A comedy of Errors.

11/2/12

Fir a leaving gift Roger, James David and I climbed aboard the shiny roger Mobil and headed to le-chatto or LC for short as I can’t really spell it. LC is a old old building well old for new Zealand being over 100 years old. It is built at the base of a still active volcano and a fantastic skiing place during the winter. In short it’s the place to go in the North Island.

So go we did until an hour into our journey rogers care blew up. Amazingly we had phone coverage and called in a tow truck but alas there was only space for 2 people in the truck so we had to call Ross who collected us and deposited us next to Bruce. We were all a little apprehensive when climbing into Bruce as the journey is four hours and Burse is not the newest car. Not to be deterred we set off and twenty minutes later decided to stop for a coffee, we had after all bee on the go for over two hours by this point. Coming to pay for the coffee Roger realises he has left his wallet in his car. With stifled politeness we turn round and head to the garage to retrieve said wallet. Guess what… the car was not there but in fact at another garage in the next town. At this point we agreed that it was likely that someone would die if we had to chase after the wallet so some three hours after our original start we were on the way.

Four hours or cumitivly seven hours later we arrived at LC. The sun was shining and the rooms came with complementary champagne so all was good. Booze relaxed us all as did a fantastic dinner and more wine followed by sitting in club chairs drinking Gin and Tonics. Good things come to those who wait.

12/2/12- SARAH AND JOHN IN DA HOOD

The return journey was uneventful. David and I walked up the mountain road, James and roger had a hot spa. The four hour return trip presented no great mechanical problems and before long it was time to collect Sarah and John.

Upon arrival at the airport S&J looked surprisingly sprightly. Much hugging and chatting consumed the night before falling into to bed.

13/2/12-17/2/12

With James and I still working albeit our last week Sarah and John were left to their own devices in the daytime. I would slope off from work to meet them for lunch and normally pick them at the end of the day to save Sarah the walk up the hill. Evenings were spent if typical S, J, L & J fashion… not doing very much.

It was with concern that I watched this pattern of events unfold. What would I fill my blog with? Salvation came when S&J announced they were going on a 20km bike ride. I knew this would provide some anecdote to replay but I was not quite ready for Sarah’s description of the negative effects bike riding caused on her body. “well all the pressure of my body is channelled down to the saddle and my labia are on fire.” Not quite what I expected.
Sarah and John have not been sloths whilst being here they have bike ridden, been to Toupo with James for a magical mystery tour, been on an art deco walk, eaten lunches and mooched around and cooked rather nice meals at night.

During this week James and I have both had our last days at work and are now unemployed. It was therefore fitting that on Friday night we went to a depression dinner as part of art deco weekend. James and I donned 3/4 length trousers, collarless shirts and waist coats and followed behind our lord and lady who were in there finery. Top hat, braces and frilly dresses. We hit the town and it felt like we have been transported back in time. Everyone was in Art deco clothing, the cars were art deco, the music art deco oh and the town is always art deco.

We arrived at the meeting point and were handed a tin cup for our soup starter. Next up was a walk through Napier following some bagpipes and passing by the wealthy people eating dinner in the street and waving to us from the veranda. This of course encouraged much rattling on our soup cups in the search of some spare change. Dinner was served in a big tent, on trellis tables accompanied by a 3 piece band. The food itself, meat stew, veg and potatoes was served on a tin plate which had to be washed before you were served your desert. Post dinner there was singing and old fashioned dancing which the older ladies really seemed to enjoy. I of course wanted to join in the gay gordens dance which was a cross between ring a ring of reses and spinning around on each other’s arms. As a young (ish) man I have never been in so much demand by old ladies who suddelny had a determined glint in their eye.

After dancing we were entertained by old planes doing loop the loops before heading up to the sound shell to soak up the atmosphere and watch a bit more swinging music before heading back to our colonial porch to watch the world go by.