.
We have hatched a plan to capture them & take them to the local SPCA, if we don't & they breed it will start
to resemble Catropolis & Uncle Murray will come a-visiting with his shotgun.
I can't remember if I said it before, but if not, I am very impressed that you are learning the piano.
I have such a cultured group of friends. I envisage a winter's evening around a log-fire when you lot
will play instruments, recite poetry & discuss current affairs & I will skin dead lambs, do some spot welding
& sand down the calluses on my palms. Happy evenings ahead.
Di's pooter is also broken, so she can't read this. Could someone tell her please how funny Q4A has been ?
Don't mention the spelling mistakes please. Thanks.
Lovely Col, I won't know what to do any more ! Please make sure you are posted to Cad for my return. You can hide
my inadequacies.
Hx It took a while but e-mail finally replied to, I lost your original as some techno-berk decreed it was
Spam so you have been sitting amongst the penis enlargement ads. Not a bad place to be.
Ang Good luck for Tuesday. It will be horrid working for a living again,after being a 'lady who lunches'
and being the 'new kid' is always rough. However, you will hit the ground running as always, for the following reasons ;
1.You are very sharp
2.You are extremely professional.
3.You are top-drawer crumpet, blokes love you & so do girls cos you are lovely (BIANL)
4.Your cats have paws like blackberries.
5.You have lovely hair.
The 4th doesn't necessarily help you in the work place, but it is very endearing to hear you tell everyone again, when you
are squiffy.
Lolly Long time no hear, you must have got over the being in bed all the time stage by now.
Come on, leave her alone for a minute, poke an arm out from under the duvet & tell Briggsy what's happening ?
Did you see Di had been to NY again to do the shopping thing a bit more thoroughly this time ?
Hadders I am very sorry to hear your news, but glad that you have the neddy bug.
It will be very funny to go out riding with you and Cocky. Ask Cocky to tell you about some of my adventures
on Mad Hannah to give you an idea of what to expect. I got the gist of 'being born certain ways'.
I think next time, you should highlight that fact that you have very good rhythm for a white guy.
Maybe it will help ? Hello to Frances.
Cocky Well, at least you won't have high moving costs, given that you are only moving 200 yards.
I'm glad you are able to stay in that part of the world, it seems to suit you very well & the longer you keep buying
houses here, the less likely you are to disappear off to bog-trotter country.
I'm glad you didn't marry the Bruce Forsyth lookalike too. By the time you read this you will have been to the place
where you needed to wear your Bet Lynch slippers & dressing gown (which I have on good authority you DID buy for
yourself) I hope everything went well & you are 'comfortable'. That's the word they use isn't it ? Seems a bloody stupid
word to me but you know what I mean. I am very much looking forward to riding out with you again, although I
suspect after 8 months of no riding I will look like a sack of spuds on a gee. Perhaps Hadleigh can take me where he
goes for lessons ? You are right, where did the year go ? I could swear it was a couple of months ago that you
said 'Have a great time, everyone will have forgotten you in a month' or words to that effect.
Stan Nights at the Yard ? What a stinker. I think nights is the shift that will hit me hardest.
That bleurgh feeling & a permanent sense of jet-lag. Deep joy. Oh well, in Winter, at least we get to drive
home against the traffic & snuggle under the duvet as everyone else is going to work. I know Winter is a year away, but that's
the only positive thing I can say about nights. So, I logged on, hoping for fulsome praise for my arty black & white shot &
what do I get ? Criticism from you for my spelling. Man that hurts. Another Q4A reader has
pointed out that perhaps because the photo is so 'good' (thanks, by the way) people don't realise that I took it. When I sent it to
you minus a title I was very pleased with what you came up with. Not only a title for the photo, but something which described my
ramblings and inner decision-making process. However, perhaps the title should have been 'The photo what I took'
So, I will edit & use that as a 2nd title, hoping to prod some praise from people. I am not above fishing.
Bill Sore head ? Me too & I only had 2, at least you had a 'proper' night out for your suffering today.
Dear Dr.International dentists Thank you for your concern about my cavities. However, the mark you refer to is
a filling from ye olden days when your colleagues still chose to dice with our mental health by using mercury-laced fillings
rather than the sexy,white ones you use these days. The mercury may indeed be responsible for my 9mm inspired death-fantasies
towards a rotund person in a position of power recently. If I chose to re-enact this fantasy, I will of course not be
responsible for my actions & will sue your dentist-ass for loss of earnings whilst serving time in a Kiwi prison.
ps.'been putting naughty things in your mouth' ? My Mum reads this, and quite possibly my Gran too, let's keep it clean please.
I will close by telling you about my dream of two nights ago. Those of you who know me well, know I dream, vividly & in colour
every night. Some of them are very disturbing & not suitable for a family Blog. I don't share them usually because I think our
dreams are only fascinating to ourselves. I started to read another Blog which was witty, incisive & very beautifully illustrated.
I stopped reading it when it became a daily list of the author's dreams.
I was at the roundabout at the bottom of Gipsy Hill, where I once rescued Chris with fuel on his bike when it ran out.
I was with 3 or 4 other people, one of them was Dean, the guy who was responsible for Van Nistelrooy the stallion who
stood here. Van Nistelrooy was there too. The horse, that is, not the footballer he is named after.
He had travelled from somewhere & was very stressed so Dean gave him a cigarette to calm his nerves.
I remember asking if it was wise to give cigarettes to a horse ?
The horse then became an eagle & was still stressed so I made a newspaper cone & put his head into the
pointy bit with his wings pinioned against his sides. We walked this way, across a crowded forecourt of a pub with
the drinkers asking what was in the newspaper cone. 'An eagle who is stressed' I replied.
The eagle then became an Afghan hound & to save it we had to remove the body from the skin. The body & the skin
became 2 separate animals, both of which could function normally. The skin was homed to a lady in Upper Norwood
who promised to take good care of it. She let the skin out on the 2nd day never saw it again. We were angry with her
as it was still wearing it's horsey travelling boots. The End.
I understand the following from the dream. I am stressed about cigarettes as Kirsty is a smoker & the house smells.
I am also aware that Mummeh is suffering nicotine withdrawal. I admire all the animals I dreamed of for their
grace, power & beauty. After that, I'm a bit stuck.
If anyone reading this is a dream interpreter, amateur or not, please let me know what's happening in my addled mind ?
For now, Claire is attacking the wine stain with the vacuum & my head is asking her to stop.
Back to beesies with a cup of tea for me.
Cx
... thought I'd write to you lot.
I have a stinking hangover after 2 glasses of red last night. How unfair is that ?
Things got a little animated here last night when we were discussing work & in specific, the boss.
We were supposed to be watching 'Priscilla Queen of the desert' & having a quiet chill-out night prior to our night
out tonight so why did we end up talking about work ? Oh well. Net result, one glass of red spilt (not guilty) & tears
shed (not mine, cos I'm bleedin' 'ard). 10 minutes of typing & I have corrected 8 mistakes so far, Stan you would be
in your elephant.
Name checks at the beginning, for a change & because I have too many e-mails to reply individually & my head hurts.
Mummeh As things stand, I am advised to return to work on the 29th April. That's the bad news. The
good news is that now that I am coming back to a normal job, I get days off PLUS bank holidays. My rosta is
0900 - 1800 on the 29th. Early turn on the 30th, then rest day on the 1st & 2nd, followed by BHL on the 3rd.
Which of course is Lloyd's birthday (& Bill's too, another co-inkidinky) So, whatever happens, I can come see you
straight after earlies on the Friday, stay Saturday & leave late Monday, as I am late-turn on the Tuesday.
Would you like a Barley-Marley visit too, or would she freak out the mogs ?
Let me know.
Stu Please see above, VK have decided they don't need extra security checks.
They obviously didn't find out about the band of pistoleros I have been house-sharing with.
Please may BM come a-visiting if Mummeh is up to a bouncing Spangle ?
Has Fog been stealing any more food recently ? I was thinking maybe you could fit bells to his
paws to alert house-owners to the fact that there is a glutton prowling in their kitchen ?
MTM Check out the cartoon. Co-inkidinky ? I think not.
There are obviously dark powers at work here. Either that or the Big Fella's hacking into your e-mails ?
As well as his Mum's. Sorry, low blow, couldn't resist. Take a de-merit for no offering yesterday.
Unless of course you had pressing business with a ukelele.
Chef Cycling is obviously too dangerous if you are going to sustain injuries like that.
From now on, you may only ride your bike on the street directly in front of your house.
You will wear full protective gear at all times including elbow pads & you will not venture out of sight.
Rest up, take it easy, make it your goal to read ALL of Q4A before returning to work.
There will be questions to test your understanding of the subject.
Trudes You can't read this, you're across the Tasman in Ozzie.
Your mobile doesn't seem to be working there either.
Your pooter is also broked so, all in all, I'm buggered trying to get hold of you. Oh well.
Hope you are enjoying yourself & that the weather is lovely, as it is here at the moment.
Stop press. Scrub the above, as I type, you have txd across the waves, glad to hear the sun is shining for you.
If I had known I could get people to reply to texts just by blogging to them I could have saved
a shedload of 20 cents !
Weeny The kikkens here are gorgeous, I wish I could bring a couple of them back for you.
I will take pics in the next couple of days for you, they are calm enough to let me touch them when they eat now.
We have hatched a plan to capture them & take them to the local SPCA, if we don't & they breed it will start
to resemble Catropolis & Uncle Murray will come a-visiting with his shotgun.
I can't remember if I said it before, but if not, I am very impressed that you are learning the piano.
I have such a cultured group of friends. I envisage a winter's evening around a log-fire when you lot
will play instruments, recite poetry & discuss current affairs & I will skin dead lambs, do some spot welding
& sand down the calluses on my palms. Happy evenings ahead.
Di's pooter is also broken, so she can't read this. Could someone tell her please how funny Q4A has been ?
Don't mention the spelling mistakes please. Thanks.
Lovely Col, I won't know what to do any more ! Please make sure you are posted to Cad for my return. You can hide
my inadequacies.
Hx It took a while but e-mail finally replied to, I lost your original as some techno-berk decreed it was
Spam so you have been sitting amongst the penis enlargement ads. Not a bad place to be.
Ang Good luck for Tuesday. It will be horrid working for a living again,after being a 'lady who lunches'
and being the 'new kid' is always rough. However, you will hit the ground running as always, for the following reasons ;
1.You are very sharp
2.You are extremely professional.
3.You are top-drawer crumpet, blokes love you & so do girls cos you are lovely (BIANL)
4.Your cats have paws like blackberries.
5.You have lovely hair.
The 4th doesn't necessarily help you in the work place, but it is very endearing to hear you tell everyone again, when you
are squiffy.
Lolly Long time no hear, you must have got over the being in bed all the time stage by now.
Come on, leave her alone for a minute, poke an arm out from under the duvet & tell Briggsy what's happening ?
Did you see Di had been to NY again to do the shopping thing a bit more thoroughly this time ?
Hadders I am very sorry to hear your news, but glad that you have the neddy bug.
It will be very funny to go out riding with you and Cocky. Ask Cocky to tell you about some of my adventures
on Mad Hannah to give you an idea of what to expect. I got the gist of 'being born certain ways'.
I think next time, you should highlight that fact that you have very good rhythm for a white guy.
Maybe it will help ? Hello to Frances.
Cocky Well, at least you won't have high moving costs, given that you are only moving 200 yards.
I'm glad you are able to stay in that part of the world, it seems to suit you very well & the longer you keep buying
houses here, the less likely you are to disappear off to bog-trotter country.
I'm glad you didn't marry the Bruce Forsyth lookalike too. By the time you read this you will have been to the place
where you needed to wear your Bet Lynch slippers & dressing gown (which I have on good authority you DID buy for
yourself) I hope everything went well & you are 'comfortable'. That's the word they use isn't it ? Seems a bloody stupid
word to me but you know what I mean. I am very much looking forward to riding out with you again, although I
suspect after 8 months of no riding I will look like a sack of spuds on a gee. Perhaps Hadleigh can take me where he
goes for lessons ? You are right, where did the year go ? I could swear it was a couple of months ago that you
said 'Have a great time, everyone will have forgotten you in a month' or words to that effect.
Stan Nights at the Yard ? What a stinker. I think nights is the shift that will hit me hardest.
That bleurgh feeling & a permanent sense of jet-lag. Deep joy. Oh well, in Winter, at least we get to drive
home against the traffic & snuggle under the duvet as everyone else is going to work. I know Winter is a year away, but that's
the only positive thing I can say about nights. So, I logged on, hoping for fulsome praise for my arty black & white shot &
what do I get ? Criticism from you for my spelling. Man that hurts. Another Q4A reader has
pointed out that perhaps because the photo is so 'good' (thanks, by the way) people don't realise that I took it. When I sent it to
you minus a title I was very pleased with what you came up with. Not only a title for the photo, but something which described my
ramblings and inner decision-making process. However, perhaps the title should have been 'The photo what I took'
So, I will edit & use that as a 2nd title, hoping to prod some praise from people. I am not above fishing.
