Happy Returns

I’ve had some really memorable birthdays over the years, some marking milestones and others just for the sheer audacity of making it through another year unscathed.

The trip to Switzerland in 2000 to celebrate my 30th birthday was one such milestone. How could I forget staring out of the window of a train whilst it climbed slowly up and through a Swiss mountain to Jungfraujoch. Shame it was so foggy and cold at the top. But hey, it was October. Then, upon our arrival back into the UK, we swapped the majestic alps for the tranquil Yorkshire Dales and a birthday celebration with my family.

My 40th was spent with friends in a large farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. I still marvel at the success of that weekend and in particular wonder how-on-earth the delivery driver of our rather large curry order managed to find the house in the pitch black. Especially as, he was quick to point out, he had a phobia about sheep! Killer sheep I presumed at the time but it didn’t seem appropriate to ask.

Then, of course, there was my first birthday in the Spring. How what a difference half a world makes. Basking in the sun certainly made a change from sheltering in the rain, even if I did miss out on our traditional trip to Bellingham.

Then there are other. Others whose details are somewhat lost to the mists of time.....

I have recently unearthed a box of jumbled photos. Well, when I say unearthed, it was actually tucked away at the bottom of a drawer in the study and has been there ever since we left the UK and arrived in New Zealand. Anyway, much to my pleasure, and no doubt my friends horror, I’ve had a truly enjoyable time sifting through this treasure trove of memories and sharing the results on the internet. Although, if I’m being honest, the true enjoyment has been putting some order into the jumbled chaos. I do like a good sort.

So with all of the memorable birthdays mentioned above, quite why I ended up standing in a muddy, ploughed field just outside our hometown of Hartlepool in 1987 on my 17 birthday is a bit of a mystery. I think it had something to do with a treasure hunt or an orienteering challenge, but I’m not really sure. What I do remember, very vividly, is getting Lloyd Cole and the Commotions’ rather fantastic second album Easy Pieces on CD from my parents. It was a good choice for a gift. Not only was it an album that I wanted, but it was the very same one that I had already bought for my Dad’s birthday just a few days later. After all, why buy an album for yourself when you can just buy it a gift and then copy it? I suppose there are worse places to spend your birthday than in a muddy field with friends....which sort of reminds me of all those camping trips we squeezed in before the weather really turned nasty. It’s almost as if by going camping in October we were denying that autumn, and by association, winter was on its way.

As for today? Well the sun is just poking its head over the horizon and today has all the hallmarks of a typical Auckland spring day. A little cool at first then warming to a very pleasant 18 degrees with the chance of some rain later. Of course. Whatever the weather throws at me, I’m sure there’ll be some running involved and perhaps a beer or two with friends. And who knows perhaps I can find a muddy field, just beyond the gaze of the city, to go and stand in and wonder why on this day, some 31 years ago, it seemed such an attractive proposition. 

Cheers!

The View from Over Here

Wow! Being back in blighty after a few years’ absence is a weird feeling, part excitement and part apprehension in equal measure. I wasn’t sure quite what I’d think of the place but was keen to find out. It has, after all, been a tumultuous period for the UK. So, although not strictly a blog from New Zealand, here are my observations (in no particular order) on being back in the UK;

Scenery

It has been said, on more than one occasion, that New Zealand is one of the most beautiful countries on the planet. And it is stunning; from sub-tropical beaches to snow-capped mountains. But I had forgotten just how wonderful the British countryside is. My short walk along Hadrian’s Wall brought this back into focus; rolling green fields, stone walls, gentle babbling brooks, copse covered hills and jutting escarpments. Sublime.

And whilst we’re on the topic of the great outdoors, a nod has to go to the weather. I thought the British weather was usually a washout, especially this close to Autumn. At least that’s how I remember it. But so far it’s been on its best behaviour. High five!

Football.... real Football!

Ahh, association football! Where have you been? Yes I know that we’ve just had the World Cup and with that an opportunity to see some live games, but there is something to be said for being able to casually watch some coverage without having to get up in the middle of the night. It’s a whole lot better to watch a match fully awake and with a beer at your side. Unless of course you happen to be watching Middlesbrough. In which case the beer helps but being awake probably doesn’t. Of course I’m only joking......

