Hi there
Sunday 22, shortest day swim. Hataitai Beach
Been there, done that ... I'm happy!
Beautiful day. Water flat-ish.
There might be more pictures to come. You know me, I'm terrible taking photos. I couldn't get my camera to work... But others stepped in and took photos for me..... Thanks guys.
There were up to 40 swimmers there today. Different estimates as to how many.. Swimmers came and left over a 30 minute period.
Hi there
Today in NZ it is Friday, Matariki Day. Maori New Year.
above... : Matariki star cluster. can be seen close to dawn.
***
After lots of emails and phone calls with departments who have all been saying "taking down the Hataitai Beach pollution notice is not our responsibility", we finally got the notices taken down. The notices should have been taken down on 29 May, a few days after the storm we had at that time.
Unfortunately, the seawall works and roadworks are still there. Fo!low the gravel maze to the beach deck.
We discovered today that when it's a high tide the actual beach disappears. Tough luck beach-goers come next summer. Did anyone check on the outcome of building this seawall?
The shortest day swim is Sunday 22nd. 11 30 am. Hataitai Beach
Hi there
I've never been able to remember jokes. I do so admire people who can tell jokes, especially Shaggy Dog jokes that go on... and on... and on...
I only have one joke. It's short and I learned it from a comedian on stage at the Victoria Palace Theare in London, way back in 1967.
"Did you hear the one about the two cows in the paddock? :--
One anxious cow said to the other, "Goodness, Look at that bull over there! Do you think he's going to charge us-?"
The other cow said, "I hope not. I've only got 50 cents...."
Hi there
The beach should-maybe-hopefully be cleared of the roadworks (and the wrongfully-put-up pollution notice) by Sunday 22 June. Warning: the roadworks are in maze form but you really can get to the changing sheds, deck, and toilets. Parking further away than normal.
So, don't forget: Mid-Winter Swim, Hataitai Beach, Sunday 22 June, 2025 11 30 a.m
Oh, and it's Matariki Weekend, and because of it being a public holiday, it's understood if many regulars cannot make it.
As things stand, it's a wet or fine weather swim, but if the weather is absolutely terrible, look on this blog a couple of hours before swim. Hey, remember a couple of years back when it was pouring and the weather freezing and still the beach regulars showed up? Brrrrhhh.
......
me - 2015 Our mid-winter swim : Jay and I took turns wearing the polar bear snuggle for photos. By this time, we'd been mid-winter swimming for quite a few years. Only us. Until The Young One and Tee-Oh joined us. It was about another 3 or so years before The Little Mermaid hooked up for winter swimming. After Covid, lots more joined in and now it's winter whoopee ...
***
Thank you, Jay, for first of all coming up with certificates for the pair of us all those years ago, and then later the magnets - that you happily paid for - as more and more mid-winter swimmers joined us. We've handed magnets out for many years.
This year will be the last of the magnets as Jay is now indisposed and her son got this year's magnets done for her (under instructions!) Thinking of you, Jay. I still have fun remembering all those past swims. Jay remembers when I rang her up one winter morning, and she proclaimed, "But I've just looked out the window; there's icicles hanging from the eaves...." Well, we still went swimming that morning...
Hi there
Last weekend, here in New Zealand, was King's Birthday Weekend. We got a holiday to officially celebrate the monarch's birthday (2 June). Of course, it's not his real birthday, just as it wasn't the Queen's real birthday. I must admit that after Queen's Birthday Weekend was a holiday for something like 70 years, it was difficult for most New Zealand citizens to talk about King's Birthday Weekend -
"Oi, Maisie, what are you doin' this Queen's Birthday Weekend?"
"Oh for goodness sake, Mum,, it's King's Birthday Weekend. "King's, King's, King's...."
All of those sales tv adverts had to be changed for the first King's Birthday weekend. In the past, stores would regurgitate tired commercials of corgis and queenly stick figures to sell their wares. But then those ads were dumped without ceremony, and kingly animation ads appeared..
There's always rumblings about New Zealand sacking the monarchy and going republic. Obviously the holiday will disappear...
But hang on,... maybe the powers-that-be are thinking ahead ...
A few years' back, New Zealand brought in Matariki Weekend. Matariki is a cluster of stars that signifiy a start of the Maori New Year. It's always in June , on a Friday, and this year the holiday is on Friday 20th. Matariki is probably more relevant to kiwis than King's Birthday.
But could Matariki be read as a substitute for a future deletion of King's Birthday Weekend, so as not to anger the NZ public who don't give a fig whose day it is as long as they get a holiday in June?
And while we're at it, what other public holidays could be dumped as their true meaning disappears? Christmas might evolve into some day in December called 'Santa Claus Day'?. And Easter? - Ooooh, how about 'Bunny Day'?*
*Sarcastic much?
