Grandfather For a Day

I had Catriona, The Family's eleven year old daughter, for the day today.

"I don't like crossing Tennyson Street on my own, Graham."  So Catriona this morning when we went into town.  "Well you can always hold my hand if you want to." said I smiling "but you may not want to do that."  "The point is, Graham," came the response "people might think that I was helping you across the street."  

As I couldn't stop laughing we nearly missed the green go man at the traffic lights.

That set the tone for the rest of the day.  Catriona is witty and entertaining company and a joy to be with.  But then I'm not a parent!  As everyone assumed that I was her grandfather, though, I was delighted to take the role on for the rest of our time together today.

 

Imagine a 3D movie of animated characterisations of cavemen called The Croods.  The Dreamworks blurb describes it as a prehistoric comedy adventure that follows the world's first family as they embark on a journey of a lifetime when the cave that has always shielded them from danger is destroyed. Traveling across a spectacular landscape, the Croods discover an incredible new world filled with fantastic creatures -- and their outlook is changed forever.  Does that sound just like my sort of film?  No.  However Catriona thought it would be a good idea to see it (and I certainly wasn't going to be party to her seeing any of the other 4 or 5 films that were showing at the cinema!).  We were the only people in that screening (actually on the way out we did see a young couple hidden on the back row: ah memories).  And you know what?  I thought it was brilliant.  I'd never seen a 3D movie since the days of those red and green paper spectacles you held up in front of your eyes and was mesmerised by the effects.  Catriona dismissed the 3D effects as below average.  We both agreed on the fact that it had been well worth seeing.

Afterwards I took her to play croquet.  She enjoyed that too.

Home for spag bol and another film until Mum and Dad came home from the practice and came down to The Cottage see how we'd got on (and so I fed them too).

I still can't work out what I have done to deserve such a good life these days?

Napier Trainworld

This has been the year of New Things Tried and it's only April.  Alright so the things I've tried haven't been earth shattering but they are things I should have tried years ago.  The first was going to Cape Kidnappers about which I have already blogged and about which there is more to come.  Today's post is about Napier's Trainworld.  I've never been to a large train layout before so I have nothing with which to compare it but I was impressed.

A Present and a Word I Don't Like

I've rather given up on the subject of grammar and punctuation recently.  No one takes any notice anyway.  However when I was up in Northland one of Pauline's friends, Chris, (whom I've known since I first went to Northland to visit Pauline some years ago) gave me a present when we met at the Waipu Easter Carnival.

The present was a 1936 publication: ABC of English Usage.  It's fascinating.  The first word I looked up was pleonasm which is one of my favourite grammar terms.  It is there.

The second word I looked up was one of my pet dislikes at the moment because it has suddenly come into vogue in the UK and NZ and is used frequently on the radio and television news.  It's even coming into  everyday conversation amongst the literati.  That word is eventuate.  Its pretentiousness grates with me because it always seems to me that it is being used to replace the perfectly good word 'happen'.

In New Zealand the term 'shit happens' is a very common one.  Everyone knows what it means.  I wouldn't mind betting that if you asked a cross section of the population what 'shit eventuates' means they wouldn't have a clue.  So why be so showy?  If a bureaucrat used it s/he would be slated for a lack of plain English.

Whilst on the subject of the Waipu Carnival one of my few photos (the weather was not very pleasant) was to show that Scots get everywhere:

It's good to have a little rant now and again.  Especially when one has just had yet another Very Good Day.

What Constitutes a Good Day?

I went to the gym today.  Apart from the fact that I managed a PB on the rowing machine there was nothing unusual in going to the gym.  However whilst I was on the walker looking out of a gym window (which overlooks the Napier Civic Theatre and its adjacent council car park) I watched the traffic warden check all the cars.  When she got to mine she looked and then marked a tyre.  That's not unusual but the fact that mine was the only tyre marked did make me wonder why and I decided that when I next saw a traffic warden I'd ask.   Here in the sticks there is not the animosity towards traffic wardens you find in some places.  They are, after all, here to make sure that we can all park as well as make sure we pay for the service.  

Digression: The only penalty ticket that I have ever had for parking was in the early 1980s.  I went to a meeting and parked on the road outside the meeting place as I always did.  When I came out I had a parking ticket and noticed that over the previous few days double yellow lines had been painted.  What?  When I got back to the office I asked one of my staff when the traffic order authorising that had been agreed.  A few hours later when I returned to my office there was a traffic order in the middle of my blotting pad (remember those?).  It was open.  It was open at the signature page.  The signature on the order was, you guessed it, mine.  I paid up!

Anyway when I returned to the car today after the gym I had a penalty notice on the windscreen.  What?!  Oh dear.  The ticket from the pay-and-display machine had gone from the dashboard.  That's one of the problems of an open-topped car tickets can blow away or get stolen.  But I wasn't a boy scout for nothing.  Actually I was never a boy scout but it's a handy sort of phrase.  I'm an Edwards and we are always prepared (as well as always being on time for appointments).  So I had photographed the ticket.  As it happens the ticket was in the footwell of the car so I could produce it.

