1) Favourite colour – Red for its dynamics, black to wear
2) Favourite movie – Shawshank Redemption
3) Favourite animal - men
4) Favourite book – To kill a mockingbird
5) Favourite passage from Q4A (if you don't have one, lie)
1. Remember when you were 16 & just had to have the latest drainpipe jeans ?
2. 'So-hiding under my duvet is not effective then?' (Cx defence of earthquakes)
3. I ran a couple of small circles in my bedroom before realising I should put some clothes on. (Fire at Cedar Lodge)
4. The urge to drive my knee into her face was overwhelming. (quest for envelopes)
5. Spoke with Hx today. Instant rapport. Like her. Like the sexy voice too, which she assured me was due to phlegm. (Agh that'll be me being a snotty child)
6. "...but Kylie," I said, "they all have 3 leaves" (I did actually wet myself at this posting)
6) Favourite photo from Q4A (ditto) –
1.
2.
7) Favourite smell – BBQ food, I love burnt food (as long as it's pre-cooked) don't ask why, I really don't know. I love the smell of fresh coffee and that smell after its rained in springtime
8) Most essential quality in a friend – That they let me be me
9) Most desirable quality in a partner – honesty, consideration, zest for life and love
10) Most embarrassing moment – Where do I begin ???
11) Proudest achievement – Being IC of my own ANBCI course
12) Saddest memory – When my Grandfather and my dog Trixie died. Also the day I realised my "rock" wasn't there for me anymore
13) Happiest memory – too many to mention !
14) Heroine – Edith Cavell, we did a project about her when I was at Primary School. She was a British nurse during the First World War in German occupied Holland, rescuing wounded British and French escapes. She was eventually caught by the Germans and tricked into confessing and was put to death by firing squad on the morning of 12th October, 1915. Her statue in St. Martin's Place bears the words, 'Humanity, Fortitude, Devotion, Sacrifice' a fitting tributes to the life she led.
15) Buried or cremated ? Where ? Why ? I think I'd like to be buried to give all those who want the opportunity to, to dance on my grave . . . . actually no, cremated so I'd deprive the buggers from doing so ! I want my epitaph to read "Here lies H, who could put her lipstick on without a mirror"
Wed 7th April 1203
Location : 90 Mile Beach, Top 10 Campsite, BBQ Area, bright, bright sunshine.
454km
Headed off early from Taupo Bay after tea & toast. Starting to get the hang off this camping/moving daily lark. Wish I had my own tea mug rather than borrowing one from other campers, then I would feel even more growed-up.
Drove through the picturesque Coopers & Doubtless Bays headed for Kaitaia via 90 Mile Beach & stopped at the campsite recommended in the brochure loaned to me by Claire.
I was greeted by a lovely old lady who GAVE me a tea mug when I said I wanted to buy one. Facilities here are superb, very clean & aside from a couple of off-road bikers I have the place to myself.
The sun is very hot, tempered by a very gusty wind. My impression is of everything being painfully white & blue. V.nautical.
I am booked in for a hot meal at 6pm & am very much looking forward to it. I couldn't be bothered with the 13km drive to the pub yesterday & dinner was a bag of chocolate Mini-Eggs. Very tasty. Wonder what wine goes with those ?
I am learning to be more discerning with camp-sites now, selecting the ones with restaurants attached which means I can also have a drink.
I am feeling very happy & positive today, after a couple of days in 'no-mans land'. I know myself well enough to know that the 1st few days of anything new are hard for me - after that I feel more myself.
I have never got it when people extol the joys of the open road - but I'm beginning to. Can it really be ? Anal Briggsy starts to shed her compulsive layers & enjoy freedom ? Not quite, but I'm starting.
The tent is up. I have it down to 7 minutes flat (impressed Bill ?) That's including making my bed, ok, rolling out my sleeping bag. I'm off for a look at the beach now & to see how far to Cape Reinga (pronounced Ree-anga) which is said to be worth seeing.