The Long Mile

Stop being bloody awkward and adopt the kilometre will you! Or at least be consistent. It’s not big or clever having some signs in miles and others in kilometres. Besides, you went metric decades ago so why the unhealthy obsession with miles? 

It’s no fun when you’re a runner being told on a signpost that there’s only ‘1’ left to go to your destination only to remember that it will mean miles and not kilometres. You actually feel like you’re making progress when you’re counting down kilometres. Yes, I understand that there are more of them to count down but it just feels better. Come on, you know it makes sense. And that reminds me.....

Where’s the Fire?

Why is everyone in such a rush to get where it is they’re going? Is there some existential race that everyone has entered without telling me? On the short journey from the airport I was genuinely surprised by the speed and ferocity with which cars passed. I was half expecting to look in my rear view mirror and see a T-Rex stomping down the A1. 

And it wasn’t just limited to the highway. Even on foot, in supermarkets or in the high street, everyone seems to have a determination to get where they’re going in a short a space of time as possible. Listen, and I say this from a position of deepest respect.....it’s not a race. Slow down, you’ll feel a lot better I promise!

Automatic for the People

What is it with manual gears in cars? After over four years of driving various forms of automatic shifting cars from little compacts to Toyota Hiluxes I can honestly say I’ve embraced this advancement in automotive technology. Yes advancement. Why on earth wouldn’t you? And don’t give me that “it’s not proper driving” line. Of course it is, and besides, maybe if you had one less thing to do whilst driving you’d have more time to devote to more useful operations such as.....of, I don’t know.... the indicators? Just a thought. 

Money, money, money

What on earth has happened to the money? I got some cash from an ATM and it seems to have a life of its own. I have tried folding it, squashing it and pressing it under heavy books only to see my efforts undone within seconds as the bloody stuff springs back open. I foolishly tried to contain the cash it in my wallet only to have it nearly take out an eye when I opened it to pay for some drinks. It’s certainly feisty stuff so thank goodness for the rise in popularity of contactless payment. Not only is it more convenient and reduces the need to carry around tonnes of metal coins, it will also reduce the number of visits to A&E and make the job of bar tending a far less hazardous occupation.

And If You Know Your History

In all fairness, I hadn’t forgotten that the UK has some pretty spectacular historical buildings, but it did take a walk along the aforementioned wall to remind me just how much of it abounds. There’s so much of it’s almost embarrassing. I came across an old stone cattle trough that was being used as .....well a cattle trough. In other countries it would be taken away and preserved in a museum as a national treasure and not used as a means to distribute food to animals.

York, one of the stops  on my itinerary, dates back to 71AD but it is believed that people inhabited this area as far back as 8000BC. Faced with those set of numbers, it’s no surprise that one can become a little blasé about history. It’s just sort of here, there and everywhere.

Suds

If there is one single startling difference between the two counties, it’s probably the preference for the temperature of the popular alcoholic refreshment. In New Zealand there appears to be a competition to see quite how cold the beer can be served. From super-chilled beer to refrigerated glasses, no stone has been left unturned in the quest to get the liquid to as close to freezing as possible. The UK, on the otherhand, seems quite amenable to hardly bothering to cool the drink at all. Why go to the expense and faff of refrigeration when people are perfectly happy quaffing it at room temperature? 

At the risk of being ostracised from my homeland, I much prefer my beer to be served with a slight chill, although not so cold as to risk throatal-frostbite, and a few bubbles didn’t harm anyone. If  you’d asked me four years ago what my preference was, I’d have quickly told you that beer should be at room temperature and definitely not have any fizz. But four years of living in New Zealand has changed that, well slightly anyway. Besides, flat beer served at room temperature just wouldn’t cut it in a Kiwi summer.

And here’s the thing, there’s no right or wrong - it’s just a matter of personal preference. Taste if you like. 

Trains not Planes or Automobiles

Well would you look at that! What a great idea...and it might just catch on. I’d forgotten just how great it is to be able to travel by train. I’m mean proper travel and not just scooting around a city. Actually getting on in one town and then being whisked to the centre of another. New Zealand does, of course, have trains but not what you’d call a train service. Yes you can get on a train in Auckland and travel to the capital Wellington, as long as you’re prepared to devote the whole day to the journey and don’t mind not coming back until Thursday.

