5am Tuesday morning

5am on a Tuesday morning and an audible reminder that New Zealand is back to normal. Almost.

Oh my word, why is the alarm set so early? In fact why is the alarm set at all? Our post-lockdown routine doesn’t demand such annoyances. Ah of course. I have a meeting in Wellington. Face-to-face was requested so that’s my day. Or two. Fly-in-fly-out was out. Or FIFO if you are into the whole brevity thing. A night away just adds to the joy. An unwelcome break in routine. I know it’s only a short trip but I judge the day by the place I rest my head at the end. Suddenly wish lockdown hadn’t ended so I wouldn’t have to do this. Feel guilty at that thought and blame tiredness.

Reluctantly I slip out of bed and head downstairs to the kettle and caffeine. I am a morning person, always have been, but remark to no-one in particular that this would be a whole lot easier in the summer. And if rain wasn’t lashing at the windows. Sure the days are now getting noticeably longer but there’s little evidence of this at 5:05am.

Doing my best not to disturb my partner - she wisely opted for relegation to the spare room - I make my coffee and head back upstairs to gather my thoughts. Having to travel by air is casting a dark shadow over my day. Haven’t done this for so many months. Haven’t missed it. Haven’t needed to. Welcome back to the modern business world. The convenience of air travel. Yeah, right. I’ll snap out of it. Or at least I hope I will. 

A warm shower eases my melancholy revelries a little. Warm water and a hot drink. Is that what keeps society going? Feel lucky. 

Dressed now and downstairs. Can’t face breakfast but I know that it’ll be a few hours before I’ll get another chance. Cereals. Fuel. That’s all. It’s 5:30am and a little closer to a more civilised time. Fleeting thought for those who have to work at night. The day-sleepers who’s nights are coloured headache grey. Like the taxi driver who is hopefully on their way to pick me up. Airport drive in sleepy silence no doubt. 

Work phone already airplane mode. Not looking at you mate until I land. You can wait. Whatever news your carrying can remain your secret. At least until it gets light anyway. 

Final check of the bag. Laptop. Wallet. Boarding pass. All present and correct. I know I put this all in there last night but I’ve slept since then so need to double check. Could’ve fallen out during the night. Maybe I dreamt the whole thing and didn’t actually pack this stuff. Best to check. I know I’ll check again before I leave the house. 

Grab a jacket from the chair and stuff it

in my bag. Wellington will be an overcoat colder than Auckland. Possibly two if the wind is blowing from the south. One will do. One is better than nothing. I’ve made that mistake before. Only an Aucklander would forget to take a coat to Wellington.

5:40am and my phone screen lights up. Taxis’s arrived. A little early but that’s okay. One less thing to have to think about. One less thing to go wrong: Plan for the worst and expect the best. Right, game face on. Door open and off we go. 

Dirty Politics

WARNING - This blog contains political views!

Still reading? Then I'll continue.

They say a week is long time in politics so if that's the case then the fortnight at the start of July must have seemed like an eternity for The National Party, the official opposition party in New Zealand. Quite how a political party could shoot itself in its own foot to such an extent that they nearly lost both legs is worthy of further investigation. Intrigued? Well let me explain.

Although the Covid-19 pandemic is still raging around the world but thankfully New Zealand, so far at least, appears to have it under control. Partly this is because we went into lockdown at a very early stage but also because we have strict border restrictions in place - to the extent that anyone arriving is placed in government assigned hotel and is required to remain there for two weeks. After which time, assuming that they test negative for the virus, they are allowed to leave and join the rest of the country. 