2nd entry, written later the same day.1900
Location:Dining Room, Top 10 Campsite 90 Mile Beach.
558km
I set off for Cape Reinga at 1520 after my walk on the beach & arrived back at 1810.
Even the appalling music tonight cannot dim my enthusiasm for the day I had today. They were playing decent Rn'B when I entered, clocked my age, swapped to The Carpenters & have now settled on some godawful medley of crap 60's songs. Currently, it's 'Love letters in the sand'.
The ham steak I was looking forward to is a piece of deep-fried luncheon meat. My carafe of house red is chilled. Neither of the above have spoiled my glorious day.
I headed for the beach intending to walk for 'a while' to iron out the kinks brought on by sleeping in a bag for a few days. I enjoyed it so much, I ended up walking for 3 hours. The scale of this beach has to be seen to be believed.
It's not actually 90 miles, but 90 kilometres doesn't have the same ring to it. I felt relaxed & invigorated by my walk, the gusty wind making it more, not less, enjoyable.
The last time I spent this long on a beach ? Camber Sands, May 2003.
Where did the year go ?
After 90 Mile Beach, I thought I had ample time to get to Cape Reinga & back. I was wrong. It was only 100 km, but over v.twisty, switchback terrain, the last 21 km being on unmade road. I had a very sedate drive there & arrived at 1640. I got out, gaped at the view, admired the beautiful lighthouse there
& marvelled at the fact that at the place where the Pacific Ocean meets the Tasman Sea they really are 2 different, unmmixed colours. Only the loud, fat Yank, dressed entirely in green velour bellowing 'Oh My God, it really is one more of those 'Oh My God' views isn't it ?' spoiled my reverie.
I noticed the time & leapt in the car & had one of those memorable, zoned drives. 1 hour of uninterrupted driving concentration. I imagined I was on the Blade & took the most direct route at every bend. I saw 3 other vehicles on the wonderful, sinuous road during the drive. Chris would have loved it. I shudder to think how long I would have kept my licence had I been able to bring the bike over here.
I found Claire's Dido CD in my CD player whilst hunting for something other than '50 Doowop classics' (sorry Bill, but it's just not good driving music) not enough adrenaline.
I found track 12 to be just over 6 minutes of superb driving music, so I set it on repeat & listened to it increasingly more loudly, for the entire hour. There is a hook, 3 minutes & 17 seconds in, when the snare drum bursts in to accompany the violins. It makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It was the perfect mood enhancer.
I sent a tx today, it read 'Fantastic day, best yet, high on life, beauty & speed. Could depart this life now & be utterly content' I have kept it amongst the Outmessages on my phone to remind me.
It wasn't any one thing today but a combination of the beach, the weather, the lighthouse, Cape Reinga & the drive back.
What struck me about today though was that my other 'good days' have featured other people. The fact that I spent today totally alone enhanced my experiences rather than detracting from them.
They have now turned off the awful music in the restaurant. If only the Japanese woman opposite would close her mouth as she chews her fish, I really will have found nirvana.
My memories ran riot today & I thought a lot about Gaynor, a good friend of mine who died in November 2002.
I cried at how I couldn't say goodbye & laughed at how outrageous she was.
Gaynor was the house-keeper for a Baroness who lived nearby, when Stuart & I lived at Leith Hill. Never knowingly underdressed, Gaynor had a passion for all animals & high heels. She would totter out to feed her geese, dressed in revealing clothing & perilous footwear.
She was dressed like this when Stuart & I first met her. She, of course, knew all about us, in advance of our arrival, as is often the way in small villages.
'Coooeee,' she shouted as she spied us walking Barley, new to the area & out exploring the woods near the Coach-House.
'...are you the flea people ...?'
I, in my usual way, took umbrage & wondered who this loud, tarty-looking, 50-something woman was. As we got closer, it became apparent she was asking if we were the 'police people ?'.
