New Zealand – Mick and Liesel's Antics

Antipodean visitors

The most recent post suggested I wasn’t having work-related dreams. Well, since then, I have done. Unusually, not about postal delivery, but a conflation of all the IT jobs I’ve had and the busy-ness of the office and rearranging the desk layout for no good reason and panicking because the computers won’t work and trying to do the right thing but knowing I wouldn’t satisfy all of my bosses – yes, I was reporting to many so-called ‘managers’ in the end. And then I remembered, I’ve retired, I don’t actually have to be here in this hell-hole in the first place. The sense of relief persisted long after I woke up.

I remember scrumping on the way home from school sometimes, near the top of Holloway Hill in Godalming. Apples hanging low over someone’s garden fence. A bit maggotty sometimes, but very tasty. I was reminded of this on the day we visited the Gauntlet Birds of Prey Eagle and Vulture Centre in Knutsford. There’s an apple tree outside the place, and, really, it would have been rude to ignore it. So a couple of apples were liberated to add to our picnic.

We all enjoyed our day out with William and Martha. A lot of the birds were in cages, and they were definitely at their when best flying around. They’re free to escape if they want, but I think they’re so well looked after, they’re happy to return by the 5.30 curfew! It’s a family run business, and they’re doing a lot for conservation.

First stop though was the playground.

Here are some of the birds who seemed happy to see us.

But it was much more fun watching the flying display. One of the hawks nearly gave Martha a haircut when she stood up suddenly. Mostly, they were too fast for this videographer but I captured a couple without wasting too much film.

There was a nice quiet picnic area where we ate our picnic lunch, without being pestered by pigeons. I suspect the local vultures and hawks may have been the main deterrent.

Liesel joined the WI for some litter picking in Riverside Park, even though it was raining, on and off.

In fact, we had quite torrential rain for a couple of days, thanks to Storm Floris. But once the storm moved on to Scandinavia, we were back to a proper, warm Summer.

Which Liesel and her Mom will miss. I dropped them off at the airport for their flight back to an Anchorage Summer, just a little bit cooler than ours.

William sent us his first ‘Make and Create’ videos for his putative YouTube channel. I’m just glad he didn’t start each presentation with a “Hey guys, um…”, which, for me, is pretty much an instant turn-off. He did invite us to “Like and subscribe” however, so that’s promising.

Parking at Wilmslow station is notoriously difficult, but of course, I forgot that fact when I suggested picking someone up there rather than driving into Manchester city centre. Still, it was great to see my sister Pauline, along with her partner Andrew, on their first visit to the UK from NZ since Jenny and Liam got married three years ago.

So, within the space of a couple of days, I swapped a wife and mother-in-law for a sister and a brother-in-law.

Jetlag notwithstanding, we joined Jenny and the family for an Indian meal in Bombay to Mumbai, an Indian (did you guess?) restaurant in Bramhall. The food was lovely but ‘medium spicy’ in this case was just on my limits of comfort! And the waitress (apols for the old-fashioned word) was very friendly too. Some music started and I thought we were in for another round of ‘Happy Birthday’. No, it couldn’t have been more different. She performed an aria from Don Giovanni which left everyone stunned, and she deserved the rapturous round of applause.

It’s been a while since we’ve visited Lyme Park, so that was the venue for a nice Saturday wander on a beautiful day. We (my sister) prepared a wonderful picnic as did Jenny. And a millon other folks: even the overflow car park was overflowing.

From this point of view, there’s usually a beautiful reflection of the house in the lake, making for a fab photo. But the lake is being or has been drained, by the looks of it. Maybe this is for the renovation/refurbishment promised after the floods a few years ago.

It was a perfect day to visit, so many colourful flowers are out in bloom, and we even saw more than a couple of butterflies.

William put on a very half-hearted puppet show: I think he much preferred just running around. I quite agree. Not that I was running around. Although I did get a message from a local group on Instagram asking how my running was going.

Afterwards, we all gathered at Jenny’s where Martha showed off her collection of gemstones, rocks and seashells.

At last, after years of us all moaning about it, the path that we walk along to Didsbury is being fixed. Until now, it’s been a very bumpy stroll, it looks like someone just dumped tonnes of broken bricks and rubble along its length. But soon, we hope to be able to walk along a nice, smooth, flat path. Maybe even as good as the path they already have at the Didsbury end. So, when Pauline, Andrew and I decided to walk over to Didsbury, we had to stay on the other side of the river. We even took a shortcut through Dogshit Alley. Last time we three went this way, with Liesel, three years ago, we turned right and were challenged while we were looking at the allotments. We didn’t risk it today, turned left straightaway, said “hey” to the horses in the field and proceeded to Simon’s Bridge. Golf is supposed to be a nice, gentle relaxing game. But to drive to and from the course, it seems obligatory to drive along the narrow road at no less than 90 mph. Not ideal when you’re a pedestrian.

Andrew suggested that golf might be easier and more fun if the holes were a little bit bigger, because so often the ball misses by a small margin. I thought football would be more exciting if the goals were a bit wider too. Basketball would be easier for short people if the baskets were lower down. And I’ve always maintained that I would have enjoyed cricket more if the ball wasn’t so hard. I spent most of my cricket ‘career’ at school hiding in the pavilion keeping score, because George, the games teacher, refused to let us (me) play with a tennis ball.

We did see a very rare sight though. No, not a heron, nor a family of ducklings. We passed a jogger, not unusual in itself, but she was actually smiling, almost like she was enjoying herself. Weird.

Due to restoration of the embankment in the Diudsbury area, following extensive flood damage, we had to walk into the village directly, not via Fletcher Moss Park. Somehow, I found myself in La Chouquette, so I bought a gorgeous loaf of sourdough.

We admired the many, colourful planters in Didsbury and visited a few shops before settling for a coffee at FFS.

We wandered around Didsbury Park, I think my first long visit there without there being a fair taking place. We came across several animals carved from wood: some people are very talented.

Walking home always feels quicker for some reason. Two young lads approached us on the narrow path next to the river. They were riding an electric scooter travelling fairly fast, so we stood aside for them. But the thought occurred, one untimely bump in the path and they could easily end up in the water!

Round at Jenny’s in the evening, we played Pictionary. This is the actual game that Sarah and I had all those years ago, including some of our ancient works of art. Tonight, it was Boys v Girls, and of course, we Boys went into the lead very easily. But in a strange turn of fate, the Girls finally won.

We’re experiencing the fourth heatwave of the Summer now which means it’s hot and sticky at night again. So, once again, I reversed the polarity of the electric blanket, so I have a nice, cool surface on which I can push up the zeds. I’m having some funny dreams though. Not sure if that’s due to the heat or the new medication I’m taking.

We all, that is me, Pauline, Andrew, Jenny, Martha and William (Liam was working) met up at Alderley Edge for a more hilly walk. As usual, we tried to follow one of the named trails, kept changing our minds, and finally got lost.

I ended up walking along the road while the others walked up a long, long series of steps that we’d just walked down, me being very happy that we weren’t walking up them! Unfortuantely, the road I was on wasn’t the one I thought it was. From this point, I had a half hour stroll back to the car park, where our picnic lunch was locked in the car. The road was flat thought, and I knew I’d get there eventually. But no, I turned onto Swiss Hill. And what a hill. Incredibly steep, and cobbled. After it levelled out, I thought I was OK. But no. Another steep hill as I turned left again.

This was where Jenny collected me in the car! A quick drink at the café was made even quicker after we were joined by numerous pesky wasps. But we ate our picnic lunch in peace. Martha made a new friend, one with fourteen spots!

This evening’s game, again round at Jenny’s, was ‘Out of the Loop’. It’s a social deduction party game where players try to identify who among them is out of the loop, who doesn’t know a secret word in a given category. Players ask questions of each other, questions suggested by the game, an app, itself. Great fun. But I’m rubbish. I ended up with zero points, while everyone else scored in the hundreds. What a strange scoring system!

Liesel and I have lived here up north for six years now, but we’ve never joined a bus tour of Manchester. Well, today, Pauline, Andrew and I did just that. We joined the ‘hop-on hop-off’ bus outside Bridgewater Hall, where I saw posters for a couple of shows that I might be interested in. But that’s all in the future.