It's all gone rather well, much to the annoyance of the opposition party. With an election on the horizon, and facing a competent and popular Prime Minister, the only option available was to poke holes in the border controls. Pretty soon stories began to emerge about systems and procedures under strain, detainees being allowed to mix with general hotel residents and people allowed to wander out at their own will. The government's position wasn't helped when two women were given a compassionate exception to leave to visit a dying relative but someone forgot to test them before letting them travel across country. When tested later, one of them tested positive and revealed that they had lied about their condition to ensure that they would be allowed to leave. This irresponsible behaviour put the once firm-footed government on the back foot. The opposition and press were having a field day. There was even a case reported where a homeless person was able to join a queue and enjoyed a two weeks vacation in a quarantined hotel - all expenses paid. Good on him I say but it did cast doubt on the strength of the controls at our borders, even if we were talking about a handful of such cases in tens of thousands of arrivals. But the borders were clearly under pressure. Arrivals we doing what they we meant to and arriving and quarantine hotels in Auckland were reaching capacity. Time then for the rest of NZ to help out. Cue NIMBYism . How dare they put people in hotels in <insert name of city here> without consulting me? 

With tensions running high Hamish Walker, a National MP, noted "It's absolutely disgraceful that the community hasn't been consulted on this. These people are possibly heading for Dunedin, Invercargill and Queenstown from India, Pakistan and Korea". Quite what he thought to achieve by these racist comments is hard to fathom. Thankfully they were condemned from all quarters for what they were. 

National Party leader Todd Muller said: "I've spoken to Hamish, expressed my disappointment and I certainly don't condone what he has said". Todd Muller, I should note at this point, was the newly elected leader of the opposition and had been in post around 45 days at this point after successfully ousting the previous leader on the back of poor polling numbers. 

It's a good job then that Walker decided to clarify what he'd meant. "Calling me a racist is Labour's default tactic when they are unable to defend their blatant failures, this isn't about race it is about the countries these Kiwis are coming from," he said.

Well that clears that up. Not! And it wasn’t even accurate. According to a Reuters tally, US and Brazil have the highest number of Covid-19 cases followed by Russia, India and UK. But who needs accuracy when spreading racist misinformation.

The furore was just about dying down when the news came that the opposition party had been waiting for. Someone had leaked the names and addresses of the residents who had tested positive for the virus to the national media. This was not good news and no matter which way you looked at it, it cast doubt on the governments grasp of the controls at the borders. Our last line of defence against letting Covid-19 back into the general population seemed to be crumbling.

Muller said the breach was "quite staggering, it talks to a government that's slipping off the side of a cliff, in terms of managing this issue, the border, the information pertaining to it.”  He went on to say “If they can't manage personal information, bluntly, they can't manage the border and they can't manage the country." He wasn’t finished. Is it a deliberate leak or is it accidental? It doesn't really matter at a level ... it's loose, it's shabby and it's a reminder these guys can't manage important things well - they need to step aside and let a competent government take over."

Ouch! Can’t say that the government didn’t deserve it. It was a serious breach of security and only the professionalism of the press had stopped the details being published.

The National Party's spokesperson for health, Michael Woodhouse, waded in and said this was "yet another serious failing that showed the government was not capable of managing Covid-19. This is unconscionable and unacceptable that those suffering from the incredibly dangerous virus now have to suffer further with their private details being leaked," Woodhouse said in a statement.

The Government was taking this seriously, as well it should, so launched an official inquiry into the matter. Mike Heron QC was appointed and, under the State Sector Act 1988 and the Inquiries Act 2013, was given powers of the State Services Commissioner "That will give Mr Heron the power to, if necessary, require the production of documents, summons witnesses and question parties under oath," the Prime Minister noted. If found to be deliberate, criminal charges could follow.  Make no mistake, this was being taken very seriously and the government. It was not looking good for the Government. But something was about to change all that. Big time.

Just two days later, with the outrage still building in the media, Todd Muller revealed that he had been told by Walker that he was responsible for passing the private details of Covid-19 patients. Holy cow you couldn’t make his stuff up! After all that indignation, the National Party were behind the leaks in the first place. But why do it?

Walker admitted that he was extremely upset to be labelled "racist" after issuing a press release raising concerns about an influx of people arriving from India, Pakistan and Korea. So to prove he wasn’t, he sent on the list of names to the three main media outlets, under the promise of anonymity.  Two slight problems. Firstly, the media didn’t publish the names, or disclose the origins of the people on the list. Secondly, the information he sent to media did not prove that his initial press release was factual or not racially motivated.

