Blog

We are still not back in our flat. We are waiting for them to do a condition report, inventory and a clean, and until they do we cant move back in. Its starting to get really annoying (especially for Mich who is putting up with us).

We have started our liver cleansing anyway, and have managed to get through one day without alcohol. Only 55 days to go!

Other than that, all is well, the weather has been lovely. It looks like we brought summer back with us. Its not exactly shorts and T-shirt weather though, more 3/4 length trousers and light fleece type weather.

I’m supposed to be boozing in London this Thursday, but unlesss I fall off the wagon before then, I think I will give it a miss.

It will be a week or two before we get broadband, so you are skype-safe from me until then. But we will have unlimited free weekend calls to landlines anywhere in the world – yay!

We spent the last few days staying at Jenny and Barry’s farm. Jenny and Barry have animals which they eat. Last night we ate Blackie.

When I asked Jenny how they cope eating animals they have known, she said “I have comfort in the fact they don’t have the stress of going in a crowded truck to the meat works. One minute Blackie was quietly eating grass, the next minute she was gone”

So all Blackie remembers is eating grass then a loud “BANG” as she was shot dead between the eyes, murdered for meat. And the sad thing is the butcher said she was only good for mince.

So last night we had Spaghetti Bolognaise. Other meals Blackie has starred in were Meatloaf, Cottage Pie and Tacos. (Any ideas for mince recipes would be much appreciated).

Blackies life, however, wasn’t all just a bed of green grass.

Not long after Blackie was born she got pregnant at just 4 months old. When Jenny told the vet, he didn’t believe her. She waited another month and called the vet again. This time the vet agreed that Blackie was indeed pregnant and had to abort her child. This meant Blackie had to suffer a birth that could have been avoided a month earlier.

When Blackie was old enough to have children, she got bow legged. The more pregnant she became, the more bow legged she got and looked pretty sad as she waddled about the paddock. After the birth, her legs straightened a bit but she was banned from having any more children. This led to her demise.

So long Blackie and thanks for all the mince!

The food was prepared by professional caterers

although it was difficult to keep Sue from telling them what to do.

In the end she got her own way and helped roll the sandwiches.

We lined the family up for balcony photos

Kate and Josh:

AFter the semi formal photos on the balcony it was time for a quick cuddle and kiss.(disturbed by Sue!)

Sue says its time to party!

By Mike:

Waiting in the lounge before our departure, Jo returned from a trip to the refreshment bar furnishing gifts of cheese and biscuits.

‘Take these’ she says adding that New Zealand airlines food is not all that good at times.

How wrong was she.

On boarding the aircraft and taking our seats we are greeted with a glass of sparkling wine, and a menu befitting any fine restaurant in London.

The meals were all served on china crockery and there was real knives and forks to eat with.

Starters:

Poached prawns with asparagus, red radish and preserved lemon aioli

Main Course

choice from:

NZ beef with oxtail ravioli, swiss chard and roasted cipoline onions.
NZ snapper with olive oil braised potatoes, brocolini, crushed roma tomatoes and rocket pesto.
Duck leg confit with braebirn apple, braised savoy cabbage and glazed chestnuts.

Dessert

Chocolate pot de creme with caramel sauce, flourless chocolate biscuit and whipped cream

Cheese

A selection of fine NZ cheese with a glass of port

The wine served was Wither Hills Sauvignon Blanc and the sparkling wine was Jo’s favourite champagne – Veuve Cliquot.

By Mike:

Always take your MP3 player. When that child starts crying, turn up the volume.

When the cry turns to a scream, higher the volume.

When you have reached the maximum volume and you can still hear it crying, find where it is and throttle it.

After all you’re flying over international waters so who will care.

Its Christmas time, Heathrow is heaving, kids are screaming, queues are endless and I am sipping free champagne, totally oblivious to the mayhem happening outside of the executive lounge.

The executive lounge is basically of a haven for rejects that can’t afford business class airfares. The décor is drab and dated, and the wireless is not free. But as far as places to sit go, at least there is somewhere to sit. They do a very nice flapjack. Oh, and did I mention the alcohol is free?

We have a 24-hour flight ahead of us, so it is nice to sit and chill after the hectic week we have had.

We are flying premium economy on AirNZ. I am hoping they have wireless functionality onboard. I kinda fancy having a good blog at 30000feet.

Our check-in wasn’t as uneventful as I hoped. As we’re flying premium economy, we got to use the business class check-in. This was all well and good, no queue, straight in, until they realised our return date from NZ was more that 6 months away. This is no issue for people such as me who are on dual nationality passports, but for plebs on a British passport only (Mike), this is an issue. We aren’t planning on spending more than 6 months in NZ as we are heading to Aussie in Jan, but we haven’t yet booked flights for this. This is apparently an issue. The lady behind the counter looked concerned. She took our tickets and passports and went to seek her supervisor. The supervisor returned looking concerned and asked many questions. In the end, they took our tickets away and changed our return date to May. Luckily we have flexible tickets, so can change the dates in the future for a small fee.

Anyway, back to the free booze and a fresh blog from 30000ft.

Well we are getting organised for Christmas yet again. Usually at this time of year we are packing up Jo’s things yet again as her contract terminates and we prepare to return to NZ for Christmas.

This will be the third time for us but we have been through these steps several times before.

Well this year to make it a little more interesting I am selling my house as well as trying to get Jo packed.

This last week has consisted of many late nights packing up bits in both places and then arranging storage.

Initially we were just going to put a few household items into store, but being unable to sell our motorbikes we had to upgrade the storage. So having carefully stacked boxes upon boxes, upon tents we had to unstack boxes upon boxes to move to a new location and then re-pack.

