1) Favourite colour Black. I know it's a shade, but it's my favourite, so there!
2) Favourite movie The Godfather Trilogy. "Just when I thought I was out.......they pulled me back in" Stick some cotton wool in your mouth, and it might sound close!
3) Favourite animal I'm not a great animal lover. Frightened sh1tless of dogs, after being 'savaged' by an Alsatian as a kid. Bit me on the head, and in the eye. Claret everywhere, but I'm still here to tell the tale. If I was pushed, I'd probably be torn between horses or meercats. I just love the way they sit up and keep look out. Plus, the character in Lion King (the DVD) cracks me up. I swear those "cartoons" are really made for adults.
4) Favourite book Yet again, a real tough one. I'm really into biographies. Billy Connolly's (or Pamela Stevenson's) biography of his early life, and the traumas that made him what he is was riveting. Surprisingly, David Beckham's "My Side" was great rread too. Currently on Martin Johnson's with Matt Dawson's sitting there waiting to be read. There's a theme here. Other than biographies, anything by John Grisham....boy can that man write!
5) Favourite passage from Q4A (if you don't have one, lie) Anything that talks about life at the Tanners......especially if "slotting" is discussed. I am thoroughly jealous of the lifestyle. I pine for it. If I wasn't married, with kids and a steady job, it would be the place for me!
6) Favourite photo from Q4A (ditto) I have to be honest and say that I don't have one. If my hand is forced, then I have to say any shot catching the horizon over sea. Sheer, unadulterated beauty. (Plus any photos of you, Briggsy. Equally beautiful too!)
7) Favourite smell This will sound bizarre, but my favourite smell is my kids. As soon as I walk into the house after work, I can smell them and their presence. I can't possibly begin to describe it.
8) Most essential quality in a friend The ability to "pick up where you left off", and there not being a need to live in each other's pockets. No need to impress or be impressed by the friend. The unconditional'ness' of friendship.
9) Most desirable quality in a partner Friend, confidante and equal partner. (Looking good in stockings and suspenders helps to!!! Darling, if you read this, you know I am joking???)
10) Most embarrassing moment A toughy....I've had so many. Probably the usual Stag Night high jinx that I simply couldn't put into writing. Sorry!
11) Proudest achievement I have a few. Getting married. My two kids. Being offered my current job.
12) Saddest memory The death of my Grandfather. Known affectionately as 'Bampi'. Still kills me now to think of him. The word 'close' doesn't begin to describe it.
13) Happiest memory My wedding day, the birth of my children. All the good memories of my Grandfather. (Ther's a recurring them here?????)
14) Hero I have a few. JPR Williams. Not only a doctor, but a great rugby player. Billy Connolly. Anyone who can grow up through that sh1t and come out the other side deserves it. My Grandfather. What a man!
15) Buried or cremated ? Where ? Why ? I genuinely don't know which I would prefer. As for where.......anywhere my wife will be will do me.
Thu 8th April
Location : The Ferry House, Rawene
663 km
I arrived in Kaitaia today & decided the best thing I could do was drive straight through. It’s a thoroughly unlovely 70’s sprawl. For the 1st time in NZ, I was ultra-careful when withdrawing cash from the atm.
I apologise for the sweeping generalisation about to follow, but the populace is shifty looking & nothing I saw there encouraged further exploration, so after a stop to speak with Stan, I motored on.
At 1400, I arrived at Hokianga where I had to catch the ferry to Rawene to carry on my journey anti-clockwise around the North West of the top of North Island. I lunched at a surprisingly trendy café whilst awaiting the ferry. My peace was soon shattered as every mum in Hokianga arrived with their under-5. God – I hate kids.
Whilst I waited for the ferry I received the following tx from Bloo. With his permission, I will indulge in a little schadenfreude & reproduce it so you can too …
‘Help, help, jacked on the dive course for now. Decided to go drive up the 90 Mile Beach. Got stuck. Just waiting for tow truck. Doh !’
Once I had checked to see if he was joking,
He wasn’t.
Or drowning
‘One glug for yes, 2 for no …’
He wasn’t.
I informed him that the previous day I had photographed the sign warning of the danger of driving on the sands & of the many vehicles lost there. I don’t think he was amused. Serves him right for being lazy & driving when some of us used Shanks’ to explore for 3 hours.
I received the warmest welcome so far from the hosts at the Rawene Camp Site.