The spectacular own goal was about to get a lot worse for the National Party. Shortly after Walker's statement coming clean, former National Party president Michelle Boag put out her own media release saying it was her who had passed on the information. And it didn't stop there. Shortly after, it transpired that Michael Woodhouse had also been sent the information but had done nothing about it, opting instead to criticise the Government for the not being able to handle sensitive information. The irony meters broke that day. Yes there was no doubt that dirty politics were back and in full swing.

Not surprisingly, Walker and Boag resigned from their posts immediately. The National Party leader Todd Muller soldiered on, answering questions about what he knew about the leak and, more importantly when he knew it. Had he known before the leak was made public? Why didn’t he notify the government as soon as he realised that sensitive information had been released to the media? It perhaps wasn’t a surprise when he folded under pressure during an interview and it became clear that he’d lied to cover up the other lies. Why did he lie about what he knew and when he knew it? Oh, it wasn’t a lie “I just wasn’t a clear as I perhaps could have been.” Well I don’t know about you, but I’m convinced.

The inevitable happened After just 53 days in the post as the National Party Leader, Muller resigned with immediate effect, stating "It has become clear to me that I am not the best person to be Leader of the Opposition and Leader of the New Zealand National Party at this critical time for New Zealand.”

I’ll stop there, that’s enough politics for one blog. There is more to tell, such as the return of Judith ‘Crusher’ Collins and a crash in polling numbers but I’ll leave you to seek that out yourselves. 

And the inquiry into the leak? The report was quietly issued at the end of July and concluded that the leak was "deliberate and politically motivated". Well that’s that then. Only time will tell if the National Party continue to operate their dirty politics campaign. You would hope that they have learnt their lesson and spend the next month on the run up to the General Election trying to win back the trust of the New Zealand electorate. History teaches us otherwise.

Tales from the Borderlands

I’m not sure if there is actually a world record for this, but if there isn’t, there sure should be. If only Norris McWhirter were alive. He’d know.

What am I talking about? I often think that myself, but on this occasion there might just be something in it. You see at the moment, with our borders tightly closed, although admittedly not as tight as some would like, New Zealand must hold the record for the world’s largest lock-in. But, rather than hunkering down in a dingy pub with the curtain closed and doors locked for fear of discovery, we have a whole country to run amok in. We just can’t get out.

That’s actually not strictly true but it’s as good as. We can leave, it’s just that on return we have to go to a Government managed facility and spend two weeks in quarantine. Maybe that’s not as bad as it sounds, but I’m sort of imagining Faulty Towers but with infectious clientele.  

But what’s the point? Where is there to go? With New Zealand being one of the few countries that has the virus under control, spending two weeks on holiday in a country that hasn’t doesn’t seem like the most relaxing of times. It's not as much fun as it should be sitting in a beach bar if you're worried about catching a potentially deadly disease. Even Australia, that was just a few weeks ago being touted as the country with the model response to Covid-19, is now back into lockdown, or at least part of it is. . Only last week Melbourne went back into lockdown. Over 5m people, just about the population of New Zealand, back into their homes. Having felt freedom my heart really does go out to them. But they've done it before and will do so again. It's only six weeks and the middle of winter. Crack open a bottle, put your feet up and watch telly.

Yes there are still those who clamour for our borders to be re-opened, suggesting clever solutions to a problem that doesn't need solving. Not yet anyway. It would be fantastic if we could come-and-go across the ditch as we please, or jet out to a Pacific island for some much needed sunshine and warmth but not if it means putting either ourselves or others in harm's way. 

When I was planning this blog yesterday - yes I know it's hard to believe but I do actually plan them (well a little bit anyway) - I was going to mention the opposition party's stance on the Covid-19 response. But, as they say, 24 hours is a long time in politics - or in the case of their departing leader Todd Muller 54 days. The hows and whys behind his departure less than three months after toppling the previous party leader is the subject of a whole blog so I'll leave it there. Maybe next time. 