Bill Sore head ? Me too & I only had 2, at least you had a 'proper' night out for your suffering today.
Dear Dr.International dentists Thank you for your concern about my cavities. However, the mark you refer to is
a filling from ye olden days when your colleagues still chose to dice with our mental health by using mercury-laced fillings
rather than the sexy,white ones you use these days. The mercury may indeed be responsible for my 9mm inspired death-fantasies
towards a rotund person in a position of power recently. If I chose to re-enact this fantasy, I will of course not be
responsible for my actions & will sue your dentist-ass for loss of earnings whilst serving time in a Kiwi prison.
ps.'been putting naughty things in your mouth' ? My Mum reads this, and quite possibly my Gran too, let's keep it clean please.
I will close by telling you about my dream of two nights ago. Those of you who know me well, know I dream, vividly & in colour
every night. Some of them are very disturbing & not suitable for a family Blog. I don't share them usually because I think our
dreams are only fascinating to ourselves. I started to read another Blog which was witty, incisive & very beautifully illustrated.
I stopped reading it when it became a daily list of the author's dreams.
I was at the roundabout at the bottom of Gipsy Hill, where I once rescued Chris with fuel on his bike when it ran out.
I was with 3 or 4 other people, one of them was Dean, the guy who was responsible for Van Nistelrooy the stallion who
stood here. Van Nistelrooy was there too. The horse, that is, not the footballer he is named after.
He had travelled from somewhere & was very stressed so Dean gave him a cigarette to calm his nerves.
I remember asking if it was wise to give cigarettes to a horse ?
The horse then became an eagle & was still stressed so I made a newspaper cone & put his head into the
pointy bit with his wings pinioned against his sides. We walked this way, across a crowded forecourt of a pub with
the drinkers asking what was in the newspaper cone. 'An eagle who is stressed' I replied.
The eagle then became an Afghan hound & to save it we had to remove the body from the skin. The body & the skin
became 2 separate animals, both of which could function normally. The skin was homed to a lady in Upper Norwood
who promised to take good care of it. She let the skin out on the 2nd day never saw it again. We were angry with her
as it was still wearing it's horsey travelling boots. The End.
I understand the following from the dream. I am stressed about cigarettes as Kirsty is a smoker & the house smells.
I am also aware that Mummeh is suffering nicotine withdrawal. I admire all the animals I dreamed of for their
grace, power & beauty. After that, I'm a bit stuck.
If anyone reading this is a dream interpreter, amateur or not, please let me know what's happening in my addled mind ?
For now, Claire is attacking the wine stain with the vacuum & my head is asking her to stop.
Back to beesies with a cup of tea for me.
Cx
Thursday, March 25, 2004
'Come in New Zealand, you're very faint ...'
' And from the darkness came forth illumination '
Also known as "the photo what I took"
Hello again.
Pooter returned yesterday evening, but I neglected to Blog as I had real phone conversations with real people,
namely Stu & Stan.
Brain is a bit buzzy so I'll start with something safe, NZ Idol.
I don't know quite what happened but one of the contestants on Sunday night (I think) was good.
We were watching the usual assortment of talentless no-hopers when Luke appeared & blew the whole concept
by being entertaining, charismatic & well, just good.
The following won't mean anything to the Poms, but the Kiwis will get it.
Michael Someone obviously told this kid at a family get-together that he has a cute smile.
Stop with the wholesome smiling stuff. Please. And as for the wink to camera at the end ? Don't.
Camillia The whole hand-waving thing has been done by the likes of Carey, Houston & Aguilera.
We don't need another one. If you feel the need to wave anything whilst singing,
be original, wave your feet. I would watch that.
Robin This bet has gone on for long enough. Confess now that you only ever took part as a dare to see how
far someone who couldn't sing could get.
Dave Compulsive, if only because he looks & dances like Earl, the Dad from 'Dinosaurs'.
More Dave please. I am serious. I really like Dave.
It was Trina's 25th birthday this Tuesday (the 18 year old boy in the welly photo, Bill) so we are going out this Saturday, partly
to celebrate that & partly as it will be my last night out with the girls from the stud. Tash (Natasha) has returned from
her fruit-picking soujourn in the South, so minus Koi-Lee, we are all together again. I am hoping for a good evening to
round things off in the approved fashion. Note to the Tanners ... I will be avoiding the 10 pinters
Work was memorable today if only for the fact that my boss surpassed himself.
It's as if he is single-handedly trying to negate the outstanding beauty of my surroundings & makie it easier for me to return to the UK.
I'll look back & laugh about him soon, I know. For now, 3 of us have had dreams in which we murder him.
I'd be sleeping with a baseball bat under my bed if I was him.
I have been doing a lot of thinking over the past few days. I'm not quite ready to share my conclusions yet.
Some of them not ever. Self-discovery can sometimes be a bit brutal.
I always thought it glib when people said they got to know themselves whilst away travelling or single.
I've done both for a year & the things I've discovered are enlightening & surprising.
I am eternally grateful to Cocky for repeatedly telling me to 'sod off out of the UK'.
I now know what I need, what I want & what I would like. They are not all interchangable.
Some are exlcusive. Some will never be.
The things I've learned put me in a good position. Knowledge, as they say, is power.
Knowing what I need doesn't ensure that it will happen, it just helps me to recognise what's important.
This year has been about lots of things.
Recovery. Freedom. Discovery. Excitement. Fear. Physical challenges. Escaping.
All these are true & yet one word keeps cropping to the forefront. Perspective.
Distance lends perspective.
I feel the need to lighten the mood, so will end by relaying a story from yesterday afternoon's smoko (tea-break)
You will recall Murray, the farm manager ? I will miss Murray no end. He terrified me when we 1st met, I found
him scary & formidable. As is often the way, he turned out to be a pussy-cat (bit like you, Creaky).
He gets the humour & refers to me as The Matron which is not in the least insulting.
I was telling him about my Gran & her penchant for saying the a*** word a lot.
I said I was looking forward to beng old enough to drive my 3-wheeler in the slow lane
of the M25, causing tailbacks for hundreds of miles.
'I can see you now' shouts Murray 'your number plate will read 'Shove it up your a***'
Now, that's something to look forward to.
Take care,
Cx
Hello again.
Pooter returned yesterday evening, but I neglected to Blog as I had real phone conversations with real people,
namely Stu & Stan.
Brain is a bit buzzy so I'll start with something safe, NZ Idol.
I don't know quite what happened but one of the contestants on Sunday night (I think) was good.
We were watching the usual assortment of talentless no-hopers when Luke appeared & blew the whole concept
by being entertaining, charismatic & well, just good.
The following won't mean anything to the Poms, but the Kiwis will get it.
Michael Someone obviously told this kid at a family get-together that he has a cute smile.
Stop with the wholesome smiling stuff. Please. And as for the wink to camera at the end ? Don't.
Camillia The whole hand-waving thing has been done by the likes of Carey, Houston & Aguilera.
We don't need another one. If you feel the need to wave anything whilst singing,
be original, wave your feet. I would watch that.
Robin This bet has gone on for long enough. Confess now that you only ever took part as a dare to see how
far someone who couldn't sing could get.
Dave Compulsive, if only because he looks & dances like Earl, the Dad from 'Dinosaurs'.
More Dave please. I am serious. I really like Dave.
It was Trina's 25th birthday this Tuesday (the 18 year old boy in the welly photo, Bill) so we are going out this Saturday, partly
to celebrate that & partly as it will be my last night out with the girls from the stud. Tash (Natasha) has returned from
her fruit-picking soujourn in the South, so minus Koi-Lee, we are all together again. I am hoping for a good evening to
round things off in the approved fashion. Note to the Tanners ... I will be avoiding the 10 pinters
Work was memorable today if only for the fact that my boss surpassed himself.
It's as if he is single-handedly trying to negate the outstanding beauty of my surroundings & makie it easier for me to return to the UK.
I'll look back & laugh about him soon, I know. For now, 3 of us have had dreams in which we murder him.
I'd be sleeping with a baseball bat under my bed if I was him.
I have been doing a lot of thinking over the past few days. I'm not quite ready to share my conclusions yet.
Some of them not ever. Self-discovery can sometimes be a bit brutal.
I always thought it glib when people said they got to know themselves whilst away travelling or single.
I've done both for a year & the things I've discovered are enlightening & surprising.
I am eternally grateful to Cocky for repeatedly telling me to 'sod off out of the UK'.
I now know what I need, what I want & what I would like. They are not all interchangable.
Some are exlcusive. Some will never be.
The things I've learned put me in a good position. Knowledge, as they say, is power.
Knowing what I need doesn't ensure that it will happen, it just helps me to recognise what's important.
This year has been about lots of things.
Recovery. Freedom. Discovery. Excitement. Fear. Physical challenges. Escaping.
All these are true & yet one word keeps cropping to the forefront. Perspective.
Distance lends perspective.
I feel the need to lighten the mood, so will end by relaying a story from yesterday afternoon's smoko (tea-break)
You will recall Murray, the farm manager ? I will miss Murray no end. He terrified me when we 1st met, I found
him scary & formidable. As is often the way, he turned out to be a pussy-cat (bit like you, Creaky).
He gets the humour & refers to me as The Matron which is not in the least insulting.
I was telling him about my Gran & her penchant for saying the a*** word a lot.
I said I was looking forward to beng old enough to drive my 3-wheeler in the slow lane
of the M25, causing tailbacks for hundreds of miles.
'I can see you now' shouts Murray 'your number plate will read 'Shove it up your a***'
Now, that's something to look forward to.
Take care,
Cx
Wednesday, March 24, 2004
Tuesday, March 23, 2004
Monday, March 22, 2004
Saturday, March 20, 2004
Rang the airline this morning to change my date of travel from the 21st April to
earlier in the month & also to see if I could fly from Auckland (North) & not Christchurch
(South).. 'No problem for the airport' said the nice man on the phone. And then was
quiet for a veeery long time whilst he checked my dates.
He then advised me that due to this being 'peak season' he could only offer me the
same date I was already travelling on ie. the 21st. Peak season for what exactly ?
What happens in the Uk in April which tempts hordes of Kiwis to visit ?
Answers on a postcard please.
As it stands I wil be travelling on the 21st & returning to work on the 28th.
Hmmm.
Cx
Stan, Tried to ring, got voicemail, out of tx credit for now, ring me or text me & I will
call again from the Tanners. xx
earlier in the month & also to see if I could fly from Auckland (North) & not Christchurch
(South).. 'No problem for the airport' said the nice man on the phone. And then was
quiet for a veeery long time whilst he checked my dates.
He then advised me that due to this being 'peak season' he could only offer me the
same date I was already travelling on ie. the 21st. Peak season for what exactly ?
What happens in the Uk in April which tempts hordes of Kiwis to visit ?
Answers on a postcard please.
As it stands I wil be travelling on the 21st & returning to work on the 28th.
Hmmm.
Cx
Stan, Tried to ring, got voicemail, out of tx credit for now, ring me or text me & I will
call again from the Tanners. xx
Idvinced Kiwi Part II
I'm back, for a one-off special.
Not Blogging has left me feeling isolated & a bit weird. It's been an odd week
all round really. The day after I stopped feeling dizzy, I was hoisted off the ground a few times
by a truculent mare who objected to lots of other mares trying to kick her.
(Thanks for the mail, Darwin, I did wonder if it was my ears too, have had problems with them
in the past. The problem seems better now, just a 'head-rush' feeling remains when I stand
quickly)
The mare set my back off & for a couple of days I was very down, wondering how much permanent
damage I had done. Luckily, I still had some of the drugs from 1st time around & at the moment
it's not hurting at all. Whether it's the drugs or a recovery, I don't know & don't care.
Just being pain-free is bliss.
I was also dreading coming to the Tanners if I was limping as I know Eric enjoys nothing better
than 'someone else's misfortune'.
I am at the Tanners now, having invited myself around, earlier on in the week.
I was hoping for home-made pizza, company & a computer.
I have stew, baked spuds & the desk-top & a note from Eric telling me to make myself at home.
Wonder how quickly I can turf Ma & Pa Smith's belongings out of the flat ?
The Tanners have gone to Thames to see their friends Juliet & Kev.
Today's soundtrack is silence. Partly because I need some, but mostly because only Michelle
understands the workings of their temperamental CD player. To watch her approach the player
is to understand how a cheetah ensnares a gazelle upon the Serengeti.