Hi there
Occasionally, when I'm reading a novel, I reach a passage that is so mind-blowing with a plot revelation, action, or clue that I immediately drop this hot potato of a book, gaze at the ceiling as if anticipating the second coming, and pray that my heart-racing palpitations will slow down before I have a full-blown attack.
My breathing is shallow, my mind is skittering around with all kinds of scenarios that could fit in with the page I was just reading. Has she truly betrayed him? Is there going to be another murder? Is the next door neighbour involved (no, no, he's too nice for murder; he owns a cat!).
Is she really her husband's long-lost sister (oh, my...). Was it actually the postie who put that bomb in her letterbox?. - I mean, he's serving a life sentence for the deed, but what if he's innocent.....?
After a few minutes, when my mind is not so befuddled with the enormity of the book's revelation and my heart is not racing, I go back to reading.
I often wonder if other readers and reviewers have the same intense reactions to books, as I do?
Lots of reviewers declare that a book is too exciting to put down. I differ; it's the other way around. Sometimes a book is so exciting, it just has to be put down (but not in a derogatory way!)...
Hi there
You all know, of course, that I am a Diet Coke addict. Have been for years. Yes, yes, I've tried to get off it many times. Alas.... It always takes me about three weeks to give up the drink, and during that time I am grumpy, horrible, and everyone around me cowers behind furniture.
It's bad enough silently revealing to seated strangers surrounding me in cafes that I'm a Diet Coke addict whilst everyone else is demurely drinking flat whites or fancy teas with exotic names ... but to have a public coke incident, like the incident I had last week in front of a couple of dozen people is the pits (of all pits).
"Here's your Coke, dear." The cafe assistant plonked the bottle down at my table.
(side question: why do retired women always get called 'dear' by shop and cafe workers?)
"Thanks," I said. I reached over for my glass.
Whoops .... My fingers accidentally flicked the side of the bottle.
The Diet Coke bottle flew up through the air. It did the most beautiful one-and-a-half somersault that would most definitely have gained first place in any Cola Olympics. Coke spurted out from that bottle. Over the floor. The walls, the table.... Me.
I couldn't apologise enough. A woman bustled over , mop and cloth in hand. I apologised all the way through the clean-up.
"I'm happy," she said. "I'm retiring next week."
But this embarrassing incident wasn't my only Diet Coke spillage, even though I admit that it was my most spectacular. The month before, I'd spilt it over my bedroom carpet. Thank goodness I was getting rid of that carpet over the next few months.
But a week after my cafe spillage, I did it again... I was watching tv in the lounge, then leaned over to the side table for my Diet Coke.
The Coke flew straight out from the glass, in an absolutely straight line, for about four metres.
Over my brand new carpet.
"How did you clean it up?" asked one of my friends at my senior improv group. "You didn't use hot water, did you?"
"Well, yes, I did. Why? Shouldn't I have?"
Everyone shook their heads and tsk-tsked. I'd done the unthinkable.
"Cold water works," said one friend.
"So does soda water," said May. "Drink Soda Water instead. You can kill two birds with one stone. Not only can you drink soda water, but it's self-cleaning if you have an accident. Win-win..."
.
Hi there
I belong to 'Friends of Te Papa'. Te Papa Tongarewa is the Museum of New Zealand, situated in Wellington. Yes, Wellington. Surprise, surprise, it's one iconic landmark that didn't get snapped up by Auckland....Hooray.
Anyway, I'd booked to go on a Te Papa Friends archeological walk around Wellington a couple of weeks ago but because of projected bad weather it got postponed until yesterday (Sunday) when the weather was really-really bad.
It rained the whole time I was on the walk and only about ten of us showed up, the other registered walkers had deferred until next weekend.
We walked along the wharf-front looking at the huge over-a-hundred-year-old Hikitia sea crane that is the oldest working one in the world. It cant get out to sea by itself; it's lost that capability, however this old girl can get towed to deep water to pick up would-be archaeological treasures.
I must have passed this crane hundreds of times and never thought much about it. Who would have guessed that down in the crane's belly was a whole area devoted to the conservation work of maritime archaeological discoveries dredged up from the sea floor. But owing to the fact that the deck hatches are rather small, big artifacts like anchors can't be fed through them because those small hatches are the only entrance to the room underneath. So... found anchors are dumped in a cluster nearby - word of advice from me: don't swim, dive, or drunken-fall to the right side of the crane.
We walked down Willis Street, learning about the archeological stuff that had been found after the remains of "Plimmer's Ark" had been excavated at the bank arcade site, at the corner of Willis Street and Lambton Quay. If you visit here during shop hours, there are artefacts on the basement floor. The ship had been salvaged way back in the 1800s, and turned into a shop by Mr Plimmer, The huge 18-something-or-other Wellington earthquake had raised the land, putting paid to the shop's business.
Then, our little group tootled over to Queen's wharf and found out about how that wharf came about. We looked at maps depicting how the area had been before and after the earthquake.
