Nodnarb Online

2009-08-05T10:39:00.003+12:00

Illiterate reporters bug the heck out me.

TV3's political reporter Duncan Garner continually gets brought (past tense of bring) and bought (past tense of buy) mixed up. Have some professional pride man!

Exmaple: http://www.3news.co.nz/Investigation-reveals-more-National-MPs-rorting-the-system/tabid/370/articleID/115208/cat/67/Default.aspx

The Mythical Quadruple-Windsor Tie Knot

2009-08-05T09:50:00.002+12:00

In an amusing tie related anecdote I just remembered...

...when I was 19, I was at university, in Auckland... and I was flatting with my girlfriend. Money was tight, and I saw an advert in the paper that looked good. It was a sales job, no experience necessary, full training provided over 3 days, with lunches and morning and afternoon teas provided blah blah blah.

Well.

It turned out to be Encyclopaedia Britannica..., but, surprisingly, that's not the worst of it. The guy training us was a very short man, of Scottish decent. The first time I saw him I laughed out loud... which was very very embarrassing, but it couldn't be helped. He was wearing a tartan tie - and I don't mean it had tartan patterning, it was made of full blown kilt tartan material, and he had tied what remains to this day the most MASSIVE tie knot I have ever seen. In retrospect it could well have just been a full Windsor made to look gargantuan by the carpet thick material, but I actually thought he had gone for the mythical quadruple Windsor due to his very very small neck and short stature. This tie knot was, I believe around 8 or 9 cm across.

And, that was not even the most amusing part of the whole experience.

This guy was maybe 5'1" at a stretch, 50 odd, with silver hair. A veteran Britannica salesman. With steel capped shoes (seriously - he showed us them) to protect his feet when he literally put his foot in the door to stop it being slammed shut on him. But even that was not the highlight... He also had strongly nicotine stained fore and index fingers on his right hand from chain smoking. And a raspy (I wonder why) thick Scottish accent.

And then he told us about how the first 7 seconds when you meet someone is crucial to forming their impression of you. I immediately thought of how the first thing I saw was his comical tie knot... but anyway. We went on to eulogise about how as a door to door encyclopaedia salesman how you introduced yourself was crucial. With that he leapt up (to his full height), and said:

"I'll demonstrate how I do it.."

He left the room and shut the door behind him, and we all looked at each other in wonderment, amusement and fear as to what was to come next. He then knocked on the door.

Nothing.

He knocked again and we worked out that we were supposed to answer the door.

His foot immediately thrust forward into the door frame and he smiled, exposing his nicotine stained 'pearly whites' and thrust his hand out, shook the guy's hand firmly and said:

"McCook. Hugh McCook!"

and then turned to the room with this "Howzat!?" expression, paused...

...and said:

"Do you see?"

...silence...

"The way I introduced myself... did you notice anything about it?"

I was thinking "Yes, you look like a berk.", but luckily I didn't volunteer that idea.

He said:

"The way I said my surname, then repeated my name first name then surname...?" Does that remind you of anyone?"

...silence...

"Who else introduces themselves like that?"

Someone said "James Bond?"

A look of unbridled pleasure and pride swept across Hugh McCook's face, and he stood up to his full 5'1 1/2"s on elevated heels and tip toes, puffed out his chest and said:

"That's right! And that's what the customer will think too! If you introduce yourself like that they will think they are talking to James Bond!"

I was not the only person who could not contain myself. I literally dissolved in laughter...

Oh dear, oh dear. If I have ever met anyone who reminded me less of James Bond, than Hugh McCook, then I don't remember them.

Not such a stunning day.

2009-07-29T10:20:00.014+12:00

Blah. A bit of a dark dreary winter's day here today.

*shrug* I guess that's okay... it IS winter afterall.

I wonder if the RPNYC Personality of the year has recovered enough to face food yet? Tottie and Lord Rory are off to the West Island for a week this morning. Wasn't Outrageous Fortune a giggle last night? Graham, Graham, Graham, he's not my boyfriend... Graham. I laughed a lot.

As an experiment, to try and figure out if anyone bothers reading this each day... I have twenty dollars. I am going to give it to any of my regular photo of the day email friends who ask for it. If you email my gmail account today, July 29th, 2009 New Zealand time, and say you've read this, and you want a share of the twenty bucks, you qualify.

However, if you email others and tell them to get in on the act you will be disadvantaging yourself, because I will split the twenty dollars equally-ish between all those who reply.

I like sunrises! They please me.

2009-07-28T07:38:00.001+12:00

To-the-second-billing! Pfffffttttt....

2009-07-27T21:18:00.002+12:00

There's these ads running on tv here... for Telecom's new XT mobile network.

They have their new (sic.) billing system called "To-the-second-billing". Get this... after the first minute, they only bill you for the number of seconds you use! So switch to Telecom's new XT network now!

I seriously thought they were taking the piss...

...Vodafoine started "to-the-second-billing" in the mid 90's. I was going out with Anna FFS!

RPNYC Personality of the Year revealed...