She sidles up to it, CD surreptitiously behind her back, affecting nonchalance, her expression
that of one who has a million things on their mind, other than playing a CD.
Only when she is sure the CD player cannot get away does she reveal the CD, in a manner
reminiscent of a man offering watches from the inside of his coat.
Speaking in soothing tones she slowly, oh so slowly, guides the CD to the deck & pushes
the open/close button.
The deck slides out grudgingly, a skulking, malevolent, CD chewing abyss.
In one swift movement, Michelle places the disc in the holder, whilst pushing a hidden
button underneath, which she tells me 'encourages' the rack to retract. It is at this point that
Michelle's ICU training comes to the fore, as she must discard all notion of fear & nerves
& slam the deck with all her strength into the bowels of the machine.
What follows is an agonising wait, for if the display reads 'zero', all will have been for naught
& the process must begin again.
If, however, the player displays numerals & joy of joys, a second counter, then it has deigned
to play the paltry gift you have offered.
Beware, for next time, it will demand the blood of virgins, before playing your Tubular Bells.
I have been promising, for some time, to shed light on the peculiarities of the speech of the Kiwi.
Listen up.
By now, you should be proficient with how to describe things as good or bad ie awesome & bugger
You will be confidently yip, yip, yipping & may even have tried a few forays into the contradictory
world of the yeah/ no's. Those class swats will even have remembered the gender of everything in NZ,
that is, female.
Today, I would like to share with you the secrets of how to describe things & also, asking questions.
As with most things, Kiwis like to make things easy for people. The same follows for their language.
Nothing should be too much effort.
Firstly, asking questions.
In the UK, the following question would go like this ...
'Do these horses wear 2 rugs at night or not ?'
The same sentence here translates thus ...
'These horses wear 2 rugs at night. Ey ?'
Just make a statement & end it with the word 'Ey'.
You are inviting the listener to then, comment upon the accuracy of your statement.
They will respond in the manner described earlier, either yip yipping their agreement,
issuing a denial with an easy 'no' or possibly both 'Yeahno,' you'll have to guess at this point.
I will explain.
'Ey' is pronounced with a long e sound, similar to the word 'Ay'
It is never pronounced 'Eh'. Nothing will mark you out quicker as a travelling Pom
than to get this wrong. 'Eh' means you are deaf. 'Ey' means you are asking for an affirmation.
Every single question in NZ is asked in this way, it really couldn't be easier.
The questions could be as mundane as the one above or serious as in a proposal.
Although I am guessing here, I should imagine thousands of Kiwi ladies have had
a chap on bended knee utter the following sentence to them
'We're getting married. Ey ?'
Kiwis have done the English a favour by taking our uptight language & simplifying it.
Do you see the overall effect ? Less words. More time for other things. For although
your average Kiwi talks quicker than Lee Evans on speed, they don't like to waste
time using too many words.
Making comparisons
Things become even easier here, pity the poor sods who are trying to learn Japanese
when they could be with us lot, learning Kiwi.
You want to say that something is as beautiful as a spring dawn, for example.
Remember in English classes, having to decide if words were metaphors or similes ?
What have the Kiwis done ? Got rid of the lot.
You want to say that something is easy ?
Here's how.
'It's easy as ...'
That's the end of the sentence. You may think I jest here & that the 3 little dots represent a word
I plan to add later. They don't. The sentence stands alone. You are confused aren't you ?
Let's try another.
You would like to comment to a Kiwi friend that the road you drove along was particularly bendy.
You say
'It's bendy as ...' Note, again, I am not completing the sentence.
That's the beauty of this. You don't have to waste time dredging your pitifully small memory-based
thesaurus & your friend does not suffer the embarrassment of not understanding the word you chose !
Simplicity itself.
I will offer you a few more translations but then you must work through some for yourself.
It's only by using this fantastic language that you will be able to say these things in
an unselfconscious manner.
English
'The surf crashed over the boulders like a thousand splintering shards of glass.'
Kiwi
'The surf was rough as ...'
English
'The night closed in on him, hot & humid, as a hunter's breath'
Kiwi
'The night was hot as...'
I know this probably seems too good to be true & when you first arrive, you will be in a permanent
state of suspense during conversations with your new buddies. You will be waiting for them
to finish their description. They will not. Once you have learned this, you can relax & enjoy your chats.
Awesome.
My work here is done.
On the theme of language, you may recall some time ago, I set out, using a subtle form of osmosis to change some of the words & phrases used at work ? It has been a resounding success. I can report that the weak 'quitit' to a naughty horse has been replaced with the far more satisfactory 'PACKIIITIIIN' (remember to clamp your teeth whilst saying this one for maximum effect)
Much more enjoyable, even than this, is the fact that everyone now calls our 'products' 'neddies'
Mares are 'mummy neddies', foals & weanlings are 'baybee neddies', females are 'filly-neddies'
& colts are 'boy-neddies'. For some reason 'colt-neddies' didn't work.
One of the high-points of my (admittedly low) week, came on Tuesday afternoon. Trina informed me
that she & her boyfriend were driving when he pointed to a paddock & exclaimed 'Look- neddies !'.
I should point out both have worked with horses their entire lives.
Kat, one of the girls I worked with in Karaka, was looking for inspiration for a race name for her
black thoroughbred. To my delight, she agreed to register the name 'Blackneddy'.
Just imagine listening to a commentary, if all the horses were named by colour. Brilliant.
It never fails to make me laugh when I see Millie's face (my boss), when we refer to these expensive
'athletes' (as he refers to them) as neddies. Ah, little things.
Speaking of my boss, you may notice that I don't, usually. For reasons which will become clear
later. I have to tell you how he directed me to make up a mix for painting on the fence posts to stop
the neddies chewing them.
I knew the mix comprised oil, diesel & creosote, just not in what ratio.
'You need, one half creosote, one third, diesel & one third oil', came the reply.
I didn't have the heart to tell him, I just replay it in my mind as he tells us once more, for the
3rd time in a day that we are all 'f***in' useless'. Smile & nod. Nod & smile.
Today, after work, I went to Cambridge to try & select some gifts. Have you ever tried buying
gifts smaller than your hand ? I am dreading how much over the luggage allowance I will be,
especially after you naughty lot bought me pressies, when I distinctly asked you not to.
Oh well, I suppose it's diamond jewellery for the girls & Kinder Eggs for the boys. Seems fair.
Cambridge looked particularly gorgeous today in the bright sunshine & I found myself glaring
balefully at lots of blameless Kiwis who are lucky enough to have been born here.
They probably wondered why the Pom in the poo-stained t-shirt was scuffing her heels
along the pavement muttering about it 'Not being fair'
And here's a poser for you.
How can you be homesick when a) you haven't left ? & b) it's not your home ?.
I handed in my notice on Friday. I have 2 weeks of work left.
I was hoping Brent may say something along the lines of
'You can't possibly go, we need you here, pleeease don't leave'
He disguised his dismay well though. Ever the professional.
Darsha Don't forget the clocks go back tonight. An extra hour in bed before milking.
Wouldn't want you to miss it.
I have fed the dogs & the pigs now. Judging by the size of the pigs, Eric has obviously
been experimenting with some growth hormone. What happened to the cute icklies I remember ?
They are monsters.
I am going to eat my dinner now & listen to The Archers on-line.
Ian & Adam kiss on the 12th March. How long ago did I say Ian was gay ?
Soon, I will be able to listen to the Omnibus in bed on Sunday mornings again.
Swings. Roundabouts.
The following was sent to me this week. The timing of it was perfect.
You may love it like I do.
You may find it warming, even though you find horses a bit scary.
You may think it's sentimental claptrap, in which case you must be a real hardass.
When I am Old...
I shall wear turquoise
And a straw cowboy hat that
doesn't match and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my social security
on white wine and carrots
And sit in the alley way of my barn
And listen to my horses breathe.
I will sneak out in the middle of a summer night
And ride the dappled mare
Across the moonstruck meadow,
If my old bones will allow.
And when people come to call, I will smile and nod,
As I walk them past the gardens to the barn
And show, instead, the flowers growing there.
In stalls fresh-lined with straw
I will learn to shovel and sweat and
wear hay in my hair as if it were a jewel.
And I will be an embarrassment to my only child
Who will have not yet found the peace in being free
To love a horse as a friend,
A friend who waits at midnight hour
With muzzle and nicker and patient eyes
For the kind of person I will be
When I am old.
I'm back, for a one-off special.
Not Blogging has left me feeling isolated & a bit weird. It's been an odd week
all round really. The day after I stopped feeling dizzy, I was hoisted off the ground a few times
by a truculent mare who objected to lots of other mares trying to kick her.
(Thanks for the mail, Darwin, I did wonder if it was my ears too, have had problems with them
in the past. The problem seems better now, just a 'head-rush' feeling remains when I stand
quickly)
The mare set my back off & for a couple of days I was very down, wondering how much permanent
damage I had done. Luckily, I still had some of the drugs from 1st time around & at the moment
it's not hurting at all. Whether it's the drugs or a recovery, I don't know & don't care.
Just being pain-free is bliss.
I was also dreading coming to the Tanners if I was limping as I know Eric enjoys nothing better
than 'someone else's misfortune'.
I am at the Tanners now, having invited myself around, earlier on in the week.
I was hoping for home-made pizza, company & a computer.
I have stew, baked spuds & the desk-top & a note from Eric telling me to make myself at home.
Wonder how quickly I can turf Ma & Pa Smith's belongings out of the flat ?
The Tanners have gone to Thames to see their friends Juliet & Kev.
Today's soundtrack is silence. Partly because I need some, but mostly because only Michelle
understands the workings of their temperamental CD player. To watch her approach the player
is to understand how a cheetah ensnares a gazelle upon the Serengeti.
She sidles up to it, CD surreptitiously behind her back, affecting nonchalance, her expression
that of one who has a million things on their mind, other than playing a CD.
Only when she is sure the CD player cannot get away does she reveal the CD, in a manner
reminiscent of a man offering watches from the inside of his coat.
Speaking in soothing tones she slowly, oh so slowly, guides the CD to the deck & pushes
the open/close button.
The deck slides out grudgingly, a skulking, malevolent, CD chewing abyss.
In one swift movement, Michelle places the disc in the holder, whilst pushing a hidden
button underneath, which she tells me 'encourages' the rack to retract. It is at this point that
Michelle's ICU training comes to the fore, as she must discard all notion of fear & nerves
& slam the deck with all her strength into the bowels of the machine.
What follows is an agonising wait, for if the display reads 'zero', all will have been for naught
& the process must begin again.
If, however, the player displays numerals & joy of joys, a second counter, then it has deigned
to play the paltry gift you have offered.
Beware, for next time, it will demand the blood of virgins, before playing your Tubular Bells.
I have been promising, for some time, to shed light on the peculiarities of the speech of the Kiwi.
Listen up.
By now, you should be proficient with how to describe things as good or bad ie awesome & bugger
You will be confidently yip, yip, yipping & may even have tried a few forays into the contradictory
world of the yeah/ no's. Those class swats will even have remembered the gender of everything in NZ,
that is, female.
Today, I would like to share with you the secrets of how to describe things & also, asking questions.
As with most things, Kiwis like to make things easy for people. The same follows for their language.
Nothing should be too much effort.
Firstly, asking questions.
In the UK, the following question would go like this ...
'Do these horses wear 2 rugs at night or not ?'
The same sentence here translates thus ...
'These horses wear 2 rugs at night. Ey ?'
Just make a statement & end it with the word 'Ey'.
You are inviting the listener to then, comment upon the accuracy of your statement.
They will respond in the manner described earlier, either yip yipping their agreement,
issuing a denial with an easy 'no' or possibly both 'Yeahno,' you'll have to guess at this point.
I will explain.
'Ey' is pronounced with a long e sound, similar to the word 'Ay'
It is never pronounced 'Eh'. Nothing will mark you out quicker as a travelling Pom
than to get this wrong. 'Eh' means you are deaf. 'Ey' means you are asking for an affirmation.
Every single question in NZ is asked in this way, it really couldn't be easier.
The questions could be as mundane as the one above or serious as in a proposal.
Although I am guessing here, I should imagine thousands of Kiwi ladies have had
a chap on bended knee utter the following sentence to them
'We're getting married. Ey ?'
Kiwis have done the English a favour by taking our uptight language & simplifying it.
Do you see the overall effect ? Less words. More time for other things. For although
your average Kiwi talks quicker than Lee Evans on speed, they don't like to waste
time using too many words.
Making comparisons
Things become even easier here, pity the poor sods who are trying to learn Japanese
when they could be with us lot, learning Kiwi.
You want to say that something is as beautiful as a spring dawn, for example.
Remember in English classes, having to decide if words were metaphors or similes ?
What have the Kiwis done ? Got rid of the lot.