It was interesting to learn that during the earthquake every piece of crockery and glassware in every pioneer house had been smashed. Enterprising crockery-sellers from, for instance, the Taranaki area, rushed down to Wellington to sell their wares. Because there was so many household breakages after the quake, the city council asked everybody to put stuff outside their houses for collection by wheel-barrows. It was to be used as ground filler. And such great finds for future archaeologists.
We ended up at Government Buildings, my old stomping work ground, where I was surprised to discover there was a curb at the south side of the structure on which a true chain length could be measured...
Hi there
The weather forecast said it was going to be beautiful sunshine the entire day today. Wow, I was going out to experience all that sun. However, there was no sun -
above: Inner harbour. Photo taken from Miramar Wharf area. The scenic seaside road leading around the Miramar Peninsula is directly to the right of photo. It's a sort of loop. The Chocolate Fish Cafe, an iconic place on the peninsula, is about a 10 minute peninsula-ride away by car. I think The Chocolate Fish is a Peter Jackson-owned place. Scorch-a-Rama Cafe is on the other side of the peninsula at Scorching Bay, about 30 minutes away. Walking takes, maybe an hour and a half to reach Worser Bay, and its another fifteen minute walk over the hill and back to Miramar. Or keep walking past Worser Bay to get to Seatoun shops and transport. Take note that on much of the peninsula seaside road, there are no houses..
above: same area but looking down towards the Airport runway and Cobham Drive. Cobham Drive is named after a past Governor-General. It was a time when all governors-general were sent to us from England for a certain number of years. Now we always have a New Zealand governor-general. The governor-general is the King's representative.
above Miramar: Main road leading out of Miramar, through the Miramar Cutting. On the left is Stone Street. Stone Street Studios are where the 'Lord of the Rings", "King Kong" (and others) were filmed. There is a track leading up the hill above the studios and I traversed the hill whilst "King Kong" was being filmed - the outdoor scene that I saw was set around a fake lake, and obviously on The island. At about the same time, I also trekked up a very steep hill from the back of the Massey Memorial at the tip of the Miramar Peninsula and saw the cave set for King Kong. When I had reached the top of the hill - puffing and panting - I was immediately ordered back down again by the King Kong security people.
When I got home from today's wander, the sun came out. I remember that one of the guys at Hataitai Beach used to call Jay and me "The Cloud Twins", because often when we arrived at the beach for a swim, it clouded over.
ANZAC DAY - NEW ZEALAND AND AUSTRALIA, remembering the brave armed forces who died at Gallipoli and further conflicts.
Hi there
I wish you all a Happy Easter. Here's the little ornament-thingee that I have put on my front inside window sill -
above: I bought it last week for $8 at Countdown Kilbirnie. Countdown has not yet been given the Woolworths' signage.
And here's some sort of good news. The southern part of the Hataitai Beach sea wall is all but finished. It was started before Christmas.
There's still the northern end sea wall to build. The temporary sea blocks are blocking practically all of the beach when it's high tide. And at the moment it's terrible trying to get to the deck to sun-bathe, meet our friends, step down into the water, change in the changing shed....
It's like a real maze for us to make our way through the traffic cones, stop-gos, temporary fences, gravel path, blocked off areas, all whether we're in our cars or walking.
I feel that the road cones blocking parking should be taken away every Friday and holiday periods, or moved onto the pavement by the workers before they leave of a Friday afternoon
... and regardless of all my Easter bunny frivolity, I do remember the true meaning of Easter ....
Hi there
1 Typist-in-Charge, Education Department Head Office, First Floor Government Buildings, Wellington. 1974-1978
I had put in for a higher-graded typist-in-charge position, this time at Customs Head Office, and it may as well have been the moon for all I knew about what one did at Customs. But it would be a break-through for typists, as opposed to the superior reign that shorthand-typists had in the in-charge typing area at this time. Shorthand-typists-in-charge rarely did shorthand. They supervised. So it always felt unfair that only shorthanders could apply for higher jobs. But imagine my surprise when I spotted an in-charge position in the Public Service Official Circular that didn't have the word 'shorthand' in front of it. It was exactly one level up from my present grade.
Right back when I was a teenager of about sixteen, terrible at typing, but with a kind caring mentor boss - Mrs Rowley - I was stationed in room 305 typing pool at Government Buildings I'd been listening to Mrs Rowley and Miss McNeil who was the Supervising Typist of all education typists, talking about overseas trips. I gestured to Miss McNeil and said enviously, "I want to be just like you." I had meant travelling the world -
Mrs Rowley giggled, "She wants to be the Supervising Typist. Hahaha..."
And everyone at that typing room morning tea giggled.
It was the only time I felt sad about what my idol had said, and that everyone in room 305 thought I wanted to aspire to the dizzying heights of Miss McNeil's job. To them all, I was so obviously scatty-Lorraine who loved rock'n'roll and movies, couldn't do maths, talked a lot, and was pretty crap at typing. According to the sniggers, there would be no way I could ever take on Miss McNeil's position.
Um...
Well...