I’m sure that there is still plenty to complain about but at least you’ve got something to complain about, if you catch my drift. 

Brexit

I couldn’t leave a blog about being back in the UK without mentioning the unmentionable. When the result of the vote was announced, the view from New Zealand was one of bemusement. A bit like being the only sober person at a party and watching in disbelief and puzzlement as one if your friends gets riotously drunk and proceeds to tell everyone in the room exactly what they think of them.

Being closer to the action, as it were, hasn’t helped and if anything the situation looks even more chaotic up close with neither Party being able to decide what it was that the population actually voted for. I deeply suspect it wasn’t this. There isn’t long now to sort out whatever it is that needs to be sorted - and the list is getting longer by the day - so it’s going to be interesting watching it unfold, albeit from a safe distance!

It has been a genuine pleasure to be back and I’ve enjoyed every minute of my all-too-brief visit. It’s been great to be reminded of things that I’d forgotten, to see what’s been going on in my absence and check out all the changes. But one thing that hasn’t changed is the welcome I received from family and friends. Within moments of meeting, the four years of absence melted away and we picked up exactly where we left off. And, at the risk of sounding mawkishly sentimental, that is what the UK really means to me. It’s a place where I can go, no matter where I’ve been or for how long, and know that I’ll be met with open arms. 

Right, that’s enough of that! I’ve got a flight to catch and in only twenty eight hours time I’ll be back in NZ. Easy as!

The Long Not-So-Good Night

It you thought it was a long way to Tipperary, then it just takes a journey from New Zealand to the UK to put that into perspective. Tipperary, no matter how far it is proclaimed to be is a walk in the park. And a relatively short walk at that.

Although I apologise for the seemingly whiney tone of this entry, especially in light of just how lucky I am to be able to just decide to hop on a plane and head home for a week or two, it’s something that I have to share. There are some out there who will have experienced this particular itinerary, but for those who haven’t, or are contemplating it, read on.

If a 28 hour journey seems daunting, then good. It should be. Just a relatively short time ago, a trip such as this would’ve taken months and would’ve consumed a families life savings. In other words a one-way trip of necessity. Air travel, on the otherhand, is much more forgiving and less life threatening. But I guess everything is relative. 

I certainly wasn’t feeling over-positive when I boarded my first flight yesterday evening, a simple four hour hop across the ditch to Melbourne. So far so easy. But it wasn’t that journey that was bothering me. Nope it was the next leg of the journey. A butt-numbing 14 hour slog from Melbourne to Dubai then, for deserts, after a short two hour stop in Dubai another seven-and-a-half hour final leg to Newcastle. 

In theory, sitting in a chair watching movies or binging on box sets whilst you are served food and beverages seems like an ideal way to spend some down-time. Ordinarily, particularly after the last twelve months I’ve had, I would’ve snapped your hands off. But no thank you. Not this time. Not in this way. You see it’s not the time, once you get your head around the idea, that’s easy. Nor is it the surroundings because that doesn’t really matter. It’s the darkness. The seemingly endless night. 

That’s one of the major downsides to travelling east to west, the sun never seems to rise.  It was dark when we took off from Melbourne at 8:30pm and remained so for the rest of the fourteen hour journey. God knows what it’s done to my body clock - we’re not only 90 minutes out from Newcastle and the sun is shining. Broad daylight. I think it’s Thursday lunchtime, or at least that’s when were due to land. Or as I prefer to call it, Friday morning, as that’s what time it is in New Zealand. Conventional wisdom says that you should try and convince yourself that it is the time it actiually is in your destination. That’s great advice except my body clock isn’t listening. Doesn’t care. It wants me to sleep evening though its broad daylight and, judging from experience, it will equally expect me to rise from my well-deserved slumber at some god forsaken hour tomorrow. 

Listen to me go on about the perils of long-haul air travel. What a knob and yes, I’d be the first to admit it. Actually I think I just did! 

The Importance of Being Idle

As first days on the dole go, yesterday was pretty good. How I came to be unemployed for the first time in my working life is the subject of a whole separate blog. But let's just say it was time to move on.