You want to say that something is easy ?
Here's how.
'It's easy as ...'
That's the end of the sentence. You may think I jest here & that the 3 little dots represent a word
I plan to add later. They don't. The sentence stands alone. You are confused aren't you ?
Let's try another.
You would like to comment to a Kiwi friend that the road you drove along was particularly bendy.
You say
'It's bendy as ...' Note, again, I am not completing the sentence.
That's the beauty of this. You don't have to waste time dredging your pitifully small memory-based
thesaurus & your friend does not suffer the embarrassment of not understanding the word you chose !
Simplicity itself.
I will offer you a few more translations but then you must work through some for yourself.
It's only by using this fantastic language that you will be able to say these things in
an unselfconscious manner.
English
'The surf crashed over the boulders like a thousand splintering shards of glass.'
Kiwi
'The surf was rough as ...'
English
'The night closed in on him, hot & humid, as a hunter's breath'
Kiwi
'The night was hot as...'
I know this probably seems too good to be true & when you first arrive, you will be in a permanent
state of suspense during conversations with your new buddies. You will be waiting for them
to finish their description. They will not. Once you have learned this, you can relax & enjoy your chats.
Awesome.
My work here is done.
On the theme of language, you may recall some time ago, I set out, using a subtle form of osmosis to change some of the words & phrases used at work ? It has been a resounding success. I can report that the weak 'quitit' to a naughty horse has been replaced with the far more satisfactory 'PACKIIITIIIN' (remember to clamp your teeth whilst saying this one for maximum effect)
Much more enjoyable, even than this, is the fact that everyone now calls our 'products' 'neddies'
Mares are 'mummy neddies', foals & weanlings are 'baybee neddies', females are 'filly-neddies'
& colts are 'boy-neddies'. For some reason 'colt-neddies' didn't work.
One of the high-points of my (admittedly low) week, came on Tuesday afternoon. Trina informed me
that she & her boyfriend were driving when he pointed to a paddock & exclaimed 'Look- neddies !'.
I should point out both have worked with horses their entire lives.
Kat, one of the girls I worked with in Karaka, was looking for inspiration for a race name for her
black thoroughbred. To my delight, she agreed to register the name 'Blackneddy'.
Just imagine listening to a commentary, if all the horses were named by colour. Brilliant.
It never fails to make me laugh when I see Millie's face (my boss), when we refer to these expensive
'athletes' (as he refers to them) as neddies. Ah, little things.
Speaking of my boss, you may notice that I don't, usually. For reasons which will become clear
later. I have to tell you how he directed me to make up a mix for painting on the fence posts to stop
the neddies chewing them.
I knew the mix comprised oil, diesel & creosote, just not in what ratio.
'You need, one half creosote, one third, diesel & one third oil', came the reply.
I didn't have the heart to tell him, I just replay it in my mind as he tells us once more, for the
3rd time in a day that we are all 'f***in' useless'. Smile & nod. Nod & smile.
Today, after work, I went to Cambridge to try & select some gifts. Have you ever tried buying
gifts smaller than your hand ? I am dreading how much over the luggage allowance I will be,
especially after you naughty lot bought me pressies, when I distinctly asked you not to.
Oh well, I suppose it's diamond jewellery for the girls & Kinder Eggs for the boys. Seems fair.
Cambridge looked particularly gorgeous today in the bright sunshine & I found myself glaring
balefully at lots of blameless Kiwis who are lucky enough to have been born here.
They probably wondered why the Pom in the poo-stained t-shirt was scuffing her heels
along the pavement muttering about it 'Not being fair'
And here's a poser for you.
How can you be homesick when a) you haven't left ? & b) it's not your home ?.
I handed in my notice on Friday. I have 2 weeks of work left.
I was hoping Brent may say something along the lines of
'You can't possibly go, we need you here, pleeease don't leave'
He disguised his dismay well though. Ever the professional.
Darsha Don't forget the clocks go back tonight. An extra hour in bed before milking.
Wouldn't want you to miss it.
I have fed the dogs & the pigs now. Judging by the size of the pigs, Eric has obviously
been experimenting with some growth hormone. What happened to the cute icklies I remember ?
They are monsters.
I am going to eat my dinner now & listen to The Archers on-line.
Ian & Adam kiss on the 12th March. How long ago did I say Ian was gay ?
Soon, I will be able to listen to the Omnibus in bed on Sunday mornings again.
Swings. Roundabouts.
The following was sent to me this week. The timing of it was perfect.
You may love it like I do.
You may find it warming, even though you find horses a bit scary.
You may think it's sentimental claptrap, in which case you must be a real hardass.
I shall wear turquoise
And a straw cowboy hat that
doesn't match and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my social security
on white wine and carrots
And sit in the alley way of my barn
And listen to my horses breathe.
I will sneak out in the middle of a summer night
And ride the dappled mare
Across the moonstruck meadow,
If my old bones will allow.
And when people come to call, I will smile and nod,
As I walk them past the gardens to the barn
And show, instead, the flowers growing there.
In stalls fresh-lined with straw
I will learn to shovel and sweat and
wear hay in my hair as if it were a jewel.
And I will be an embarrassment to my only child
Who will have not yet found the peace in being free
To love a horse as a friend,
A friend who waits at midnight hour
With muzzle and nicker and patient eyes
For the kind of person I will be
When I am old.
Friday, March 19, 2004
Thursday, March 18, 2004
Tuesday, March 16, 2004
Monday, March 15, 2004
'Bonus blog. No purchase necessary. Try before you buy !'
What are you doing here ?
You know that I can't Blog any more.
Oh, you came to see what the cartoon was ?
Isn't the naive zebra/impunity, one of the best ? 'He's good people'
Well, it's just us two then, so we can be frank with each other.
Truth is, I am off sick today, so you get a bonus blog (Weeny, you have to say 'bwanus, bwanus' & wag your tail
excitedly as your mum would when feeding the dog.)
I have been feeling ick since Sunday, very odd sensations, like being drunk but without the fun or the
lack of moral inhibitions.
I can't focus very well either so this looks a bit blurry to me. Losing your faculties sucks, I'll be wearing a tartan
rug over my knees next. The girls think I may have concussion from being run over by the foals.
I didn't know you could get concussion from sitting down on your behind too quickly.
Norah Jones is today's Blog soundtrack, I was going to choose Gorecki's 3rd but it's a little early in the day
for full on angst.
The little guy with the freaky feet accompanies me, chirruping & mrrrr-mrrring every time I ask him how to spell
something.
On which note, I am officially impressed ! I have a friend who knows how to spell the word Srebrenica.
I would have had many attempts & possibly even written that version down, before rejecting it.
If you don't know what a Srebrenica is, fear not, to save you looking it up, or embarrassing yourself by asking
at a cocktail party, I can tell you it's one of those small, ornate guitars similar to a ukelele.
What do you mean you don't know what a ukelele is ?
I have been having withdrawal pangs from Blog so I have to tell you everything I was meaning to this week, in
the next couple of hours.
As for the decision & am I officially decided ?. No.
Every time a magpie does the 'wardle-oodle-ardle' noise, I wonder how it will be not to hear it daily.
The other factor is Blog. So many people have given me pleasure with their feedback, comments & input that
I wonder how 'Metropolitan Police Force Control Room - The Quest for Justice' will possible compare to
'Quest for Aragorn'. So, should I stay 10,000 miles away, just to entertain you lot ? Quite possibly, yes.
'I used to be indecisive, now ..'
Norah's finished warbling, tried Nickelback but they didn't hit the spot, so now it's Elgar's Cello Concerto.
Memories of Arundel.
Away from brain-ache stuff for a while, I want to tell you about my Gran.
Unconventional. Frequently foul-mouthed (you'd like her MTM). Repetitive.
Loving. Funny (often unintentionally) Fiery. Generous.
She calls me her little treasure & says she wouldn't swap me for all the tea in China, so she obviously
has poor fiscal judgement, but I get her drift.
Some 22 years ago, I remember we were out walking, on a sunny day. I remarked that I could
see 'bits of silver' in her hair. She informed me that she was using a new hairspray & that it must have
affected the colour of her hair. Such is my Gran's disdain for ageing, that I believed her. I understood
the concept of grey hair, I just didn't think it could possibly be happening to my vigorous 67 year old Gran.
My Gran once awoke to find some thieving scum of a burglar with his hand under her pillow, looking for her
valuables. She was entirely alone in the house. She got out of bed, furious, & demanded he leave immediately.
He tried to leave via the kitchen door, but she told him he had to exit, the same way he had entered.
She forced him to climb the draining board & squeeze through the tiny window above the sink.
When she regaled Mum & I with the tale, we looked at each other, imagining how things would have gone
if he had decided to stand his ground rather than run from this tiny, tenacious, woman.
The local Police responded well, fitting her a panic alarm. I discussed this with her, making sure she knew in
what circumstances she could use it & what sort of response she could expect. I emphasised how she could
use it if she saw or heard anything suspicious.
'But I don't like to disturb the Police, luvvie, I know they're busy' was her honest-to-goodness response.
My Gran's vocabulary would be a huge source of inspiration for Alan Bennett. She has a disturbing anal
swearing fixation, which is all the more incongruous from someone who appears so innocent.
I have to use the word a*** several times in this next bit, if I don't do the star thing then Hadleigh can't read
it, so bear with me. You know the rules by know, you have to say these out loud for maximum effect.
Anyone whose proposal doesn't meet with Gran's unqualified support is told they can
'Shove it up their a***'
When discussing the rights & wrongs of bottom-burps, her ethos is
'Tis a poor a*** that never rejoiced'
And when enquiring as to why someone may look less than happy her question will be
'What's the matter with you, has your face seem your a***'
I feel I must qualify this entry with one of those boring, but accurate 'this is all true' markers.
My Gran once recounted a story to Mum & I which had us blowing snot bubbles of mirth, whilst endeavouring
to keep straight faces.
She telephoned her local council to report a fault with her shower.
The hapless council employee told her the man would be out the following Monday to look at the offending shower.
Gran explained that this was not satisfactory & she wanted him sooner.
The girl explained Monday was the soonest he could attend.
'Well, in that case, you can shove it up your a***' was Gran's hearty riposte.
3 days later, on Monday, Gran waits all day for the man to come.
Oddly, he does not.
She rings to complain.
Wouldn't you love to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation ?
'But Mrs Ellis, when you told me to shove it up my a*** I assumed you didn't want your shower attended to ?'
Quite often, in my previous normal job, we would tap our head when on the phone to indicate to others in the
room that we were taking a call from someone whose cheese had slipped off the cracker. They then had the
option of listening to your side of the call '... yes, of course I believe that the only way you will remain safe
from Martian invasion is to line your bedroom with Bacofoil' or, alternatively, they could listen in.
One of the most amusing was Bob who would cut in on your call. At the point when you had just finished listening
to an incredibly weary neighbour saga & was wondering exactly how to tell the pond-life they should just move,
Bob would interject 'I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you very well, would you repeat that ?'.
This meant you had to endure the whole saga again.
Most didn't even notice that a female had taken the call, but a male was asking them to repeat it.
Having re-read this, I wish to make it clear that Bob was a control room operator, not a nutter.
Then again ...
I have a mental impression of a small, local council office, somewhere in West Yorkshire.
Whenever Mrs Ellis calls, the operator taps their head, so that all may be party to the profanities.
She quite often doesn't listen to a word I say.
I could reply to her question 'How are you ?' by saying 'Great, shacked up with the England Rugby Team, we take turns
doing the dishes' & she would say 'Lovely, the bin men were late again on Tuesday'.
She has been planing her demise since she was 60. Every time we made arrangements to see her,
the reply would be 'God Willing'. She also spends a lot of time in the past. This isn't a criticism, I do too & I don't
have her age as an excuse.
She doesn't really know what's happening in my life.
When I asked Mum if she'd told her about me going to NZ & the reason why, she replied that she wasn't
sure how she was going to tell her, especially as Gran thought I was still with the previous boyfriend.
Whenever I tell her of the latest episode of my private life, she listens with every indication of taking it
all in then always offers the same reply. Even when my tale has been one of heartbreak, misery & woe.
'Oh well, as long as you're happy luvvie'
Please don't think from this that I would want my Gran any other way.
She is one of the girls who worked 'in service' during WW2 & has the most tremendous
work ethic. Without going into too many details she has had the kind of experiences which
would make lesser types curl into the foetal position & stay there. She is part of what annoys me most
when young people are disrespectful or rude to old people. A generation of people who showed more fortitude,
moral courage & grit than most of us have the need to call on these days.
When did this turn into a rant ? It wasn't meant to be one.
I often wonder how I would cope faced with the trials my Gran did.
Not as well, is the answer.
I believe she is the benchmark for old people. We should all aspire to use the word a*** at least once a day.
