I Want to Ride My Bicycle

You don’t really know a city until you have seen it for the seat of a bicycle. Or at least that’s what people tell me. And when I say people I actually mean cyclists. And when I say cyclists I actually mean keen cyclists. 

I’ve certainly seen a fair but more of this fair city recently. You see February was Bike Auckland Challenge month in which like minded souls tried to convince those less minded to get out on two wheels and roll out those miles. Or in the case of New Zealand, kilometres. And kilometres means points. And naturally points add up to a team score and at the end of the month the points are tallied and the team  with the most points wins. Or at least that’s the theory.

It’s all of course friendly and non-competitive . Except it’s not. I know you will find this hard to believe, but I became a little bit obsessed. Not too much, just a healthy obsession. So it became routine each morning to log on and scrutinise the points table and wondering how on earth an obscure team had a managed to jump above us in the table. I mean, they weren’t even close yesterday. Had they been riding overnight? Heck, they weren’t even engineers! How was it even possible? Maybe someone in our team wasn’t pulling their weight. Yes that must be it! Slackers. Who was it? Hang on a minute, that team there has ringers in it. How could an employee have done 180km in one day? Who were they - Chris Froome? Let’s check their Strava account..... hey, they’re not even based in Auckland. That’s not on. Deep breath..... Better have a cup of tea and a lie down. Wait, I’m already in bed. Phew that was a close shave.

And so on it went, throughout February. 

As it turns out, it was really good timing for me - I picked up an injury in December that prevented me from partaking in my normal running routine. Actually I’m not being entirely honest there - I didn’t pick up an injury as such. Rather I ignored an ache in my foot, figuring that it would go away. After all isn’t the best course of action for an injury to keep doing the thing that probably caused it in the first place! Exactly.

To cut a long story short, a niggle in December became an ache in January, and eventually an ache became a pain. Pretty soon no amount of Neurofen was enough to mask the searing pain I felt whenever I put my foot down on the ground. Which as it turns out is quite a lot. Who knew?

So I was told to rest up. And this time I knew my physio meant it. Not like the last time when I assumed when my physio said stop running for a few weeks they actually meant run less.... for a day or two.

Thankfully cycling wasn’t ruled out...or at least they didn’t tell me that it was. But then again I didn’t ask - it’s a lot easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.  

Boy does cycling take up a lot of time. Whereas a short 5k run can give you a quick and vital fitness top-up in less than thirty minutes, you have to comitt a full hour or so on two wheels to get the same benefit. 

And it’s not just that. Whereas a run is a great time to switch off and put things into perspective, try that in a bike in a city and you’ll soon be swapping switching off for checking out. Sheesh car drivers are ignorant. On the plus side, it really helps develop a kind of sixth sense and just trying to figure out what on earth is going to happen next becomes all encompassing. Where a gentle roll down a hill should be a time to relax and take in the scenery, instead it’s a tense time. As the speed picks up, so does the risk of something unforeseen happening.

Take just last week. I was travelling down Onehunga Mall at a relatively relaxed pace, eyes scanning the road head, and well away from the parked cars with doors that suddenly open. One risk avoided. A cross roads intersection was next. A van and car were waiting patiently on each of the side roads to let me pass..... except ahhh no. The driver of the white car decided that I wasn’t really there and proceeded to cross the intersection. Right in front of me. It all happened it slow motion, even though it was anything but. Travelling at 40kph in shorts and a thin top through traffic really does focus ones attention. The sudden emergence of a car into my path was a problem.....

There is a temptation to overstate the danger, especially when it’s a shock such as this, but I knew it was bad because the driver of the van put his hands to his eyes and mouthed fu....well you can imagine. There was nothing else for it. I slammed the brakes on....

At this point it’s worth mentioning that road bike brakes are, well, piss poor. Or at least they are unless you have disc brakes fitted. Which I didn’t. And the thin and large wheels don’t make for great manoeuvrabilityx So I slid sideways. Thankfully my years of mountain biking, and before that BMX, has given me reasonable bike handling skills. I used the skid to my advantage and slid behind the car as it crossed my lane and went on it’s way, the driver oblivious to the distress and potential death they had nearly caused. Meanwhile, the guy in the van dropped his hands and I like to think watched in awe as I skilfully averted the distater. 