Waking up on a Monday morning knowing that you were not expected to go to work, not today or the following and not on holiday, was a strangely liberating feeling. Free to do what you want to do and go where you want to go. Admittedly that liberating feeling lasted all of two hours and then was quickly replaced with blind panic. What had I done? Was I stupid? Who on earth quits a job without having something else to replace it? How on earth was I going to fill my day? And what about those that stretched out into eternity before my very eyes? Holy crap!

At least the sun was shining. A whole day to fill with something meaningful. The possibilities were endless, as long as it didn't cost too much money. There was only one thing for it. Running.

A quick run around the park wasn't going to do it - that was far too convenient and would be over too quickly. No, I would have to make a bigger gesture than that, something that I couldn't ordinarily do without taking time off work. There was only one thing for it - catch a ferry somewhere and run back towards the city.

So that is how I found myself at the ferry terminal in the city in the middle of the rush hour, but heading in the opposite direction to everyone else. Whilst dozens streamed off the 08:35am Half Moon Bay service, only three of us boarded; me, a retired bloke and a housewife. Not that I know any of this as fact but why let the truth get in the way of a snap judgement. At least now I knew what retired people do with their days - travelling around on public transport, drinking tea and wandering around doesn't seem like a bad way to spend some time. I could get used to that.....except I couldn't. I'm not very good at being idle. Sure I can play at it for an hour or two but it's just not me. And when I do give it a go, I might look like I'm doing very little but inside my mind is whirring. At bit like a duck - all looks pleasantly calm and serene on the surface but underneath my proverbial legs as going like the clappers.

Speaking of which, that is exactly what would be happening in just over ten minutes. Half Moon Bay wharf was quickly approaching which meant that my run back to the city was almost about to start.

It was only after a few minutes of running that I accepted that I wasn't going to make it all the way back to our house. Earlier in the morning I had been flirting with the idea of completing the whole 30km run, albeit at a relatively slow pace, but the effects of the previous day's run and the training session the day before that were making themselves known. Tired legs. Not something that helps when starting a long run.

But what a wonderful day to be out. Although the sun was still low in the sky, there was sufficient heat to make me regret not wearing a lighter top. Nothing I could do about that now, time to press on. The path alongside the bay was relatively quiet with only a few people out walking dogs, pushing prams and generally taking in the fresh almost-spring air. With the tide being out, and particularly low, some boats gently swayed in the breeze whilst others  lay on the sea bed at a jaunty angle, waiting for the tide to come in and put them on an even keel.

It took a good 5km or so for my legs to ease up but once they did I was in my element. Running without a particular timetable and with stunning coastal scenery to help drive me along. There's no better way, or none that I have found, than running to help organise ones thoughts, put things into perspective and illuminate a way through the fog.

Not that there was much fog. Within an hour the temperatures has hit their usual winter mid-teens and I was beginning to regret not bringing any water on the journey, instead opting to use the drinking fountains that were scattered along the route. Expect they weren't where I remember them being and far too spread out. Blast!

I'd like to think that it was the lack of hydration and not lack of fitness that caused me to cut the run short but I rather think it was the latter. Well that, and the fact that I had just passed a very nice looking cafe which oozed home-baked aromas onto the footpath. What the heck, I'd covered nearly 20km and it was getting towards lunch time.....or at least well into the elevenses hour! Coffee and cake it was then.

What a way to spend your life. If every day was like this; a leisurely breakfast, a long run in the sunshine and refreshments at a local cafe I'd be as fit as a fiddle. Who knows what I could achieve. Maybe finally break the four hours for a marathon time, how about an ultra or having a seroious crack at a triathalon? Providing the cake wasn't too large of course. I was just contemplating this when my phone made the all-too-familiar noise. An email had arrived. Ah well, might as well see who on earth can be contacting me at this time. It certainly can't be work related I mused, unless they'd lasted a whole two hours without having to call me to help them out.

Oh! And there before me, on the sun dappled screen was the antidote to my endless leisure time.....a job offer. Ah well. Thank goodness I hadn't gotten too used to this lackadaisical life. The Olympics would have to wait, there was work to do.