To other people, I mean, to yourself doesn't count.
Read the poem 'When I grow old I shall wear purple.'
It's a lifestyle guide.
Trudes, you're half way there, with the purple bit, not the old bit.
And Happy Birthday for tomorrow (although it's today here).
Must leave for now & I didn't even manage the Kiwi language lesson I was promising.
I am hoping to go to work after lunch, I don't feel sick now, just dizzy.
Cx
What are you doing here ?
You know that I can't Blog any more.
Oh, you came to see what the cartoon was ?
Isn't the naive zebra/impunity, one of the best ? 'He's good people'
Well, it's just us two then, so we can be frank with each other.
Truth is, I am off sick today, so you get a bonus blog (Weeny, you have to say 'bwanus, bwanus' & wag your tail
excitedly as your mum would when feeding the dog.)
I have been feeling ick since Sunday, very odd sensations, like being drunk but without the fun or the
lack of moral inhibitions.
I can't focus very well either so this looks a bit blurry to me. Losing your faculties sucks, I'll be wearing a tartan
rug over my knees next. The girls think I may have concussion from being run over by the foals.
I didn't know you could get concussion from sitting down on your behind too quickly.
Norah Jones is today's Blog soundtrack, I was going to choose Gorecki's 3rd but it's a little early in the day
for full on angst.
The little guy with the freaky feet accompanies me, chirruping & mrrrr-mrrring every time I ask him how to spell
something.
On which note, I am officially impressed ! I have a friend who knows how to spell the word Srebrenica.
I would have had many attempts & possibly even written that version down, before rejecting it.
If you don't know what a Srebrenica is, fear not, to save you looking it up, or embarrassing yourself by asking
at a cocktail party, I can tell you it's one of those small, ornate guitars similar to a ukelele.
What do you mean you don't know what a ukelele is ?
I have been having withdrawal pangs from Blog so I have to tell you everything I was meaning to this week, in
the next couple of hours.
As for the decision & am I officially decided ?. No.
Every time a magpie does the 'wardle-oodle-ardle' noise, I wonder how it will be not to hear it daily.
The other factor is Blog. So many people have given me pleasure with their feedback, comments & input that
I wonder how 'Metropolitan Police Force Control Room - The Quest for Justice' will possible compare to
'Quest for Aragorn'. So, should I stay 10,000 miles away, just to entertain you lot ? Quite possibly, yes.
'I used to be indecisive, now ..'
Norah's finished warbling, tried Nickelback but they didn't hit the spot, so now it's Elgar's Cello Concerto.
Memories of Arundel.
Away from brain-ache stuff for a while, I want to tell you about my Gran.
Unconventional. Frequently foul-mouthed (you'd like her MTM). Repetitive.
Loving. Funny (often unintentionally) Fiery. Generous.
She calls me her little treasure & says she wouldn't swap me for all the tea in China, so she obviously
has poor fiscal judgement, but I get her drift.
Some 22 years ago, I remember we were out walking, on a sunny day. I remarked that I could
see 'bits of silver' in her hair. She informed me that she was using a new hairspray & that it must have
affected the colour of her hair. Such is my Gran's disdain for ageing, that I believed her. I understood
the concept of grey hair, I just didn't think it could possibly be happening to my vigorous 67 year old Gran.
My Gran once awoke to find some thieving scum of a burglar with his hand under her pillow, looking for her
valuables. She was entirely alone in the house. She got out of bed, furious, & demanded he leave immediately.
He tried to leave via the kitchen door, but she told him he had to exit, the same way he had entered.
She forced him to climb the draining board & squeeze through the tiny window above the sink.
When she regaled Mum & I with the tale, we looked at each other, imagining how things would have gone
if he had decided to stand his ground rather than run from this tiny, tenacious, woman.
The local Police responded well, fitting her a panic alarm. I discussed this with her, making sure she knew in
what circumstances she could use it & what sort of response she could expect. I emphasised how she could
use it if she saw or heard anything suspicious.
'But I don't like to disturb the Police, luvvie, I know they're busy' was her honest-to-goodness response.
My Gran's vocabulary would be a huge source of inspiration for Alan Bennett. She has a disturbing anal
swearing fixation, which is all the more incongruous from someone who appears so innocent.
I have to use the word a*** several times in this next bit, if I don't do the star thing then Hadleigh can't read
it, so bear with me. You know the rules by know, you have to say these out loud for maximum effect.
Anyone whose proposal doesn't meet with Gran's unqualified support is told they can
'Shove it up their a***'
When discussing the rights & wrongs of bottom-burps, her ethos is
'Tis a poor a*** that never rejoiced'
And when enquiring as to why someone may look less than happy her question will be
'What's the matter with you, has your face seem your a***'
I feel I must qualify this entry with one of those boring, but accurate 'this is all true' markers.
My Gran once recounted a story to Mum & I which had us blowing snot bubbles of mirth, whilst endeavouring
to keep straight faces.
She telephoned her local council to report a fault with her shower.
The hapless council employee told her the man would be out the following Monday to look at the offending shower.
Gran explained that this was not satisfactory & she wanted him sooner.
The girl explained Monday was the soonest he could attend.
'Well, in that case, you can shove it up your a***' was Gran's hearty riposte.
3 days later, on Monday, Gran waits all day for the man to come.
Oddly, he does not.
She rings to complain.
Wouldn't you love to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation ?
'But Mrs Ellis, when you told me to shove it up my a*** I assumed you didn't want your shower attended to ?'
Quite often, in my previous normal job, we would tap our head when on the phone to indicate to others in the
room that we were taking a call from someone whose cheese had slipped off the cracker. They then had the
option of listening to your side of the call '... yes, of course I believe that the only way you will remain safe
from Martian invasion is to line your bedroom with Bacofoil' or, alternatively, they could listen in.
One of the most amusing was Bob who would cut in on your call. At the point when you had just finished listening
to an incredibly weary neighbour saga & was wondering exactly how to tell the pond-life they should just move,
Bob would interject 'I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you very well, would you repeat that ?'.
This meant you had to endure the whole saga again.
Most didn't even notice that a female had taken the call, but a male was asking them to repeat it.
Having re-read this, I wish to make it clear that Bob was a control room operator, not a nutter.
Then again ...
I have a mental impression of a small, local council office, somewhere in West Yorkshire.
Whenever Mrs Ellis calls, the operator taps their head, so that all may be party to the profanities.
She quite often doesn't listen to a word I say.
I could reply to her question 'How are you ?' by saying 'Great, shacked up with the England Rugby Team, we take turns
doing the dishes' & she would say 'Lovely, the bin men were late again on Tuesday'.
She has been planing her demise since she was 60. Every time we made arrangements to see her,
the reply would be 'God Willing'. She also spends a lot of time in the past. This isn't a criticism, I do too & I don't
have her age as an excuse.
She doesn't really know what's happening in my life.
When I asked Mum if she'd told her about me going to NZ & the reason why, she replied that she wasn't
sure how she was going to tell her, especially as Gran thought I was still with the previous boyfriend.
Whenever I tell her of the latest episode of my private life, she listens with every indication of taking it
all in then always offers the same reply. Even when my tale has been one of heartbreak, misery & woe.
'Oh well, as long as you're happy luvvie'
Please don't think from this that I would want my Gran any other way.
She is one of the girls who worked 'in service' during WW2 & has the most tremendous
work ethic. Without going into too many details she has had the kind of experiences which
would make lesser types curl into the foetal position & stay there. She is part of what annoys me most
when young people are disrespectful or rude to old people. A generation of people who showed more fortitude,
moral courage & grit than most of us have the need to call on these days.
When did this turn into a rant ? It wasn't meant to be one.
I often wonder how I would cope faced with the trials my Gran did.
Not as well, is the answer.
I believe she is the benchmark for old people. We should all aspire to use the word a*** at least once a day.
To other people, I mean, to yourself doesn't count.
Read the poem 'When I grow old I shall wear purple.'
It's a lifestyle guide.
Trudes, you're half way there, with the purple bit, not the old bit.
And Happy Birthday for tomorrow (although it's today here).
Must leave for now & I didn't even manage the Kiwi language lesson I was promising.
I am hoping to go to work after lunch, I don't feel sick now, just dizzy.
Cx
Intermission, go buy your ices & drinks now
Today, I have been coming to terms with leaving this beautiful country.
I am leaving only because I am planning to return.
If I stay for another year, with the loans I have in the UK, it just delays me coming back here.
Claire goes to Auckland tomorrow for a week & takes her laptop with her, so unless I make it over to
The Tanners, you lot will have to go find something else to do with your spare time.
I may get on here later on this evening to add more, but if I don't, there will be no more e-mails
or Q4A for the remainder of the week.
As my Kiwi work-mates would say, 'Build a bridge, get over it'
ttfn,
Cx
Today, I have been coming to terms with leaving this beautiful country.
I am leaving only because I am planning to return.
If I stay for another year, with the loans I have in the UK, it just delays me coming back here.
Claire goes to Auckland tomorrow for a week & takes her laptop with her, so unless I make it over to
The Tanners, you lot will have to go find something else to do with your spare time.
I may get on here later on this evening to add more, but if I don't, there will be no more e-mails
or Q4A for the remainder of the week.
As my Kiwi work-mates would say, 'Build a bridge, get over it'
ttfn,
Cx
Sunday, March 14, 2004
'Come on Sam, kiss for Briggsy, kiss for Briggsy, aaaaarggghhhh, my finger you b*****d !
This was how my telephone conversation with Stan ended this morning. He is baby-sitting his parents' African Grey
parrot & was trying to coerce him into blowing me a kiss. Parrots beaks are sharp aren't they Stan ?
Not a pleasant atmosphere in the house this evening, people who can't hold their drink & get aggressive are very low
on my list of 'People I would rush to share a house with ...'
My mood wasn't improved by watching NZ Idol.
Only someone who doesn't like music could enjoy watching it.
Some stats I was thinking of whilst watching the show.
NZ = 4 million people
UK = 60 million people
So I admit the UK has a much larger talent pool to draw from. However, how difficult can it be to pick 10 people who
CAN sing from 4 million ? Very, if the programme is anything to go by.
It's odd to watch a programme that features token white people too. Not a nice feeling, makes you think.
The judges don't help, a lovely black guy who finds it impossible to say anything bad about anyone, move over mate.
A highly irritating, overly made up, Nicky Chapman wannabe (is there such a thing ?) Yes.
This woman has the worst kind of Kiwi accent, managing the rare feat of being squeaky & nasal.
Oh & one thing love, regarding glitter in make up. Less is more.
The 3rd bloke is obviously supposed to be Simon Cowell. Unfortunately he lacks the vocabulary & incision and comes
across as a bitter queen.
These 3 sit in judgement week after week on some of the poorest, most lethargic karaoke contestants I have ever
had the misfortune to watch. Only the host, Dominic Safe&Pretty has any kind of aptitude for tv & he makes me
think 'Silk purse, sows ear''. He is a decent presenter struggling to host a runny gruel of mediocrity.
Tonight we were treated to a 90 minute special. I use the word advisedly. We were told they had gone to greatl
lengths with the audience, lighting effects & musicianship.
The atmosphere was reminiscent of a primary school nativity. The audience, some 24 strong, looked acutely
uncomfortable whenever they were told to 'Give it up' or 'Make someone welcome'. They gave the distinct impression
of being a coachload of Warehouse employees on a surprise outing.
From tonight's 10 singers, of the ones I saw, only 2 could actually sing. They were pleasant to listen to, no more.
They sang nicely, in the way your cousin Steve might sing when he's asked at a birthday party. Thankfully, Kirsty
wanted to switch over to CSI, thus saving me from any more aural discomfiture. Shame really, I was just getting into it.
Kiwi flies
Whilst my tongue is sharpened, I want to tell you about Kiwi flies.
These buggers are completely relentless, without social skills, shame or modesty.
Smoko (Kiwi for tea-break) has become a ritual of slapping, swearing, swatting & shagging.
The flies do the lattter & wanton they are too.
A couple will land on you & get it on without any regard whatsoever for the 9pm watershed.
Threesomes are not uncommon.
You twitch your leg (for example) to discard the wee beasties & they simply hang on tighter,
yelling at each other in buzzy fly voices to 'Ride 'em cowboy'.
As a Pom I find their behaviour extremely unsettling. I am used to English flies & their quiet, refined
ways. An English gentleman fly, upon espying an attractive lady friend, will try & catch one of her eyes
for the first few weeks. Only once she has smiled winsomely at him, will he approach her Papa & ask
permission to see her in the conservatory. They will of course, be chaperoned by an elderly spinster fly
wearing a white lace cap. After several months of witty conversation, & stomping their own saliva into
tiny cucumber sandwiches with their feet, she will happen upon him one morning, performing his ablutions
in a lake. Her lovelorn gaze will be drawn to the rippling chest muscles enhanced, as rivulets of water
stream down his white frilly shirt. With 6 arms. The happy couple will only embrace for the 1st time after
they have promenaded under the arch of crossed swords at their wedding day.
