The first place I saw these ribbons was Otorohanga.
I didn’t know what they signified. Today I saw them again, although much smaller, on trees at Upper Hutt. Continue reading
The first place I saw these ribbons was Otorohanga.
According to my guide book this is Wellington’s alternative quarter, a great people watching place. I realised I was right by it and spent an enjoyable afternoon walking up and down, exploring some of the shops and the side
Havana it ain’t, though some of the colours are reminiscent, but fortunately the buildings look in much better shape than those I saw when I went to Cuba over twenty years ago.
This one is my favourite.
There were a pleasing number of vegetarian and vegan eateries I noted for possible future reference.
It’s not just a home to businesses, there are houses and flats too.
I think I’ll Let the photos do the talking. Continue reading
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.
Some rare things merit the very overused adjective, awesome.
Tane Mahuta is such a one. This tree, dating back some 1200 years, reminds you how insignificant we humans are. The trunk is some six metres across, has a girth of 13.8 metres, and the lowest branches are 18 metres above the ground. You might expect a huge canopy of branches and leaves, but there isn’t one. Tane Mahuta, Lord of the Forest, wants plants at its base, but under the ground its shallow roots spread out in a wide circle.
I have far too many pictures to post them all, but these should give you a flavour of some of our ambles on Monday after I had bought my new shoes, of which more later.
Two notable things about this arch of obvious Maori influence: the lower stones are real stones, the higher ones are made of fibreglass for health and safety reasons; the gate stands at the top of the street which, it’s planned, will eventually be pedestrianised. Nice.
Progress through the airport was remarkably smooth which gave me a good first impression of New Zealand. When I emerged I saw Lyn holding this sign:
The price is the same as last year – £8.50 per calendar, plus postage and packing. This varies according to where you live:
£2.50 for within the UK, £4.50 for Europe, £5.50 for the US and Canada, £6.00 for Australia and New Zealand. Continue reading
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.
The forecast for today was good, so when I woke up to a morning where the thick mist muted the birdsong, I assumed it would burn off in an hour or so and the sun would shine down on das Boot. Breakfast, shower, washing up all accomplished and still no sun, MasterB had retreated to under the rug in the forecabin, placed on the seating to protect the upholstery from cats’ claws. So I kept my layers on, turned on the car heater and set off on my travels.
Nial and Jan met me at the cemetery. We were all armed with gardening tools, and I had a selection of bulbs. The chrysanthemum I had planted on my father’s grave had vanished, but at Aunt’s more extensive plot (Dad was cremated, so it’s just a small marker stone showing where his ashes were buried) we were pleasantly surprised to find quite a few plants were flourishing. So many in fact that quite a few of the bulbs will be coming back to London with me, even after planting a clutch of them on Dad’s grave.
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.