Island Time

Well this is a first - writing a blog in the back seat of a car whilst being driven through the countryside of Fiji. Firstly, I must say that I’m really pleased to not be called upon to drive. Having experienced it a few days earlier, driving in Fiji is more akin to Russian roulette than a mode of transport.

If the fact that the roads seem to be made of a series of potholes and patches isn’t enough to make the journey super-exciting, then the randomly placed speed bumps, narrow bridges, wandering livestock, lumbering sugar cane trucks with overhanging loads resulting in suicidal overtaking manoeuvres surely will. It’s an experience that makes you really appreciate the safe driving in New Zealand, relatively speaking that it as regular readers of this blog will know just how I feel about that! It seems that I have been far too hard on the standard of driving in New Zealand. Really Fiji, do you think that a blind bend is really the best place to overtake? Those solid lines down the middle of the road are there for a reason and are not an invitation to put your life, and those of your fellow travellers, at risk. Where are you going that necessitates gaining a few dozen metres by passing before the brow of a hill?

With the passing of each village, some more ramshackle than others but all with bursting with life; people working in the fields, classrooms full of children eager to learn, women washing clothes in the rivers and shops selling all manner of essential items, we edge closer to Nadi airport. It’s slow going as each kilometre is hard-won and I’m not entitelry convinced that I will get there with my internal organs in the same place they were when we left our resort ninety minutes ago. I’m sure it’ll be fine - everything seems to be functioning correctly so far!

We’ve enjoyed another relaxing five days in a coastal resort - the sort of relaxation that only a pacific island can deliver. With each passing day, time seems to slow just that little bit more as timetables and commitments are replaced by a resort routine. And what a routine it is; a swim in the warm ocean followed by a buffet breakfast, lazing by the pool whilst reading a book and allowing time for the food to settle before venturing to the beach for some snorkelling. Another rest and then early afternoon cocktails (complete with ‘stolen’ muffins from the buffet). Just time then for a sleep before more cocktails and then the evening meal. Smashing. That isn’t to say that there’s no variation. Don’t fancy snorkelling?  Well how about kayaking, tennis, pétanque or just a plain old swim? All served under a gentle Fijian sun with a warmth that is neither too cool to make you wish you’d brought a jumper nor feels like it’s trying to rip the skin right off your body. A goldilocks temperature if you like.

The slow pace of life, easy access to food and alcohol has taken it’s toll as the button on my shorts will attest. But it’s been worth it - it’s been a tough few months and a few days in the sunshine and warmth have recharged the batteries. 

But that’s literally behind us. In a few hours we’ll be heading back to New Zealand and landing in the mountain resort of Queenstown. It’s going to be an interesting contrast swapping bright Fijian sun for the darkness of a South Island winter. I might regret only wearing a t-shirt, shorts and sandals but I couldn’t quite bring myself to pull on a pair of jeans and closed-toe shoes just yet. My plan is to tough it out as we only have a short time outside in the cold between the airport buildings and the car rental office. I’ve promised myself not to yelp too loudly about the cold, besides I know exactly where my socks, shoes and padded jacket are should I need them - right next to me in my hand luggage!

Random Notes from a Small Island

There's been so much going on recently so rather than concentrate on one topic, something that I find increasingly difficult anyway, I thought I'd write up a smorgasbord of events in this blog. And apologies for any Norwegian readers if I mispronounced that. Not that you could have heard it of course. But in my defence, in my head it sounds right. Any-road-up lets get on with the roundup;


Running is Not Supposed to be a Contact Sport
It seems strange that I should even have to write that - surely it is obvious to everyone - but judging by an experience this week seemingly not.

After a particularly heavy bout of man flu, complete with snotty nose and everything, I decided that I was well enough to restart my running schedule. Not that it is much of a schedule in the winter - I just sort of run whenever the weather permits. Which in Auckland means when its not raining. After a particularly hilly 8km I passed the local superette and picked up some bacon and eggs for dinner. Admittedly it was not a particularly adventurous menu but after a weekend of fairly heavy and fancy food it was time to get back to basics. And what better way than with a simple serving of British breakfast food. Only in the evening. Nevertheless it was going to be lovely and I happened to know that there was a fresh bottle of HP Sauce to compliment the offerings. Smashing.