The commentary was informative, no serious attempt at humour. Although a poster on the bus had definite Aussie vibes.

We hopped off at the Football Museum, which, despite my lack of interest in football, I found quite engaging and informative. Lots of fun and games, especially for young fans. Of course, the biggest photo is that of the 1966 World Cup winning England team. A black and white picture, blown up, with the kit colourised. I don’t remember seeing a picture of the England team that recently won the Euros. But they were girls, banned from playing on FA grounds until 1971.

The queue for the penalty shoot-out was too long for us, so we let the lads wearing football shirts have a go instead.

We hopped back on the bus on its next circuit and enjoyed the trip around Manchester and Salford. I realised again, I couldn’t be a bus driver in Manchester, the streets are too narrow, and too many people park their vehicles in really daft places. But our driver managed.

In Salford, we hopped off again and spent a couple of hours at The Lowry Theatre. The immersive ‘Lowry 360’ show was unfortunately sold out, but we enjoyed looking again at other works by LS Lowry. There were some miserable people here though…

… at least, in this picture. Happier folks in this next picture, though. Pauline and I again bemoaned the fact that we don’t have the photos taken of us at Bourton on the Water, standing on the little bridges, when we were about 6 and 4 years old.

Next to the LS Lowry exhibition is another one, celebrating the work of top illustrator Quentin Blake. In contrast, his pictures are very bright, colourful and joyous. And there were plenty of children here having a great time, drawing their own pictures.

We hopped on the bus again, after waiting for just a few minutes at the stop near Salford Quays.

We had a late afternoon date to meet up with Jenny and the family at a restaurant in Cheadle. I’d been to Yara before, but this time, we sat outside, in the shade, which was very pleasant.

I,for one, was taken by surprise when I walked in and saw Helen. My daughter Helen, all the way over here from Brookvale, NSW. Helen and bump! Yes, I am pleased and excited to confirm that Helen is expecting a little chap in November. Yes, I had to look twice. What a fantastic surprise!

Martha, Helen, Mick, Liam, William, Andrew (leaning back), Pauline and Jenny

A video exists of me walking into the restaurant like I’ve just got out of bed or something, taken by surprise and uttering “What are you doing here?” So embarrassing: thanks, Liam! And sorry, Helen, not the best of welcomes! But I really am pleased to see you!

Pauline, Andrew and I had been pretty busy since their arrival and Andrew decided he needed a down day. So, it was just Pauline who joined me for the regular midweek Thrive Walk. What I didn’t realise at the time was, someone was videoing us enjoying our coffee outside Boxx2Boxx. See if you can spot me and my sister.

After which, we caught a bus to Sale where we met Jenny, Liam, Martha, William and Helen at the King’s Ransom pub, right on the Bridgewater Canal.

King’s Ransom pub and the Bridgewater Canal

We spent another evening round at Jenny’s: mainly because, as Jenny said, their place is bigger than my apartment. And she’s a far better chef than I am.

Pauline and Andrew are now spending some time in Yorkshire and beyond. I drove them to Oxford Road station, only going wrong once.

So, within the space of a couple of days, I swapped a sister and a brother-in-law for a daughter and a future grandson. As Phil Collins once said, “Funny old world, innit?”

I took a leaf out of Andrew’s book and had a down day. Catching up on emails, real mail (just one letter in a week, as it happens), a bit of tidying up, laundry and again, looking at the long list of things to do and then going off to do something totally different.

Meanwhile, how’s Liesel getting on in Anchorage? Working a bit, spending time with friends, and most definitely not commenting on a heatwave. Presidents Trump and Putin had a meeting in Alaska, but this won’t affect Liesel and her Mom at all, unless of course, Trump gives or sells Alaska back to Russia.

(Mis)adventures

As always, Liesel set off in good time for her physio appointment. Usually, she’ll go for a short walk before the session. Left to my own devices at home, I continued work on this week’s radio show. Imagine my surprise then when, fifteen minutes later, Liesel phoned to tell me that the car wouldn’t start. At first, I couldn’t believe she’d even been trying for that long. But no. She’d been waylaid by our neighbour Ravi, and they’d been chatting all that time.

The first thing was to make sure Liesel didn’t miss her appointment, so thank goodness for Uber. Which I had to book because Liesel doesn’t have the app. Next, make use of our breakdown cover. But, it turns out, the car’s not covered for breaking down at home. The paperwork says it’s included, but then, in very small print, in a lighter colour, it says this is an optional extra. Well, I thought we’d opted for this extra but apparently not.

Anyway, the car just needed a jump start and it’s been alright ever since. So what happened? I think I must have nudge the internal light by mistake, and it stayed on all night, draining the battery.

A couple of days later, Liesel was due to fly over to Anchorage to stay with her Mom for a few weeks. The first hint of trouble was when she told me she was flying out of Heathrow. In my early morning stupor, I thought she meant we had to drive to Heathrow to catch her first flight. The booked route was Manchester to Reykjavik to Seattle to Anchorage, three flights in all. But the message Liesel receieved was that the first leg had changed, so: Manchester to Heathrow to Seattle to Anchorage. Why? The weather in Iceland was so atrocious, all flights in and out were cancelled.

But then Liesel read her emails. There were several from Iceland Air. The first one said her flight was cancelled. The second said that she had been re-booked onto British Airways, to Heathrow. The third said that her original flight to Reykjavic had been postponed to later in the afternoon. Confused? Liesel was. I was. Ambigious at best. When Liesel called the helpline, she was answered straightaway and a very helpful assistant confirmed that yes, she would be travelling via Heathrow.

I can confirm that after dropping Liesel off at the airport, everything went pretty smoothly and she arrived in Anchorage tired, relieved and on time.

A few days later, I needed to drive somewhere, and I was expecting to find the car again covered in dust from the Sahara, as predicted. But no. Instead in a localised avian conspiracy, the birds have been using our vehicle for target practice.

Apparently baking a potato in the air fryer is quicker and cheaper than baking it in the oven. Well, it worked out beautifully last time. This week? It took flippin’ ages. It had a nice crispy jacket, that was the best bit of the whole tuber, but the very centre still wasn’t cooked properly after what felt like 24 hours. I was hungry by the time I ate (most of) it. I think it’s fair to say, there is a knack to using these new-fangled contraptions which I have yet to fully acquire.

But it wasn’t all distasters this week, oh no. Some things worked out quite well. For instance, I joined Jenny, Liam and the children for a walk at Quarry Bank Mill.

Despite his best efforts, William didn’t fall down any muddy slopes, nor fall into the river. If he had, I was quite prepared to take pictures while Daddy rescued him. It’s great that he’s so adventurous, but if I were still in the habit, I would have been biting my nails.

Martha wasn’t averse to performing her own stunts either.

It was a very pleasant walk, along paths that we don’t visit very often. There’s a small beach by the river, which Martha studied in detail, looking for interesting stones.

Here’s a novel idea. Coffee cups that you can reuse. Yes, at National Trust Quarry Bank Mill, they’re experimenting with reuseable takeaway cups. I don’t know why this has never been thought of before. I suppose they just don’t want us walking around with china mugs of coffee.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the planet, my sister Pauline, and Andrew, had a lovely day in the Botanic Gardens in Christchurch. Late Summer is so colourful.

We collected the children from school and brought them to our place where, unusually, we watched TV. Wallace and Gromit in A Close Shave. We all enjoyed it and I felt a bit sad that William and Martha wouldn’t get some of the gags because they don’t have all the cultural references that we old farts do. Indian food tonight: dahl and saag paneer with rice, yogurt and grated, spiced up carrot. Liam and Jenny joined us, and there was far too much food. After Liesel left for Alaska, I ate Indian leftovers for two days!

For a few days earlier in the week, we enjoyed listening to the chainsaw outside, over there somewhere. They were cutting down a tree, and I was worried that it was this beauty.

But, phew, no it wasn’t. It looks a bit bare right now.

The victim was the next tree, a bit further down the road. It was growing just a few feet away from a telegraph pole, so it was probably a harder job than usual to cut down, because of all the phone lines. But it’s always sad to see a tree murdered in this way.