I for one, and I’m sure there are many others, are happy with way things are at the moment. Borders closed except to those who have a legal right to be here and a mandatory quarantine in place. Sort of like a huge Jurassic Park but with less dinosaurs. Actually, I think a much better analogy is zombies. We’re all tucked up safe inside whilst the hoards of infected are banging on the window trying to get in. At least that's the way that the media and the opposition party are playing it. Pitting Kiwis against Kiwis. Stirring up fear and resentment when it really doesn't have a place here. Or at least they were until 07:30am this morning when their leader went and quit. Have I already mentioned that? I might have done but I think I got away with it.

Unfortunately not all zombies are content with room service and satellite TV. Some, and it is a very, very small proportion, decide to make a run for it and break out of quarantine like some half-arsed Steve McQueen. Except for them its a trip to the nearest supermarket to stock up on essentials and not escape from an evil and murderous regime that spurs them up and over. Or through. One person resorted to cutting a hole through a wire fence. He didn't get far - as far as the local Countdown supermarket where he was caught on CCTV buying toothpaste. Honestly, what is it with these people that personal hygiene is a more urgent than super-strength lager? The shame of it. If you're going to get caught 'on the lam' at least make it worthwhile. I hope they get to keep their ill gotten gains - if only for the benefit of their fellow detainees. Needless to say the press were outraged. How could this be allowed to happen? Wasn't somebody watching the perimeter. Where were the dogs? Well it's not a prison, the perimeter was fenced off until someone cut a hole in it and dogs would only find something more interesting to do. 

I don't really have that much sympathy for those being detained at a border facility. Firstly, the facilities are pretty nice hotels in Auckland, Christchurch and Rotorua. These are not barracks or hangers, which is where some other places I won't mention would put people, Secondly, all this is paid for by the Government...or us tax payers. Yes it's not great but please make the best of an awkward situation. Thirdly, these are the rules and the price of entry into a Covid-free country. You knew this before you arrived so suck it up buttercup. Fourthly, think about your fellow Kiwis. You're not doing this for your own benefit, but for those five million or so people who got us to this point. We all stuck at it, stayed home, didn't see relatives or friends for over two months and hardly touched a drop. Well not much of a drop anyway. All we are asking for in return is for you to stay inside for two weeks. Get your show gel delivered to the door if it's that important. And then fill your boots. Go to the pub, catch a movie, swim in the (very cold) sea, eat in a restaurant or shop in a mall. It's a small price to pay.

Right, time to valet park my high horse. There's a lot of news to catch up on - there is a blog to plan after all!

A Footballing Disaster

“You should get your eyes tested ref” was the oft quoted but rarely heard chant from the terraces. I can honestly say that in all of the years I’ve watched football I never heard that infamous insult shouted once. Sure I’d heard a lot worse, so bad that I won’t repeat it word for word, but let’s just say ithe comments questioned the validity of the person in charge's parental heritage. 

Not that I have seen a football match for some time. Watching European football is just not really practical from this side of the world and I haven't plucked up the resolve to go and see a live game here. I know I should but it just hasn't gotten high enough up my list of things to do - it’s hovering somewhere between going to see an opera and wild camping in the Waitakeres. Sounds great in theory but just not practical.

Maybe it's about time I come clean. You see I don't really care for football all that much. Not in real terms anyway. Whilst I don't mind watching the odd game or two, and can happily sit through every single game of the World Cup without a bother, if it doesn't involve my team then I'm not interested. Not really. And, and here's the kicker, if I haven't seen my team play for over six years are they really still my team? There was a time when I knew the ins and outs of each and every player in the squad, bedroom walls were adorned with team posters and coveted Panini sticker book albums were covered with autographs. Now I couldn't name a single person in the squad and I only know the name of the manager because the previous manager has just been sacked and replaced with a well known 'old-hand'. Being on the other side of the world, and half a day out of sync will do that for you. 

But they are still my team. The Boro result is still the first result I look for on a Sunday morning, even though I know it's going to cloud the rest of the weekend. Thankfully there's not as much of the weekend left as there used to be. Back in the day I had the slow trudge to the station and melancholic silence on the train back to Darlington to endure. No amount of Castle Eden Bitter can take the edge off a defeat on a Saturday afternoon I can tell you.