They would no more copulate in public than they would address each other by forenames prior to
a formal introduction.
Kiwi flies are utterly obsessed with copulating. If flies only breed, eat & sleep then these flies must
be starving & exhausted.
I'm heading for bed now, the smoke in the house has given me a filthy headache, & I want to
read a little Michael Palin to make up for sullying my mind with TV this evening.
Hello Plark, welcome, thanks for the tube update, would like to say I'm surprised.
Darsha, Sorry to hear about your week, something in the air, do you think ?
Cx
This was how my telephone conversation with Stan ended this morning. He is baby-sitting his parents' African Grey
parrot & was trying to coerce him into blowing me a kiss. Parrots beaks are sharp aren't they Stan ?
Not a pleasant atmosphere in the house this evening, people who can't hold their drink & get aggressive are very low
on my list of 'People I would rush to share a house with ...'
My mood wasn't improved by watching NZ Idol.
Only someone who doesn't like music could enjoy watching it.
Some stats I was thinking of whilst watching the show.
NZ = 4 million people
UK = 60 million people
So I admit the UK has a much larger talent pool to draw from. However, how difficult can it be to pick 10 people who
CAN sing from 4 million ? Very, if the programme is anything to go by.
It's odd to watch a programme that features token white people too. Not a nice feeling, makes you think.
The judges don't help, a lovely black guy who finds it impossible to say anything bad about anyone, move over mate.
A highly irritating, overly made up, Nicky Chapman wannabe (is there such a thing ?) Yes.
This woman has the worst kind of Kiwi accent, managing the rare feat of being squeaky & nasal.
Oh & one thing love, regarding glitter in make up. Less is more.
The 3rd bloke is obviously supposed to be Simon Cowell. Unfortunately he lacks the vocabulary & incision and comes
across as a bitter queen.
These 3 sit in judgement week after week on some of the poorest, most lethargic karaoke contestants I have ever
had the misfortune to watch. Only the host, Dominic Safe&Pretty has any kind of aptitude for tv & he makes me
think 'Silk purse, sows ear''. He is a decent presenter struggling to host a runny gruel of mediocrity.
Tonight we were treated to a 90 minute special. I use the word advisedly. We were told they had gone to greatl
lengths with the audience, lighting effects & musicianship.
The atmosphere was reminiscent of a primary school nativity. The audience, some 24 strong, looked acutely
uncomfortable whenever they were told to 'Give it up' or 'Make someone welcome'. They gave the distinct impression
of being a coachload of Warehouse employees on a surprise outing.
From tonight's 10 singers, of the ones I saw, only 2 could actually sing. They were pleasant to listen to, no more.
They sang nicely, in the way your cousin Steve might sing when he's asked at a birthday party. Thankfully, Kirsty
wanted to switch over to CSI, thus saving me from any more aural discomfiture. Shame really, I was just getting into it.
Kiwi flies
Whilst my tongue is sharpened, I want to tell you about Kiwi flies.
These buggers are completely relentless, without social skills, shame or modesty.
Smoko (Kiwi for tea-break) has become a ritual of slapping, swearing, swatting & shagging.
The flies do the lattter & wanton they are too.
A couple will land on you & get it on without any regard whatsoever for the 9pm watershed.
Threesomes are not uncommon.
You twitch your leg (for example) to discard the wee beasties & they simply hang on tighter,
yelling at each other in buzzy fly voices to 'Ride 'em cowboy'.
As a Pom I find their behaviour extremely unsettling. I am used to English flies & their quiet, refined
ways. An English gentleman fly, upon espying an attractive lady friend, will try & catch one of her eyes
for the first few weeks. Only once she has smiled winsomely at him, will he approach her Papa & ask
permission to see her in the conservatory. They will of course, be chaperoned by an elderly spinster fly
wearing a white lace cap. After several months of witty conversation, & stomping their own saliva into
tiny cucumber sandwiches with their feet, she will happen upon him one morning, performing his ablutions
in a lake. Her lovelorn gaze will be drawn to the rippling chest muscles enhanced, as rivulets of water
stream down his white frilly shirt. With 6 arms. The happy couple will only embrace for the 1st time after
they have promenaded under the arch of crossed swords at their wedding day.
They would no more copulate in public than they would address each other by forenames prior to
a formal introduction.
Kiwi flies are utterly obsessed with copulating. If flies only breed, eat & sleep then these flies must
be starving & exhausted.
I'm heading for bed now, the smoke in the house has given me a filthy headache, & I want to
read a little Michael Palin to make up for sullying my mind with TV this evening.
Hello Plark, welcome, thanks for the tube update, would like to say I'm surprised.
Darsha, Sorry to hear about your week, something in the air, do you think ?
Cx
Saturday, March 13, 2004
'...obsessive, insular & hystrionic too'
The end of one of my txs today to a friend who is trying to talk me down as I try & land the decision plane.
It has taken me 2 hours of frantic e-mailing to try get my brain functioning a little
more slowly, slowly enough to Blog at a reasonable rate.
The recipients of said mails will wonder how much caffeine was involved in their production. None.
Right now, my requirements are a beachside house, billowing voile curtains, unfeasibly loud Turandot,
balmy evenings, more candles than anyone possibly needs, and someone very clever whose life ambition is
to see how much nape-stroking I could possibly endure.
Don't ask, don't get.
One of my friends surfs the net, watches dvd's, writes mails, listens to music & watches those swirly,
music interpreter things. Nothing unusual about that you may think. He does them all at once.
Which probably explains the content of some of his e-mails, come to think of it.
I used to wonder how he could possibly zone in on any one task & my confused, one-track brain would feel
bruised & violated, just watching him about his many chores.
I now understand why he does it. It's about shutting out the jabbering chatter in your head.
Don't worry, I'm not talking about Sec 136 MHA chatter, God isn't telling me to Blog or anything.
I mean, the will I? won't I? how will I? should I really? could I possibly? type stuff which has
totally filled my addled cranium for the last few days.
Rabbit in headlights is so over-used that it spoils the image, it does explain me perfectly for the last week though.
I have been actively seeking out company to do jobs with over the last few work days. Most unlike me,
I can do the Greta Garbo stuff with the best of them. I have been finding the mindless conversation
very comforting. I don't mean that as an insult to my work colleagues, just that if I'm listening, it
drowns out the questions.
This morning, I tried hip-hop, then David Gray to blog to.
Neither were any good, the 1st gets me too pumped to be introspective, the 2nd has too many
memories attached. I have finally setled on one of Claire's Ibiza Chillout discs. It is impersonal enough
not to prod any memories & ambient enough for me to hear it and still write.
A bit like having a local anaesthetic.
My choices are .....
1) Go back to Britain. Pick up my job with the Police. Consider this year a huge, successful adventure.
I met great people, worked with neddies, drove tractors, and achieved my main goal.
2) Ask for an extension to my career break & stay another year. Like this choice lots. Would be very, very poor.
Still paying off a £300 loan in England which is nothing on a decent salary but is $900 here. Over half my monthly
take-home pay.
3) Go back, earn decent money for another year or two. Work towards permanent NZ residency.
Lots of people have mentioned the lists option. You know how it goes, in the blue corner etc,
In truth, I don't need to do this. I know how I feel.
I love England, I am passionate about our heritage & culture & will defend it to anyone who criticises.
It's like an old lover who I remember fondly but have seen change. I despise the way things are going
& it genuinely hurts to see it going the same litigious (sp?), PC, crime-ridden way of other countries I could
mention. Cambridge (NZ, not UK, doesn't have a Starbucks, what more need I say ?)
New Zealand, to stretch the metaphor, is my soul-mate. I feel good just being here. I am accepted & liked
for who I am, not what I own (or more to the point, don't). NZ cares not a jot that I don't wear labels.
NZ is a partner who sees you with damp, curly hair, when you love your hair straightened & still thinks
you look gorgeous. I look in the mirror & see someone who is a year older but looks younger than they did in
the UK.
I know my memories of the UK are marred by memories of being there at the painful end of a relationship &
don't misunderstand me, there are areas of the UK, so breath-takingly beautiful that I feel the same protective
love for them, as I do here.
The difference here, is that those sorts of places are all around you. You don't drive for half a day to reach them,
it's your journey to & from work, to the supermarket, or the library. Once you're there, you can enjoy them in
peace without being surrounded by council families with tattooed kids & dads wearing Arsenal tops.
I'm such a snob.
So, why am I sitting here typing, rather than, as I said I would, going to the beach, on this, my weekend off ?
Well, because the sun went in.
I should be mature & view my return to the UK as a great excuse to see all my mates, (& Barley), bore them stupid
with photos, work like crazy, pay off loans & plan my future.
So why does Stan's oft repeated phrase 'NZ good, UK baaaaaad' keep reverberating around my head ?
I am fully aware that this Blog goes back to the Police via some very good, invited readers & that I probably
shouldn't broadcast my choices on this media. It's for this reason that I have been quiet this week.
However, once Q4A is published & I live in Queen Charlotte Sound with Mum & Barley nearby, I want it
to accurately reflect my thought processes during this year.
If anyone is reading this who hasn't been invited & has the power to say yes or no to my career-break request
then 'sod it'. Call it fate, karma, kismet or any other k words. What's meant to be, will happen.
In the words of Doris Day, theres a test for you youngsters.
As ever, I feel soothed after writing this. The words have stopped buzzing & seem to have some semblance
of order. I know that in the grand scheme of things, mine may seem like inconsequential choices, if you're
reading this with more weighty problems, I apologise.
Horrible things have happened in Europe this week & as usual, I have been sheltered from the fallout,
due to the lack of decent coverage here. Whilst I lack details I know it has affected some of you, & you are in my thoughts.
On that topic, I looked at the words for ages, thinking how poignant they were & wondering who the poet
was. I had to say them out loud several times to realise it was Simon & Garfunkel.
Darsha
If you read this in time, I am heading to the Prince Albert this evening.
Fear not, I won't be an introspective drunk, I plan to play pool, drink copiously & dance more suggestively
than a woman of my advanced years really should.
Hadders
You galloped on a neddy ? Very impressive.
And didn't fall off ? Even more impressive.
Now you get it don't you ?
Years of motorbiking at very dangerous & highly illegal speeds don't even come close
to the thrill that is 30 mile an hour pounding horseflesh with a mind of it's own.
Di
Went to a place in NY this week where there was a bar which featured swing seats over a pool.
You must have thought you had died & gone to heaven.
My next post will be neddies, sunshine, flies, my Gran & more lissons in how to speak Kiwi,
don't miss it,
Cx
Friday, March 12, 2004
Thursday, March 11, 2004
Wednesday, March 10, 2004
'Forgive me Father for I have sinned ...'
Tonight I watched 'City Girls' & also 'Extreme Makeovers'.
I am aware that tv is the work of the devil & yet I was suckered in by Beelzebub's offerings.
I have an excuse for City Girls, as it's about soft townies & how they get on with farm life.
As for Extreme Makeovers ? What can I say, I like to watch ugly people not be ugly any more.
I shall be wearing horsehair for the rest of the week. Horse poo too, most likely.
It finally happened today, I got ko'd by a neddy.
One of the cute, ickle weanlings on the pics which I showed you of us handling their feet,
decided that the quickest way from A to B, was via C(arol).
I didn't see it coming & it was an earth-sky moment, with only sufficient time to grab Trina on
my way down, in a vain attempt to land on someone else. I failed & sat down more quickly
than I do even at tea-break. The bruise is coming along nicely.
I felt quite chipper when I sat down to blog this evening, but made the mistake of checking my e-mails
first, keen to see what poem of the day was. There was a message from the Police, asking me to
confirm my return date of 28th April.
My sinking stomach told me all I need to know.
Cx
Well done to Cocky for completing a very scary sounding x-country course on Snips. I am very proud of you.
Chris Lister riding CB ? MY CB ? Outrageous ? Did he hate her ? Bet he did !
Mummie Sounds grim, hang on in there, shame the hot & cold sweats don't cancel each other out ?
Tonight I watched 'City Girls' & also 'Extreme Makeovers'.
I am aware that tv is the work of the devil & yet I was suckered in by Beelzebub's offerings.
I have an excuse for City Girls, as it's about soft townies & how they get on with farm life.
As for Extreme Makeovers ? What can I say, I like to watch ugly people not be ugly any more.
I shall be wearing horsehair for the rest of the week. Horse poo too, most likely.
It finally happened today, I got ko'd by a neddy.