I enjoyed a few walks in Northenden and Wythenshawe, in a group or by myself. In fact, on one of the organised walks, there were just the two of us so we agreed to shorten the route: it was probably quite muddy in the woods, yeah, that was the reason…

For the last couple of weeks, I’ve been completing another one of those giant crosswords from Teazel, 1284 clues solved in 8 hours and 19 minutes. Quite an achievement, right? But I did take issue with one clue: To provide with complete dress, full equipment, etc (3,3). Easy I thought, but it wouldn’t accept any of my answers ‘_I_/O_T’ – obviously ‘something out’, right? The answer was ‘Rig Out’. I’d tried ‘Fit out’ and ‘Kit out’ to no avail, but I think they’re all acceptable solutions to the clue. Still, it didn’t affect my enjoyment too much.

Speaking of enjoyment, I am continuing to watch the old Doctor Who series from the 1960s. I’m so glad I didn’t have such a critical mind as a young child. The wobbly sets, the acting to camera, the naff pseudo-scientific mumbo-jumbo dialogue, all a given. What I’ve now noticed though is how often a character changes outfit halfway through a scene, when there’s no realistic way they could have changed.

And while I’m thinking about TV, the second series of ITV’s Trigger Point has started. Embarrassed to say, I binge-watched all 6 episodes over two days. Vicky McClure playing the main character will I’m sure win awards for her performance. But there are more ‘bloody hell, I didn’t see that coming’ moments in this series than anything I’ve seen for a long time. Highly recommended if you like a thriller, a bit of suspense and some surprises.

Here’s another picture from Grandad’s boasting photo album.

This is the children’s latest activity: kick boxing. They both enjoy it, but I personally don’t get the appeal of kicking boxes around.

How is Liesel getting on over there in Narnia then? Narnia business! Well, it’s apparently warming up: the temperature was up to -23°C a couple of days ago… not my cup of tea at all. I accept that it looks pretty, especially the frost.

I mentioned the radio show earlier. I usually start preparing it on Monday, with a view to uploading by Wednesday evening. Sometimes the editing is dead easy, straightforward, the timings work out nicely. Other times, it takes ages to adjust things by a few seconds. Liesel has commented in the past that occasionally I spent far too long on the toilet. Well, this week I spent way too long on the Toilet Humour show, for that was the theme. You can listen to two hours of songs, some obliquely, related to or about toilets here on Mixcloud, if by any chance, you missed hearing it on Wythenshawe Radio on Friday afternoon; where were you?

Being on Top

We all like being on top of things, and sometimes it’s easy. Just look at William reach the top of the climbing frame before you’ve even realised he’s no longer standing next to you.

We’d gone over to Bruntwood Park, the playground behind William and Martha’s school, where we met up with the family. One of the reasons for going was that Martha wanted to use the metal detector, one of her Christmas presents. By luck, I had a few coins in my pocket that I was able to ‘plant’ for Martha to find. Seeing the excitement on her face was worth every penny!

Here’s Blossom, one of One Stockport’s frogs, from the Gigantic Leap Frog Art Trail.

In this sort of environment, William nearly always wants to play hide and seek, so we usually do, but he does like to reveal his location before you’ve had a proper chance to seek him out! And the climbing frame was very appealing. Even if Martha can’t tell the bottom from the top.

On Tuesday, we collected the children from school. Back at home, we gave them one final Christmas present each. Late, because William’s didn’t arrive in time for the big day: A Magnetic Magic Cube that can be manipulated into over 70 different shapes. Returning it to the Cube shape is not as easy as it looks. But he does enjoy playing with my (non-magnetic) cube, so we thought he’d appreciate it. Next step, a full-on Rubik’s Cube! Martha likes gems and stones so we thought a small box of such treasures would be interesting. It was. Martha particularly liked placing them on the Lazy Susan and spinning it, thus discovering centrifugal force!

After a lovely dinner, Jenny took the children home and Liesel went off to a WI meeting.

You know it’s the end of the holiday season when Thrive Walks start up again. The very first one of the year was attended by nearly twenty people. It was a nice walk through the woods, not as muddy as we’d anticipated, but it hadn’t rained for at least half an hour, which is unusual, lately.

In other family news, Helen celebrated her birthday in Adelaide with Brent. I liked Adelaide the one time I visited, over 21 years ago: maybe it’s time to go back? I wonder if it’s changed much…

Helen and Brent are on top of things here too, tasting wine, visiting the zoo and having a great time.

On Friday, Liesel and Sue joined the WI walk while I attended the regular Thrive Walk in Wythenshawe. This time, there were just the six of us! After taking a bus back to Northenden, I walked back home via Riverside Park. The river is much lower than even a few days ago, but of course, there is some debris for the council to clear up.

In other family news, Pauline and Andrew enjoyed the kite festival in Christchurch, New Zealand.

And no, they didn’t have one of their own kite: maybe next year? On another occasion, they enjoyed a walk by the estuary and encountered a herd of cormorants.

Well, I think they’re cormorants, but they might be shags. And I really don’t know what the collective noun is for either.

Liesel and I witnessed the children’s first swimming lesson of the year, and it’s always fun to watch. They had an exhausting morning though. Before swimming, they’d both enjoyed a kick-boxing tester session. To complete their triathlon, they cycled all the way from home to both venues and back home again. So you’d think that, come lunchtime, they’d be tired and quite happy to sit still and eat the meal. Not William, oh no. Up and down like a jack-in-the-box, full of energy: he’ll get a job at Duracell one day.

My radio show this week was on the theme of Being On Top. What a coincidence! Bit of a cock-up when Wythenshawe Radio WFM 97.2 broadcast it, though, no news, not my fault, but you can listen to the whole shenanigans right here on Mixcloud.

Terrific Pacific

After a relaxing day, we drove into Manchester. Time for a gig. We throughly enjoyed the performance by O’Hooley and Tidow at a fantastic venue, new to us, Hallé St Peters. The show was to promote their new record, Cloudheads, but of course, we’re special, and we received our CD, signed, a couple of weeks ago.

We found seats just four rows from the front and before the show proper began, we were digging the music, man, songs by Rodriguez, whose story is interesting but quite sad, really.

Belinda O’Hooley and Heidi Tidow sang songs old and new, told funny stories, and the audience was spellbound. Nobody was chatting and apart from a couple of glasses being kicked over after the interval, there was no disruption.

I had a quick chat with Belinda in the interval, told her I’d played their records on my show, and when I told her my name, Mick, she knew my surname straightaway. I’m not quite on the A-list, but getting there!

I received my postal vote: there are local elections in May. I knew who I was going to vote for, and, given all the election literature I’ve seen so far, I was beginning to think there was only one candidate standing. So what a surprise to see some others on the ballot paper. I was tempted but in the end, I didn’t vote for Sir Oink A-Lot, of The Official Monster Raving Loony Party, because, well, I’m not entirely sure he’s taking it very seriously.

In our local church, St Wilfrid’s, there was another celebration of Sir Edward Watkin. I paid Geoff for the book of his I’d bought a few nights ago and he told me about a painting that had hung at Rose Hill for many years. Someone wanted to sell it for charity, expecting to raise about £100. In the end, it was valued at £4 million.

Sir Edward funded some of the stain glass windows in the church, and they are indeed very bright, even on a cloudy grey day such as this was.

The Millennium Banner was obviously a labour of love. The wall hanging which stretches along one side of the church was made in 1999, mostly by members of the Women’s Group, to mark the turning of the millennium. It shows scenes and motifs from the history of the previous 2000 years, some very local, others national, global or even cosmic. Spoiler alert: this is how it ends:

I’d gone along because The Edward Watkin Society, also known as WatSoc, had organised the week of events. On display here today were several letter sent from or to Sir Edward. The handwriting was beautiful, and neat, but very hard to read.

While talking to someone, my phone went off. “Is that your phone?” “I think it’s everyone’s phone” I replied, because all of a sudden, the room was full of alarms.

Severe Alert, said my phone

This is a test of Emergency Alerts, a new UK government service that will warn you if there’s a life-threatening emergency nearby.

In a real emergency, follow the instructions in the alert to keep yourself and others safe.

This is a test. You do not need to take any action.

Needless to say, I took no action. But, being Brits, we all rolled our eyes and tutted at the inconvenience.

So why was I here at the church by myself? Because Liesel and Leslie were travelling south to visit cousin Andi and Steve in Richmond. Andi I think particularly wanted to catch up with her Auntie Leslie.