First, I had got the Senior Typist job at the Curriculum Development Unit. Then I got the Typist-in-Charge job at Health Regional Office. This was followed by my present position as one of three typists-in-charge at Education Head Office...
But now...? Now, I'd got the Customs Typist-in-Charge job! Another grade closer to that supervising typist position at Education that I had set my sights on; I was so determined to work my way through the ranks to get up to it, to prove I wasn't that highly hopeless typist everyone had once thought I was.
It was sad to leave Education. I walked the long wide Government Buildings corridors the day I left, memories bouncing around in my head:
There were two enclosed staircases, one at each end of the building, north and south. I must have run up and down those stairs thousands of times, delivering work to officers on the various floors. Maybe the staircases were enclosed because of a danger to stair-climbers falling over the bannisters?
Sometimes I would take the easy way between levels and rattle around in the old 'cage' lift at the south end of the building. I had once seen a gangster movie where the guys in a cage lift had been machine-gunned between the bars as the lift descended. I never once rode this lift without thinking of that movie.
I walked into typing room 305 where I started out as a junior typist. Everyone now had electric typewriters, and some, the IBM golfball.
I remembered the day of the Wahine storm, 10 April 1968, when the winds reached a scary 230 km per hour as the ship Wahine sank in Wellington Harbour. We typists in room 305 had looked out the typing room windows to see a petrified business woman clinging for dear life to the wind-blown tree at the foot of the inside road leading up to Parliament Buildings.
above: Inter-island ferry, Wahine, sinking. Stock photo
I stood in Room 305, above the exact place we "girls" from the 1960s had stashed a time capsule. The floor had been sloping so workmen had come in to install a new floor. Before the new floor was added we tossed a plastic bag full of memorabilia in the gap under where the new boards would be fitted. There was the day's newspaper, that year's coin, and a few words from each of us, listing our most interesting points. I said "Lorraine loves Elvis", another typist said she was "Tall Pat", another "Francis is an indoor bowls fanatic"...
Room 305 still had the same mirror on the wall that I had used 15 years before. I thought back to the time when one of our typists had found a foreign language on the back of the 30 or so hand-written pages she was working from. None of us could figure out the words... until ....
"Hey look - " Pam was holding a page up to the mirror.
The words had been in mirror writing. The writer had been using the backs of the papers for his long departmental draft. How the handwriting got to be in mirror vision we had no idea. Perhaps the Gestetner duplicating machine was somehow responsible?
Holding page after page up to our mirror we saw that it was work-in-progress of a novel. So, the guy in Buildings Division was a closet novelist? A romantic-thriller one? Who'd-a-thunk? And... who'd also have thunk that he was having an affair with one of the typists. Well, me. I knew. But I had been sworn to secrecy by the pair.
The same went for the typist who was having an affair with one of the married directors. It was all supposed to be so super-secret-squirrel, though most of the typists knew about it.
And that reminded me of the time I was walking along the ground floor corridor and politely talking to a director as we made our way out of the building. Single-lady Marta, another typist, waved to us as she passed.
The director acknowledged Marta as she scurried away. He turned to me. "I can't understand why you aren't married?" he said. "I mean.... you're pretty. Marta is ugly."
Whaaaaaaaaat!!!!!????
I never said anything. Much to the regret of future-me. Typists had definitely been tamed....
2 Typist-in-Charge, Customs Department Head Office, PSIS Building, Whitmore St, Wellington 1978
My first day at Customs - I was now in charge of 12 typists. Wow. As well as my two Trades Certification Board Typing certificates (A and B), I had arrived with my fully-recognised Trades Certification Board SHORTHAND-TYPING certificate grade I. It had only been for taking down 80 words per minute but this didn't deflate me one iota. I had taught myself over the past year, using old TCB shorthand exam papers and I had passed this bloody exam on my second attempt. 'Nuff said. Now I could apply for every Shorthand-Typist-in-Charge job that came up. Heck, I could even put in for an overseas embassy post. I was in raptures.
Side-paragraph: Within a few months of passing my shorthand exam, the tight hold of shorthanders in the government was loosened drastically. Typists didnt want to learn shorthand anymore and the dictators of shorthand were (politely) informed that they wouldn't be wasting two people's time if they dictated into a dictaphone. Dozens (hundreds? millions?) of times officers had taken phone calls, made phone calls, greeted visitors, burrowed in a drawer, wrote memos, lost trains of thought, left for the loo ... whilst the poor shorthander sat patiently, writing pad on the corner of the desk, pencil poised, worrying about the urgent job she was in the middle of doing back in the pool. And practically every time the boss did receive or make a phone call, that man would grandly proclaim into the receiver, "I'm just dictating a ministerial to my shorthand-typist, you know...?". Or scrub the word 'shorthand-typist' and substitute 'girl'; the two were interchangeable .
I was led into the typing room at Customs by my Director Admin. A dozen faces looked up at me. I would be stationed in the room with them. And wonder-of-wonders, at interview I had been told that I wouldn't be typing. I would only be checking the typists' work when they finished it.