Before we moved the boxes we had to get the bikes in. My bike should be no problem getting to the storage depot, but Jo’s had a record for not wanting to start after some time of inactivity. We decided to move mine first. We removed it from the shed ready, just as the rain started. We were on a tight schedule so we couldn’t wait for it to pass. All togged up I turned the key. “Click”. I checked to ensure I hadn’t left the engine switch in the off position. And I re-tried. “Click”. My battery was completely flat. Running round the neighbours I managed to borrow some jump leads. The bike started on the second attempt. Now all I had to do was get it into storage. I pulled out of the drive and promptly stall it.

In the pouring rain we decided to change tact. Mine goes back into the shed, we remove the battery and put it on charge.

Jo’s bike starts first time and I ride it to the depot. The only problem was my glasses steaming up inside my helmet.

Manoeuvring into the lock up takes several 30 point turns but we get there in the end. My bike will have to wait.

What else did I have to do now? Thank goodness for lists, Jo has one for the tasks in her house & Michelle has her list for the jobs to be done on my house. Thank goodness for women!

Returning to my bike the next day it still refused to start, perhaps it doesn’t want to leave its private shed and share its space with a Triumph.

Well it must be taught to do as it’s told and we give it another quick, sharp shock from the jump leads. This time I manage to keep it keep it going until it too is at the storage depot. Yet again in the pouring rain I have to remove the battery and siphon the petrol out before putting it away into storage.

Nothing is a simple as it first seems. We had measured the dimensions of the storage, measured the bikes and then re-measured the storage. According to the piece of paper they should fit, so why don’t they. It’s gets to be like the hockie Kockie. In, out, in, out, you shake them all about.

Eventually we take Jo’s bike out, put mine in, turn Jo’s bike round and put it in. Well it’s nearly like the dance.

All the boxes are then stacked around and over the bikes, until they eventually disappear from sight.

Now all that is left is clear my house, tidy the garden, get the keys to the agent, finish the decoration of Jo’s house, remove all traces of us and clean and hoover. Oh and chase the agents for a completion date and time.

After any early start and late finish Sunday all is complete except the completion and oh boy do I need that holiday now. Just one more early morning tomorrow but that will be the start of a new adventure and will have to wait for our next posting.

Its 6.30am, its dark, its cold and we are sitting in a queue of cars outside the car boot sale. The insane thing is, we are 30 minutes late. People already have their stands set up for the day. There are buyers wandering around with torches looking for that bargain that idiots like us throw out because they belonged to great grandparents and have been sitting up in the loft for the last 25 years.

We are directed to our allocated spot and no sooner than the first box is out of the car, vultures descend upon us. They rip open boxes and frantically rummage through all the carefully wrapped items, carelessly discarding the newspaper dated 20 April 1991.

Vulture One: “How much for this?”
Mike: “£2 for that”
Vulture Two: “How much for this?”
Mike: “£3 for that”
Vulture Three: “How much for this?”
Mike: “£4 for that”

Finally after 30 minutes of mayhem, the vultures are all rummaged out and we are £50 richer.

Looking around, other sellers appear to have a method to their selling. Things are displayed in an orderly fashion, nicely laid out, items labelled appropriately. We have decided on more of a haphazard approach. Our items are displayed in a disorderly fashion, items left in boxes, clothes and shoes spread out over the concrete and a few random items on our paste table.

People pass by our table to look at our stuff. A lady stops to look at my sweaty and worn out trainers. “How much?” she asks. “50p for the crappy pair and £1 for the not so crappy pair” I reply. She hands over the cash. People will buy the most unlikely things. I really should have brought my old underwear down.

A gypsy wanders up to our table and starts fondling Mike’s old camcorder.

Gypsy: “Does it work?”
Mike: “Yes.”
Gypsy: “how do I know it works? I bought one t’other day and it don’t work. Chucked it in the bin I did. I don’t want to buy another one that don’t work”
Mike: “It works. It just needs to be charged.”
Gypsy: “How much?”
Mike: “£10. The wide angle lens alone is worth £50”
Gypsy: “But you can’t guarantee it works”
Mike (slightly agitated): “It works”
Gypsy: “But I can’t see that it works. I‘ll give you £5.”
Mike: (more agitated) “It does work and £10 is the price”
Gypsy: “But I can’t see that it works, I’ll give you £8”
Mike: (really pissed off now and thinking of upping the price) “NO, price is £10.”
Gypsy: “Go on, I’ll give you £8”
Mike: (clearly not wanting to sell to this guy for any price now) “NO”

Thankfully creepy gypsy guy walks off.

Dribs and drabs of people come up to our table. Some buy, some just look. We really don’t want to take this stuff home, so I buy a marker pen for 10p and start putting prices on things.

“Box of Poole Pottery from the 1950s – £5 the lot.”
“Box of glasses – £3 the lot”
“Box of brass – £2 the lot”

Mike makes himself a sandwich. As soon as he bites into it, a flood of people arrive and the buying frenzy begins. Rather than help out, I sit back and laugh, watching Mike struggle with the money, a sandwich and a mouthful of food.

After a long morning of standing around it is all gone and we are £140 better off for our efforts. This money is to be converted to Australian dollars for our big tour next year.

I thought I should review this old post of mine. I FTA big time.

10 Things to do this Summer

 19/06/2007 by Jo.

What is the deal with this poxy weather. I have all these new toys but am unable to use then due to crap weather. We have been out in the inflatable kayak only once since we bought it. Been out on the roller blades only once. My windsurfing lessons have ground to a halt. Summer will be over before I know it and I wont have acheived anything. So to help me reach my targets I have made a “things to do this summer” list.