One morning, Liesel got up early and went for a long solitary walk taking in Richmond Hill, Petersham Common and Richmond Park.

Terrace Gardens, Richmond, overlooking the river

They all visited Bushy Park too one day, where the deer wandered over to say hello.

Let’s return to the saga of my phone. To recap: I took my phone in to have its battery changed. That worked out OK. But, the fingerprint sensor no longer worked. I went back to the shop, he couldn’t get it to work, so ordered a new sensor. A couple of days later, the new sensor didn’t work either. I would have to leave my phone with him overnight so that some internal connection could be soldered. Couldn’t do it over the weekend because it was Eid.

So, as requested, I took my phone in on Monday with a view to collecting it the following day. It wasn’t ready. In fact, it wouldn’t be back until the next day. My doubts were now growing. I insisted I needed my phone that day. Tell me where it is, and I’ll go and collect it if necessary. He didn’t want to do that. He called someone and then told me to return in the afternoon. Good thing I didn’t have a job to go back to. He said if it wasn’t back by about 3pm, he’d deliver it to my address after closing time.

I felt a wave of relief when I picked up my phone in the afternoon. Fixed. The fingerprint sensor was now working. Where’s my case? I asked. What case? The protective case that I always keep my phone in. He couldn’t find it of course. I suspect it’s still at the other, top secret venue. So he gave me case off the shelf.

I didn’t pay for anything. By now, I was so peeved, I resolved never to darken his doors again. Whether incompetent or criminal, I don’t think I can trust him again. So much so, back at home, I checked the phone for malware. I also checked that no cash had been taken from any of the online bank accounts. He wouldn’t know my passwords, and he didn’t have my fingerprint, but, I have no idea how dodgy or technically agile he and his brother-in-law are.

Later, I realised the volume controls were no longer working. I use those to take screenshots and to take photos as well as adjusting the volume. I’ll be taking my device to a proper, qualified Samsung repair facility, where I’ll have to recite this whole sorry tale, probably.

Liesel and Mom returned but they didn’t join me for the the long Thursday walk. After which, at The Forum, I saw my mugshot on the noticeboard outside the radio studio.

At least one member of my family asked if this was a Wanted poster? Is there a reward?

And the excitement is building in the area as we approach Coronation Day.

I’ll probably tweet this nearer the time but when people ask whether I’ll be watching the Coronation on TV, I usually say “No, because, by coincidence, I’m going out to get a new hat that day too.”

The three of us did join the walking group on Friday though, for one final forced march, as Klaus would have said.

And, as it was Great Oma’s final day here in England, she treated us to a meal at a Japanese restaurant over there in Cheadle Hulme. Jenny and Liam brought a very excited but tired Martha and William. The children had been introduced to Japanese cuisine while in Australia over Christmas. Today, we all enjoyed our meals, even though for a long time, Martha and I were sitting in actual warm sunshine. Even Liesel was beginning to turn pink.

Once William got going, he demolished his plate of food, and both he and Martha are very happy with sticky rice, because it’s easier to eat with chopsticks!

This week, they celebrated ANZAC Day in Australia and New Zealand, and, by coincidence, that was the theme of my Wythenshawe Radio show this week. If you would like to catch up on two hours of Aussies and Kiwis singing for your pleasure, you are very welcome to listen here.

Mindblowing

For some reason, I had to go to Brighton and deliver mail there. Or was it Portsmouth? Anyway, I don’t know my way around either place. And the addresses on the mail consisted solely of just one cryptic word. How am I supposed to deliver mail to places when I don’t know where they are? I just had to keep asking the locals. I must have managed ok in the end though, because when I got back to the office, someone pointed out that I’d forgotten to take all the packets and parcels out with me. The sense of relief that engulfed me when I woke up was almost overwhelming. Why am I still having anxiety dreams about the last job I had? Usually, at a certain point in the dream, I realise that I’m retired and actually, I don’t have to be here at all. Sometimes I’m aware that I haven’t been taking my days off for a few weeks, to the point that I’ve lost track of which day is my day off. I think I’d rather have a proper scary nightmare than these dreams about Royal Mail and the many, many ways in which they can make a straightforward job so stressful. In my dreamworld, because of problems in the Chessington Delivery Office, I’ve been variously despatched to the basement, to New Malden and to Waterloo Station to prepare the mail for delivery. I’ve been unable to enter the Office because it’s so full of mail and parcels, that there’s no room for actual people to go in and do anything with it. I’ve never had anxiety dreams about exams or moving house or other stressful events, nor indeed about any other jobs. So I’m hoping that by telling you about this recent, horrible, nighttime experience, the scenario will be expunged from the repertoire in my dreamworld mechanism.

In the real world, things just plod on normally, uneventfully. Except that this week I succumbed to the games Wordle and Nerdle. I wasn’t convinced at first, not sure about what I was meant to be doing, but after a couple of days, I quite enjoy a few minutes of mental exercise each day. This is in addition to my daily allowance of an hour attempting a Slitherlink puzzle, which is ridiculously addictive. It’s always a disappointment when the app timer tells me ‘time’s up’ and it takes immense willpower not to extend the time for today, but sometimes I just have to eat etc.

Jenny invited me over to share some of the three tonnes of spaghetti bolognese she’d prepared in her cauldron. It was fun to spend time with the children, Martha fresh from her swimming lesson.

Martha and William enjoying a cold dessert

It was wet and windy and we were issued with flood warnings, but on this occasion, the level of the river went down quite quickly. Our local councillors were on the case, monitoring the situation, and there was no need to open the flood gates. One victim of the strong winds was our oak tree. It lost a few digits, bigger than the twigs that usually blow off.

We’ve been advised to wear hard hats when we leave the block of luxury apartments. By the river, the birds are clinging on tight so they don’t get blown into orbit.

There are signs of Spring approaching though. Our local village green is gradually turning purple as the crocuses make an appearance.

I haven’t been for a long time but I was amazed to see how much Kingston station has changed over the last couple of years.

No, this is Kingston in the south of New Zealand’s South Island, which is a bit more remote than The Royal Borough of course. Thank you Pauline for sending the pictures, and glad you’re having a nice break.

Walks around Northenden and the local area are always fun but the cold, biting wind really did get on my nerves this week. I told it to go back where it came from. To no avail. The contrast between that and the intermittent warmth of the Sun was striking.

There are splashes of colour, especially when the Sun’s at the right angle. And Fletcher Moss Park is also showing early signs of Spring.

On the way to school to pick up William and Martha, the clouds put on a good show. I wasn’t the only (grand-) parent taking pictures.

While waiting for Martha to come out of her class, William decided he was a caterpillar, crawling under the climbing apparatus.

We played at their house for a while before setting off for mine.The plan had been to bring them back here and have takeaway pizza for dinner. But Jenny had forgotten. The pizza was good, so good in fact, that I ate the leftovers the following day.

I battled the cold wind again as I walked around Wythenshawe with the group, once I dragged myself out of bed, that is.

This was the first week of the Winter Olympics and I’ve enjoyed some of the sports, especially the curling, which is very slow and methodical. The ice hockey is far too fast, I can’t see what’s going on. I suggest using a much bigger, heavier puck, to slow it down a bit. And as for the skiers and snowboarders doing multiple twists and turns in the big air, well, it probably isn’t as easy as they make it look.

Liesel continues to bounds out of bed very early every morning over there in Anchorage. She continues to work hard, doing legal work. (She’s probably having more fun doing illegal work, but she’s not telling me about that.) This week, her Dad, Klaus, had his heart surgery and is doing very well. Liesel’s been chauffeuring Klaus and her Mom Leslie to hospitals and shops. Good to see she’s staying out of trouble, so far, at least.

While Klaus had heart surgery, I visited the dental hygienist just to show solidarity.

This week’s radio show was about Art and Artists It’ll be repeated on Wythenshawe Radio WFM 97.2 next Wednesday at 7pm, but for your convenience, it is available here:

Flowered News

The government announced a roadmap telling us when things would be opened up after this long period of lockdown. They said decisions would be governed by data, not by dates. So, of course, we now know the dates when we’ll be able to go out, go places, go to a pub, go and see our grandchildren in their garden and maybe even go to a concert and eventually, go on holiday. But for us, this week was very similar to last week. Some weather, some walks, a radio show, some crocheting, a jigsaw puzzle or two, some looking through old photographs but mainly, just sitting at home, looking through the window, watching nothing much happen outside. Our road was re-surfaced and we took it in turns providing the running commentary. Yes, of course we could have done the job much more efficiently than they did.