Hooray, I was in seventh heaven...
... until my boss left the room. Mavis turned to me. "We don't want you," she said. "We want Edith-" She indicated a woman sitting to my side.
Huh?
Edith, it turned out, had been understudying in the typist-in-charge job until I arrived. She had been at Customs for five years. She was three grades beneath me. She was a Senior Typist as opposed to my last two in-charge positions. People in those days in the government never skipped grades. By working upwards, an appointee had a good background behind her (or him).
"We understand you do have a background in the government," said Mavis, whilst Edith was silent, "but we know Edith, and she knows this department, and no hard feelings but we want you to go someplace else...."
*****
.
Hi there
It really annoys me that if a hotel stay is worth, say, $150 a night on Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, then why is there a price rise to, maybe, $250 or $300 a night for Friday and Saturday? It's the same room, the same amenities, the same service. The hotel doesn't miraculously change location.
I've stayed in an en suite cabin at a holiday park down the South Island that was over $320 a night when I was there on a Friday and Saturday. I mean, a holiday park, come on.... On a week night, it was very much cheaper.
In Las Vegas, about ten years ago, many Strip hotels brought in a resort tax, about $45 a night, over and above the hotel rate. I have been behind many people in queues at LV hotel reception desks and heard vacationers explode when told that even though their booking website said $75 a night, an added surprise of a resort tax was non-negotiable. Even if, like me, they never used the gym, the pool, or the computer room.
I remember when the Las Vegas resort taxes started to creep in to the top Strip hotels. There was a big protest march along The Strip, led by Flamingo resident singers Donny and Marie. They were totally against the resort taxes.
Now...? The Flamingo Hotel boasts (or not boasts) a resort tax.
***
I walk up the Maupuia Hill most days. From this view, you can see across the inner harbour. Hataitai Beach is on the far left.
Yesterday and today at Hataitai Beach has been lovely with warm weather, calm waters, and no wind. And it's midway through April, with daylight saving time changed a week ago, away from summer. The whole swimming gang have arrived to the changing shed deck en masse over last few days. It's been crowded, noisy, splashy, happy, and I love it all. Pity it's like working our way through a maze to get to the beach because of the sea-wall being built. Sigh, all those road cones and stop-go signs. And it's going to get worse - parking is horrific.
Oh, we had a surprise visitor to Hataitai Beach last week. Ruby Wax, the actress stationed in England. She's a comedian, an actress, a raconteur. Darn-it, I hadn't been there at the time she arrived, but the others said she was a delightful person and were totally charmed by her. One of the regulars spoke to her for quite a while. She had a swim. Look up Ruby Wax on Facebook, she speaks well about our beach. And there's a video.
Hi there
I used to love books about true murders. My fave was a thick alphabetical book about famous killers through the ages.
I fell in love with both the book and movie of "The Godfather". Killings galore in this mafia spree, yippee! Give me more violence and action and shooting and murders. I lapped it all up. "The Godfather" was my favourite for years.
But ... a few years back I suddenly discovered I was - what? - reading romantic comedies? Huh?
"The Seat Filler" probably has the funniest Meet-Cute of any book I've ever read. The heroine is a seat filler at a movie awards night. Seat fillers are not allowed to be seen by tv cameras. Uh-oh....
My current movie top pick is "Crazy Rich Asians". It's a romance, set mainly in Singapore. A long way away from "The Godfather". I especially love the put-down ma-jong scene in "Crazy Rich Asians". And the music .... And the ending... And the beginning... And the family storyline... Oh, everything about it...
I guess most people mellow as they grow older. Me? I have no idea when or how I drifted into being such an old softie. I mean, romance books, really? And movies about love? Rom-coms and Meet-Cutes? Shoot me now.............
Ooops... I have a very faint feeling I've written on this subject before?? Oh, well....
HI there
Well ... Last week I decided I'd drive to the Porirua Mall which is probably about half an hour from Miramar, or maybe an hour if you get caught up in morning traffic along Cobham Drive.
I almost got as far as Porirua when I suddenly thought, "Hey, why don't I go to Palmerston North for the day?" Yeah, great idea...
I got as far as Sanson, my last turn-off before Palmerston North and over an hour's drive from the Terrace Tunnel, at the edge of Wellington city. "Um." I pondered ... "Isn't New Plymouth up the road...?"
It was a good four hours away.
"Maybe I could spend a few days in New Plymouth...?"
...but I didn't have a change of of clothes, did I? . Except for what I was wearing.
Who cared? I decided that I was off to New Plymouth for three days.
And revelation! - I did have an amazing stash in the boot of my car, in the form of my emergency swimming bag,_
In the bag, I had -
my swimming shorts, swimming tank top, a lycra t-shirt that I sometimes swam in during our cold winter months, three-quarter length trousers, a sarong, a towel, a pair of knickers, two Weight-Watchers food bars, sunblock, sunhat, socks, and a cardigan. Also in the car's boot were two umbrellas, another cardy, and one heavy rain-jacket.