2009-07-27T07:43:00.005+12:00

This guy picked up Royal Port Nicholson Yacht Club Personality Of The Year at the champagne breakfast yesterday.

And it's quite a nice morning too...

I hope things yacht club related don't get broken today...

2009-07-26T08:34:00.017+12:00

Well.

Yesterday was lovely. But things were a bit broken after we had passed through. To start with the batteries on the Circus were flat. Something had been left drawing power off them - I am not sure what, and I wasn't brave enough to ask because Paulie had little grumpy horns on when I got to the boat.

After some effort to bring the Circus back to life we called Fabrice and borrowed an MRX. We motored around to Evans bay in time for grumpy Paul to threaten to RUN from the wharf to the yacht club to register our change of identity before the start. Everyone, including Paulie, I think, was relieved when he didn't actually run, and instead just kinda gracefully tottered up the wharf.

So we entered, sailed to the start line, managed to forget to turn our motor on after the preparatory signal this week ;o)... maybe the multiple heckles from around the bay helped, like when Rowdy (who was sailing his paper tiger) called out just after the preparatory signal "Paul, that means you can't start your motor now...".

It was very light winds, and we were not on our usual steed the circus, and maybe that contributed... but we were late to the line... late enough for Max (who was sailing his laser) and Rowdy to comment to the effect of "Hey Paul, you're really late..." and "Paulie, you're so late, maybe you should start your engine..."

That last one WAS particularly funny.

So we did 3 windward leewards, had a whole lot of fun, and had enough humility to let the locals cross the line in front of us on the Black Mamba. Then we started motoring back to RPNYC.... and then, just before point Jerningham, we stopped....

...rather abrubtly.

Initially thoughts were that we had run out of diesel. Then the engine started hissing, and creaking, and smoking... and Sparkles said "Oh F***". And Paulie fairly RAN downstairs, and we found the fire extinguisher... and Eat My Shorts came alongside and gave us their fire extinguisher too... just in case.

But everything got sorted out. And when we got back to the dock Fabrice gave the engine a 'French Tune Up'.... his theory seemed to be that if you ran it long enough it would discharge all of the oil that had choked it off out the the water intake, and then everything would be okay.

There was extremely hot steam and oil and a little bit of water coming out of the exhaust, but strangely, after a few minutes it did seem to come right, sort of. Our theory was that we had broken a head gasket, but Fabrice just gave a gallic shrug and seemed to think it'd be okay.

I walked off at that point.

So hopefully when we go down to the RPNYC for the champagne breakfast this morning there will be less breakages.

Nice weekend weather!

2009-07-25T10:09:00.003+12:00

Off sailing at mid day. After two horrible nasty cold windy wet days look at how Saturday has dawned!

No photos today

2009-07-24T08:33:00.003+12:00

I slept in, only getting up at 7.30, and still managed to catch my bus ate 7.48... but it did mean no photos, which was kinda good because it was very rainy and very windy and very cold out on the deck.

Sailing tomorrow. 15 knots and dying according to BGP's forecast.

Not so pretty...

2009-07-23T07:38:00.003+12:00

What a stage in Le Tour!

We like sunrises...

2009-07-22T07:41:00.007+12:00

My mother was worried something had happened to me yesterday becasue she said there was no blog! I am sure there was.

6 pics this morning, because it was so nice.

New Passport Application Time

2009-07-21T09:37:00.004+12:00

Yep, after 10 years of faithful service across every continent in the world except Antarctica (Edit: Oops! Errr, and Africa.) my passport has reached the end of its useful life. After a testing battle with the Department of Internal Affairs website I finally managed to extract the form, print it and follow it all satisfactorily.

Now I just have to post it off and wait...

The Bottled Water Ban

2009-07-20T12:43:00.005+12:00

Recently some town in NSW in Australia banned bottled water. A brief scan of the media coverage indicated that the town's stance was catching on and enthusiasm for banning bottled water was spreading across NSW. The guts of it seems to be that it's ecologically crazy to spend all the money making plastic bottles, bottling water and transporting it etc.

I don't have a firm opinion one way or the other about the environmental footprint, the convenience, or the 'If you remove bottled water then the sugary soft drinks displays won't have a healthy alternative' arguments of the issue.

I do however wonder what the definition of 'bottled water' is for such bans.

When does a drink stop being 'bottled water' and start being something else?

Is it solely the water content percentage that matters?

Does carbonating the drink matter?

Does adding flavour matter?

Does adding colour matter?

Which of these things, if any are more important than the others?

Take coke for example - it's mostly water, but most people would not consider it bottled water.

Take H2Go's boysenberry carbonated offering. I think many people would consider it 'bottled water'. It's carbonated and flavoured, like Coke, but it is not coloured. If it was would it stop being bottled water?

How much colour needs to be added, how much flavour and how much carbonatedness before it stops being water and starts being a soft drink or some other type of drink?

If you enact a ban, it would seem you need to have a definition or a boundary to say what is banned and what is not.