But we really hope things aren’t opened up again too quickly: I don’t think a fourth lockdown would be welcomed by anybody.

Meanwhile, in New Zealand, they’re pretty much living a normal life, although a short lockdown has just been announced following a case of Covid. It’s ten years since the devastating earthquake, and my sister Pauline sent photos of some damage that is still visible close to Christchurch.

The whole area is still quite dangerous and the Summit Road will be closed for quite some time.

When you see this sort of destruction, it puts our little problems into perspective. This week, for instance, I’ve been thinking about blister packs. What a waste of resources. All our prescription drugs come in blister packs. Why? And why is there not a common size? I have packs of 10, 28, 14 and sometimes the pharmacist cuts up packs so I receive the correct total amount, usually 56 days worth but sometimes 60. You can’t recycle them because they’re a mix of plastic and aluminium foil. And when they’re cold, they’re very brittle. The blister pack snaps and you have to chase your pill across the room.

That was my moan of the week.

We found this old school on one of our walks.

I think the only reason we’ve not seen it before is that we’ve somehow never walked along this particular road. There’s also an entrance for ‘Girls’ and ‘Laundry’.

Towards Northern Moor and I was reminded that a good pun is the only way to name your hairdresser’s shop.

I also found not one, not two, but three further hairdressers whose names each contain all five vowels. You may remember I provided a long list of such words several posts ago. A small part of my mind with nothing better to do is still on the lookout for these delightful pentavowelled words. Or phrases. I think Sienna Guillory is still my favourite in so many ways.

It was lovely walking through Wythenshawe Park without having to avoid big puddles and ice. Someone at the café is very positive and uplifting.

Martha’s been painting her bedroom.

It’s a darker colour than we anticipated but I think Mummy and Daddy probably finished off the decorating.

Then there was the day we went out litter-picking and we found this phone-recharging station on an old telegraph pole.

The connector was incompatible with either of our phones, though, being the barest of bare wires. But another three bags collected adding to the total so far in Wythenshawe of 2780 this year, at the time of writing. What a load of rubbish! Plus another bag this morning before our longer proper walk in the sunshine.

And during the course of our very pleasant walk by the river today, even if there were too many other people, we realised that we haven’t seen the herons for a while. So, this one in Riverside Park will have to do.

And look at this gorgeous blue sky.

How is the village green looking? Absolutely stunning. We feel we should plant bulbs and sow seeds all over the place now.

Of course, one of the reasons it looks so good there is that other litter-pickers have been at work.

I mentioned the radio show earlier: it was Brothers and Sisters this week, and you can listen to it here.

And if you’ve stuck with it this far, you may be curious about the title of this post. It’s a David Bowie lyric. Make of it what you will.

Hurdling and Hokitika

This blog is now three years old. When it started, we were looking forward to moving house and to travelling for a year. We accomplished both of those, all well documented here, if you want to look back.

But right now it feels like we’re just waiting for the next Big Thing. Real life is on hold while we fight and fight off the pandemic. On one hand, nothing much is happening right now. On the other hand, every day is an adventure.

Many, many years ago, Liesel’s Granny made a huge donut for little Liesel to sit on or in. This week the donut has been refurbished, re-stuffed, and it has taken up residence in the spare room.

The ‘sprinkles’ are all new, randomly spaced over the toroidal surface and the stuffing is brand new too: it had been emptied for easier transportation from AK to the UK.

As requested, I went downstairs one morning to pick up the package that had been left but, disappointingly (for me), it was for Liesel.

A box of brightly coloured yarn that will be brilliantly turned into a brace of beautiful blankets for our beautiful grandchildren.

Plus, as if that won’t keep her occupied full time for a few weeks, Liesel has started work on a 2,000-piece jigsaw puzzle. Can you tell what it is yet?

By contrast, while my activities and pastimes are interesting and enjoyable, I can’t really point at the end results and say ‘Look what I done’. You can listen to my latest radio show of course. I spent far too long whittling a long, long playlist of songs about birds down to a mere two hours. Please catch up here for lots of birdie noises.

The long-term, long-deferred and long-duration project known as ‘Sorting out the photographs’ continues apace. So many photos but so many missing as well. I can’t believe there’s another box lurking somewhere, but there are some notable omissions. This is, of course, why they needed sorting out in the first place.

Here’s an example of an old picture that I found.

Not many people know that I was once a champion hurdler. Well, I was good at hurdling for one season when 12 years old, but the following year at school, the height of the hurdles was raised a couple of inches, and I found it harder to get my leg over (oo-er missus) and keep a good stride and rhythm. So, I had another go a few decades later, just for fun. And yes, that is Jenny in the background.

And here in The 100 Club is Joe Strummer, somebody’s big head and Bez from the Happy Mondays dancing on the left. That was a good, hot, sweaty, exciting night, remind me to tell you about it one day.

I know, the irony of the ‘No Photography’ sign is not lost on me!

Yes, Liesel and I did go outside a few times this week. I won’t mention the weather. D’oh! Nothing much changes around here. A recently flooded path, one that we sometimes walk on, has been churned up nicely.

This is a funny place to put it, but if you can find a way to get under the bridge over the Mersey, you can stand by the tape measure to see how tall you are. The gate it still locked, so if people want to walk along what is still a dangerous path by the river, they have to climb over it.

One morning, I woke up to another pretty sunrise.

I realise that some of my photos should be sorted out straight into the rubbish bin, but we’ll take any amount of sunshine and blue, or even pink, skies right now.

Meanwhile, it’s Waitangi Day in New Zealand. So here’s some driftwood art.

Hokitika in on the west coast of South Island. It’s a lovely little place and I hope we’ll be able to visit again one day. My sister Pauline is visiting for the weekend with Andrew and they kindly sent me some photos, thank you. You don’t see many dragons in New Zealand. Happy Waitangi Day!

Remember the donut? Every time we walk past the spare room, it seems to be bigger. It’s alive!

Cameron Highlands

Just when you get used to one place, it’s time to move on. If this is what it’s like being on the run from the justice system, we won’t be committing an offence any time soon. Oh alright then. I apologise for any offence caused if, when I mention our next destination, Cameron Highlands, an image of probably our worst ever prime minister comes to mind. (There May be some competition, to be fair.)

For some reason, we had to be at Amanjaya Bus Terminal half an hour before the scheduled departure time. Jyoti had booked online, and she tried hard, but nobody wanted to give us actual physical tickets.

It was a long cab ride and the driver told us that there was a bus terminal much closer in Ipoh, but when you’re booking online, well in advance, from overseas, why would it even occur to you to check that you were travelling from the closest bus terminal to your destination?

Amanjaya is a very busy teminal and we had plenty of time to pass. I entertained myself by wandering around, intrigued by the not-yet-open retail opportunities on the upper floor.

The ladies in the various ticket booths were on the fine borderline between amusement and annoyance with their tuneless ululations, sometimes solo but more often in discord and disharmony. Sirens, attracting unwary ticket-buyers, only tuneless. Unfortunately, the official announcements were incomprehensible too, too much echo-cho-cho in the vast cavern of a bus terminal.

I forked out RM3 for a chair massage. It felt like a small man was hiding amongst the upholstery running a rolling pin up and down my spine and around the shoulder blades. Not unpleasant but a good reminder that there will always be some things a human can do much better than a robot.

The bus ride from Ipoh to Tanah Rata in the Cameron Highlands followed a long and winding road up and up into the hills. It was hard to read for too long, so many sudden turns as well as bumps in the road. It was however easy to nod off for literally seconds at a time. We climbed up very high, my ears could tell, and they passed on the information to me by frequently popping. Ipoh is about 22 metres above sea level, Tanah Rata 1440.