And now that I think about it, I always used to worry that I never had a packed bag in case of a big earthquake. Looking back now, I realise that my emergency swimming bag can definitely serve two purposes.
The only things I think I missed out on during my New Plymouth holiday were an extra bra, my nightly eyedrops, and my phone charger. I had to buy toothpaste and a toothbrush. And I did feel a bit uncomfortable when I had to wear my pink and black camo t-shirt to dinner at the Devon Hotel. But I think I did carry off that fashion choice with elegance and aplomb.
My sore heel wouldn't allow me to walk the length of the walkway like I usually do. I shopped Devon Street, and swam at my favourite beach in the Port area.
Luckily the weather was fine and extremely warm. I managed to book a cabin with bathroom, kitchenette, and housekeeping at The Belt Road Seaside Holiday Park, a favourite place, which is right on the edge of the Coastal Walkway with a terrific view of the ocean.
PS: 6 April. My friend said to me "I don't believe you were carrying trousers in the boot of your car. Who does that?." So, I had to explain that in the winter, when leaving the beach, I would often throw on a towel top over my wet bathing suit, and drive home like that. But I lived in fear that my car would break down and I would have to greet the public that way. At least with trousers in my emergency swimming bag, I would come across as a wee bit presentable. And they were more pedal-pushers than trousers.
Hi there
My mother went to Newtown School in the early 1900s. I went to Newtown School in the early 1950s.
Newtown School, for both of us, was next door to St Anne's primary school.
In my day, both schools got on well together. But I could never understand why the lunchtimes and leaving times were different.
I understood the reason why the hours were changed when my mother told me about her days at Newtown School -
"The kids from Newtown School would sit on the fence between the two properties, swinging their legs, and chanting, "Catholic dogs jump like frogs ...
The kids from St Anne's would bellow back, "Newtown water rats...... Newtown water rats ...."
St Anne's changed their lunch and leaving times so as the two school's kids didn't clash at vulnerable times. Apparently it was a joint decision by both schools.
above: Newtown School. Web photo, from about my time. The primers were in the front building. Standards 1, 2, 3, 4 in the newer building at the back. Over on the right of the front building is where I got hit over the eye by a cricket bat when I was seven. I yelled out, "Mummy!" Thoughts do change, because at the age of thirteen when I got knocked down by a car on a crossing in front of the school, my immediate thought was "Oh, no, now I'll never be able to go to America and see Elvis.."
Hi there
Last week I went up to Auckland to see "Six - The Musical". It was great, loved it. Got the "Six" tote bag.
"Six" is about the six wives of Henry the 8th. Each one sings about how they had a worst time than each of the other wives.
I went up to Auckland, from Wellington, by bus... Usually I fly, but this time I liked the idea of a bus adventure. Turned out to be a 13 hour adventure
Oh dear... There were so many detours, diversions, closures, stoppages, road cones, workmen with stop signs, and emergency traffic lights, that I swear my Intercity bus was off Highway No 1 (that historically leads straight up to Auckland from Wellington) more times than we were on it. Because of the delays and then the rush to not be too overly-late for arrival in the City of Sails we hadnt even stopped for dinner,. Lunch had been at noon. We arrived Auckland at 10.15 pm. We had stopped at some toilet stops but were chastised with "Be back in five minutes. Repeat, five minutes. Or.....?"
above: During our diversion away from The Desert Road we ended up in The National Park with the bus weaving up a mountain. This was the view of Lake Taupo way way down in the distance.
But because of the road diversions we did see magnificent backblocks* scenery, especially around the Ohakune area.
I flew home from Auckland last Thursday, the day before it was announced that The Desert Road was now open for Highway No 1 traffic. The Desert Road detour had been the worst and longest traffic detour, taking us through the National Park area, weaving our way up the mountain.
Anyway....
You know how a friend told me years ago that I always get injured just before a holiday or when I'm actually on holiday? Well, a week before I left, plantar fascitiis returned to my heel. I had to take a collapsible walking stick with me. I took one pair of shoes and one pair of sandals. The shoes kiilled me, but the Skecher sandals with their thicker, softer soles and just a thin strap at the back, were my saviours. I wish I'd realised that the last time I had plantar fascitiis, instead of stocking up on innersoles, expensive thick socks, and brand new trainers.
above: remember how I growl that I always seem to have the tallest person in an audience sitting in front of me? Here's the guy in front of me at the show "Six - the Musical". We were standing up for the curtain call but he felt just as tall when we were seated...
*backblocks" equals "right out in the country".
Oh, and no more musicals until later this year when I go to Sydney to see "Back to the Future - the musical". Can't wait. I suspect the car will fly around above the audience's heads, like the time I saw "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang - the musical" and the same for "Mary Poppins - the musical". And the Dementors in "Harry Potter and the Cursed Child".
