So it arrived, the New Year, with a firework (above), and the usual combination of music, screaming, booze and good cheer. And then, for the first time in my life; I got breathalysed. Yep, I had a ‘tangle with the law’ and I won. The score was: Andy 1, FASCIST NEW ZEALAND MURDERING (?) PIG – Read More-
The first time I ever heard of ‘insect repellant’ was 35 years ago when Mel & I, as then two solitary, individual souls not yet joined by common mortgage nor joint account, went to Sri Lanka. It was exotic ‘back then’. Still pretty exotic today. And among the items on the ‘must take’ list was – Read More-
I call this picture: New Zealander And Wife. Over here it probably has a different name. I didn’t say mine too loudly. Not because its offensive but because sleeping with sheep is against the laws of the Bible and that is one of my favourite works of fiction, just after The World According to Garp – Read More-
I’m concerned. What is New Zealand famous for? What is here in greater number than people? What is it that provides the ‘comfort’ for so many solitary, distant farmers? And what tastes really nice with mint sauce and new potatoes? Of course; sheep. And yet all you see is cows. Not in groups of a – Read More-
Just because. A xxxx
So you go to the top of the walkway at Mount Cook, or the tulip gardens of Amsterdam, or the Eiffel Tower, Machu Pichu, the Great Barrier Reef, even Trafalgar Square, and what do you find? You find the universal curse of worldwide tourism: The Japanese! In droves, all following their team leader, who carries – Read More-
We left Christchurch. We’d been there 10 hours and, even though 8 of those were sleeping, we’d seen everything. Not that its not lovely. Just small. Quaint. And we set off into the great unknown. Into the very heart of New Zealand’s South Island. We were entering… The Hobit! Here’s the rules. Speed limits are – Read More-
Another day another country. We’re in Christchurch, New Zealand. Which is, geographically speaking, 11,800 miles away from Lila. But sometimes you have to make sacrifices. It’s just 3 hours from Sydney and you’d have to say that it is ‘quaint’. A double edged adjective implying sweet and small and charming, which it most certainly is, – Read More-
So the deal was, we play tennis at 9 this morning. That’s me, the Woolf Man, Me Mate Dave and Bulawayo Boy (aka: the father of the bride). We got back from the wedding at about 1 o’clock last night, Bulawayo Boy, much later, but them’s the breaks. So from Bondi to the Woolara Tennis – Read More-
Now look, there’s only so much credit I can take for this, but having come ‘down under’ I seem to have, personally and uniquely and all by myself-ly, turned the entire footballing world upside down. I awoke this morning (local time; everywhere else; who fucking knows) and before even checking Mel’s pulse, reached for the – Read More-