Close shaves aside, I've actually grow to like cycling again and get a kick out of planning just where I’ll ride next and how far. And I’m getting better. Where once 20km was a typical distance, I’m regularly knocking out 80km. I’m not particularly fast but you don’t get points for speed. Far is better than fast in Bike Auckland Challenge month. And even if speed points were up for grabs, why rush? Auckland is such a beautiful place to roll around. And besides, there’s always next month to pick up the pace.....

Bug Bears

I’ve got a theory......

When you arrive somewhere new, it’s only natural to seek out the familiar - something that you can relate to and ground yourself in your new surroundings.

For some it’s a familiar food, for others it’s a television or radio programme. Whatever gets you through the day. Just a little bit of something to keep you on your upright axis. After a while, and how long will depend upon the strangeness of your environment, you start to compliment your old familiar favourites with new sounds, smells, tastes and experiences. Then, without you even realising it, you have a whole new set of familiar things and have grounded yourself in your new environment. You’ve got a brand new comfort zone.

I know this to be true because it happened to us. Little by little we started to appreciate the new the things around us as we slowly adjusted and settled in to our new surroundings. It could be the way certain destinations were announced on the train each morning or the odd beep that New Zealand pedestrian crossings make. These things slowly began to become familiar and intertwine with our everyday lives.

All of which is a rather elaborate, long winded and no doubt unnecessary way of introducing you to the Bug Bears. Shortly after we arrived, NZ Bus began running an ad campaign on their fleet to promote more considerate travel. I can’t comment on whether it was an effective campaign as we didn’t see behaviours before, but it certainly had an influence on us. Not that we were particular unsociable bus passengers, at least we don’t think we were, but it became a welcome sight as we travelled around our new city.

Settling down into our favourite seat - doesn’t everyone have one of those? - the first thing we looked for was the Bud Bear poster. Which Bug Bear would we see today? Would it be a new character or an old familiar? How many others could we name? Well is passed the time anyway.

Then, without warning, they were gone. Replaced without ceremony with a new campaign. I’d like to think that we cared. But we hardly even noticed. We’d moved on and found new things to become old things. 

Gone but not forgotten, so here for prosperities sake are the Bug Bears......

Bloody Ray and his aisle blocking antics! Move down the bus and let other people on. Evidently, aisle blocking is a thing but is not something that I saw a lot of, and even if it was, does it deserve to be number 1? I seriously doubt it. Which takes us to.....

Now this, I can relate to. There is absolutely no excuse for dropping stuff in the bus only to leave your fellow,passengers fuming as an empty can rolls up and down the floor of the bus. Do us a favour Lenny and sort yourself out. Put your mess in a bin when you get off the bus - you can’t miss it - it’s the one that has been conveniently placed right opposite the bus door when you get off. You know, the one that you almost always walk into....

Freddy is just a slob. Princess drool for the bus travelling age, no doubt content is his laid back and nonchalant attitude at the expense of everyone else. Again, not something that was prevalent so maybe it was a preemptive strike?

Now this.....this.....should’ve been way up top. Number 1. Prime spot. In some ways it’s comforting to know that Barney is the same the world over. Or Bertie or Belinda for that matter. Yes it’s great to get a double seat to yourself, but not when others need the seat. Looking out of the window and trying to pretend that you haven’t noticed what’s going on doesn’t let you off the hook. Maybe we should instigate the German beer keller tradition and start sitting on the knees of Barney?



Don’t stuff your face Marvin! It’s rude and a little unpleasant. Actually not really a thing, or at least I don’t think so, but it was obviously important enough for NZ Bus to warn us about. It does remind me of a trip I once took in Greece. But that involved fish and high humidity so let’s leave that for another day.



It’s a bit unfortunate that NZ Bus chose a female bear for this one. After all we’re all guilty of this particular bug bear. But why let a little bit of sexism get in the way of s good chuckle. 

OMG Jase! What are you playing at? Get you head off that poor guy’s lap! Again this is not something that I have experienced in Auckland so maybe it’s confined to the late night buses - I like to be tucked up by ten. There has been occasions when I’ve nodded off, especially after a few beers in the afternoon, but I’m pretty sure it will only have been a close friend that I drooled on. Or at least I think so....

