Entering Port

Ships enter and leave the Port of Napier on every tide. Often then come in and go out on the same high tide; measuring their turnaround time in aa few hours. This one with pilot on board and the two Port Tugs in attendance came in on Thursday when we were down at Ahuriri.

A Very Long Day

Some days are longer than others. That's just how it is. Yesterday was one of the long ones. Not, you understand, because the number of hours I was awake was any greater than usual. In fact it was considerably less. I was up at 0630 but in bed by a very New Zealand-like 1030 - some time before my usual 0100. And it wasn't just long for me.

Yesterday the children (Jamie no longer counts as a child for this purpose) broke up and it was the Leavers' Assembly which, this year, I decided not to attend. Instead I played a doubles croquet match - part of the Club championship. We lost our match. I was then going to pétanque but something made me turn around and I came home instead. I wonder what made me do that.

I was just finishing lunch when Wendy drew up with the children. She was obviously upset. One of our neighbours - she was 41 years old and with small children - had collapsed and died at the pre-school (across the road from Pukatapu School where the children go) earlier. As so many of the parents were at the Assembly it became a very emotional occasion. By the time they arrived here the children were very subdued. We sat down and had an impromptu lunch and chat.

Such an incident happening to someone so young and so suddenly generates so many emotions and so many thoughts. It was decided that we should not be negative and mope but be thankful for every minute that we do have to enjoy time and, particularly, time with the children. So we just set off to Ahuriri (part of Napier on the coast) and for three hours sat on the beach, played, ate slushies and chips and were thoughtful, a bit teary at moments and very thankful at others.

And that was only half of what happened yesterday. It was an emotionally long day. Waking up seemed a very long time ago.

Jump!

Butter wouldn't.....

No fear

I'm lighter than you!

How do you like being up there then?

I never could do that

Power Walking

Off to School

Heigh ho, heigh ho, it's off to school we go.

Bare Feet

In New Zealand we all expect bare feet. Lots of them. In fact bare feet is a way of life. See That Season from last visit's blog as an example. It is usual, for example, to remove your shoes when you enter a house. It is not unusual in the summer to see people walking barefoot even in the streets. It was, however, a bit of a surprise after the News tonight to see the otherwise impecably dressed presenter run across the screen barefoot.

Golf Croquet Referee

Hardly a momentous moment in life but it is, nevertheless, an achievement of which I am proud.

Lucy

Lucy is Jayne's van which is our usual mode of transport to Croquet Tournaments. What a girl. Well, in fact, she's hardly a girl these days but, boy, has she aged well.

My Other Car's a Chopper

I've never seen our neighbour on the other side of the orchard and, in fact, I can only just see the top of his house now that the huge high windbreak hedging has been trimmed. Helicopters are a common sight and sound here. They are used a lot for spraying and transport and, of course, hospital and rescue. I was, however, just a bit surprised a few days ago when I became aware of one coming into the bowl in which The Cottage is situated. Apparently our neighbour's other mode of transport is a chopper.

Incomming chopper

It looks so tiny

Refueling and chat with friends before parking for the night

Away in the morning

Over the house

A Gift More Beautiful

one could not be given:

Wednesday

Thursday

It was a little budding rose,
Round like a fairy globe,
And shyly did its leaves unclose
Hid in their mossy robe,
But sweet was the slight and spicy smell
It breathed from its heart invisible.

A Little Budding Rose by Emily Bronté. For those of you familiar with the poem in its entirety you may understand why I wonder about Emily Bronté and her tales of deepest love. I'm sure that in her head she saw the dark as few do see it.

Chorus Cicada

What an odd place to lay down and die. Or was it a case of death by jandal? Surely my shoe's not that bad. On the subject of cicadas I was driving in Town yesterday when I heard the loudest cicada ever. I suddenly realised that it was in the car with me. The roof was down as usual. But it really was LOUD. As I turned my head to look I realised it was on my shoulder. No wonder it was deafening me.