During the ride, the phone signal was intermittent but as we passed through one small town, I received a plethora of messages. One from my sister in Christchurch said “Don’t worry, we’re ok”. Oh no, I thought, not another earthquake. No, worse. A gunman had murdered worshippers in two different mosques and car bombs had been found and defused. New Zealand is the last place you’d expect to see this sort of terrorist attack, so disappointing and upsetting. The evil that is so-called “white supremacy” just continues to spread, aided and abetted by our own governments and the extreme right-wing press.

We’ve been living in a multi-cultural environment for the last few weeks, and it’s been great: everyone gets along and the only problem I’ve had is being able to find vegetarian food.

On arrival at Tanah Rata, we hailed a teksi which took us an embarrassingly short distance to our new home, a hostel called Father’s Guesthouse.

We were in a different universe here, where time runs backwards. It was much cooler than at nearly sea level so we anticipated a few good nights’ sleep. Little did we know!

Jyoti and I walked down the road to look for a coffee bar while Liesel had a rest.

A poinsettia is not just for Christmas. Left to its own devices outdoors, it will grow into a tree.

We found a nice place, The Mossy Forest Café, had scones and coffee, and took a slice of cake back for Liesel.

The hostel seems to be mainly occupied by a strange breed of creature: young people. There are signs telling us to smoke outside and that the place for parties is in the town centre.

Jyoti knows the Cameron Highlands from over 40 years ago and is a bit saddened, if not surprised, by the amount of development during that time. There’s a lot of litter around, mainly water bottles, which is always a sad thing to see. We walked up a steep hill to Gurdwara Sahib.

Jyoti spoke to a Sikh gentleman there in Klingon, I couldn’t understand a word; actually it was probably Hindi, come to think of it. We went in, a first for me, inside a Sikh place of worship and education. We took our shoes off and if there had been water in the footbath, we would have washed our feet too. I kept my hat on and Jyoti borrowed a scarf to cover her head.

The shrine was colourful but the place as a whole wasn’t as ostentaciously decorated as other religious sites we’ve visited.

Jyoti was very pleased with this poster that nicely summarises Sikh Heritage.

Unicorns live in the jungle around here, and even if we don’t see a real, live one, I was delighted to see this chap on somebody’s roof.

Tanah Rata is a busy little town and so far we’ve found a grand total of one pedestrian crossing. It’s always a challenge crossing the roads here, so we’re grateful for the one-way streets where we should need to look in one direction only before running across.

We found a place for our evening meal, having convinced ourselves that the turtles in the tank weren’t on the menu. The restaurant was decorated with clogs and a lot of memorabilia relating to the Dutch national football team, so lots of orange.

It was a delightfully short walk back to our hostel and a good night’s sleep. Well, poor old Liesel still has a cough, it finally caught up with her again after we thought we’d left it behind in Fiji. The coughing woke up the local cockerel who then decided to wake up everyone else. No problem, we had to be up early to join the tour we’d booked.

The bus picked us up and then collected 15 passengers from other hotels on the way to our first stop: The Butterfly Garden. Rajesh, the driver, was also our guide today, and he told us a little about each of the places we visited.

We have seen the odd butterfly flitting from tree to tree but this was a good place to see some close up. Other bugs were available too.

Rajah Brooke’s birdwing is the national butterfly of Malaysia. There were many here in the garden, sitting still, posing, unlike their cousins outside in the wild. They and other butterflies were even resting on the path that we walked on although, surprisingly, we only saw one squished under someone’s foot.

We were delighted to find an amorous pair of rhinoceros beetles. It reminds me of the picture on the back of Paul McCartney’s Ram album cover.

Of course, they might just be good friends. The golden beetle looks artificial, but it was real, I’m sure. Either that, or fantastically detailed and finely tuned animatronics.

Talking about things being artificial, it’s hard to believe these plants are genuine too, so bright, so vivid.

Some creatures blend into their natural background really well, but when they’re out in the open, you’d think they come from another planet or time, they’re so alien.

There are plenty of other creatures here, scorpions, frogs, tree snakes, more butterflies and all are native to Malaysia, so it’ll be interesting to see how many we spot in real life, out in the wild.

We chose not to buy a collection of dead bugs, pretty as they are. I hope they all died a natural death, after a short and happy life, but who knows?

The Boh Tea Plantation is one of the biggest and still owned by a Scottish family. We were now over 1600 m above sea level. No ear popping today, though.

On the way in, we passed a mosque, a Hindu temple and a Christian chapel all located very close to each other, to cater for plantation workers from all faiths. That’s how it should be done.

Boh doesn’t stand for “Best of Highlands” as some believe. It’s named after a mountain in China, Bohea, and Boh means “precious”. Which led me to wonder: Bic Runga has a sister named Boh. She also has a song called Precious Things. I wonder if the song was named after her sister?

Taken through a dirty bus window, we saw this couple taking a selfie on the edge of a very narrow road. A Darwin Award in the making, perhaps.

In the old days, tea was plucked by hand. Nowadays, they use machines to speed up the process. Workers are paid 26 sen (cents) per kilo: that’s about 5p per kilo.

After the short factory tour, I joined the queue for a quick cuppa.

The colour was gorgeous and the flavour wonderful. Unfortunately, we were pressed for time, the tea was hot, so I had to slurp. If anyone had asked, I would have lied that I was a professional tea-taster.

The view of the Sungai Palas Tea Centre was what I’d expected the whole Cameron Highlands to look like.

And this is certainly what Jyoti remembers from her time here in the 1970s. Development, progress…

It was nice and warm, we were all in shirtsleeves. But this young lady was dressed up for the Winter equinoctial celebrations.

Tea leaves go through a number of processes before they’re ready to be turned into a nice cup of tea at home. So it was a surprise to find, during our quick excursion into one of the fields just by the road, that there was that familiar aroma of a fresh brew.

It was Saturday and as had been predicted, the traffic became more and more dense as the day wore on.

We never did find out what the Time Tunnel Museum was all about. Maybe we’ll find a time tunnel somewhere and pay a visit last year.

The bus driver was brilliant, very competent, taking the bus along narrow, winding tracks, letting cars and even buses pass by on the other side when there wasn’t really any room.

Rose Valley must be the kitsch capital of Cameron Highlands. Apparently it is known as the Rose Garden of Malaysia.

It’s always a joy to see Mickey and Minnie of course, but this must be one of the worst copyright infringements ever.

The main attraction here is of course the roses and other flowers. There were signs telling us now to pluck them. I’m going to use that from now on. Stop plucking your nose, Martha!

Some of the statuettes had lost their heads although somehow, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs all retained theirs.

Cultural appropriation is a big talking point these days, and done well, it can enhance everyone’s experience. Sometimes though, you think, whoever had that idea, somebody else should have quashed it.

Outside the rose garden there was a fruit market. 101 kinds of fruit but no apples. We bought oranges instead. No strawberries though because the next stop on our tour was the Royal Berry Strawberry Park. There, Jyoti and I took a small basket and went to pluck our own strawberries. We were not ~~supposed~~ allowed to eat free samples.

Here, they’re grown hydroponically, each plant has its own water supply. You cut the stems which are at waist height, no stooping and grovelling at ground level. We enjoyed a strawberry milkshake too plus chocolate-dipped strawberries. The fact that we’d not had time for breakfast was now forgotten.

A big bee greeted us at Ee Feng Gu Apiary.

We sampled three kinds of honey: one made by stinging bees (sweet), one made by smaller, non-stinging bees (slightly smokey) and one made by bees from further down the hills (less sweet).

Liesel didn’t join me but I enjoyed my walk through the beehives.

There were a few bees around but it wasn’t as buzzy as I’d anticipated. To accommodate this disappointment, they’ve installed some impostors.

One thing I didn’t expect to see at the bottom of the hill was a small shrine housing Buddha.

We stopped briefly at Sam Poh Temple, where, unusually, we were allowed to use our cameras inside.

One day, I hope to translate the script on this structure.

All these years of meditating and chanting have been for nought. The words I was presented with on the first day turn out to be slightly wrong. No wonder I’m such a mess.

Jyoti contemplating life, the universe and everything

On returning to our present home town of Tanah Rata, we walked down to what has become our default café for a couple of days: The Mossy Forest. We’d driven close to the actual Mossy Forest earlier on but the coffee bar that bears its name is as close as we’ll get this time.

Our friends Una, Phil and Kiran are currently on holiday in Hawaii. Jyoti and Liesel chose to speak to Una from the café. Luckily, I was the only other customer at that point so all the embarrassment fell on me.

