There’s a walking trail from near Nadia’s house to Petone which she hadn’t had the opportunity to try out. I wanted to visit to Petone. Thus our plan for today was hatched. The trail follows the Hutt River, and so is imaginatively named the Hutt River Trail.
I have had a blister on my foot which is both surprising as I have been wearing my boots for some years, and painful, but today it was quite quiet. I have run out of Devil’s Claw tincture which I take for my poorly knee and Nadia has sore ankles.
Nonetheless we set out with high hearts. It’s a shared walking and cycling trail. Quite early on I remarked that it would be great to do on a bike. For me the absolute highlight was seeing a Tui in the tree directly above me. I stared at it, then reached for my camera. Too late, it flew away. There was a nice section through bush, but to be honest, as walks go, it was pretty dull, with little variety to keep us interested. Unsurprising we saw my cyclists than walkers. After 16km we called it a day and took the bus into Petone and a latish lunch.
My lovely Catsitter Birgit sent me a photo of MasterB. It was the first email I opened this morning. My boy looked content and relaxed which is wonderful. The downside was the picture made me immediately homesick. Gosh I am missing my boy.
Over the last two days we have been up and down in Wellington. Yesterday we started at ground level, walking along the harbour. It was Armistice Day, and there was a certain military presence among the shorts and ice creams.
We resisted the kayaks and paddle boards, but stopped to look at sculptures and buildings.
Into the wind
There was evidence of yarn bombing.
Yarn bombed clawed foot
Our meanderings meant we were still in the harbour area at lunchtime, so we sat in the shade near the boathouses and ate our packed lunches.
Honestly, you travel halfway round the globe and you can still meet a Brexiteer. It least it wasn’t Arron Banks, yet another sorry apology for a human being who bankrolled the Leave campaign. Obviously I am not able to watch Channel 4 news here in NZ, but I did see, via Twitter, this man, who does not seem to have the barest acquaintance with truth, being vilely rude to Fatima Manji. Just google Banks Channel 4 news and you can see it too. He accuses Channel 4 news of having an agenda. Yes it does, an agenda to get to the bottom of stories. Banks’ agenda, shamefully assisted by the BBC, is to obfuscate. What has happened to the BBC? I used to be so proud of it. But it has let Banks get away with an interview on the Andrew Marr show so full of inconsistencies it is worse than a leaky sieve.
Fatima Manji remained polite and pleasant throughout Bank’s boorishness for which she must surely deserve an OBE. Most of us would have clocked him. However, anyone watching that encounter who still thought Banks credible or even likeable must have serious issues. And that is frightening, because there seem to be sizeable numbers of people who condone his bullying, even smile upon it. He’s a bad boy of Brexit, a bit of a lad, all right at heart. But he’s not, he’s a nasty nationalist who wouldn’t understand patriotism if it leapt up and bit him. Is this truly the face of my company try’s future? Continue reading →
I’m a day behind already. So I’m doing this while Lyn makes the Scary Stuff for some toddlers who are coming for a very early Halloween experience, and Malc is going to do some weeding before he chops vegetables. We’ve been out and about today, walking down to the beach in Auckland and up to the viewpoint. It was the marathon, so roads were closed to traffic and it was all very quiet. But more of that later. This post is about yesterday, Saturday, or Day Two.
I was early to bed on Friday and slept soundly. I woke around two in the morning and was briefly disorientated. Then more sleep. Bliss to be in a bed, in pyjamas, to sleep in silence not the continuous noise of jet engines.
We breakfasted on steel cut porridge, new to me and very tasty. I had mine made with water as is my preference. The skies were blue. We were unhurried, though there were plans. We were going shopping to a market called La Cigale.
We parked on a steep street. You are spoiled for choice when it comes to steep streets here. At the bottom of the street was a house with a plaque on the railings.
Slender verandah arches
The market was busy. We met people walking away with full bags. I met a little poodle called Ginger who was on duty.
There was a nice choice of veg, and the kale, which I did not photograph, but which Lyn did buy, was beautiful.
