Ohope Beach Yet again.

 Hi there

About two weeks ago I was browsing through the website of the Manchester Unity Ohope holiday home units.  Both units were booked up for months.  But, hey, wait -  There was one week clear.  Odd, it was for the second week of the school holidays.  That should have been booked out months ago.  Oh, well, someone must have pulled out.  So last week I had a surprise holiday in Ohope...

I hired a car to drive the eight hours up to Ohope. When my own car is parked at my own house, she is closeted away in a nice warm garage.  Nowadays if she takes me anywhere on holiday she absolutely refuses to wake up on cold mornings, and there is no under-cover parking at Ohope.  So....

The hired car people gave me a Toyota.  Goodness, I had a terrible time driving that car.  So different from my little blue baby.  The automatic gear shift may as well have been a manual shift because of all the trouble and swearing I went through on my week's holiday.  The car's bonnet was shaped so badly that I couldn't see over the sides of it.  The first time I tried to reverse, I pressed the pedal hard and almost shot through the back fence of my holiday home.  Quick thinking and a quick reflex on the foot pedal stopped me about a quarter-of-a-metre from that fence

The weather was perfect.  Sun-bathing Spring weather, as high as 20c, and no wind.  Every day I walked along the beach which was in front of the MU holiday home.  Many people walked their dogs.  Most of the dogs were cute little things -

One fox terrier-type raced toward me, barking like a rabid monster.  As my four readers will remember, it's only been over the last few years that I've started to lose some of my fear over dogs.

I froze as this particular dog screeched to a halt about a metre away from my Crocs, still barking his lungs out, baring his teeth, and quivering with emotion.

I was terrified.   What to do?-what to do?

The tv programme about Barbara Woodhouse, the dog trainer, flashed into my mind -

"S-s-sit," I hesitantly whispered.

The dog barked louder, moved closer.

"SIT-T!" I bellowed.  Barbara had told we viewers that the heavy 'T' at the end of the word 'sit' was essential, as was determination in the voice.

And, my goodness.  Guess what?

The dog.... SAT!!!!

...........

The photo above is of Moutohora Island Sanctuary (commonly known as Whale Island). I took the photo from Ohope Beach.     Moutohora used to be the also-ran island to see, after White Island.  But then the volcano on Whakaari/White Island blew, responsible for injuries and tourist deaths (see Netflix documentary).  It was heart-breaking.  The island is now closed.  The tour companies go to Moutohora instead, a beautiful trip apparently, seeing bird life, breath-taking greenery, walk tracks, and a hot water beach.  I've never been there, even though I keep telling myself I will visit 'next time'.  I did go previously to White Island where I had to wear a gas mask as I peered across into the mouth of the steaming volcano.  White Island can also be seen from Ohope Beach.

Shopping those sales

 Hi there

I went into a clothing store the other day.  I had been attracted by the huge sign that took up all of the front  window:  "20% Off Everything!!!"

 Wow, I was in!  Literally.  

More "20% Off Everything" signs inside.  Everywhere.  On the walls.  On the clothing racks.  On the counter. There was even a huge "20% Off Everything!!!" peel-off sign on the floor. 

As I stood under one sign, looking across at another, and  surrounded by many more, an assistant made a beeline for me.  "Did you know that we have a "20%-off-everything sale? " she whispered confidentially to me.  

Like it was a big secret.

"No," I said.  " Really?  I hadn't a clue... "

Pound Sign

 Hi there

When New Zealand switched over to dollars and cents instead of British pounds-shillings-and-pence in 1967, we were told that our dollar sign would have one stroke line running from top to bottom through it, whereas the United States dollar had two strokes.

Nowadays the US have all but forsaken those two strokes for the one stroke, though I believe it's still okay there to use both.  

The first time I went to Las Vegas I got caught up in a similar Zealand vs America situation  -

Before leaving home I had booked a night-time tour around the city, but I was required to confirm it on arrival.  Via phone. The automated voice gave me several options for extension numbers at the company.  "Please press pound for confirmation of tours," said the robot.

Um. What?

Pound?  What was pound?    Was it like the old-fashioned pounds-shillings-and-pence?  Or pounds (lbs) as in a person's weight that was never now used in NZ?  I frantically searched the phone's dial pad.

                                 below:  a money pound sign, British

Zilch.  Nada.  Zero.  Nothing on the phone pad looked anything remotely like a British pound sign.

I had to ask at hotel reception what a 'pound' was.  The kind lady - hiding a smirk - pointed it out to me -

HASH - 

#   #   #   #   #   #   #

Oh, my goodness...  All New Zealand automated messages ask us to "please press hash" - # - to get through to the proper extension.  No wonder I was confused.  Same keyboard sign, not same name....