If a bottled water producer, say Evian, responds by adding a flavourless colourant to its bottled water... is it still bottled water? Bottled water producers WILL SURELY respond in some way to protect their sales - how much do they need to do to side step such a ban by making their drink no longer 'bottled water'...?

If it is, and they also add a flavour, is it still bottled water? If they add the flavour without the colour, like H2Go's boysenberry, is it bottled water?

What a stunning morning...

2009-07-20T07:36:00.007+12:00

The pics speak for themselves. What a gorgeous day.

Yesterday we were sailing. Well, most of the time - sometimes we were close to drifting as the forecast failed to materialise. A pity we completely errored in the pre-start, and ended up having to Retire After Finishing when we realised we'd used our motor after the 4 minute gun.

Just two weeks now until the Hatepe Midwinter Gaming retreat! Woohoo!

Off to Andy and Sam's for Breakfast

2009-07-18T09:14:00.001+12:00

Just about to head over to Kelburn to have eggs for breakfast with Andy & Sam, and Felix too, of course! :o)

TGIF

2009-07-17T07:35:00.002+12:00

It's Fruday and the harbour is serene. First forecast for Sunday's racing is apparently 15 knots. Which will be nice... if true.

A little bit brighter this morning...

2009-07-16T07:40:00.003+12:00

Crikey! The contrast between this morning and yesterday is quite something. Off to Transformers tonight with the circus crew. Maybe they transformered the weather?

The Morning View Migrates to blogland

2009-07-15T07:32:00.007+12:00

For Andy...

It was a dark and stormy nigh...errr, morning.

A number of things that have been bugging me...

2009-07-13T17:50:00.004+12:00

1. Is he just Ambidextrous?

Have you seen the ad for the new Steinlager Edge mid strength, full taste beer? The one with the guy going through his day morphing from activity to the next... Does it bug you that he signs papers right handed, plays pool right handed, but plays golf left handed? It bugs me... and yes, I know some right-handers people bat left handed in cricket, or play golf left handed. It still bugs me.

2. The Aviation Security Service.

I flew to Auckland on Friday, and when I was checking in I picked up a 'Liquids, Aerosols and Gels - Passenger Information' flier. Now I accept that the drivers for the different security measures on chimerical flights are real, but sometimes the logic of the way the measures are implemented really bug me.

For instance, the flier says:

"Before checking in:

> Pack any liquids, aerosols or gels larger than 100mls in your main luggage fro check-in.

> Ensure that any liquids, aerosols or gels that you need for the flight are no larger than 100mls each and that they all fit neatly into a one litre transparent, resealable plastic bag (about 20cms x 20 cms in size)"

The red colouring was added by me, for emphasis. Why say that you need for the flight instead of saying that you are taking in your carry on luggage, which is what they actually mean.

Take the scenario where I don't have any checked-in luggage. I am travelling say to Sydney for the weekend to see my Mother who is living there. I am taking her a 50 ml bottle of perfume as a gift. It is gift wrapped. As per the wording of the flier it seems to me that the gift wrapped bottle of perfume (that I most certainly do NOT need for the flight) doe snot need to go in the resealable plastic bag... only things I need for the flight go in there. But the assumption seems to have been that people will only put things they need for the flight in their carry-on bag, and that anything else will go in the checked-in luggage - the assumption being that everyone will have checked-in baggage.

So again, why make it ambiguous and confusing? Why not just say what they mean, which is that any liquids, aerosols or gels that you are taking in your carry on luggage must comply with the restrictions listed?

3. It's ASK not ARKS!

Waiting to board my Pacific Blue flight back to Wellington I had to suffer through the Jet Star staff member helpfully informing us on three separate occasions that 'Jet Star now arks that passengers who...'

GRRRRRR!

I'd like to slap Ms. Halford.

2008-08-18T09:52:00.006+12:00

Have a read of this drivel: http://www.stuff.co.nz/4659492a11.html

Okay, so it is unfortunate that the police officer accidentally recorded that comment.

However, The police are not supposed to give your husband a fair go Ms. Halford. That's what the judiciary are there for. The police are society's bloodhounds. We employ them to hunt the bad b@st@rds down, and bring them before the judiciary. When people are reasonably suspected of having broken the law, like your husband is, then we expect the police to be predatory, and hunt them, and catch them. They are SUPPOSED to be biased against people who have committed crimes. That's their job!

The check, the balance, is that the judiciary - THEY are the ones who are there to ensure that people who break people's backs in 4 places get a "fair go" Ms. Halford. It's not up to the police to give criminals a "fair go".

I mean, for crying out loud!... "It's almost like we've got two things to worry about: the media trial and the police." Yes! That's right Ms. Halford. You DO have to worry about the police when you assault someone and break their back in 4 places. Welcome to life married to criminal!

Interestingly, the police have charged Veitch today for offences ranging from 2002 to 2006. The broken back occurred in 2006, so it looks like perhaps when Kristen Dunne-Powell laid her complaint with police she detailed more events than just the incident that lead to the broken back... so maybe it wasn't just a case of an otherwise nice guy just snapping as has been inferred by Tony Veitch?