Now this really bugs me. It’s not the noise that gets on my goat, not that you can have a goat in downtown Auckland, but instead it’s the hint of a song. As soon as I hear the faintest hint of a song I immediately try and figure out what it is, who recorded it and in what year. Mind you, even If it was played at normal volume I’d probably struggle these days. Speaking of volume, just how loud does music have to be before your ears start to bleed? Just asking. 

Yuk! Pete stinks! Actually, I have a confession to make. I may be Pete. You see on at least one occasion I have boarded a bus on the way back from a run, dripping in sweat and grateful for a lift home. I have tried to minimise the pong by sitting away from everyone else and not leaning back on the seat but I’m not sure this was enough. In fact I know this wasn’t enough. It’s generally been okay at the start, as the bus was empty, but I can only apologise for anyone getting on at later stops. Sorry. I’d like to say it won’t happen again but I rather fear that it might.

I still wonder why they stopped at Number 9. Surely that could be found at least one more. Ten is a much more acceptable number. So NZ Bus, if you looking for inspiration and a reason to bring back the campaign here’s a few from me;

No Hop Henry - why is it that some people refuse to embrace the cashless system for bus travel in Auckland? It’s not difficult. After a small and modest outlay for the card you save heaps every time you travel. And being a tourist is no excuse either. We have similar cards for other cities in Asia Pacific and it’s so much easier than holding up a bus full of people whilst you rummage around for the correct change. 

Single Door Sally - buses have two doors for a reason. You get on at the front and off at the rear door. Trying to get off through the front door whilst others board the bus is just plain stupid. And holds up the bus.

Lost Lionel - Here’s a tip for you Lionel. Bus drivers aren’t tour guides. Getting on the bus and asking directions is not a cool thing to do. New Zealand is a very friendly place so rather than annoy a bus load of people and distract someone who is trying to keep to a timetable just ask someone in the street. Chances are they will know exactly where you are looking for and may even offer to take you there. 

So there you have it, The Bug Bears. Out and not-so-proud. Right there me, I’m off to catch a bus to town. It’s a shame the bears won’t be there to keep me company on my short journey. Perhaps they will. In fact No Hop Henry is almost certain to make an appearance....

The Age of the Train?

There was a time when stepping onto an aeroplane was a big deal. Something special and a real treat at the start of a big holiday. In fact, it was so special that it wasn’t until well into my adult life that I actually became airborne. It’s not that there wasn’t air travel back in my formative years - there was - but it just wasn’t the done thing. Well not in Hartlepool anyway.

For example, when presented with the opportunity for a lads two-week extravaganza in Spain we eschewed air travel and opted instead for the bus.....sorry Executive Coach. So instead of arriving in Salou fully refreshed after a three hour flight, we arrived 36 hours later, sleep deprived and cranky. On the plus side though, we had absolutely no jet lag..... on account of us having never left the planet’s surface. Thank goodness it was a two week break because we’d barely put our bags down, changed into our beach wear and had a sip of beer before it was time to come back.

I’d like to boast that environmental concerns dictated that we don’t take to the skies but I know, even thirty years later, that it was due to economics . I’m sure we could’ve afforded flights, just about, but it would’ve deprived us of essential and precious beer money. Time is money but so is beer so to speak. And so an opportunity to fly somewhere passed me by. Good for the environment but bad for my liver. 

Much later, when we decided to venture to Europe as a couple, we took the train rather than taking off. Why go to the faff of driving to an airport, and back again at the other side, when you could be well on your way on the train? There is no better way to travel....when it works.

It was in fact a year later, when I was approaching my twenty-fourth birthday that I first tasted air travel. And what a journey - a transatlantic crossing to New York. It seemed like such a distance and what an adventure to jet off to a whole new country that was practically on the other side of the world. Well at least I thought it was at the time. Obviously I had no idea that twenty or so years later I’d be writing about it in a hotel room in Wellington. 

Arriving in New York was a bit like stepping onto a film set. Yellow cabs, the noise, bustle and buildings looked just like they did on TV and in the movies. It was an eye-opener and the slight fog of jet lag made it all seem a little more surreal. That feeling of  an alternate reality would kick up a gear when we met a friend from my home town outside our hotel on 5th Avenue. The excitement of meeting a friend on ‘the other side of the world’ was hard to contain.