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Oh, I must tell you that the cafe (the Annexe), on the 1st floor* at Whitcoulls Lambton Quay surely has the best hot chips in Wellington.  No, the best in New Zealand.  The world?  Their caramel muffins are pretty good too.

*2nd floor, if you're American.

Population of New Zealand

 Hi there

When I holidayed with my mum in Sydney, Australia, in the early 1960s, we went on a bus tour around the city.  I was absolutely agog when the courier told everyone that the population of Sydney was well over a million. At the time, the population of the whole of New Zealand was just over 2 million.  How could so many people fit into Sydney?  A population of a million in one city was just too populous a number for me to understand.

Nowadays, the population of Sydney is five million, and the population of New Zealand is just over 4 million. When I go to Sydney for a musical show, I'm jammed in with people everywhere throughout  the city.  It's mainly tourists of which I am one.  I guess Sydney shouldn't be such a desirable place to visit.  

above: Sydney Harbour Bridge 2023

The wearing of the cardigan

 Hi there

When I was a young teen, every female seemed to be wearing a cardigan.  Except me.  To me, cardigans denoted growing up.  Growing old.  Getting older.  I vowed never to wear a twinset and pearls which was all the rage for our mums.  A twinset was a matching sweater and cardigan.  And people used to think it was the height of fashion to add those pearls.  Whaaaat...!

above: stock photo

But the years have gone by and ...guess what?  I'm wearing cardigans!  Never with done-up buttons and never-never with pearls. 

But I'll tell you something that has begun to intrigue me:  often when I watch a home renovation show, or a gardening show, or a posh-people-holdaying-in-the-Hamptons show, the women love to wear cardigans tied around their hips.  The funny thing is that these women are never seen actually wearing the cardigans.

Is cardigan hip-wearing a fad?  Never worn, but always seen?  "Oh, don't I look great?" think the bored-stressed-angry-vindictive-jealous housewives of such-and-such city.   "I'll just tie my cardy around my hips and the peasants will throw hosannas and confetti at my feet.  I'm so fashion-forward."

Am I the only person in the world who realises that the moment a cardy is tied around the hips, the wearer suddenly has a big.broad bottom.  The only time I decided to follow the trend and tie my cardy across my backside, I peered over my shoulder into the mirror, and was horrified.

I had the biggest hips, waist, and bottom...

Comics Banned in New Zealand in the 1950s

 Hi there

I was a young girl, mad about the English romance comic 'Valentine'.  'Valentine' was full of drawn romance stories, and interviews with pop stars, and instead of letters-to-the-editor, it was letters to Davy-the-mailroom-boy.  Everyone who got their letter printed got an 8"x10" photo of their requested favourite.  I managed to get a photo of Elvis in army uniform.  Sigh....

There were no New Zealand comics at the time.  Overseas magazines and comics were imported.  They took a minimum of 6 weeks to about 10 weeks to get from England to New Zealand.  By ship.    Kiwis were used to their overseas reading matter being so out-of-date.  

But by 1958 the change had come.  It was general knowledge that comics caused juvenile delinquency (huh?) 

So...   Comics were banned!  Government censorship was in from the middle of the decade, along with the famous Black Budget under Prime Minister Walter Nash.  I lost my beloved 'Valentine' comic.  Right in the middle of an exciting serial.  Would the heroine get her hero, the famous concert pianist?  Or would she have to marry the cad?

I moped around the house for weeks.  I was so devastated that my father sent a ten shilling note over to England and asked if 'Valentine' could be sent direct to our house, as newsagents would no longer be accepting overseas comics.

Yes!  For a couple of years I got 'Valentine' delivered, until the publishers sent a note saying the ban had been well-lifted and I should now get the comic in New Zealand.  

I never did find out whether that heroine married the cad or the gorgeous pianist....

Religious Teaching, New Zealand Schools in the 1950s

Hi there

When I was a kid, the schools had a religious person come in for an hour a week to tell the class about the bible.  It was usually someone from the Salvation Army.

I remember when I was about eight years old, at Newtown School  ...

The kids in my class had just opened their eyes after a prayer.

A boy frantically waved his hand.  "Jenny had her eyes open," he tattle-taled to the Salvation Army captain.

The captain pondered this.  "And how do you know she had her eyes open, Tommy?  Unless you had your eyes open too?"

"Oooooh..."  We kids were so over-awed by the Salvation Army captain's cleverness....