She confessed later, she had expected 2 gay blokes, upon hearing that a 'police couple' were to move into her area.
She introduced herself & it was the beginning of one of the most rewarding friendships I have enjoyed. I would like to say it was a long friendship but she died after too short a time. I wish I had met her sooner.
Gaynor was loud, animated, opinionated & possibly one of the kindest people I have encountered. Her greeting was always the same, a huge hug & a filthy, suggestive laugh if you were a bloke. A huge hug & a kiss if you were a woman.
Some of my funniest memories of Gaynor are when she was helping people.
Gaynor subscribed to a local idea, in which people were asked to do some shopping & chores for the elderly housebound residents in the area.
Her very first victim was an elderly, irrascible major who lived at the top of a very steep crescent-shaped driveway. Upon arriving, Gaynor's motoring nerve deserted her. The drive was approximately a 1-in-3 ascent & Gaynor stood at the bottom, wondering what to do. The major espied her & called out to her, asking who she was & what was taking her so long ? She replied, introducing herself as his salvation & told him that she didn't fancy driving her car up the hill, in case she rolled down again.
'For goodness sake woman, stop dithering & drive up here immediately' he barked at her.
Gaynor, who was never shy about voicing her opinions, asked him who he thought he was speaking to & told him he could 'F*** off !' Tossing her blonde hair imperiously, she got back in her car & drove off, leaving the indignant man, stranded & foodless.
I can still remember our mirth when she recounted the story, it was her 1st & last example of helping 'the elderly' with their shopping.
On another occasion, we had rashly offered to help the Baroness move some things from her flat in Chelsea to her house at Leith Hill. It was only upon arriving in Chelsea that Gaynor confessed to me that she didn't have an address for the flat but would 'know it when she saw it'
It was impossible to be angry with Gaynor, even on this occasion as we drove aimlessly around Chelsea. I don't think she had any idea how large Chelsea was. Every time we looked at one another, we would burst into giggles. Finally, in desperation, we rang the Baroness & asked her for the address she was at & to explain where it was. Unfortunately, she could only explain where it was, in relation to the House of Commons which didn't help hugely.
We eventually arrived at the place, more by luck than judgment. We were slowly driving past it for about the 4th time, when Gaynor shouted excitedly that she recognised it, this time.
We were some 2 hours overdue & weak with laughter when we finally presented ourselves at the very smart, concierge attended, intercom system & buzzed the Baroness to announce our arrival.
'About time, stop giggling & come up' came the haughty reply.
We couldn't even look at each other as we loaded the weirdest assortment of belongings ever, into the tiny white Daihatsu Charade. 10 year old pots of decaying honey, umbrellas with bone handles, decimated suitcases with the buckles hanging off & years & years of yellowing copies of the Times newspaper.
I had given up one of my much looked forward to rest days to move this motley assortment of stuff across London & into Surrey & yet, I don't begrudge a minute of it now, as it was one of the best days I had with Gaynor.
The final insult came as I negotiated my way slowly & carefully down the heavily pot-holed driveway to the house in Leith Hill.
'Thank you Carol', said the Baroness in clipped, precise tones, 'you really are a much better driver than Gay-nor' which was how she pronounced Gaynor's name.
The snuffly explosion from the rear seat caused my eyes to meet Gaynor's in the rear view mirror. We only managed to contain our laughter long enough to escort the Baroness into the house.
Driving was not Gaynor's forte & I recall once how she sat, immobile with terror as we drove down the M25 in torrential rain after a shopping expedition to BlueWater. I had taken her there after she confessed that she would no longer attempt to drive on motorways after a journey to see her terminally ill friend in hospital in Guildford.
On this day, she set out from Leith Hill to do the 35 minute drive to the hospital in Guildford. After missing her turn on the A3, she somehow, ended up, hours later, in Portsmouth. She arrived at the hospital, tearful & apologetic & explained her error to staff who had told her visiting hours were over.