George W. really IS smarter than we all thought.

2007-12-14T10:54:00.000+13:00

I admit, I was wrong.

All this time I thought George W. Bush was a monkey. But I have now come to appreciate that he, or at least his advisors, may well have been working on a grand strategic plan to bring peace in our time to the Israel/Palestine conundrum.

I think, that perhaps, they intentionally made a balls up of Iraq, waded into a horror story in Afghanistan, have been trying to engineer a disaster in Iran, and have been desperately trying to get involved in the mud slinging in Turkey, Syria and Kurdistan to establish an as bad as possible track record that EVERYONE was acutely aware of...

...so that they could then threaten to intervene in Israel.

At which point, the Israelis and the Palestinians would all collectively stop dead in their tracks, sphincter's clenching at the horror of that prospect, lower their guns, and look at each other and say "Bloody hell! Neither of us want that! So let's bury our 2000 odd years of hostility and genuinely find a way to work together..."

Genius!!! The unsolvable problem of Israel/Palestine, solved... Well done George W.. What a legacy.

The NZ media embarrass me

2007-06-18T09:43:00.000+12:00

I completely understand why Helen Clark (NZ Prime Minister), Winston Peters (NZ Foreign Minister) and the rest of the New Zealand government are trotting out the "We just can't comprehend the attitude and actions of the Interim Government of Fiji" lines... but why can't the New Zealand media ask the questions and write the editorials that deserve to be aired?

The almost universal profession of confusion and lack of comprehension of Fiji's actions in expelling New Zealand's High Commissioner and detaining and deporting a New Zealand journalist last week astounds me. I have not read or heard any reports from the New Zealand media that do anything other than echo the New Zealand government's view that it is bizarre and unwarranted.

To me the situation seems quite clear. Fiji had a coup, and understandably New Zealand (and other countries) reacted adversely to the illegal and unconstitutional usurping of power by the Fijian military. That's pretty easy to do from here in New Zealand. Fiji has a history of coups, so it's probably a little less unbelievable that a coup has occurred there than if it had happened here.

I think it's rather understandable - regardless of the legality of the coup, and regardless of New Zealand's (and other nations') lack of recognition of the interim government of Fiji's legitimacy - that the interim government of Fiji would attempt to ( a ) gain recognition and ( b ) work in some way towards a normalisation of relations with countries in the region, New Zealand included. To that end, Fiji's High Consul in Wellington has repeatedly attempted to engage the New Zealand government in discourse over various subjects, including but not restricted to, a normalisation of relations and a lifting of the visa ban and other sanctions imposed by the New Zealand government in the wake of the coup.

Also understandable is the New Zealand government's refusal to either acknowledge the legitimacy of the Fiji High Consul (given that he represents a regime New Zealand doesn't recognise) nor enter into such diplomatic discourse.

And it follows that it's hardly difficult to understand that this would frustrate the interim government of Fiji no end. And the New Zealand High Commissioner's refusal to budge on his government's position, and refusal to enter into discussions over normalisation of relations etc. is ( a ) understandable and ( b ) also clearly likely to frustrate the interim government of Fiji's leadership even more.

So the New Zealand media's bewilderment at the expulsion of Mr. Green, and total lack of reporting of the understandable (but not legally legitimate) position of the interim government of Fiji is an embarrassment if you ask me. OF COURSE they are going to attempt to engage the New Zealand government. OF COURSE the New Zealand government is going to refuse to engage. OF COURSE that is going to frustrate them... and it's hardly surprising in that situation that they have resorted to drastic action and expelled our High Commissioner. It's a desperate act, and I don't think it will help them. In diplomatic circles it is taken very seriously and will probably isolate the interim government of Fiji even further. OF COURSE the New Zealand government is going to dismiss it as ludicrous behaviour and completely unjustified and OF COURSE they are going to bang on about not having received an explanation... and OF COURSE the interim government of Fiji are not going to give one, as they are not required to under the Vienna Convention.

However the total lack of critical reporting - the lack of outlining of this very aspect of the issue is amazing to me. Why can't the New Zealand media do their job?

Has New Zealand Gone Completely Mad?

2007-06-14T08:10:00.000+12:00

Normally I find New Zealand a very nice place to live. It's peaceful, mostly. It's safe, mostly.

The last two days make me wonder whether or not I've fallen through a worm hole and ended up in gangland USA or something. Yesterday, on the National Program news were the following stories:

1. An under 15 rugby match in Hamilton was abandoned with 10 minutes to play, after what some spectators described as a 'bad tempered' game boiled over to the point where on player shouted "We've got knives in our bags, and we're going to kill you!". The boy concerned has been suspended from all sports activities at the school for the remainder of 2007, and another boy from the same school has been suspended from all rugby until the end of the season.