Liesel was very disappointed with her brownie: they’d warmed it up without even asking, and it was rock hard, like a biscuit. On the way out, Liesel passed on a friendly comment.

The cockerel/rooster announced the dawning of a new day. Only it wasn’t dawn. It was three o’flippin’ clock in the morning. It cock-a-doodle-dooed for the next four hours more or less continuously. A couple of pauses lulled us into a false sense of security. The call to prayer is usually a welcome, soothing sound, but at 5.30, we just needed some sleep!

We walked down the road looking for a shop that might sell rooster extermination kits but alas, there were none. So we had breakfast instead to boost our energy levels for the day’s exertions.

The staff in The Mossy Forest remembered us from yesterday and by way of apology and recompense, they didn’t charge us for the coffee we had with our breakfast. It was a mistake to heat the brownie for so long, thanks for letting them know. At one point, we had four staff members serving us. Now I know how the Queen feels much of the time.

Rajen met us outside our hostel as agreed at 9.00. His driver took us to the start of our walk in a 4×4 heavy with the smell of petrol. The plan was for Rajen to take us on a hike through the jungle and for a moment there, I was sure at least one of us would acquire a fuel-sniffing-induced headache.

He was a very good guide with some fascinating stories. He told us about the British army being here in the 1960s, fighting the communists. 700 soldiers were stationed in this very spot. I wondered if (my late first wife) Sarah’s father had been here: I know he was in Malaya at some point.

The population of Tanah Rata has increased from 2000 to 45,000 in the last fifty years: Jyoti was right about the amount of development here.

There are several Walks in the area, some tougher and longer than others. Our main track today would be Walk No 3.

We could expect to see deers, monkeys, birds, snakes, insects, monkeys, unicorns. Well, that didn’t happen and in the case of the snakes, maybe just as well.

The path was narrow, hard to avoid brushing against the plants but there was nothing to worry about unduly. Walking along on the flat was quite technical, lots of tree roots to trip over. But the climbs up and down really were a challenge. The “steps” are just tree roots holding some loose earth in place. Some of the steps were very high. We also had to clamber over some fallen trees and, when descending, we had to hold on to trees, lianas, vines, always checking it wasn’t a snake hanging there. Rajen did provide us each with a stick to help and I found mine most useful for gauging the depth of a step down: I’ve always been useless at climbing down.

On one occasion today, I was so busy concentrating on carefully stepping through the roots that I bashed my head on a branch across the path. Fortunately, the moss growing on this branch was nature’s very own crash pad.

We walked across a couple of streams too, none of us slipped in off the stepping stones.

There are no tigers in this area any more. All gone mainly for Chinese aphrodisiac reasons. Rajen didn’t have much positive to say about the Chinese at all. They don’t care about nature or the environment, they just want to over-develop to make lots of money. The previous, corrupt Malaysian government did nothing to prevent over-development in some places.

The pitcher plant didn’t eat much today: we saw very few insects. No mosquitoes was good. Lack of butterflies was disappointing. Although Jyoti did spot this caterpillar lurking in the bushes.

When deciding which walk to do, we’d opted for “medium” difficulty: not too steep for too long.

I think we got it right. Rajen and Jyoti were able to keep a dialogue going as they walked, I couldn’t. I frequently stopped to catch my breath under the guise of taking a photo.

Everything was green apart from the leaf litter so it was always good to see a splash of colour.

There are 120 species of fern in this jungle, some edible, most not, some have to be cooked, some have to eaten before they unfurl. We didn’t sample any on this occasion.

Aha, a rustle in the bushes, what’s that? A rare member of Homo sapiens out for a solo walk in the jungle, which we all thought was very brave. I’m sure “brave” was the word we agreed upon.

She changed her mind about her chosen route, turned round and overtook us a few minutes later. We also came upon a party of three as we rested at a picnic table, rest area, a totally unexpected sight.

We all had something to eat and were careful to not even leave behind a slither of orange peel. Later, we reached a slight clearing from where we could look down on a cabbage farm.

I knew we were high but being totally surrounded by dense bush, I hadn’t fully appreciated just how far we’d climbed.

We descended into Mardi, a small village just along the road from Tanah Rata but it did feel a bit rude to be walking through someone’s farm on the way.

Although this hike can be described as just a long series of trip hazards, it was very enjoyable. We were out for about five hours altogether and afterwards we all agreed that we felt nicely tired from the exertion, not just exhausted due to the heat and humidity.

But what an anticlimax now to be walking along the road. With traffic. I bid farewell to my faithful old stick: maybe someone will pick it up and use it again one day.

After a siesta, of course, we re-visited our favourite café and they presented us with a fresh, warmed, brownie, which was perfect. Still very apologetic! Yes, we did order and pay for other things, but what a nice gesture.

Liesel and I returned to our room while Jyoti briefly visited the local market. She wasn’t there long, though, because the smell of fresh fish was so overpowering.

To Manly

It was wonderful to finally meet Helen at Sydney Airport. Not only had there been a couple of minor hiccups, the day itself was a milestone. Helen’s Mum, Sarah, and I married exactly 40 years ago today. The maelstrom of memories and emotions never really threatened to overwhelm, but it was there, just below the surface.

We left Brett and his challenging kettle at Te Rerenga, drove through Coromandel Town and stopped for a break in Thames.

Challenging kettle? Yes, the safety mechanism was kaput so you had to hold down the switch to reach boiling temperature. For a couple of days, you also had to hold down the lid, and when the kettle realised we were leaving, it forced us to hold down the lid again. It’s always a wonderful feeling when you can beat inanimate objects at their own little games.

We had to return the car with a full petrol tank. The range of prices in NZ is very wide. Today, we paid $1.85 per litre, but we have paid $2.09 elsewhere. Anything about NZ we won’t miss? Yestailgatingdrivers.

I’m sorry we never adopted the kiwi national costume: gum boots, though.

Golfer in gum boots (hope he didn’t get a hole in one)

But then, we never played golf either. The rest of the photos taken that day were of the rental car: we caused no significant damage, but the loose chippings and gravel on some of the roads were always a little bit worrying.

We had a good flight, landed a little late at Sydney but we had gained two hours by travelling west across the Tasman Sea. Welcome to West Island, as some kiwi maps label Australia!

The machine accepted my passport, but the photo taken could ‘not be identified’ so I had to join another queue.

Most people’s bags turned up quickly on the carousel, but not ours. We waited and waited, along with about thirty or forty other people. When challenged, I assured the security guy that I was waiting for my bags but found it easier to walk around than to stand around.

Helen drove us to her luxury apartment in Manly where again, we were stunned (in a good way) by the view from her balcony. Adam had prepared pizza for us which was very welcome.

Our first trip the following, beautiful, day was to Brookvale, to the shopping mall. I got a SIM card for my phone. Liesel didn’t: we thought we could manage with just one.(Spoiler alert: we can’t. Liesel will be SIMmed up very soon too.)

Helen, Liesel and I went for a gentle walk at Curl Curl beach, where the sea was rough, the sand was warm and the sky was blue.

We saw our first interesting, exotic, Aussie birds, today.

Before we left home in England, I read a book written by an American couple. They’d travelled around Australia with a view to seeing, and listing, 400 species of birds and other animals. We’re up to 3 so far. No intention of reaching 400: we have no such target.

We met Jyoti who’d been staying with cousins elsewhere in Sydney for a week. We’ll be travelling with her for the next month or so to far-flung places. But tonight, we all went for a meal at Manly Skiff Club, or to give it its full name, Manly 16ft Skiff Sailing Club. We watched the Sun set on our first full Aussie day while I drank two, yes, two pints of beer and ate a huge chickpea burger and chips. Helen’s fish and chips was huge too. And Monday is $10 steak day which might help explain why the venue was so busy!

It’s a short walk up a short hill to the apartment, but after accompanying Helen to Coles to buy some ice cream, it was hard for this old duffer. I was just keeping up with Helen, she said she was walking at my pace but, phew, I got my breath back eventually.

One day, I will get up early to watch the Sun rise over the beach, but for now, getting up and meeting Jyoti at 7am was early enough. She’s staying an an Airbnb just over the road from Helen and Adam, very convenient.