That isn't to say that it's all been bad. There has been some ups with the downs. Unless of course you are one of those fans that attaches themselves to a top team and declares their undying support, despite the closest they’ve ever been to the ground is a poster on their wall. To everyone else, the downs are only really there to give the ups some perspective. There's nothing quite like being in your home ground and watching your team score a late winning goal against a bitter rival, or witnessing two miraculous hard fought comebacks late at night in a European cup game. I would happily take every single drab defeat and goaless draw for just one of those electrifying games. Just as its great to experience the exhilaration of a 91st minute winning goal, it’s just as exciting and more nerve wracking to cling onto a one goal lead for the last twenty minutes of a game. Parking the proverbial bus as the opposition fires ball after ball in the your battered box. Time does seem to stop as each second slowly ticks away. "Five minutes added time!!! Where did that come from.....for fu....."

So what does all this ball-based reminiscing have to do with life in New Zealand? Well, on Friday I happened to have my eyes tested. Not for a future career path in refereeing but because I was about to change my prescription sunglasses. As I settled into the chair, surrounded by optical paraphernalia, the optician turned to me and asked "So where about in the UK are you from originally?". Even after is years away from the UK, and despite not have that strong an accent, it was still obvious that I wasn't a local. 

Now it is at this point, I am ashamed to say, that I normally say "Newcastle". I know horrific isn't it but I will quickly clarify before I’m ostracised from my home town. I say "Newcastle" not for any particular allegiance to the northern city but it's the nearest place I assume that any Kiwi stand a chance of having heard of. And at the end of the day, what's 30 miles when I'm 12,000 miles away. Plenty I know.

But today was different. I was feeling frisky. Maybe it was the sunshine, maybe it was the though that I was about to spend $900 on a pair of sunglasses or maybe I had a spring in my footballing step because we'd won mid-week. 

"Middlesbrough" I responded with pride..... shortly followed by "just south of Newcastle". Well better to be safe than sorry.

"Oh, I've heard of Middlesbrough!"

"Really?" I said somewhat surprised at the response of the optician before noting he must have family relations in the North East of England then adding, "You've heard of Middlesbrough?"

"Yeah, wasn't there a footballing disaster at Middlesbrough?" said the optician 

"No, I don't think so" I replied, a little surprised at the claim and half wondering if I'd been away so long that I'd forgotten a piece of footballing history. 

"Yeah, I'm sure of it - didn't the stand collapse or something?" he added.

The penny dropped. He was thinking about Hillsborough not Middlesbrough

"No, definitely no footballing disasters in Middlesbrough, unless you count what happens every other Saturday." I replied, chuffed by my sparkling wit and then adding, "You're thinking about Hillsborough!"

"Am I? Well if you say so, but I'm sure I'm right."

There was no deterring him so I left it at that. 

If you will excuse me a sentimental moment, that is the beauty of football. At the end of the day it's not the winning or losing that matters but the fact that it provides an anchor to a place and people, a connection to family and friends. Shared experiences, both good and bad. Excitement and boredom and every single emotion in between. And all usually within the same half. 

Game Over

It’s gone. And with that, New Zealand breathes a sigh of relief. Like a drunken mate who gate crashes a birthday party, runs amok and when he finally leaves, the tension in the room noticeably relaxes. Sure there’s still a chance that he’ll come back, but you’ve locked the front door, and if you excuse me continuing the analogy a little longer, so is the back door and the garden gate is firmly padlocked. Yup, the bugger is going to find it hard to get back in. Admittedly, it also means that we can’t get out, not easily anyway, but who cares. We’ve got plenty of food and the fridge is full of beer.

All of this is rather an elaborate way of noting that Covid-19 has been eliminated from New Zealand. Today, 75 days since the national alert levels were introduced and 17 days without any new cases of Covid-19 in the country, it’s gone. The last infected person, an anonymous woman from Auckland, recovered yesterday and therefore marked the end of the pandemic, in Aotearoa anyway. Thank goodness she was anonymous. Had the wider population known who she was, she would have been inundated with get well soon cards and bombarded with well intentioned gifts. I wonder how many grapes it’s actually humanly possible to eat? 