“Hi Mike.....sorry I have to go to sleep”

And with that we opened the door, checked in and fell into a deep sleep. I still regret that I couldn’t muster some energy to hit the bars that night but the urge to sleep was overwhelming. My friend did get his revenge the following night when he used our room’s shower and managed to flood the bathroom.....but that’s a story for another day.

Despite this introduction to air travel, and brush with jet lag, this was a distinct one off. An air based island in a sea of land based travel. Air travel was still a luxury that we weren’t prepared to pay for, not when there was a perfectly good alternative.

That was until we came to New Zealand. Since arriving here, and not forgetting the gruelling 28 hour flight that got us to the Southern Hemisphere, our environmental credentials have taken a serious hit. We now fly almost everywhere. Not entirely through necessity but almost. Take this weekend for example. Popping down the road to Wellington for a weekend isn’t an option, not if you don’t want to spend all weekend behind the wheel. Actually that’s a bit of an exaggeration - the journey from Auckland to Wellington is only eight hours! 

In fact, we travel so much by plane that we’re getting a little bit blasé about the whole thing. We’re not quite on first name terms with the security staff at Auckland airport but we certainly know our way round, to the point where we don’t even need to look at the departure boards or look up the flight times. We know the Air New Zealand timetable like we would a local bus route. Our rather laid back approach has on more than one occasion got us into a spot of bother. Like the time we were flying to a regional airport and assumed that it departed from the same area as all of the other flights. It wasn’t until that we have gone through security and walked to our usual departure gate that we noticed our flight wasn’t on the board. 

“Hhhmmm. Odd! I wonder why our flight isn’t listed.”

“Maybe they’ve forgotten to put it on the board.”

“Well that’s a bit slack I must say”

It was only then that we decided to look at our boarding pass and realised that we should’ve been in a different part of the airport. Oops! A walk/run back through the airport was required for us to make our flight. 

To be fair, it doesn’t help that catching a domestic flight in New Zealand is almost identical to getting on a bus. Providing you don’t want to check a bag, you can rock up just minutes before and board. You don’t even need a ticket or any identification - an app on your phone is all that is required.

This weekend we’ve flown to Wellington, next weekend were heading off to the Bay of Islands. Sure we could drive but a 45 minute flight just doesn’t compare to what could be a five hour gruelling drive. And that’s just getting out of Auckland! If there was a viable public transport option we’d take it. Even if it was a little bit longer. But there isn’t....

...except tomorrow we’ve decided to put our money where our mouths are. You see there is a non-flight, non-road option to get us back to Auckland. At 11 hours long it’s not exactly practical but we have a day spare so why the heck not? So, rather than stroll around the shops and have a leisurely lunch on the waterfront, tomorrow we’re heading to the train station and catching the 0755 Northern Explorer to Auckland. It should be easy to spot as it’s the only train to Auckland that day. In fact, as it only runs three times a week we have to make sure we’re on board.

It seems like a mad idea to travel by train when it’s ten times longer and more expensive than flying but it will be spectacular. Not convinced? Well how about this from the Man at Seat 61 website for example;

“The wonderful Northern Explorer train is easily the best way to get from downtown Auckland to city centre Wellington, stress-free and in comfort at ground level, stopping off at the Tongariro National Park for a couple of days if you like.  It's an epic 681 kilometre (423 mile) journey across the interior of the North Island, through every kind of scenery there is, from coastline to volcanoes to mountains, lush green farmland to thick New Zealand bush.  It takes you the length of the historic North Island Main Trunk Railway, started in 1885 and completed in 1908, over feats of engineering such the Raurimu Spiral, Turangarere Horseshoe and Makatote Viaduct.  It's one of the world's great railway journeys and one of my favourites,...”

Well even if it lives up to half of that it’ll be a great way to head back. Certainly beats looking at clouds.

Creature Uncomforts

It can be at times a bit odd living in another country, even as one as welcoming as New Zealand. Even after all this time, we still get asked “How long are you on holiday for?” as people assume we’re vacationing Brits escaping the winter in the northern hemisphere. Admittedly, we get this more often in smaller New Zealand towns rather than the metropolis of Auckland, which is understandable as they are wondering how on earth a tourist could get themselves so far off the beaten track.