We walked to Shelly Beach, admiring all the hundreds of people up for an early stroll, or swim.

Some folks had their work suits hanging from the trees, waiting for them to emerge from the water.

Sea water pool with Manly in the background

The forecast was for today to be the hottest February day ever. And it was. 32° by the time we’d walked back to The Corso.

Plans to walk as far as Queenscliff were quickly shelved in favour of breakfast. And where better to go than Three Beans Café, my favourite coffee shop from previous visits.

Helen was working at home today, so Liesel and I returned for a quick shower and departed so that we’d be out of her hair (and out of her client’s hair).

Phew, what a scorcher. There are a million ways of saying it, and I think we covered them all during the course of the day.

Jyoti, Liesel and I caught the ferry and seeing the Harbour Bridge for the first time, for me at least, was a magical moment. Yes, Helen drove us over it yesterday, but somehow, that’s not the same.

Adam started a new job this week (rotten timing with us visitors) and I think he still appreciates the commute into Sydney: it’s still far better than the Waterloo and City Line in London.

After disembarkation at Circular Quay, we first walked around to the Opera House. There are a couple of interesting shows coming up, but we won’t be around for one about John Lennon.

Ooh this looks good, especially the feathers

So on this, the hottest day ever, we walked through Sydney to Darling Harbour. This wasn’t a random wander, we were going to visit Sealife Aquarium.

Ibis looking good, especially the feathers

Inside, I recognised it as a place I’d visited previously, and I think it was with my sister a few years ago. But the name, Sealife Aquarium, doesn’t really register as being something really special or different, not in my mental filing system anyway!

<ph squealky shoid squeakiest

Hagfish, the snottiest fish in the Aquarium

Sometimes, you can see eastern water dragons along the walk to Shelly Beach. We weren’t so lucky today, so it was good to see one here, albeit in a tank. Jyoti’s not a big fan of reptiles, so probably didn’t appreciate this exhibit as much as I did.

This one took some staging. Jyoti and Liesel can talk the hind legs off a donkey so it was easier for me to jump into the aquarium, and position the stingray right behind them so that I could take the picture.

The ferry back to Manly Wharf was cooler and the spray on the window led us to think that a nice drop of rain would be very welcome right now!

37° was the highest temperature recorded today, in the end. In the evening, I went for a quick swim in the sea, as did Adam. Liesel and Jyoti had left earlier, but I couldn’t find them anywhere along the beach on the Wharf side. I did enjoy the sunset again, and I was pleased to see that a lady was taking a photograph of a seagull perching on a pole with the Sun right behind: just the sort of silly picture I like taking!

Although I wasn’t particularly hungry after this morning’s huuuge veggie breakfast and last night’s huuuge burger, I did consume half of a Fish Bowl. Helen bought them on the way home from work (she had visited more clients later in the day) and each bowl contains salad, rice, noodles, tofu, fish, you decide what you want, and the ‘normal’ size bowl is plenty for me. In fact, too much: Liesel finished mine!

The strong wind that appeared as if from nowhere, late afternoon, stopped just as suddenly. But we heard it again during the night, but strangely, we didn’t hear the birds that had woken us up the first morning here.

Just a quick note about the musical soundtrack in our car. We’re in the Ns now. The final song we heard when we dropped the car off was Nomad Blood by Martha Tilston. That’s us, that is, we have a bit of nomad blood right now, plus a spot of wanderlust together with the travel bug. Perfect!

Mary, Mathilde and Matilda

When I was growing up, most maps of the world were Mercator Projection. It made the UK look really big and important. Greenland was the same size as Africa. Australia loomed large and pink, the home to an aunt (I later found out there were two aunts and their families) and a place of extreme mystery. In the bottom right hand corner of the map, there was a little pink semi-colon. Later on, we would come to think of New Zealand as Australia’s poor little next-door neighbour.

This, the Land of the Long White Cloud, has hosted entertained us for two months, and we love it. Everywhere we go, the views are stunning, the Sun is in the sky: why oh why would I wanna be anywhere else? Yes, we missed Lily Allen in concert in Auckland last weekend, but the song must have been in the air somehow.

View over Coromandel Harbour towards Auckland

Our final three days in New Zealand are coming to an end. As ever, we know we’re moving on very soon and we know we’ll be homesick for the old place for a short while. This, despite the rain. Yes, it actually rained over night and into the day. But people have been talking about a drought here and we even saw the unusual spectacle of a golf course where the greens had been allowed to turn brown.

We returned to Coromandel Town, partly because that’s where the nearest Post Office is located, inside a supermarket and sharing its counter with a bank. Also, it’s the only way to visit Thames: there aren’t many roads to choose from.

On the way, we saw a whole flock of oystercatchers on a beach. Beaches on this, west, side of the Peninsula are mainly rocks and stones, whereas those on the east side have all been sandy.

We had lunch in Thames at a place run by a couple from Melbourne.

We’ll get to the real Melbourne very soon.

I had to see the River Thames, so named by James Cook because it reminded him of London’s River Thames. It was wide and had water in it, but there was nothing like a St Paul’s Cathedral next to it, nor a QE2 Bridge over it.

Probably the worst picture of a river ever taken, from a moving car on a bridge

We decided to drive back home continuing in an anti-clockwise direction around the Peninsula. One of the main attractions here is the high point, The Pinnacles. We saw these high, almost vertical rocks from a distance but because of the road conditions, we weren’t able to get too close. There are plenty of walking and hiking trails, some of which take several hours, or even days. The old kauri forest would have been a fantastic sight, can’t wait to see the newly planted trees in a couple of thousand years time.

On the other hand, the view from one pull-out (layby) was obscured by trees which I thought was slightly ironic.

Sometimes, I’m quick enough to take a photo of an exotic bird, and even though she was driving, Liesel spotted this heron before I did. It watched me watching it but cooperated by not flying away.

We ended up back at our local beach, Whangapoua. As we did the following day. The weather conditions could not have been more different for our two visits.

We walked along the beach and made friends with a dotterel and her two chicks. They’re very wary of people (quite right) but they have no speed between standing still and running at 90mph: even the baby!

This Island still looks more like a whale to me than a lump of pumice, but as they didn’t invite me to join the naming committee, I guess we’re stuck with Pungapunga.

Pungapunga Island should be Whale Island

I was hoping to make some new friends at New Chum Beach. I waded through the Pungapunga River as it flowed across the beach, that was OK. Not so good were the rocks that formed the route to Wainuiototo, especially as I was wearing flip-flops. I tried going barefoot, but the rocks were round and a bit slippery. New Chum Beach will have to wait until next time.

Rocky path to New Chum Beach, Wainuiototo

On the way back, I was pleased to bump into my old friend, the dotterel chick from yesterday.

There were a few people swimming in the sea… well, being bumped about by the waves. But one guy was having a great time kite-surfing.

And we found out what happened to the ozone layer above New Zealand. The kite-surfer was using it.

After walking the length of the beach and back, I found this lady sitting on the beach.

On request, I went to the local shop to buy us ice lollies. It’s got to the time now where we’re trying to spend all our New Zealand coins.

We drove back to the b&b for the final time, unloaded everything from the car, wondered how we’re going to fit it all into our bags and moved on to something else.

One thing we miss in the car is Billy Connelly’s voice coming from the GPS (satnav). The Google lady gets it wrong sometimes, getting her left and right mixed up sometimes. One place she took us to was totally wrong too. When required, Billy tells us to do a U-turn when we can. Google just recalculates a whole new route, which might entail a U-turn eventually, but it might be a long way off.

Music news coming up… not for everyone.

One more thing we won’t do before we leave NZ is to reach the end of the music on my device, which we’re still playing in alphabetical order by song title. No Zs before the end of NZ.

We’re in the Ms right now but should make significant progress tomorrow on our nearly 3-hour drive to drop the car off at Auckland Airport.

The first few Ks were all Hawaiian, Ka something. Ms include Mary, Mathilde and Matilda. We’ve had some surprise Christmas songs too, which I’d forgotten were there: Let it Snow, Let it Snow and Mele Kalikimaka for example. Four, yes, four different versions of Life on Mars? were followed by Life on the Moon!

We need a wider selection: we have no Crowded House, to name but one kiwi band. And we’re about to split NZ too.