2. Two chefs resigned from an as yet unnamed Auckland restaurant on Sunday night, apparently with a view to going to work for a rival restaurant. 3 men, employees of the first restaurant, have been arrested, and police are working towards arrests of four other employees of the restaurant, after 7 people broke into the two chef's house and kidnapped them at gunpoint. One of the chefs attempted to escape by climbing over the railing of a second story balcony, fell, and broke both his ankles. The two chefs were then taken to two different addresses in separate cars, where the one without the broken ankles escaped and raised the alarm at a nearby petrol station. See the first story here and a follow up story here.

3. A soldier, whose unit has been deployed to peace-keeping duties in East Timor, is currently in jail, awaiting a psychiatric assessment report and a sentencing hearing on July 9, at which the judge has said he will receive a considerable prison term. In mid-April the soldier had completed a training exercise, after which he became involved in a domestic incident with his partner, during which he hit her. He then called the police, asking them to come and arrest him. he left the phone off the hook, still connected with the police despatcher listening, and then proceeded to threaten a pregnant neighbour with a gun, and attack a fellow soldier with a knife. The police arrived, and the man attempted to cut his own wrists with the knife, threatened the police, the pregnant neighbour and the other soldier with a gun. Two police attempted to use pepper spray to subdue him, but missed, collided with each other and pepper sprayed each other instead. A further policeman was about to shoot the man, his statement said he had begun to squeeze the trigger, when the man's partner jumped in between the policeman and the man, causing the policemen to stop shooting. The man was subsequently persuaded to point his gun away from the police and was overpowered. In an interview immediately after the incident he told police he wanted them to shoot him because he believed he didn't deserve to live, because he had hit a woman.

Then, this morning I found this story.... http://www.stuff.co.nz/4093970a10.html which starts with:

"Road rage ends in shooting at Auckland uni

An 18-year-old man is facing a possible 10 years behind bars after allegedly using a semi-automatic rifle in a road rage shooting incident in Albany."

A must read book

2007-03-26T12:51:00.000+12:00

I've just taken delivery of, and begun reading a new book.

It is A corner of a foreign field 'The Indian History of a British Sport' by Ramachandra Guha (ISBN 0 330 49117 2) and is widely acclaimed as one of the three greatest books ever written about cricket. As such, despite the fact that I am so far only part of the way through the Preface I urge anyone with an interest in the greatest of all games to obtain a copy and read it.

Here's a quote from the Preface to whet the appetite:

"The Bombay batsman Sachin Tendulkar is perhaps the best-known Indian, as well as one of the richest. There are pamphlets and books about him in his native Marathi, and in Hindi and Tamil too. When Tendulkar is batting against the Pakistani swing-bowler Wasim Akram, the television audience exceeds the entire population of Europe."

I look forward to enjoying this book over the next few weeks, as the 2007 ICC World Cup is played out without either India or Pakistan in the last eight. Can you begin to imagine what it means to the Bangladeshi fans that their team is playing in the super 8's, and both India and Pakistan are on the plane heading home?

It's a funny old game...

The Inevitable Consequence of PC hand-holding.

2007-02-20T10:28:00.000+13:00

The MCG tried, predictably unsuccessfully, to ban the Mexican wave at the cricket this summer. Apart from the fact that this is absolute lunacy, completely lacking in logic, as Billy Birmingham's Bill Lawry would say, I think the approach the ground authorities used to approach the perceived problem was completely wrong.

Their theory is that during Mexican waves, people throw things up in the air, and due to health and safety laws and the ensuing obligations on the ground authorities to take reasonable steps to prevent injury to patrons etc. they are obliged to stamp out the practice.

Well - when I was a kid I went to the cricket. I have wonderful memories of days in the sun on the Terraces collecting empty beer cans, and especially the tear tabs from those beer cans, and filling a couple of cans with the tear tabs to make an maraca-esque instrument to shake in time with the chant "Hadlee - cha-cha-cha".

Years later, after the advent of the Mexican wave, suddenly beer was being sold in plastic cups and/or plastic bottles. Now I think this is where the ground authorities started going wrong. In the early days of the Mexican wave, beer was still sold in cans, but no one threw beer cans in the air. For one it was a waste of beer, but also no one wanted to be hit by a beer can. Later, late in the day some fools, often the drunken ones, would throw beer cans, and as well as being singled out by the security thugs the people around them usually had a go at them too - no one wanted to be hit on the head by a full or partly full beer can. However, once the beer was sold in plastic bottles EVERYONE though "Woohoo, these empty plastic bottles are just BEGGING to be thrown in the air during a Mexican wave. It's destiny."

I was at the MCG a few years ago in the top deck of the now gone Ponsford Stand. The Mexican wave that day was a thing of beauty. It stopped play. For quite some time. It did 25 laps of the MCG without interruption. The players left the field and Shane Warne came out with a helmet on, ostensibly to try and calm the crowd down but he obviously had the opposite effect and egged them on.

The wave that day was fun. A lot of fun. It was almost as much fun as the cricket and no one near me minded in the least when the play stopped and the players left the field.

But some people threw beer, and pies, and some bottles apparently had urine in them. And some people complained about being hit by projectiles.