I was still in the middle of these culinary thoughts when I started down the hill towards home, grocery bag gently swaying with the now lopsided rhythm of my running. I was about to cross a side street when an ex-NZ Post van swung into the road in front of me and promptly stopped, blocking the whole of the dropped-kerb crossing.

"How unthoughtful!" I muttered to myself, "or maybe they will realise and move"

Just as those thoughts left my consciousness, the driver extinguished his headlights. He was there to stay. Not wanting to run behind the vehicle - this would have put me in the running lane of the main road - I started around the front of the van.....just as the driver realised that he probably wasn't in the best spot after all and decided to set off again down the street. Forwards.

The van hit my right shoulder with enough force to knock me off my feet and onto the deck.

It's assuring to know that even in the midst of an unexpected encounter with a old postal van my first thoughts were not of self preservation but instead whether I had landed on the eggs. I'm not sure who was more shocked, me or the driver. I'd like to think that it was me but I rather expect that after unleashing a fair barrage of anglo-saxon phrases it'll be the driver who needs comforting.

Although I'd rather avoid being hit by motorised vehicles in the future, it was a useful encounter. Not only did it remind me to be more careful around drivers in New Zealand whilst running, but I now know that if I'm ever in another life threatening event it won't be my life that will pass before my eyes but the ingredients of my next meal!


You Just Gotta Love this Place
Earlier this year I became yet anther person to succumb to wearing wearable tech. Yup, I bought an Apple Watch. I can't excuse it and it just sort of happened. I did think that by now, six months later, the novelty would have worn off. But not a bit and it's usually the first thing I reach for when I wake up. I won't go into details but is there nothing that this watch can't do?

We actually there is......stay on your wrist! For those who aren't familiar with that particular piece of equipment, the strap doesn't clasp shut but instead has a press-to-close fastening. This is great and a very neat way to close the strap but it did lead me to wonder what will happen when the strap is unfastened and fastened hundreds of times?

All was well with the strap until a recent visit to the pizza parlour. I guess it could've been any establishment and what followed had nothing to do with mozzarella and tomato, but just in case it's worth a mention. I was just heading back home with two steaming pizza pies when I noticed that my wrist was a little lighter.

"Shite! My watch", I exclaimed whilst desperately patting my pockets in hope.

But it was in vain - my watch has somehow disappeared from its resting place. With panic setting in at the thought of having lost a valuable piece of technology, I quickly made a mental map of my steps. Had I checked the time in the pizza place? I think I had. I must have. I was going to have to retrace my steps and it was the last place I'd been in - I just hoped that it hadn't disappeared between there and where I now stood, slightly nauseous at the thought of the expense that might now be lying somewhere in a gutter.

Just as I was half way across the pedestrian crossing, two teenagers looked at me. I guess it was the sight of me rushing back to the pizza place with pizzas in my arms that lead them to ask if I had just lost a watch.

I admitted that yes I had and yes I was an idiot

"No problem bro - we gave it to the woman in the pizza place"

And indeed they had. As soon as I walked back through the doors the woman at the counter held out her hand and hanging there was my watch. In one piece. Including the useless strap. Sometimes its easy to forget that New Zealand does things a little differently. Elsewhere I'm sure the watch wouldn't have made it back to me and I'd been left with the decision whether to fork out for a replacement.

Since that incident I'm much more careful and regularly check my wrist for my watch. And every time I do I'm met with the mental image of the disapproving look the woman behind the counter in the pizza place gave me at being so careless with an expensive piece of equipment. And for letting the pizzas go cold!


Personality Goes a Long Way...if You've Got One!
A few weeks ago my manager decided that the whole team needed to take a personality test. I'm not sure why - as far as I was concerned I was certain that I had one. A personality that is. Sure it may not be perfect but show me some who's is.

He was not be to deterred, so last Tuesday we took the Myers-Briggs test and had a career coach help us interpret the results. It took just half an hour to answer the ninety-or-so questions and generate my Myers-Briggs profile of istj. I'll let you go look that up if you're that interested. I'd like to say that it was money well spent but I rather suspect that the organisation wasted their money, well with mine anyway. It really wasn't necessary for a test to tell me that I am prone to organisation, prefer planned events rather than those that are spontaneous and enjoy detail rather than abstract thought.