Hi there
When I was a young teen I saw the movie "Gidget". It starred Sandra Dee in the title role. She fell in love with surfer Moondoggie. I fell in love with Moondoggie too. He was played by James Darren. Oh, didn't my heart beat happily over the guy?
Hi there
I have a senior friend who, a few years back, was the main 'star' in an NZ tv commercial for a retirement village. She didn't live in the village. She's an actor.
My friend - let's call her 'Lola - arrived all spiffed up, ready for her day's work.
"Oh, no," the boss of the advert shoot tut-tutted. "Your jacket won't do. It's the wrong colour."
"Um..." Lola asked, "What colour should I be in?"
"Pink!"
"Pink?"
With a flourish the boss brought out a pink hoodie. "Here you are. Seniors love to wear pink. Oh, and you can keep it."
Lola was extremely happy to have a new (free) hoodie. And when the advertisement finally came out, she looked wonderful. She's a pretty good actor.
But I can't stop thinking about this pink thing. I don't know any seniors who wear pink. I have seen a few cruise ship passengers arriving in the capital wearing pink. American cruise ship passengers especially love to wear pastels, pale colours. It's how we spot these women travellers walking down Lambton Quay: crisply pressed white trousers, linen blouses, designer hoodies, often pink. With a Coach bag under an arm.
Maybe Lola will start a trend amongst kiwi oldies, making pink The New Thing. She could be a trend-starter...
PS: I spotted a new retirement village advert on tv the other day. The woman in it is wearing pink......
Hi there
I was so excited anticipating my week in Wanaka. You may remember that in February 2024, I was going to do all sorts of wonderful things when I went down south, but a couple of days before leaving I pulled a muscle in my leg, though I still insisted on going. It was to my detriment. I could hardly hobble a metre, let alone go ziplining which I wanted definitely to do.
So this year, I was determined to, at least, do some of my 'wants' that I hadnt been able to do last year. For the whole year I was most looking forward to those eight Glenorchy Paradise Ziplines that were just out of Queenstown. But the night before I left Wellington, I got an email to say it was a no-go because of the now lack of the to and fro transport Queenstown/Glenorchy. I was staying in Wanaka, about two and a half hours away from Glenorchy, and I just couldnt get the new times to fit... So disappointed.
I did manage to fulfil my wish of kayaking on Lake Wanaka. However, it was windy and a bit of a chore using the paddle, seeing I had a painful wrist -
Wait, what - ? A painful wrist, you ask?
Well .......
(promise not to laugh?)
On one day, I went over to Lake Hawea, my favourite swimming lake. I had a gorgeous swim, then got into the driving seat of my rental car. I leaned sideways to grope under the front passenger seat for my wallet... with my left hand.
My left hand got STUCK between two iron bars!!
above photos. Of course, you already know what a brilliant photographer I am. As a photographer/influencer I am surely number 1..... Yeah, Right.
And ...hey, didn't You promise not to laugh? Shame on you.. Tee-hee.
You can see one iron bar in the photos of the under-seat. The other iron bar was enclosed in felt.
Anyway....
I was petrified. What-to-do?-What-to-do? I was sitting in a shut-in car with a 30c temperature outside-
I'm gong to end up like those dogs-in-cars-on-hot-days. They die.
I managed to open my door. "Help," I called out. the beach was down a short slope in front of my car. "Help!" I bellowed. All the beach-goers were enjoying themselves doing beachy things, they werent on the alert for shouts of anguish.
I yelled some more. Louder. My phone was in the car boot (trunk, if you're American) so that was of no help. My wrist was at a weird angle under the seat and I couldnt budge it no matter how hard I tried.
With my right hand, I beeped the car horn ever so delicately.
There... That should do it. Everyone down there on the beach will come running...
Nobody so much as dawdled up the slope to answer my summons, let alone come running.
I beeped the horn a little bit louder. Then a bit louder again. I was so stressed out and in so much pain, I wanted to just give up...
Oh, to heck with it...
I beeped that horn non-stop.
Goodness,, what was that? A woman? A woman in her twenties had stood up and was looking toward my car-
I waved my free hand, yelled, and beeped the horn frantically. "Over here. Please help me! Help-help-HELP!"
She leaned into the car - "I thought it was children playing with the car horn". But she understood almost instantly what was wrong and said, "I'll get you free." She hurried over to the passenger door, threw it open and crouched down in the gravel,
"Can you slide over to the passenger seat?"
No, the movement would break my wrist.
"Can we slide the seat back?"
No, the movement would break my wrist.
"Perhaps you could lubricate my hand with sunblock to make it easier to slide free?" I offered. "Or call the fire brigade." I believed the fire brigade were well-trained in getting children to pull their heads out from between fence railings. Or was that just an urban myth?
"I can do it." My angel was puffing though her efforts. My watch was so hampering those efforts.