And the PC brigade responded by making the containers softer and with no sharp corners, and reducing the alcohol content of the beer etc.

What they SHOULD have done is started selling beer in glass bottles. If you give people at the cricket, in the sun, soft plastic bottles they WILL throw them. Because it's fun. And the more you try to stop them the more they will want to throw them. Take away the plastic bottles however, and give them glass bottles and NO ONE will stand by while some lout nearby tosses a glass bottle in the air. When someone throws a full plastic bottle, most people won't stop them because they'll be seen as a spoil sport or a busy body, but no one would hesitate to step in if they saw someone throw a glass bottle...

Now the PC brigade will say "But if you sell it in glass, people will knock them over and then you will have glass on the ground and little kiddies will cut their feet." Well, firstly, provide bins, and employ the kids you employ to sell beer and ice creams to empty the bins regularly, and people will put the glass bottles in the bins. Secondly, if glass bottle do get knocked over, the kids could use it as a damn good learning experience to be careful and watch where they were putting their feet... I managed to cope as a kid with broken glass, so why can't they?"

The solution is to force people to take responsibility for their actions NOT to try and use the soft kid gloves to make everything 100% safe for them.

The Trauma of Multi-Blade Razors

2007-02-01T22:24:00.000+13:00

Today was the day I left my trusty twin bladed Schick FX Diamond Tipped flexi-blade razor with microfins and a lubricating strip behind and extremely reluctantly stepped into the world of three bladed razors. I did not do this of my own free will. No siree Bob! I have steadfastly refused, on principle, to buy a three (or even four or five!!! bladed razor), because for years we were fed twin bladed razor adverts with animations showing the first blade picking up the whisker and lifting it, and the second blade subsequently cutting the whisker and the whisker then sinking down BELOW the level of the skin.

Then three bladed razors came out, and the animation now showed the first bladed picking up the whisker and the second blade now mysteriously NOT cutting through it, but picking it up still further, and then the third blade cutting through the whisker, which then sunk down below the level of the skin.

Now my position is either they were lying to us back when they fed us the twin bladed animation, or they were lying to us now with the three bladed animation, but either way they were lying. The second blade doesn't suddenly change it's behaviour due to the appearance of the new third blade... surely?

Unfortunately I have been FORCED into buying a three bladed razor, because everywhere has stopped stocking my trusty Schick FX diamond tipped flaxi-blades with microfins and a lubricating strip. *mutter mutter mutter*. Worse, the new ad for the Schick Quatro vibrating razor asks you if you have ever desired more stimulation whilst you shave... Stimulation? Is it just me, or do other guys sit there and think "No! I've never, ever thought I wanted more stimulation while I shave!" For me, the less moving parts the better. I am concentrating damn hard on not hacking a significant chunk out of my face when I shave. More stimulation!? You're joking!? That's the LAST thing I want.

So, I could not possibly buy a battery power vibrating razor for fear that marketing wonks at Schick would interpret the sales spike as a positive indicator that mean really do sit there wishing they had more stimulation while they shaved... good grief! Furthermore, I could not buy a Gillette razor of any kind because they like to sing "Gillette - the best a man can get!" to us. Bloody hell! If a razor is the best a man can get then things really are dire here in the 21st Century aren't they?

So I bought the Schick Xtreme 3 (R) Sub Zero (TM) Cool the Burn (TM) razor with "patented Anti-Razor Burn Technology".

Naturally when I got it home I opened it to try it out. It has a very nice soft grip, shaves very well, lubricates, cools, and it microfins to my hearts content. It's a winner!

And guess what!? It comes with a razor hanger! Now you can stick your extra stimulation up your arse I say! A razor hanger - how cool is that!? It has a little suction-cup which you stick to the mirror, and out the back of the suction cup there is a plastic arm with a hole in it that you drop the handle of the razor through and it holds the razor when not in use!!! Now why on earth don't their adverts push the razor hanger? That's the sort of gadgetry that guys want. No more having the women folk stash your razor under the sink in the cupboard. No way! My Schick Xtreme 3 (R) Sub Zero (TM) Cool the Burn (TM) razor lives right there on the bottom right hand corner of the mirror thank you very much!!!

Hehehe. How easy was that? They could have overcome my steadfast refusal to upgrade years ago if they'd pushed their razor hanger...

What ever happened to the push clean bar though!? That was a quality piece of razor technology.

Evacuate!? In our moment of triumph!?

2007-01-31T08:26:00.000+13:00

I got an email from my good friend Jens in Germany the other day. He lived with us while he was in New Zealand last year, and we keep in contact by email, and have a few good laughs with each other still. He was telling me he enjoys reading my Blog because it helps to continue expanding his English vocabulary, something that was a constant theme of our evening discussions when he was here in kiwi-land. This one is for you Jens...

Last weekend, Shernett the Pernett, Dan & Di and I went away camping at Kai Iwi Lakes (see the lakes just in from the coast at http://maps.google.com/?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;amp;z=11&ll=-35.801665,173.789291&spn=0.407096,0.63858&om=1).