The second most asked question, once they’ve got over the shock that we’re not tourists but are actually tax paying residents, is “Why New Zealand and not Australia? Didn’t you fancy living in Oz?” If it wasn’t for the fact that Kiwis are so open and friendly, one could get quite upset by this line of questioning and take it as a plea to please leave at the earliest opportunity! Instead, when the question is asked, I suspect that they already know the answer and are simply offering a chance to confirm that the correct decision has been made.

But it’s a genuine question. Why New Zealand and not Australia? Why chose to come and live in a place that’s even further away, and has a climate that is not that dissimilar from the one we left? Having pondered the question on a number of occasions, the truth is that it never crossed our minds to live in Australia. New Zealand was the only destination. It could be that, having turned down offers of employment in New Zealand fifteen years ago, we had unfinished business here. Another probable explanation is that Australia was a too obvious choice to make or that it’s just too damn big. Maybe the thought of living in a nation that keeps beating us at our own sporting events was too much to bear. 

All of those are, retrospectively at least, good enough reasons to skip over that continent and set up shop in its nearest neighbour. But search a little further and the real reason is obvious. Death. Or rather the fear of sudden and painful death! 

It has to be said that the sheer number of things that want to kill or cause you serious harm in Australia is mind boggling. Snakes, spiders and sharks are the obvious ones. But what about saltwater crocodiles, box jellyfish and ants. Yes ants! The Bull Ant, if intimidated will rise up with their mandibles wide open ready to strike and may charge at you. They are also carnivorous so don’t sleep near one of their nests. Meat eating charging ants. Strewth!

In comparison, New Zealand is, on the whole, a fairly benign place. That’s not to say that you couldn’t come a cropper here, but you’d have to do something to warrant Mother Nature taking a swipe at you.

Take, for example, the climate. Up here in Auckland, ice and snow are unheard of and whilst it occasionally rains, you’re hardly going to have problems. Yes the sun is a little strong due to the lack of ozone, but it’s easy to address. I’m talking about sunblock. But with almost every establishment having free access to sunblock only an idiot or unwary tourist would forget. Forget to slap on the slop and you’ll be red-faced from more than embarrassment for the rest of the week. 

It’s the same with the landscape. New Zealand, it has been said once or twice, is a stunningly beautiful country.....except for perhaps Huntley, and most of it is easily accessible with the proper preparation. Stick to the marked paths, take the correct clothing and watch out for the weather and you’ll be fine. Try and cross the Tongariro in what amounts to beach wear and you asking for it. Just because it’s been in Lord of the Rings it’s still a mountain and with that comes the changeable mountain weather. 

Similarly, wander off the beaten track in the hills around Auckland and it’s not impossible to get into serious trouble. With little-to-no cell phone coverage it just takes a twisted ankle or a fall down a gully to get into a right pickle. Stay on the tracks though and you’ll be fine.

The same goes for the fauna. Apart from the very occasional shark attack - and one can only assume these were by sharks that were on their holidays from Australia - there’s nothing here that is going to cause you serious harm. There is one spider, the white-tail, that will give you a nasty bite but in four years of living here I’ve only seen two. Besides, even these were imported from Australia so can’t really be classed as Kiwi.

That’s not to say I haven’t had my run-ins with the local inhabitants or Aotearoa....

A few weeks ago, in my preparations to head off to work, I was hunting around for my shoes. A simple task made more difficult through lack of sleep. It had been a hot night so sleep had been at a premium and this game of seek the shoes had quickly become tiresome. Typically, they were exactly where I’d left them the day before - at the side of the bed.

I mumbled something and promised myself that I’d be more mindful in the future - a promise that even as the last word left my thoughts I knew I’d never keep. Tired but resolved I put my feet into my shoes, tied the laces and walked back to the kitchen to get my bag.

“For goodness sake,” I exclaimed, “there’s something in my shoe.”

There was obviously a twig or something in my shoe. Being tired, and by now a little late for the office, I really didn’t want to untie my shoes and fish out the offending piece of vegetation. I’d try to ignore it.....it was no use, it was really uncomfortable.

Sitting down again, I untied my shoe, took it off and gave it a good shake. Nothing. I must have imagined it. Ah well, at least I’d checked. I put on my shoe for the second time, re-tied the laces and set off towards the front door.