What was surprise is that the test revealed that I'm the only one in the team with tendancy towards introversion. Given that they're all engineers I find that hard to believe and it leads me to wonder if the test really is all it's cracked up to be.

Either way at least I have hard documentation to prove that I'm in the perfect job, a Project Manager in an engineering organisation. Phew!


So there you have it, a few random thoughts from a fairly eventful week. It was certainly busy but thankfully we're now on holiday for a few weeks. As I sit here and type this we are eagerly awaiting the arrival of family from the UK. It's going to be a blast and whilst I hope not as eventful as getting hit by a van I'm sure there will be lots to write about!

A Night of Two Halves

I’m struggling to remember the last time I voluntarily got up at 2am. I know I have done it because I recognised the feeling straight away; slightly fuzzy head, sore eyes and a general air of bewilderment. It must have been to catch a flight but not for a while and certainly not recently as most of flights from New Zealand leave at more civilised times. Well they might as well because wherever they’re going they’ve got a hell of a long way to go and therefore a lot of time to fill. 

Anyway, this time it wasn’t for a holiday that we set the alarm clock for 01:50am. We may have had bags under our eyes, but there were no bags packed and the only flight we were using was the flight of stairs to the living room (no that wasn’t a stretch of a metephor because our living room really is upstairs!). The World Cup was on and England were playing in their first quarter final in decades. We had a date with destiny....and of course the sofa and a cup of tea.

It’s quite easy to say now that it was all worth it, with England having dispatched Sweden by a comfortable two goals, but it didn’t feel that way as the pre-match analysis segued into the match coverage, streamed courtesy of the BBC. I can now confirm, with first hand experience, that sleep deprivation and in-game punditry don’t go hand in hand, especially as all you really want is soothing music to help you get back to the land of nod. Yet, a large proportion of Auckland slept on, we settled down, tried to clear our heads with a cup of tea and hoped that the football would be worth the effort.

At this point I’d like to go on record and say that had we been living in the UK and a similar situation had presented itself, I very much doubt that we would have risen from our slumber. Not because we appreciate the spectacle any less but because being 12,000km from home gives it a certain amount of focus. It’s almost as if a badge of honour is gained by tuning in at some ungodly hour. After all, when you’re living in a country that obsesses over another form of team game, it’s not a bad thing to remind others that the ‘proper’ World Cup is playing out in a part of the world that isn’t New Zealand and doesn’t involve the All Blacks. I challenge even the most ardent unsupporter of football to do anything less under those circumstances!

As a former colleague of mine was happy to note “hindsight’s and exact science” and I’m writing this from a comfortable position of knowing the game was won and England will be appearing in a World Cup semi final for the first time in 28 years. A time when most of the players hadn’t even been born. Now that’s a sobering thought. Not that any alcohol was drank last night. Well, it was but not since the first half of sleep had taken place. Being drunk in the morning is not a good look whoever you are!

So with the first half of sleep safely under my belt, and I must say it was a commanding performance, and the half time entertainment out of the way, I settled down for the second half. Obviously I was hoping to build on the solid first but as they quite often say (although I’ve never actually heard this) it’s a game of two halves. The second half didn’t start as well as the first. I was restless, slightly cold and didn’t have the same urgency that I greeted the start of the first half with. After ten minutes it was clear that I was going to have to change my tactics....

Time then for the hot water bottle. You can call me a pampered Prima Donna all you like, and there maybe some truth in that, but it did the trick. Now I was properly warmed up I was on a roll and soon drifted into sleep. With added stoppage time at the end of the second half I awoke refreshed and ready to face the challenges of the day. 

Overall, I was pretty happy with my performance over the course of two halves. Maybe I gained too much energy from the first half to have a really successful second? After all, who could keep that level of inactivity up for the whole period? Maybe my choice of halftime refreshments could also do with some analysis - perhaps two cups of tea was just too much? Well there would be time to take a look at that and maybe even another chance to put it into practice....the World Cup Final was just around the corner....and it could be a dream come true!