So I popped into the Council Offices, smiled and and explained to the lady at the information desk that I had committed the offence in that I had not displayed the ticket but that I had paid and the ticket had blown onto the floor of the car.  "That's no problem" said the lady "I shall make the penalty notice disappear for you."  And so she did. 

This evening Wendy and Martin and friends from Napier who have stayed with me on Lewis came for dinner.  

You know what?  Life doesn't come much better than today.  Or am I just easily pleased?

Thankful Thursday

I've spent a good bit of today wondering what to be thankful for this Thursday.  It's not, of course, that I don't have anything for which to be thankful.  It's just a case of making it sound interesting enough to blog about.  Yesterday I was thinking of Meike's post or comments upon how fortunate our generations (I nearly said generation but we are actually a generation apart) were not to have had to go to war to defend our own soil.  Then I was thinking about how fortunate I am to have been part of a generation - probably the last - to benefit from final salary pensions.  The list is endless.

Today, however, I had something much less significant but, in its own way very rewarding, for which to give thanks.  A few years ago I used to play near enough top class Golf Croquet.  I held the Club's championship cup for three years in succession.  For the last few years I've concentrated on Association Croquet and fallen well down the NZ and World rankings for GC and , frankly, haven't played that well although I've maintained my low handicap.

Today I played the semi-finals of the Club's GC championship competition and beat one of our best players 7:1 7:4.  That wasn't, in itself, important.  What was important to me was that he played very well (particularly in the first game) but I played even better.  I played the sort of golf croquet that I used to play.  It was very satisfying.

So no world shattering things to be thankful for today.  Just a small and insignificant but personal thanks for a very satisfying day.

Fishing: It's in The Kiwi's Blood

If you live by the sea or a lake in New Zealand (and the majority of the population does) then fishing is just part of everyday life.  Not, of course, everyone fishes but if you don't then you know someone who does.  In Northland I photographed a lot of people doing just that.

We met this group at the far end of a tidal spit we had waded out to and walked along

The only person I've ever seen elegantly dressed in a skirt.  Oops. Thanks Monica.  That should, of course have read
The only person I've ever seen fishing elegantly dressed in a skirt.

Coming back after a fishing trip

Even the White-faced Heron was on the look-out for a fish or two

Could you find a more beautiful place to fish?

but you wouldn't want to have to walk there

Whether you are netting

or casting

A Break From Northland: Another Tui Post

The darkness falls early now.  The clocks have gone back: a presager of winter.  Time for the migration is almost upon me: 19 days 20 hours and 26 minutes as I write these words.  It's just after 4.30 in the afternoon and the sky is dark with rain and my lights are on.  Last week I was waking in the dark but now a new experience wakens me with the lighter mornings: a Tui 10 metres from my head.  This happened once before when I was staying at Katherine's in Tauranga. 

The Tui (Prosthemadera novaeseelandiae) is an endemic passerine bird of New Zealand. It is one of the largest members of the diverse honeyeater family.  The name Tui is from the Maori and is the species' formal common name. The plural is simply 'Tui', following Māori usage. The English name, Parson Bird, has fallen into disuse but came about because at first glance the Tui appears completely black except for a small tuft of white feathers at its neck and a small white wing patch, causing it to resemble a parson in religious attire.

Tui's appear to me to 'talk' constantly and with a very varied vocabulary.  Their chatter is generally audible for many tens of metres but their call is audible for a very long way and echoes around the geological bowl in which The Cottage is situated.

So when a Tui in an oak tree 10 metres from your head starts singing the joys of life at the crack of dawn you know about it.

A few days ago I tracked him down and stood underneath the tree and managed a few photos of him.

St Joseph's Maori Anglican Church, Awanui

Those who have followed this blog for the last couple of years will know that Pauline and I share a love of old churches and have visited many in Northland.  We didn't visit many this time but we did stop at Saint Joseph's Maori Anglican Church in Awanui which proved to be fascinating for a number of reasons.  One was the old bibles which Pauline blogged about here.  Another was a letter from a young Christian traveller which was on display.

A Northland Miscellany

That really was one huge piece of tree - shame about the electricity pole

Adrian to the rescue:  What pole?  I really must learn to use my Photoshop program.

No Exit from Salvation eh?

Enjoyed the name over the garage rather than the colour!

Carpe diem

The bach we stayed in at Houhora on the water front with the Phoenix Palm in between.

I couln't help wondering whether 3142 had a significance because it was obviously a 'treasured' plate

It's a hard life but someone has to do it

They went thataway!

Doing what Kiwi kids do!

Pukenui or Lewis?

Question: What do Pukenui in New Zealand's Northland and the Isle of Lewis 20+ miles off the North West Coast of Scotland have in common?

Answer: People stopping their cars in the middle of the road to have a chat.

Does that happen anywhere else?  Could that happen anywhere else?