The woman's cousin arrived on the scene. They both got down to work on my (by now) extremely painful wrist. And shoulder. The angle of my arm was causing the problem.
"Bingo!" The woman had somehow managed to unlock my swimming watch from my wrist. The watch had been impeding the rescue. I had no idea how she got the watch catch to open just by feel as it usually took me a while under normal circumstances to work out how to undo the complicated catch.
But five minutes later, with a lot of pulling and twisting from her and her cousin, my hand came free....Whooppee!!!!
My shoulder felt better immediately. Not so, my wrist. I nursed it.
"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you". I didn't have enough thank-yous in my body to express how grateful I was to my two rescuers....
above: Lake Hawea. there is a slope that drops down to the water that's out of view in this picture. Down the bottom of the slope is where people sunbathe and picnic. Photo was taken as I was standing by my car. Lake Hawea is a 20 minute drive from Wanaka.
above: Me sitting on edge of Lake Wanaka.
above: Hotel Edgewater Cafe, Wanaka I discovered this wonderful place as I was walking along the track on the far left side of the lake. It's only about ten minutes' pleasant amble after you pass the dozens of tourists photographing the famous 'tree growing in the lake' - a magnificent stunt originally created by Wanaka public relations people to get tourists to see who can come up with the best photo of the tree and put it on a Wanaka website. About five minutes further up the track from this tree there are two -repeat, two - trees growing together in the lake but, how sad, they get no publicity.
Wanaka is always crowded, so difficult to get into restaurants and cafes, but at the Edgewater Cafe, it was peaceful and quiet, with a great view. It was nice to walk there, but a car would only take a few minutes from the township. I would love to stay in the hotel, but there didnt appear to be a swimming beach out front.
PS: 3 March: a beach friend has just returned from Wanaka this week where - surprise! " she stayed at Edgewater Resort. And she did swim in the lake right opposite the hotel.
Hi there
I went to see the Vivienne Westwood Exhibition at Te Papa this week. Jewellery and fashion. She came to fame from about the 1970s, in the punk era.
Her papier mâché tiara. Stock photoI am a friend of Te Papa, so I chose to listen to the curator's talk. I was surprised to discover that 80% of the accessories on display were only worn on the runway, and never for sale. They were put together probably at last minute out of papier mâché, and any other sort of stuff that was on hand, like elastic, buttons, paint, glass, sequins ... Up close it was noticeable that some of the accessories were made hurriedly, but it would have been spectacular watching models sashaying down a runway, wearing the Westwood makeshift jewellery
We saw a papier mâché tiara that Vivienne appropriated for herself after it had been worn on the runway. She was invited to a posh affair where titled people were wearing genuine tiaras. She proudly wore this fake tiara to the do. It did look tacky at Te Papa.
above: That's a picture of Westwood in the background
Hi there
I decided I'd go over the Seatoun Hill to Scorching Bay today (Saturday). It was a beautiful warm day. So many people turned up at the beach. Even the lifeguards were present and I haven't seen them there in a long time.
You can see the ferry approaching Scorching Bay from around the point.
Hi there
Last week I went to see Jack and Michael Whitehall - The Whitehalls Live - in Wellington. These two are father and son from the series "Travels with my Father" on Netflix. Jack is a stand-up comedian and you can see him on many You Tube clips and, of course, Netflix, with his full-length comedy shows. I adore his type of comedy. It's very theatrical and quite physical. He has a posh background, calls his father "Daddy" and went to boarding school with Robert Pattinson (his arch nemesis).
Jack bounces around a lot on stage. His full explanation about the hotel conveyer belt toaster has me always in giggles. You Tube clips of this tend to cut off the toaster skit just before the finish.
Michael is the droll father. At the show, there were people in the audience with "Michael Whitehall Appreciation" tote bags.
Jack talked about his new-born baby and how we never see first photos of babies immediately they're born. Because the image is so horrendous... The babies' first pix always show them cleaned up and spiffy-looking.
She wasnt advertised as being in the show, but everybody knew that Michael's wife and Jack's mother would make an appearance. Hilary came on stage replicating Australian Raygun's Olympic breakdance performance, Aussie uniform and all.
But ... Australia? She did realise she was in New Zealand? I guess Australia had the majority of stops included in their Southern Hemisphere tour.
The second half of the show was where the three Whitehalls sat on a sofa and talked through hilarious back stories.
There was an absolutely full house ..
Last November I saw the live show "Kingdom of Bling", a satire musical written by "Rocky Horror Show" writer, Richard O'brien, who was the narrator in this 'bling' musical. The show also starred half-a-dozen well-known kiwi actors and comedians. It was treated as a radio show with each person coming up to a microphone.
The plot was about a couple of kids discovering a magic land that was run roughly along the lines of the USA elections with an evil Trump-like overlord.
Richard O'Brien wrote brilliant rhyming to this musical. So nice to see Richard in person. He has retired back to New Zealand.
You know I'm a terrible photographer? Here's Richard O'Brien taking his bow.