One of the cute, ickle weanlings on the pics which I showed you of us handling their feet,
decided that the quickest way from A to B, was via C(arol).
I didn't see it coming & it was an earth-sky moment, with only sufficient time to grab Trina on
my way down, in a vain attempt to land on someone else. I failed & sat down more quickly
than I do even at tea-break. The bruise is coming along nicely.
I felt quite chipper when I sat down to blog this evening, but made the mistake of checking my e-mails
first, keen to see what poem of the day was. There was a message from the Police, asking me to
confirm my return date of 28th April.
My sinking stomach told me all I need to know.
Cx
Well done to Cocky for completing a very scary sounding x-country course on Snips. I am very proud of you.
Chris Lister riding CB ? MY CB ? Outrageous ? Did he hate her ? Bet he did !
Mummie Sounds grim, hang on in there, shame the hot & cold sweats don't cancel each other out ?
Tuesday, March 09, 2004
Monday, March 08, 2004
Sunday, March 07, 2004
Saturday, March 06, 2004
I don't normally do requests, but this opener is especially for Weeny, who asks to see Humpy.
Here he is with Jasmine, doing what she does best.
Zzzzzzzzz
The scene is set ...
Balmy Summer's evening, makes a pleasant change.
LotR soundtrack, which is new to Kirsty as she hasn't seen ANY of the movies, & is a Kiwi so has NO excuse.
Kirsty is only ickle
Plenty of time to blog.
There's something delicious about going back to bed during the day & that's exactly what I did this
morning after work. Claire, Trina, Ledge & I did everything we had to do by 0830 this morning & then
I returned to the house, made porridge & retired back to bed with a cup of tea.
And that's why having kids is a bad idea.
So, what's been happening ?
On Thursday I went to see Billy Connolly in Rotorua with the Tanners & Michelle.
Billy was on fine form, as ever, although to be hyper-critical, he wasn't as funny as when
I have seen him live before. Trudes, do you remember his 'potatoes of the night' at the Hammersmith
Apollo when we were beating the arms of our chairs ?
Maybe he was as funny, & it was just the venue which didn't do him justice. After 2.5 hours in a plastic garden
seat, I was looking at my watch, which seems unbelievable, now that I've just typed it.
It was a sports hall & the organisers had crammed us poor sods in cheek by jowl.
The RSPCA would have been prosecuting, had we been chichens.
Humour me for a moment whilst I ask you to perform the following.
Hold out your arms straight in front of you at shoulder height, palms facing each other.
Take your right arm & without moving your elbow any further than the width of your body,
place your right palm onto your left collar bone. Repeat the process with your left arm,
placing your left hand on your right collar bone.
Slide both hands over your bumpy bits if you are a lady, non-bumpy bits if not, & secure
your right hand under your left armpit & your left hand under your right armpit.
Finished ? The seating was so tight, that's how I had to fold my arms.
When I took my seat I didn't know the chap seated to my right. I did by the time we left.
The best line from the show ? Billy discussing making love to fat women.
He describes it as 'scary being up so high ' & claims that once, he blew a passionate coupling
by shouting to the poor female that he '... could see his house from here'.
The weather has perked up considerably during the last couple of days & shoulders have
been burning all over again because our pallid flesh has been swaddled under fleeces.
Sadly, the last couple of mornings have also seen us starting work in the dark & I am just not
ready to do the Autumn/Winter thing again so soon.
It does not help when locals attempt humour by cheerily informing us Poms that
this is the worst Summer ever & 'it's always much hotter, for much longer, than this usually'.
On Thursday morning, I fed the horses wearing 2 fleeces & didn't discard one until we commenced
mucking out. 'I ain't happy & I ain't 'avin' it', as Burnside (sexiest cop ever) would say.
On Friday, Milie returned from his afternoon rounds asking for a box (stable) to be prepared, a bucket
of warm water & a sponge. There are hundreds of horses on the farm who could have been injured
so there was no reason for me to think 'Please, not Watties' but that's who Chris led into the box
5 minutes later.
She looked very sorry for herself with a nasty-looking slash on the back of her nearside knee.
It is suspected she had put her leg through a fence & drawn back to do the damage, although
there was no obvious site for the injury in the paddock.
On the contrary, the farm is extremely well-maintained, something for which Murray must take credit.
Both Michelle & Eric commented on how well the place looked, even at it's most messy & shambolic
after 2 weeks of storms.
Trina wound me up by pronouncing that, as the site could not be stitched, destruction was the only option.
For a horrible moment I believed her, & thought I would blub on the yard, she must have noticed my
reaction & quickly reassured me she was joking.
The vet appeared very rapidly & his main concern was there may be damage to the knee joint.
This wouldn't be good news for any horse, but you can imagine the ramifications for a racehorse.
After washing & dressing the wound, Watties' leg was encased from top to bottom in a supportive
bandage. She was utterly convinced she could only move around the box by keeping the leg
straight & she resembled Basil Fawlty with the German hotel guests, as she jack-booted her way
around the box.
'Ow though'
The vet has been again today to reassess the wound & is happy that she is putting pressure on the leg.
He has re-bandaged her, this time in the colours of Man Utd & the prognosis is box rest, anti-inflammatories
& antibiotics to see how she fares.
I was interested to ask Millie how things stood, compensation-wise, as she is sold, but was being housed
by Trelawney, prior to her travelling to her new owner. The answer was unequivocal. As soon as the
auctioneer's gavel drops, the horse & it's care, are a matter for the owner.
Ledge told of occasions where a newly-purchased horse has injured itself terminally, exiting the sale ring.
It is purely a matter for the new owner.
Knowing how badly she coped with the confinement at the sales, we made Watties a toy of an empty
plastic drinks bottle , suspended from (can you guess ? yes, blue baler twine), with some stones in the bottom.
Horses, especially these ones, who never have any toys, usually go potty for these, knocking them
around & making you wish you had never given it to them in the first place.
This being Watties, she regarded our offering calmly, gave it an experimental tug & has since
studiously ignored it. Needless to say, the neddies either side of her, cast many an envious
glance in her direction, making it apparent they would love one.
Ledge's main concern with the wound, after infection, and, or putrefication, is that the scar tissue will be
too thick to allow her easy, unrestricted bend in the joint. To combat this, he suggests a daily short
walk in hand, to render it pliable. This will also benefit her mental health, for despite having a companion
alongside her, the mental anguish caused to a confined animal, which is bred to run & roam at will,
cannot be over-emphasised.
When I first arrived at Trelawney there was a filly caled 'My Funny Face' who terrified me when she
was confined to her box after surgery. She was so dangerous that it took at least 20 minutes to
place a hand on her in the box. I had to groom her daily & don't mind admitting, I hated it.
I can't remember if I told you on Blog, but she was the filly whom I used to spend my lunch-break sitting
with just to try & get her used to human contact ? Although she improved, she was never a horse you
would rush to spend time with.
The point I am making, in my usual, laborious style is that since she has been turned out into a
paddock, to run, with a mob of mates, she is a pleasure to be around. Always the 1st to come for a love,
even to the point of trying to keep the other fillies away. That is the difference between a boxed
horse & a feee one.
My Funny Face
Cocky shares this philosophy & Snippit, her horse, is treated to permanent grass livery, even in the most
foul UK weather. She believes (and I wholeheartedly agree) that a well-fed, rugged horse living permanently
outdoors, will thrive much more readily than their stabled counterpart with limited turn-out each day.
Snips has access to a barn & we have visited him on the most inclement of days, expecting him to be dry &
snug indoors, only to find him grazing contentedly, in horizontal hail, oblivious to his surroundings.
I'm off my soapbox now. I appreciate people keep horses for different reasons & for different activities.
Space & money for turnout are also an issue, more so in the UK than here, all I am saying is that I
would like to see more horses enjoying more turnout & less people worried about grooming the mud off.
There goes my flow, I am afraid, I don't think the soundtrack of LotR was a hit with Kirsty. The moment
the last bar faded away, leaving me wonderfully serene, she piped up 'Can we have the tv on now please ?'
I am now trying not to listen to the soundtrack of some crappy American movie .
It's called 'The Animal' & the scene just on, featured the hugely comic idea of a man who is
endowed with animal senses, finding drugs up someone's backside at an airport.
There. Go. My. Ribs.
Focus.
We watched Swordfish last night. Turbo you were right, it was spot-on. Halle Berry was very sexy &
it was the first time I have enjoyed Hugh Jackman in anything. To be fair, I have only seen him in the X-Men
which I thought was awful. I now understand why Hx raves over him, he was very good.
This week, each afternoon, we have been handling the weanlings who have been turned out in mobs.
We herd the mobs into an enclosed yard & in twos, we pick up their feet & handle their legs. The reason
for this is two-fold. Partly to ensure they remember their initial handling in the boxes a couple of weeks
ago & partly to prepare them for the time when they will be shod.
Handlebars
There are now 4 mobs of weanlings, 6 in each, & on Friday, another group came up into the boxes,
signifying the half-way mark. It is fascinating to see what strong characters these babies have. Each group
appears to have the bully, the sensible one, the slow one & so forth. I can well understand how easy it would
be to do this job for much longer than one ever intended. Watching how the foals develop into yearlings
is very rewarding.
We also drenched all the yearlings this week. In the UK they woud call it 'worming'.
When we were dosing one particular mob of fillies, Trina called 'head up' after we had
given the filly her liquid wormer. I duly obliged & gazed skyward until Trina explained
she meant me to tilt the filly's head, to ensure she swallowed the medicine.
'Not you. The filly, you fool'.
On Friday, I assisted an equine physiotherapist caled 'Baz'. He was referred to as someone who
'fixed horses' & I wasn't entirely sure what to expect. I certainly wasn't prepared to meet the
lovely Hobbit-type chap, wearing Jesus sandals who turned up. Anyone who was prepared to
handle yearlings wearing open-toed sandals had to be either very good or very stupid & I
was fascinated to see which.
He spent time working with 4 of our horses & I found his methods & manner absolutely enthralling.
One of our colts 'Oh Sister', has a real aversion to having his head touched. He had an abscess
behind his ear as a youngster & associates his head being touched with pain.
Baz used a combination of guile, tact, diplomacy & strength to ask 'Sister' to submit to being touched.
His methods are similar to Monty Roberts, he teaches the horses there is an easy way to do things,
a comfort zone & conversely, a hard way. He encourages them to choose the easy way.
The most enlightening thing about him, was his approach to me. He introduced himself by his first name, asked
mine & explained, in a non-patronising way, the things he was doing. He asked me to place my hands on
the horses joints & give my opinion on what I thought may be wrong with them.
It was very refreshing, at work, to be addressed as someone who may possess a spark of intelligence.
And when I grow up ... I want to be an equine physiotherapist & am exploring the requirements.
The Easters
This is the term we use to refer to the high-quality yearlings we are currently preparing for the
Sydney sales in Easter.
The fillies are ...
Carmel Valley, a bay filly by Zabeel, she is huge & extremely easy to handle.
Procure, a chestnut filly by Stravinsky. She is also amenable, her only vice being the odd nip,
if she thinks she can get away with it.
Astralita, another chestnut filly by Kings Best. She is probably the trickiest of the fillies.
She will rear if she objects. She has improved beyond measure.
Rationaine, a dark brown filly by Carnegie is the most amusing of the fillies. She has an extraordinary
range of facial features & is the most laid-back thoroughbred I have so far had dealings with.
Procure & Carmel Valley
The colts are ...
Oh Sister by Carnegie, a very handsome red bay, with a penchant for running away, whilst still attached to his handler.
And Wise Lass, a dark brown colt by Montjeu. His speciality is biting. All the time. Which does get frustrating, but I can't help
but like him. I think it's because I saw him playing with his neck-piece once, demonstrating a real sense of humour.
I know that sounds anthropomorphic but I make no apologies for it. He was having a great time & not in the least
frightened by the flapping piece of cloth hanging around his neck.
Checking the fillies, this morning, in the mist
If you're still with me after all this neddy stuff, then well done. I have to get it all down otherwise the words buzz around
in my head like jobless flies.
Which reminds me, I want to tell you about Kiwi flies sometime. They are rude, there's no other word for it.
And my Gran, she's also rude, but in a very different, funny way.
I will leave you with some pics of what I've been up to this week.
I also finished 'Shipping News' today. I am very glad I stuck wth it. The odd thing is that it has been
relentlessly hard-bitten & realistic but finished with the following line. I won't give you any context, should you
wish to read it for yourself, but the last sentiment is '... and it may be that love sometimes occurs without
pain or misery'. Just recently I have been waiting for a sign (if you are reminded of Life of Brian, hurrah for you)
and I was expecting it to be about my career choice.
Instead it came in the form of a life lesson.