Today we can move around as we wish, use public transport and shop without the fear of encroaching into someone else’s bubble. Social distancing is a thing of the past and good riddance. Not that I’m about to start going around hugging everyone I meet, I am British after all, but it’s nice to know that human interaction is back on the cards. The downside is that with the loss of social distancing, social awkwardness will return once again. What exactly is the etiquette for whether an au revoir is accompanied by a handshake or a hug? It would be great if someone could write it down, even if it’s just to avoid those awkward situations where an attempted hug becomes a half-crushed handshake. 

From today, businesses can fully re-open and for us that means we have to return to the office. And I’m not sure what to make of it all to be honest. After over 11 weeks of working from home, having to get properly dressed and work in close proximity to colleagues is going to be a shock. I can’t get my head around it. Do I really have to go back to caring what others think, working to a stricter timetable and planning what to eat for lunch before I’ve even had breakfast? I suspect that I do. Boo!

At least our company has given us a few days to get back into office mode and we are not expected back at our desks.....well our real desks and not the dining room table that’s been doubling as a place of business for the past three months, until Monday. Six days reprieve. 

I think to take the edge off the shock, I will move back in stages. Maybe start small and move my note pad tomorrow. A pencil or two the day after before taking the plunge and returning all of the IT kit I borrowed. Well maybe not all of it....do you think they’d notice a monitor was missing?

Hopefully this is the last time we have to hide away at home. There is a chance that the bloody thing will come back, the chances are that it will, but for the time being we have the opportunity to stretch our legs, see more of this stunning country and enjoy a beer or two in the pub. I’ll leave what I hope will be the final words on the matter to our Prime Minister;

“Our team of 5 million has both sacrificed and achieved a huge amount in just under 11 weeks as the world reckoned with, and continues to reckon with, a virus that went from obscurity at the start of the year to a global pandemic that will linger, with second waves a constant reality...And so while the job is not done, there is no denying this is a milestone. So can I finish with a very simple thank you New Zealand.”

The Lockdown Lowdown

Wow! Just wow! New Zealand hasn’t recorded a single new case of Covid-19 in a week and there is now only one active case in the country. It does increasingly look like “we’ve knocked the bugger off” and it’s a testament to what can be achieved when we all work together. 

But it’s not over. Not yet. Level 2 of the Covid-19 restrictions will be with us a while yet. And in the words of that rapscallion smuggler Han Solo, “Don’t get cocky kid!” Get a little too relaxed and we could find ourselves back in lockdown.

But it does feel like the start of the end of the episode, so it seems like an appropriate time to share my experiences of life in lockdown....with the help of song titles obviously!

It’s the End of the World As We Know It (and I Feel Fine)

I will freely admit to anyone who cares to ask, that in the early days of the lockdown I was a little paranoid. Hands were washed numerous times in an hour, door handles were wiped down and let’s not of course forget the food washing incident. 

I’m not, by nature, a nervous person, but this virus had me spooked. It did feel like the end of days, heightened by the daily increasing number of cases. Every sniffle because a Covid-19 early onset symptom and a sore throat was just cause for a trip to the hospital.

But all was well really. The sniffles were caused by running in the cool morning weather and the sore throat by belting out ‘Champagne Supernova’ at the top of my voice the evening before after one bottle-to-many of wine. Apparently. 

If anything, it was a lesson in not letting the situation get in the way of common sense. Ah common sense, the last refuge of the ill prepared.

No Surprises

No alarms and no surprises. We were very lucky to be able to work from home. If we had a short commute before the lockdown, it got a whole lot shorter! And, not being on a particular timetable, we could turn off the 6am alarm call. Getting up with the sunrise and not some hard-wired requirement to get up at the same time regardless was a revelation. We are naturally early risers but 7am is a much more civilised time, besides who wants to be stumbling around in the dark these days?

I’m Free

I suppose it’s ironic really that despite being in lockdown, working from home brought with it a new found freedom. Unshackled from the daily timetable for having to get to the office meant that we could arrange our day around our own requirements. So whilst maintaining our commitment to giving a solid (ish) eight hours of work each day, we took in some fresh air in our morning walk, had chats in the kitchen and generally made sure that we kept on top of our mental wellbeing. And just to add some irony, and I mean real irony and not the Alanis Morissette kind, because we live so close to work our morning walk took us right past the office. 