Dan is truly the 'Man of Phrases'. To the point, some say, where he is actually slightly obsessive-compulsive.

"Slightly!!??" I hear Di scream in disbelief. Yes, well.

One of Dan's many favourite phrases is the quote from Star Wars: "Evacuate!? In our moment of triumph!? I think you over estimate their chances!". Now, as well as being the phrase man of power, Dan is undeniably the 'Pun Man of Power' too. He makes puns relentlessly. Sometimes even in his sleep. So of course the above "evacuate" quote is often deployed when someone needs to do 'Big-Toilets' - in a 'weak' pun on "evacuating one's bowels".

In the weekend, while we were happily playing games outside our tent...

the camp caretaker ran by looking a bit flustered. Some nincompoop had reversed into one of the water mains and smashed the pipe. The water system for the camp was out of action. That meant that the toilets were out of action. And this was at 8.30am in the morning with 500 odd campers in the middle of their morning ablutions... The caretaker said it was kinda under control though - he'd called the "poo-truck" and it was on the way.

We had a prime vantage point from out tent site overlooking the main toilets and the pump station.

Of course, in the meantime our game had continued and there had been a number of renditions of the "Evacute!? In our moment of triumph!?" gag as Dan drew closer to winning and the urge to do his morning business mounted...

Nevertheless, about 45 minutes later the Poo Truck did arrive. Let me tell you, being the driver of the Poo Truck is high on my list of jobs I never want to do. The potential for complete disasters if you were to pull the wrong lever or leave the wrong valve open at the wrong time does not bear thinking about.

And the first joyous event was when we spotted it's number plate... truly one of the coolest personalised number plates in existence. But the "washed and empty" sign bought the full terpidity of the Poo Truck driver's existance home to roost. Not only did he have to drive a large tanker full of poo around, AND pump it in and out of his precious truck, but after that he presumably had to wash everything down...

and surely that involves some degree of opening chambers that just should not be opened. *shaking my head in disbelief* Thank goodness for Poo Truck drivers. Without them our lives would be somewhat less enjoyable...

Then, we spotted the second sign.

This one was on the side of the Poo Truck and is the subject of today's German Reader's Vocabulary Expansion Lesson.

"Human Septage!?" we all exclaimed in unison. "Human SEPTAGE!??" What sort of terminology is that to be exposed to at breakfast time!

Human Septage indeed!

Wake Up Richard Bock

2007-01-23T13:42:00.000+13:00

The New Zealand cricket team are not playing well at the moment. They have lost their first three matches in the Commonwealth Bank series, and the nature of their loses has, at times, been comical.

New Zealand cricket fans should be a LOT more pleased than they on the whole appear to be. Richard Bock, cricket writer for the New Zealand Herald, as is his usual style seems to be not just riding the bandwagon of popularist thought bemoaning the performances on the field but seems to almost relish whipping up the frenzy of talk-back-radio blood letting. I think there is a lot to celebrate.

The following aspects of the three performances so far seem to me to be extremely positive:

In Hobart against Australia, despite bowling badly in the first ten overs, the New Zealand bowlers, and in particular Vettori and Patel, backed up by some good fielding choked the powerful Australian middle order, reducing the Australian run rate from up around 7 down to close to 4.5.
Ross Taylor's performance against a very strong Australian bowling performance in two games, but particularly in Hobart, has been very positive.
Mark Gillespie's bowling has been outstandingly good. He has looked right at home, has troubled the bowlers, and I think has been the real success story of the trip to Australia.
The inclusion of MacMillan in the touring side caused me to do a double take, but he has delivered brilliantly so far, and I am not just talking about his innings against Australia the other night. His fielding has been very very good, and his bowling has not been bad either. Good on him I say.

Despite losing three games, I am not that down. In the first game, at 161/3 we were right there, giving the Australians a real fright. The collapse that followed, 7 for 21, was abysmal. To me, that shift from being toe to toe with the Aussies and right up with them, to completely falling apart is symptomatic of a lack of mental focus. The three glaring errors against Australia at the SCG - Franklin's dropped catch from Clarke, the botched run out and MacCullum's dropped chance up close also look like symptoms of the team's heads not being focussed.

Bracewell's performances in the last couple of press conferences - see http://www.nzherald.co.nz/section/4/story.cfm?c_id=4&objectid=10420392 I think indicates that there IS a lot of tension in the camp. That's far from ideal.

However, despite this lack of focus, this tension in the camp, possible ructions and discontent with the rotation policy from some players... and despite us not having fielded anything like our strongest side so far in the series... it is important to note that we are only JUST losing (I think the game in Hobart was actually much closer than the eventual 105 runs margin suggests). And we are only JUST losing to a very strong Australian side with a well tuned bowling attack and a formidable batting line up.

A lack of mental focus, distractions for the players with tension in the dressing room etc.... these are things that can be fixed relatively easily. It's certainly much easier to address than if we were losing and losing badly because of a fundamental skills gap - where the other teams are clearly better sides, and where our players have technical deficiencies.