“Blast!” I said to no one in particular, “it’s still there!”

I slumped onto the floor and once again untied my laces and took off the shoe. I was going to have to have a good poke around to get the object out. I put my hand into my shoe and....something moved!

“F*ck!” I exclaimed as a large and probably confused Weta fell onto the floor.

The insect made a dart for the nearest dark hiding place - which must’ve been an improvement on my well worn shoe - whilst I went in search for clean underwear. It was fair to say that the day was not working out as I had planned. Finding a large insect in a shoe THAT BEEN INCHES FROM WHERE I WAS SLEEPING was not part of the plan for the day.

On the plus side, I was now totally wide awake as the shock had been like having a double shot espresso and a litre of Red Bull intravenously injected.

I definitely don’t want a repeat of that so shoes are now stored away from the bed and get a huge shake before I dare put my feet into them. Who knows what might be lurking down there. Probably not a snake but it doesn’t hurt to check.

So in answer to the question about living in Australia? If I’m so discombobulated by finding a large but harmless insect in my shoe, should I even consider living in a place where real danger really lurks? Tough choice. I’ll let you decide and get back to me. I’ll be in the bar keeping an eye out for any rouge insects whilst daubing myself liberally with sunblock.

Parnell Reserves

It's been a while since I’ve put pen to paper, so to speak. Not because that there isn't anything worthy of report or comment. Far from it. There's plenty upon which I could bash out a blog or two. But it's all so dark and miserable and that's not what I want this blog to be. But I can't just give up writing (shame I hear you say!). So here is a more traditional "what we did on our holiday" account. Not that we're on holiday of course but you know what I mean.

With the other half of the household off to get a culture fix, courtesy of Bill Shakespeare and the Pop-Up Globe, I found myself with a free afternoon to while away.

My first reaction was to grab a box of chocolates, plonk myself on the couch and catch up on unwatched movies, box sets or a level or two on my trusty PS4. So even though some wise person noted that time you spend enjoyably wasting isn’t wasted time, or words to that effect, it was far too nice a day to while away indoors. The sun was shining, a gentle warm breeze was blowing and it would’ve been a real shame to miss it by sitting in front of the gogglebox. Besides, it was so bright that the screen was barely visible. Couldn’t see a thing. It was hopeless. So outside it was.

After a liberal application of factor 50+ I was off. But where to go? Town would be rammed, the beaches equally so, and I’ve been to the Domain numerous times already this week. Ahh, what was called for was a stroll through the reserves....or small parks if you prefer a more familiar phrase. So, if I could be so presumptuous to be able to divert your attention from world affairs for a few moments, here is a mini diary of my afternoon stroll.....

Being in Parnell, we are lucky enough have a multitude of options on our door step. Not only are we very close to the city and a short run from the beach, but we also have a few hidden green gems. By carefully plotting a route through quiet suburban streets it’s possible to link the reserves and get from Parnell to the neighbouring suburb of Newmarket. It’s a nice route just to walk but I had another goal in mind. 

Within a few minutes I was in my first of the reserves, Scarborough Reserve. Only the distant hum of traffic and the occasional bang from the port belies the impression that you are in the New Zealand bush. Miles from civilisation and out on your own. Except you’re not. Within a few hundred metres there are residential dwellings. Call it a trick of the light or just good planning. Either way it doesn’t take long for suburbia to loose it’s grip.

Within a few minutes more, the open greenery gives way to natural bush courtesy of Alberon Reserve. Okay, so I’m not sure it it’s natural or not but it could be as it looks just like all of the others I’ve been in. And they were. So in the absence of any other evidence I’m claiming that it to be so. Here, away from the glare of the sun, the palm trees rustle gently in the wind and Tuis (they’re a bird in case your wondering) belt out their song. Or songs. Or, if you prefer, their impression of R2D2. It’s uncanny. Don’t believe me, well pop over here and find out.

Unfortunately the reserves don't go on forever so periods back in the suburbs or needed. Thankfully, given that the sun is at it's strongest this time of year, pōhutukawa trees offer brief respite from the searing sun. The tree flowers from November to January with a peak in mid to late December, with brilliant crimson flowers covering the tree, hence the nickname New Zealand Christmas tree. And they are simply stunning, if a little short lived. Pretty soon, especially if a summer storm comes through, the flood will be stained blood-red with hundreds of thousands of tiny fronds.