Back from our morning walk and ready to get to work

We Can Work It Out

Being in lockdown and working from home could have been a nightmare. Without the clear break that a journey to and from the office naturally gave, the working day could quite easily have merged into free time. After all, when you’re working in the dining room when exactly does the working day end? So we came up with a routine that made sure we marked the end of the working day; computers and monitors were closed down and stored out out of sight and we stepped out of the house and did a loop around the park. 

You could argue that it was a rather circuitous commute considering we working at home but it worked. The physical act of leaving the house and returning to a living room without working equipment on display really marked the end of the working day. It also had the advantage that we had half an hour or so to whine about people who had pissed us off during the course of the day. I’m never ceased to be surprised at the ability of people to wind me up from a distance.

The home office wasn't without it's distractions

Enjoy the Silence

What the lockdown really emphasised was how noisy everyday life used to be. In the absence of noise from traffic, aircraft, factories and construction sites nature’s natural symphony took over. Birdsong filled the air, leaves on trees rustled in the breeze and a tranquil calmness replaced the hectic pace of modern life.

In the narrow garden in front of our house, we saw Tuis, Fantails and even Kingfishers. We even discovered a lime tree that we didn’t know we had. Not bad for urban Auckland.

It was great while it lasted. Only a few days after the most severe of the restrictions were lifted, mechanical noise slowly returned. 

Look carefully, but this is a shot of a Kingfisher in flight

Empty Spaces

On the first morning of the lockdown we stepped out into a new and strange world. Once bustling shopping streets were deserted and the cars that clogged to roads had disappeared. Crossing the road was no longer a test of patience and you could literally walk down the middle of the road without fear of being knocked over. Suddenly there was a lot more space for humans. Roads became an extension of the footpath and car parks became places to exercise. So this is what it would be like if people didn’t feel the need to drive everywhere! It was a revelation.

Traffic? What traffic?

Television, the Drug of the Nation

Well not so much television, but the broadcast of the lunchtime briefing. Everyday at 1pm New Zealand gathered around screens to see the Prime Minister and her team give an update on the progress of the virus. It became essential viewing. We’re the sacrifices that we were all making paying off? Early numbers suggested not as cases continued to rise well into the lockdown. The cool and calm Dr Ashley Bloomfield told us not to worry. This was to be expected and it wouldn’t be until ten days into the lockdown when we would see any change in the trajectory.

And change it did. Right on cue. 

Whilst a minority accused the Prime Minister of being too visible, these briefings really brought the country together and helped keep us focussed and committed to the common cause. Everyone was included in the information, and although the subject matter was serious, there were moments of light relief. The Easter Bunny might be a bit delayed the PM warned us. 

Freeze-Frame

Walking around the empty shopping streets took on a surreal feeling. The whole place resembled the set of a horror movie and I was half expecting a zombie hoard to come into view round the corner of the chemists. It was deserted. Frozen in time. Shop windows displaying offers that had long since expired, summer clothes that people increasingly didn’t need and all with the hastily handwritten written note saying they were closing and would reopen as soon as possible. 

And of all of the high street shops, the most bizarre feeling was saved for the party wares outlet, as it proudly displayed St Patrick’s Day paraphernalia. A snapshot in time from the pre-lockdown days.

Hopefully we never have to go there again. But we certainly won’t forget. Not in a hurry anyway. And who knows, maybe we can learn from the experience? The lockdown has given us a glimpse into what a new future could look like. Why go back to peak hour commuting? Do we really need to be in the office everyday? Is that flight really necessary or could you hold the meeting online? Why stop walking just because an easier alternative is available? And are electric scooters really a sensible transport choice? Remove the pressures of time and who knows where the future will take us.

They Think It's All Over.....

Thursday 14 May 2020 marked the day that New Zealand moved away from a lockdown and a managed return to normality. Actually it was 23:59 the day before but let’s not lose any sleep over one minute. Which, coincidentally that’s exactly what a number of people will have experienced whilst they were waiting for their barbers to open. Yes one such establishment wasted no time and opened their doors at exactly one minute to midnight and welcomed in the great unshaven for a trim and a tidy. Well, probably more than a trim. Hopefully they didn’t charge by the kilo of hair removed. 