One cynical friend commented that the 'may' & the 'sometimes' are disclaimers but I don't care. I'm going
to do as I do when the horoscope prophecies that Capricorns will have a great day & believe it.
This week, we had the first proper parade for The Easters.
Below is a picture of Lyn showing how the handler should stand to display a horse to it's best advantage.
She is displaying 'Oh Sister'.
You will note her back is straight, her posture good & her stance upright.
This picture is Millie, holding Wise Lass
To the friend who did the 'right thing' this week.
I am very proud of you, 'integrity is non-negotiable' doesn't mean anything to many of the people
employed by the organisation who claim to wave that banner. You are different.You may not
be rewarded in monetary terms for it, but your conscience will be clean.
Goodnight all,
Cx
Beautiful here isn't it
Here he is with Jasmine, doing what she does best.
The scene is set ...
Balmy Summer's evening, makes a pleasant change.
LotR soundtrack, which is new to Kirsty as she hasn't seen ANY of the movies, & is a Kiwi so has NO excuse.
Plenty of time to blog.
There's something delicious about going back to bed during the day & that's exactly what I did this
morning after work. Claire, Trina, Ledge & I did everything we had to do by 0830 this morning & then
I returned to the house, made porridge & retired back to bed with a cup of tea.
And that's why having kids is a bad idea.
So, what's been happening ?
On Thursday I went to see Billy Connolly in Rotorua with the Tanners & Michelle.
Billy was on fine form, as ever, although to be hyper-critical, he wasn't as funny as when
I have seen him live before. Trudes, do you remember his 'potatoes of the night' at the Hammersmith
Apollo when we were beating the arms of our chairs ?
Maybe he was as funny, & it was just the venue which didn't do him justice. After 2.5 hours in a plastic garden
seat, I was looking at my watch, which seems unbelievable, now that I've just typed it.
It was a sports hall & the organisers had crammed us poor sods in cheek by jowl.
The RSPCA would have been prosecuting, had we been chichens.
Humour me for a moment whilst I ask you to perform the following.
Hold out your arms straight in front of you at shoulder height, palms facing each other.
Take your right arm & without moving your elbow any further than the width of your body,
place your right palm onto your left collar bone. Repeat the process with your left arm,
placing your left hand on your right collar bone.
Slide both hands over your bumpy bits if you are a lady, non-bumpy bits if not, & secure
your right hand under your left armpit & your left hand under your right armpit.
Finished ? The seating was so tight, that's how I had to fold my arms.
When I took my seat I didn't know the chap seated to my right. I did by the time we left.
The best line from the show ? Billy discussing making love to fat women.
He describes it as 'scary being up so high ' & claims that once, he blew a passionate coupling
by shouting to the poor female that he '... could see his house from here'.
The weather has perked up considerably during the last couple of days & shoulders have
been burning all over again because our pallid flesh has been swaddled under fleeces.
Sadly, the last couple of mornings have also seen us starting work in the dark & I am just not
ready to do the Autumn/Winter thing again so soon.
It does not help when locals attempt humour by cheerily informing us Poms that
this is the worst Summer ever & 'it's always much hotter, for much longer, than this usually'.
On Thursday morning, I fed the horses wearing 2 fleeces & didn't discard one until we commenced
mucking out. 'I ain't happy & I ain't 'avin' it', as Burnside (sexiest cop ever) would say.
On Friday, Milie returned from his afternoon rounds asking for a box (stable) to be prepared, a bucket
of warm water & a sponge. There are hundreds of horses on the farm who could have been injured
so there was no reason for me to think 'Please, not Watties' but that's who Chris led into the box
5 minutes later.
She looked very sorry for herself with a nasty-looking slash on the back of her nearside knee.
It is suspected she had put her leg through a fence & drawn back to do the damage, although
there was no obvious site for the injury in the paddock.
On the contrary, the farm is extremely well-maintained, something for which Murray must take credit.
Both Michelle & Eric commented on how well the place looked, even at it's most messy & shambolic
after 2 weeks of storms.
Trina wound me up by pronouncing that, as the site could not be stitched, destruction was the only option.
For a horrible moment I believed her, & thought I would blub on the yard, she must have noticed my
reaction & quickly reassured me she was joking.
The vet appeared very rapidly & his main concern was there may be damage to the knee joint.
This wouldn't be good news for any horse, but you can imagine the ramifications for a racehorse.
After washing & dressing the wound, Watties' leg was encased from top to bottom in a supportive
bandage. She was utterly convinced she could only move around the box by keeping the leg
straight & she resembled Basil Fawlty with the German hotel guests, as she jack-booted her way
around the box.
The vet has been again today to reassess the wound & is happy that she is putting pressure on the leg.
He has re-bandaged her, this time in the colours of Man Utd & the prognosis is box rest, anti-inflammatories
& antibiotics to see how she fares.
I was interested to ask Millie how things stood, compensation-wise, as she is sold, but was being housed
by Trelawney, prior to her travelling to her new owner. The answer was unequivocal. As soon as the
auctioneer's gavel drops, the horse & it's care, are a matter for the owner.
Ledge told of occasions where a newly-purchased horse has injured itself terminally, exiting the sale ring.
It is purely a matter for the new owner.
Knowing how badly she coped with the confinement at the sales, we made Watties a toy of an empty
plastic drinks bottle , suspended from (can you guess ? yes, blue baler twine), with some stones in the bottom.
Horses, especially these ones, who never have any toys, usually go potty for these, knocking them
around & making you wish you had never given it to them in the first place.
This being Watties, she regarded our offering calmly, gave it an experimental tug & has since
studiously ignored it. Needless to say, the neddies either side of her, cast many an envious
glance in her direction, making it apparent they would love one.
Ledge's main concern with the wound, after infection, and, or putrefication, is that the scar tissue will be
too thick to allow her easy, unrestricted bend in the joint. To combat this, he suggests a daily short
walk in hand, to render it pliable. This will also benefit her mental health, for despite having a companion
alongside her, the mental anguish caused to a confined animal, which is bred to run & roam at will,
cannot be over-emphasised.
When I first arrived at Trelawney there was a filly caled 'My Funny Face' who terrified me when she
was confined to her box after surgery. She was so dangerous that it took at least 20 minutes to
place a hand on her in the box. I had to groom her daily & don't mind admitting, I hated it.
I can't remember if I told you on Blog, but she was the filly whom I used to spend my lunch-break sitting
with just to try & get her used to human contact ? Although she improved, she was never a horse you
would rush to spend time with.
The point I am making, in my usual, laborious style is that since she has been turned out into a
paddock, to run, with a mob of mates, she is a pleasure to be around. Always the 1st to come for a love,
even to the point of trying to keep the other fillies away. That is the difference between a boxed
horse & a feee one.
Cocky shares this philosophy & Snippit, her horse, is treated to permanent grass livery, even in the most
foul UK weather. She believes (and I wholeheartedly agree) that a well-fed, rugged horse living permanently
outdoors, will thrive much more readily than their stabled counterpart with limited turn-out each day.
Snips has access to a barn & we have visited him on the most inclement of days, expecting him to be dry &
snug indoors, only to find him grazing contentedly, in horizontal hail, oblivious to his surroundings.
I'm off my soapbox now. I appreciate people keep horses for different reasons & for different activities.
Space & money for turnout are also an issue, more so in the UK than here, all I am saying is that I
would like to see more horses enjoying more turnout & less people worried about grooming the mud off.
There goes my flow, I am afraid, I don't think the soundtrack of LotR was a hit with Kirsty. The moment
the last bar faded away, leaving me wonderfully serene, she piped up 'Can we have the tv on now please ?'
I am now trying not to listen to the soundtrack of some crappy American movie .
It's called 'The Animal' & the scene just on, featured the hugely comic idea of a man who is
endowed with animal senses, finding drugs up someone's backside at an airport.
There. Go. My. Ribs.
Focus.
We watched Swordfish last night. Turbo you were right, it was spot-on. Halle Berry was very sexy &
it was the first time I have enjoyed Hugh Jackman in anything. To be fair, I have only seen him in the X-Men
which I thought was awful. I now understand why Hx raves over him, he was very good.
This week, each afternoon, we have been handling the weanlings who have been turned out in mobs.
We herd the mobs into an enclosed yard & in twos, we pick up their feet & handle their legs. The reason
for this is two-fold. Partly to ensure they remember their initial handling in the boxes a couple of weeks
ago & partly to prepare them for the time when they will be shod.
There are now 4 mobs of weanlings, 6 in each, & on Friday, another group came up into the boxes,
signifying the half-way mark. It is fascinating to see what strong characters these babies have. Each group
appears to have the bully, the sensible one, the slow one & so forth. I can well understand how easy it would
be to do this job for much longer than one ever intended. Watching how the foals develop into yearlings
is very rewarding.
We also drenched all the yearlings this week. In the UK they woud call it 'worming'.
When we were dosing one particular mob of fillies, Trina called 'head up' after we had
given the filly her liquid wormer. I duly obliged & gazed skyward until Trina explained
she meant me to tilt the filly's head, to ensure she swallowed the medicine.
On Friday, I assisted an equine physiotherapist caled 'Baz'. He was referred to as someone who
'fixed horses' & I wasn't entirely sure what to expect. I certainly wasn't prepared to meet the
lovely Hobbit-type chap, wearing Jesus sandals who turned up. Anyone who was prepared to
handle yearlings wearing open-toed sandals had to be either very good or very stupid & I
was fascinated to see which.
He spent time working with 4 of our horses & I found his methods & manner absolutely enthralling.
One of our colts 'Oh Sister', has a real aversion to having his head touched. He had an abscess
behind his ear as a youngster & associates his head being touched with pain.
Baz used a combination of guile, tact, diplomacy & strength to ask 'Sister' to submit to being touched.
His methods are similar to Monty Roberts, he teaches the horses there is an easy way to do things,
a comfort zone & conversely, a hard way. He encourages them to choose the easy way.
The most enlightening thing about him, was his approach to me. He introduced himself by his first name, asked
mine & explained, in a non-patronising way, the things he was doing. He asked me to place my hands on
the horses joints & give my opinion on what I thought may be wrong with them.
It was very refreshing, at work, to be addressed as someone who may possess a spark of intelligence.
And when I grow up ... I want to be an equine physiotherapist & am exploring the requirements.
The Easters
This is the term we use to refer to the high-quality yearlings we are currently preparing for the
Sydney sales in Easter.
The fillies are ...
Carmel Valley, a bay filly by Zabeel, she is huge & extremely easy to handle.
Procure, a chestnut filly by Stravinsky. She is also amenable, her only vice being the odd nip,
if she thinks she can get away with it.
Astralita, another chestnut filly by Kings Best. She is probably the trickiest of the fillies.
She will rear if she objects. She has improved beyond measure.
Rationaine, a dark brown filly by Carnegie is the most amusing of the fillies. She has an extraordinary
range of facial features & is the most laid-back thoroughbred I have so far had dealings with.
The colts are ...
Oh Sister by Carnegie, a very handsome red bay, with a penchant for running away, whilst still attached to his handler.
And Wise Lass, a dark brown colt by Montjeu. His speciality is biting. All the time. Which does get frustrating, but I can't help
but like him. I think it's because I saw him playing with his neck-piece once, demonstrating a real sense of humour.
I know that sounds anthropomorphic but I make no apologies for it. He was having a great time & not in the least
frightened by the flapping piece of cloth hanging around his neck.
If you're still with me after all this neddy stuff, then well done. I have to get it all down otherwise the words buzz around
in my head like jobless flies.
Which reminds me, I want to tell you about Kiwi flies sometime. They are rude, there's no other word for it.
And my Gran, she's also rude, but in a very different, funny way.
I will leave you with some pics of what I've been up to this week.
I also finished 'Shipping News' today. I am very glad I stuck wth it. The odd thing is that it has been
relentlessly hard-bitten & realistic but finished with the following line. I won't give you any context, should you
wish to read it for yourself, but the last sentiment is '... and it may be that love sometimes occurs without
pain or misery'. Just recently I have been waiting for a sign (if you are reminded of Life of Brian, hurrah for you)
and I was expecting it to be about my career choice.
Instead it came in the form of a life lesson.
One cynical friend commented that the 'may' & the 'sometimes' are disclaimers but I don't care. I'm going
to do as I do when the horoscope prophecies that Capricorns will have a great day & believe it.
This week, we had the first proper parade for The Easters.
Below is a picture of Lyn showing how the handler should stand to display a horse to it's best advantage.
She is displaying 'Oh Sister'.
To the friend who did the 'right thing' this week.
I am very proud of you, 'integrity is non-negotiable' doesn't mean anything to many of the people
employed by the organisation who claim to wave that banner. You are different.You may not
be rewarded in monetary terms for it, but your conscience will be clean.
Goodnight all,
Cx
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