Once out of the shade and shelter of the bush, traditional New Zealand Villa’s line the street. A what is a typical New Zealand villa I hear you ask? No, well I'm going to tell you anyway. The Victorian villa began to appear from around 1860’s when Europeans started arriving in large numbers. Built completely with native timber, NZ villas were generally single storey detached buildings, although two-storey villas were common in affluent suburbs and where land was scarce. With decorated verandas, high ceilings, small windows and wide hallways, they have been a part of Kiwi life for generations. It can be said though that the villa was built for appearances, meaning that there was more thought put into how it looked from the outside instead of how it functioned inside for the occupants themselves. In other words....bloody cold in the winter!

The next reserve, Ayr Reserve, is the largest on the route. The path winds down a steep, bush covered slope and runs along a gently babbling brook for most of its length. It's lovely down here - cool and quiet and a good place to make up some distance without worrying about dehydration or sun stroke. Just as I emerge back into the light I hear the familiar summer sound of willow on leather. 

Cricket! Thomas Bloodworth Park is the home to Parnell Cricket Club and a game is in full flow. I stop briefly to watch.....nope still can't understand the rules.....so press on up Ayr Street into Newmarket Park. Whilst I get my breath back from that hill, here's what Wikipedia has to say about Newmarket Park.

In the early European history of the area, the gully containing the park and the Slaughter House Creek (now Newmarket Stream) was used as a rubbish dump. In the 1930s, an employment scheme created a flat area on the higher western slope of the gully, approximately half-way up to the railway line. This initially served as an athletics track, and later for midget car racing and as a golf driving range. After being leased by the Auckland Football Association in 1962, it became the site of New Zealand's national football stadium, with many international games played here. However, in 1979 a large landslide occurred, which took away one of the grandstands and part of the playing field. After this, the park fell into disuse, with another large landslip also occurring in 1988.

Now, and especially today, Newmarket Park is a splendid place to take a breath, grab a drink of water and enjoy the last place for peace and quiet. Soon we'll be in Newmarket. Right can't put it off any longer. Final push....

The last few streets are full with the scent of Star Jasmine. This fragrant smelling plant is quite often found in flower beds and growing up and around walls in Auckland. More often than not, you can smell it before you see it as it's scent is so distinctive.

A quick dash through Newmarket Rail Station and we're here. As this is the second last Saturday before Christmas, Broadway, the main street in Newmarket, will be full of shoppers. In this heat it's not for the fainthearted so luckily it's only a short scoot along the street to my final destination, and the only worthwhile destination in Newmarket. The Lumsden Free House! Yey! I just hope they’ve got a nice cold beer waiting for me......

Weathering the Storm

Feels like just yesterday it was Christmas and now summer’s back. Hurray summer’s here and time to break out the BBQ and dust of the jandals? Yeah, nah. It’s going to rain for 10 days.

MetService has reported thunderstorms today, rain tomorrow, and rain until the end of time. Not quite the end of time, maybe some sun tomorrow. A bit of sun and then it’s raining again. Forever. Some weather outlets have gone a little bit optimistic and are suggesting some sun between the storms. I’ll pick that one. If only it was that easy. Maybe if we all think really hard about it we can will some decent weather for the weekend. Is it too much to ask? Haven’t we earned it? Tell them they’re dreaming. 

And for once it’s not just Auckland that’s getting a little damp. Wellingtonians, perhaps feeling a little smug because of the beautiful day they had on Sunday 11 November, can go jump in the same puddle: it’ll be raining in Wellington for 10 days as well. You could fly to Christchurch tomorrow if you’d like to see a clear sky. But I wouldn’t bother because thereafter it’ll be raining here, there and everywhere. For 10 days.

Except it won’t really. Well, it will, but not entirely. Maybe. One so-called-expert noted this to put our collective  minds at ease.

“When you have to do a weather forecast, you can only choose one icon to represent the entire day. We know almost every day there’s going to be a big downpour or period of rain but we don’t know how long it’ll linger for. So even though it looks like it’ll rain nonstop, you might find some of that will fall overnight and then you wake up and the sun’s out and most of the day is dry.”