Exactly how well managed our return to normality will be depends, in most part, on the good people of New Zealand. From Thursday offices reopened, restaurants invited customers back into the premises and shops opened their doors once again to people. Not bars though. They have to wait until next week. But once they’re open, the only thing that will remains closed entirely will be our border. That will remain firmly shut for the foreseeable future other than to those hardy souls who want to be quarantined for two weeks at a government managed facility. 

The odd thing is that we won’t know how well the managed return is being managed for at least another two weeks. That’s the frustrating thing with viruses - they lurk about before deciding to show their faces. But so far, everything looks encouraging. Last week New Zealand recorded three days in a row with zero new cases and this period, again due to the annoying lag of the incubation period, relates to the time we moved out of full lockdown and into Level 3. For those keeping score, our new cases for the last week have been 3, 0, 0, 0, 1, 0, and today 1.

Being allowed to roam again is a very odd feeling and I’m not sure I like it. I knew where I was with being told to stay home and save lives. Part of me wants to stay locked up and out of the way but another part, who hasn’t been seen for eight weeks, wants to get out and about and see stuff. Not that it took much persuasion to get me to the pub on Thursday night.

“Shall we go and check out The Lumsden?”

“But what if there’s too many people there?”

“Don’t you want a pint?”

“I’ll get my wallet!”

I needn’t have worried, the pub was following the Government’s guidelines explicitly. As we approached the bar, we were greeted and shown to our table - thankfully it was a glorious autumn Auckland evening so we could sit outside - and asked to scan the QR code on the table. This immediately brought up a web page where we could enter our details should we need to be contacted.  Menus were brought out and beer was served. Very civilised. If the result of the lockdown is that table service is finally brought to pubs in New Zealand, then I won’t be complaining. 

One of the many odd things about New Zealand is that it adopted queueing at the bar to get drinks. “Ah, but that’s what we do in the UK” I hear you mumble. Well yes, except we actually queue in New Zealand. It’s not unusual to see a long line of people snaking around the bar lounge waiting to be served. In the summer, during one of the many long weekends we have at that time of the year, we visited Russel in The Bay of Islands, and popped to the local bar for a beer or two. Unfortunately there was also a wedding party there at the same time so we were met with a huge queue - it wasn’t quite out of the door and into the street but it was close. With no other option, we joined the end of the queue and quietly waited as we inched our way towards the bar. In most part is was extremely well behaved but inevitably there were some locals who thought they deserved to be served first. As we got chatting to the people around us in the queue, the discussion took its usual turn. Where were we from? How long had we been in New Zealand? How long were we staying?Why did we live in Auckland when we could be living somewhere nicer like Russel? How on earth do we cope with the traffic congestion? Did we know that Auckland wasn’t really New Zealand? Wasn’t everything more expensive in Auckland? I was just about to launch into my usual speech about how Auckland keeps the New Zealand economy moving and without us New Zealand would struggle to function when I finally reached the front of the queue. Saved by the bell...or to be more precise the beer tap. Queuing is better than the scrum that occurs in many UK establishments but table service would be a small sliver of light in these dark times. 

I digress. Apologies. So for the first time in months we sat in the open air, sipping our beer and waiting for food to arrive. It was a great feeling to be finally out and about again. For us the lockdown hasn’t been too difficult but I know that won’t have been the case for many. Some will have lost jobs, seen their income disappear, spent each day working from their bedrooms, lived in fear of physical abuse or even lost loved ones. Its been tough on the nation but hopefully the effort has paid off. It really is now up to us. Keep to the rules, be vigilant and take care of one another. 

It is, of course, entirely possible for things to move in the wrong direction. Just as we have seen in China and Singapore, reopening the economy is a risky business and it just takes one person to trigger an outbreak. Then, as fast as you can say “well that’s disappointing” we’ll be back in our bubbles. But, fingers crossed, the lockdown is over and bubbles are bursting all over Aotearoa. for the last time