The answer to my query
‘Where can I pitch my tent ?’
was met with the reply
‘You pick the spot & you can camp there, if there’s a tree in the way, I’ll fell it for you’. Lovely people who said I could abandon my tent for one of their chalets at no extra cost if it rained. My assurances that my tent (ok Bill’s) was completely waterproof, fell upon deaf ears. I was led through their lounge to the fantastic view from their balcony. Their anguish that today was overcast & I wasn’t seeing the view to it’s best advantage, was palpable.
When I told them I wanted to take a walk, this couple even loaned me their beautiful golden retriever, Jess, whom I had admired upon arriving. I was promised she would lead me faithfully to the memorial to Joan Irvine – the lady who commenced the gardens at Rawene.
We set off, following the mown path. At the point where the path forked, I followed my faithful hound straight on. I began to have doubts when the vegetation reached head height, but continued Lassie doggedly. Ha. In a small clearing we came across the object of Jess’s search ; a fresh part of a sheep. Sorry I can’t be more specific Eric, if it helps it had a spine & a couple of beginnings of ribs attached … loin ?
Once Jess had retrieved her trophy, she slunk past me, leaving me to find my own way back. Her owners laughingly agreed when I suggested she would make the world’s worst guide dog. I have visions of her, stranding her owner at the butchers with a cheery wave of her plumed tail as she departs, chops in chops. Sorry – I seem to be having a doggy-pun night tonight.
After my walk, I headed into town, fully intending on having the fush & chups recommended by my new friends. Their only stipulation ? Eat before 6pm, as that’s when they close !
Instead I stumbled into the place I am writing my diary in now.
I will struggle to describe this place, I only hope my fotos do it justice.
I had driven up & down the ‘main street’ twice, thinking ‘The Ferry House’ just a restaurant. How wrong I was. Closer inspection revealed it to be a bookshop, a café, a haven for curios & antiques & much more.
I have bought two old books here & intend eating too.
What sealed it for me was when I asked for a cup of tea, then changed my mind & asked for a pot of tea.
‘Oh but it’s inevitable that it will come in a pot’ came the reply.
Sold. Hook, line & sinker. I’m such a sucker for tradition.
I am currently seated on one of the very plush Chesterfields with a Mac Gold beckoning me. The hosts here are incredibly gracious & the only thing that puzzles me is why they are here in Rawene ?
I could see this place doing well in Nelson or Picton, or even Paihia, but it seems utterly at odds with everything I have seen here (& that’s very little).
I am sure my photos won’t do it justice but I’ll describe what I can see form my vantage point. Potted palms. Several, ornate oak dining tables, laid with antique silver cutlery. Coffee tables, strewn artfully, each one festooned with hardback books. A large chess set, each piece measuring 10”.
The host, John, a Dutchman, had lived in NZ for over 40 years. His philosophy is that he has one life & wants to spend it in a pleasant environment. He has refurbished the place from scratch & made a terrific job of it.
There’s even a portrait of Winston Churchill here, for goodness’ sake.
The rain is now battering on the window, making my vantage-point in front of the wood-buring range eminently sensible. Looking at it, I am reminded of my Gran & thoughts of her black-leading.
One of the best things about travel has been developing my social skills & meeting people like these. Once again tonight I am happy with my own company & yet I find myself drawn into an interesting & lively discussion with John & Dorothy’s 2 friends. An achievement. I have ordered a fillet steak & will eat it whilst reading ‘Ring of Bright Water’, a hardback published in 1960. I am aware the steak is indulgent, yet when my adventure is over I want to look back upon evenings like this with pleasure. I won’t remember saving $50 to do something else but I will remember how special it felt to be accepted so warmly into these people’s evening & to have this divine place to myself for the best part of 6 hours.
It almost feels like a movie … single traveller stumbles into tardis-like venue & spends the most part of an evening being entertained by & enjoying the company of very hospitable people. Things like this don’t happen in real life.
One thought does spring to mind ; if I can be this happy alone, will I find it difficult to adjust to other people’s company ? Time will tell. I have spent only 6 days alone & 1 of those was with Bloo, yet I am utterly content. It’s something I am proud to report. When asked, I have always told people I am happy with my own company. With hindsight I don’t think I was being strictly honest. What I meant was I wasn’t unhappy to be alone. It is only in the last 2 days I have relished my own thoughts & company.
How will I cope in England ?
Cx
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