It is to their credit that they allowed her to see her friend after the ordeal, after laughing heartily at her mistake.
My most enduring image of Gaynor though, is the evening that we went to the local, very dressed-down, country pub to see an Irish band called The Falloons. Gaynor had a passion for music & dancing & had said we would all enjoy this band. She suggested all four of us go, her with Stan & Stuart with myself. The band were terrific & I bought their CD, which I used to listen to whilst doing the washing up at Leith Hill. What really stole the show that evening was Gaynor's appearance.
She wore a coral lycra top with a keyhole revealing a deep, quivering cleavage. Her pencil skirt was grey lycra, slashed to reveal ample thigh. Her clothes didn't so much cover her Rubenesque proportions, as do battle with the curves which always seemed to threaten to burst free from their restraints. The most amazing aspect of her dress however was her purple suede, peeptoe 'f***-me' shoes. These shoes were a triumph of style over physics. The heels were easily 4" & they were held on by a very sexy, hugely leg-flattering ankle strap. I really coveted those shoes. She told me jokingly, she would leave them to me that night. Her look was completed, as always, whether at rest or play, by an immaculately coiffed platinum blonde hair-do & lashings of mascara. When it came to eye make-up, Gaynor didn't believe that less was more.
It was fair to say her entrance brought the brought the pub to a stand-still.
I will be honest & say that Gaynor's appearance embarrassed me that night. I worried (I worry too much) about what people would think of her, what they would think of me & whether they would judge us to be 'easy ladies' by her appearance only.
As the night wore on however, I saw Gaynor for what she really was. A lively, vibrant women who drew people, men & women alike to her company. She played darts, very badly, laughing loudly, every time she missed the board. She flirted outrageously with the waiter & jigged irresistibly in her seat during the whole performance by the band. Had there been a dance-floor, I don't doubt she would have monopolised it.
I realised in that evening & more so subsequently, that Gaynor's appearance mattered not a jot. People liked her & were charmed by her. I loved her a great deal & miss her very much.
When she knew she was dying, she decided not to tell me. I still don't know whether this was to protect me or to save a goodbye. I suspect it was the former. Stuart had to break the news to me over the telephone whilst I was with Cocky, we had been riding at the yard. I remember having to leave the yard very quickly, unable to believe the news. I found out later from Stan, her husband, that she had 6 weeks to prepare her funeral & that she selected the songs herself.
She chose 'Morning has broken' which I thought especially apt, with its mention of blackbirds, as she fed all species of bird daily, spending even more than I do on bird-feeding treats.
Ever the rebel though, she was carried out to The Mavericks 'Dance The Night Away'. If you can't remember it, take a look at these lyrics,
Here comes my happiness again
Right back to where it should have been
'Cause now she's gone and I am free
And she can't do a thing to me
I just wanna dance the night away
With senoritas who can sway
Right now tomorrow's lookin' bright
Just like the sunny mornin' light
And if you should see her
Please let her know that I'm well
As you can tell
And if she should tell you
That she wants me back
Tell her no
I gotta go
I just wanna dance the night away
With senoritas who can sway
Right now tomorrow's lookin' bright
Just like the sunny mornin' light
And if you should see her
Please let her know that I'm well
As you can tell
And if she should tell you
That she wants me back
Tell her no
I gotta go
I just wanna dance the night away
With senoritas who can sway
Right now tomorrow's lookin' bright
Just like the sunny mornin' light
I just wanna dance the night away
With senoritas who can sway
Right now tomorrow's lookin' bright
Just like the sunny mornin' light
It's a very happy, upbeat song & there were a few glances exchanged at how inappropriate it seemed at that moment. With hindsight though, it was an inspired choice.
It reflected perfectly this fantastic, gutsy, foul-mouthed lady who showed such zest for life. I miss you Gay-nor.
ps. I never did have the nerve to ask Stan for those shoes.
Cx
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