Sounds like something a politician would say.

“This low is so large that it’s also got large areas of dry, sunny weather in the middle of it.”

But every cloud has a silver lining. 

“The farming community are over the moon about the rain coming in for Auckland because it’s drier than normal at the moment. A lot of gardeners and growers desperately want this rain. We want that because if they’re too dry before we go into summer, that lifts the prices of all the fruit and vegetables we buy locally.”

Complain now about the rain or complain later about the price of strawberries? Why not both? Why be reasonable about a bit of rain when there’s nothing better than complaining about normal weather? I assert my right as a Brit to complain about the weather, even though I know it’s much better than I would normally associate with this time of the year. After all we’re not happy unless we’re complaining about something. This will be every Aucklander on Sunday when they wake up to the pitter patter of pesky rain.

But from experience I know it’s only the weather forecast and not the weather. Yes, it may be a little damp, but it will be warm and when those pesky clouds do break you’d better watch out. The rain will have washed off the sun block and those rays are just looking for a friendly face to grill. Or they could just be wrong. Maybe that rain isn’t going to arrive and it’s all balderdash? On recent evidence that certainly seems to be the case. More sunny with cloudy intervals than rain with occasional sunshine. Whatever it is, I’m going to make the most of it. As a t-shirt I saw in a shop in Keswick wisely noted, I’d rather spend a wet day outside than a nice day in the office. I’ll drink to that. Cheers!

We Are Not Amused

If there’s one thing that’s guaranteed to hog the headlines more than rugby, it a visit by members of the Royal Family. In fact, since The Royal Couple (TRC) touched down a few days ago, there hasn’t been a single mention of The ABs. At least I don’t think so. Err, well I assume not because since TRC arrived in New Zealand I’ve been giving the paper and its media offshoot a wide berth.

Actually that’s not entirely true. I did, whilst munching on my lunch on Monday, accidentally spot an article that picqued my curiosity;

“Where to go to avoid the royal hoopla!“, shouted the headline, it’s bold lettering almost jumping off the page. Not this was interesting, if not a little ironic considering that New Zealand is (generally) a great place to avoid any such royal shenanigans. Was it suggesting anywhere convenient? Alas no. Only places where the royal circus wasn’t going to be visiting. I went back to my lunch and munched on a carrot.

For the past few days, TRC have been in our fair city of Auckland and boy has it been wet! Not typical British-stiff-upper-lip wet but proper monsoon-soaked-down-to-your-undies-if-you-dare-step-out-for-even-a-second wet. Despite that, it didn’t seem to phase TRC and as they got about getting about their business. Fair play. 

To make sure their visit went without any incidents, one half of the city centre was closed off to traffic which, given Aucklands dire traffic problems, was probably a wise move. Especially when you consider just how rubbish the drivers are - I may have mentioned this previously - and the cities sudden infatuation with green electric scooters. How bad would it look on news channels across the globe if a member of the Royal Family was filmed going arse-over-tit as a lime green scooter whizzes past? Indeed.

But if the weather misbehaving wasn’t enough, New Zealand had another trick up its sleeve. To round off their New Zealand experience Mother Nature served up a good old slice of drama in the form of an earthquake. This, a magnitude-6.2 shake wasn’t huge by New Zealand standards, but it was enough to give Parliament enough pause to....well....pause and everyone else a good rattle. 

The press, maybe short of a new angle for TRC, were happy to report that they weren’t harmed by the quake and that they battled on and kept to their schedule. Good for them! It is perhaps less impressive when geographic location had more to do with it than the aforementioned British stiff upper lip. But good effort anyway.

This evening, they’re visiting the museum in the park behind our house. It’s not that I’m paying any attention to their itinerary, or that I’m invited them round for tea and biscuits later, but it’s hard not to know with all these helicopters buzzing around. I can hardly hear myself type.

Despite my protestations above, it’s generally a good thing for New Zealand to have such high profile visitors - it certainly puts the country on the map - and if nothing else it deflects the country’s obsession with everything rugby. For a short while anyway.

In a few days everything will be back to normal. The world’s press will look for another circus - there are plenty of those at the moment - and we can go back to being the country at the edge of the world that does things in its own quiet, yet magnificent way.