The sky has now clouded over and there are just patches of blue in the white, but for most of the day it has felt more like early September than early October. MasterB and I were up betimes, showered, breakfasted, he then went to his new favourite post breakfast spot under the rug in the forecabin, I set to wiping off spider poo, dusting surfaces and vacuuming the floor.
I wondered idly what time Older Nephew would arrive and then thought to turn on my ‘phone to see if he’d messaged me. He had, and arrived shortly after eleven, armed with pizza and cans of lager.
We had to put water into the tank before we could set off. Annoyingly, right at the end of the season, it was empty. I shan’t be back before the spring, ON will be here with two friends to take the boat to the pump out, then drain the water out and winterise her. I realise as I type this we forgot to talk about anti-freeze.
So today we just enjoyed some time on the river which was millpond smooth. A few people turned up at the marina this morning to take their boats out, and we met others on the way to and from Ely. Tomorrow’s forecast is for rain and low temperatures so I am guessing those who were able to take advantage of today’s warmth did so.
We saw a bird I did not photograph with a pink mask at Ely. Three of them in fact. Having consulted all three onboard bird books we have failed to identify what it was. There were the coots and moorhens, mallards and swans, herons, geese and grebes, one sighting of a kingfisher. Some of the calves in the fields are tiny, at least one must have been only a few days old.
MasterB spent the day with us in the forecabin, at first still under the rug, then sitting out and enjoying a fuss, finally in a new citadel of cushions. I am hopeful that he is becoming more confident on our boat trips and maybe by the time he reaches double figures in 2020 may actually socialise with us when we go out.
I have put a few bits and pieces I don’t think I’ll need again in the car, I shall put the front cover on in a couple of hours. Supper is sorted, I know what I’m having from breakfast, the more packing up I can do now, the quicker we’ll be in the morning. The biggest job is stripping the bed then putting dust covers on everything and obviously that has to wait. In some ways it would make sense to go home this evening, and it has crossed my mind. But I think we’ll enjoy our last night afloat of 2018 and drive back to London in the rain.
I am at das Boot with the First Mate (MasterB has been promoted). We are both in the rear cabin, I’m on the director’s chair looking out at the quiet marina, MasterB is purring on the pink fleecy blanket at the end of the bed.
In the field beside us the calves are grazing with their mothers. I got off to photograph some of them. They are so very pretty. One or two were curious but shy. I like to think their mothers recognise me as the woman who uproots sticky weed from my side of the barbed wire fence to give them. Certainly they seem unconcerned by my presence, and do nothing to warn their calves not to speak to me.
I have just watched a master class in feline assertion.
The very cuddly and vocal Manx cat next door whose owner wants him to be an indoor cat was in our garden. Mr Manx is not on the same page as his owner and is making himself known in various gardens.
I didn’t see him at first. I chanced to look out of the window and saw Hartley and his brother Smudge, side by side in identical postures; crouched, focused, silent; watching, I thought, potential prey just out of my sight behind the bike shed.
Then Mr Manx strolled into view. He barely glanced at the brothers, just continued a relaxed perambulation. A game of feline grandmother’s footsteps ensued. Romeo appeared from the direction of my car. Three to one: Mr Manx’s prospects did not look promising. MasterB joined me at the window, and I do hope he took due and careful note of what happened next. Continue reading →
This morning, before the rain started, I was walking along thinking how nice it would be to see Michèle. I looked across the road, and lo, there she was. She saw me too and we waved at each other before she crossed to my side, and we walked and talked for a few minutes, going into Marks and Spencer where I completely forgot what I wanted to buy, before arranging to meet up on Tuesday evening.
While I was away Cousin, as is her wont, began to probe me about places where I might move. She knows I hanker after a larger home with a private garden for MasterB and myself. How about Cambridge were Older Nephew lives? That’s almost as expensive as London I answered, and logged on to RightMove to prove my point. And found three properties which would do me, one very well, within my price range.
But do I want to live in Cambridge? I have no idea. The thought of starting again, making friends and contacts with whom I am comfortably at ease is daunting. How long would it be before I would see a Michèle on the other side of the road? I’m not someone who minds her own company; indeed I relish and value my time alone, but choosing to be alone is quite different to not knowing anyone well, not having friends who are companionable, people who share the same values and interests. Continue reading →