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.
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