We have Bond, Oram, Styris, Sinclair and Vincent in the wings, and that is in the wings of a side that's not exactly devoid of talent as it is. I hope that Franklin will be omitted from the side today and am looking forward to seeing how the team goes in Adelaide.

The Bloody 'Talk Back Listeners' Choice Awards' are back!

2006-10-02T15:53:00.000+13:00

*sigh*

It's that time of the year again.

I loathe the People's Choice Awards. It was like a massive weight was lifted off my shoulders last year when they were finally over and done with. Now the build up - all THREE MONTHS of it is on again. *mutter mutter mutter*

It's bad enough that nearly every second ad on Sky TV for the next three months is going to be for the ''Talk Back Listener's Choice Awards' but now I see that www.stuff.co.nz has a heading on their menu bar "People's Choice".

I just sent them feedback saying I hate the People's Choice Awards, maybe if they were renamed the "Stupid People's Choice Awards" I hate them less, but I'd still hate them. I also told them that I am going to stop visiting www.stuff.co.nz until the "People's Choice" heading on their menu bar is removed. How can it be worthy of a heading of equal stature to "World News" or "Weather"?

Pah!

It just get's worse...

2006-09-29T09:57:00.000+12:00

Bloody Mai FM!

There was an earthquake near Samoa last night. It was even reported on the news last night that a tsunami HAD hit Samoa, but it was very minor... sea level was measured as having risen just 8cm.

This morning Mai FM's news reported that people in Samoa were still nervously waiting to see if they were going to be hit by a tsunami following the earthquake, but that the Hawaiian Tsunami Watch Centre would continue to monitor sea levels...

For crying out loud!!! Tsunamis do not just randomly 'decide' to appear sometime over the 48 hours following an earthquake. You don't have to sit around nervously wondering if there is going to be a tsunami for days after an earthquake. And the of course Hawaiian Tsunami Watch Centre are going to continue monitoring sea levels... that's what they do - 24 hours a day, 7 days a week! They don't go "oh, bugger me! There's been an earthquake, let's switch the equipment on!"

Why is our media so crap?

2006-09-29T08:37:00.000+12:00

Poor reporting really bugs me.

Between when I left work yesterday and this morning four instances of a complete lack of professionalism by people in the media have really got my goat up.

Firstly, as I was driving home yesterday, Willie Lose on Radiosport was talking about how the NZRU, Sky Sports, SANZAR and New Zealand Cricket had worked together to resolve a scheduling conflict. New Zealand play Australia in the second Chappel-Hadlee cricket match at the cake tin on Friday February 16th, and the Hurricanes were scheduled to play the Blues in a Super14 match at the same ground on the same night. The clash was resolved by moving the rugby game to Saturday night.

Willie Lose, is employed as a host on Radio Sport, and therefore it is his job to comment on sport everyday. I think this then puts the onus on him to know what he is talking about when it comes to sport... it's his profession. He then asked viewers: "Which would you rather watch in February? A one day cricket test match, or a Super14 rugby game?"

What!!?? A 'one day cricket test match'? What sloppy work! One day cricket matches are called One Day Internationals. Cricket 'Test Matches' last 5 (sometimes 6) days. There is no such thing as a one day cricket test match!

I was so incensed by Lose's idiocy that I changed channels to Mai FM only to hear them claim that since daylight savings starts this weekend "It will be getting lighter earlier in the mornings"
Huh!? I just turned my radio off at that point..

Then, on the news this morning there was a story that the Labour Party had come out and said that one of the 'large donators' to the party's election fund could be crossed of the list of possible suspects for the mystery 'large donator' who allegedly offered the Maori Party $250,000 to side with Labour after our last general election. The President of the Labour Party said that he had spoken to Glen Owen (in London) at 2am this morning and that he had said "he did not know who Tariana Turia was, and he had certainly never met Tariana Turia".

If I was the Labour Party, I'd be trying to distance my known contributors from the scandal too. What I can't believe is: given that when the Tariana Turia made her comments revealing the approach on National Radio yesterday she clearly stated that she had not met with the potential donator, but that the approach had been made through a third party, that the reporter(s) taking the quote from the Labour Party President didn't immediately say "Yes, but Tariana Turia said she did not know who the potential donator was, and she said she had not met with him, but with a third party...so your comments prove nothing with regards to Glen Owen's involvement (or not)."

Finally, Miles Davis was on Radio Sport this morning. Admittedly he is a complete gumby, and is employed as a clown rather than a serious sports reporter. Also, he is admittedly a self-confessed football knob who knows little if anything about Rugby. Nevertheless there has been close to immersion coverage this week regarding the Ranfurly Shield. If you are involved in sport, and the sports media in anyway, it is hard to conceive how you could possibly have missed hearing that QBE Insurance Harbour Rugby will not have a shield challenge until early next season.

Tony Veitch commented that he thought that Waikato would smash QBE Insurance Harbour Rugby this weekend (which he was correct about, of course) due to the shield holders being hung over from the euphoria of winning the shield. Miles Davis then said "Well I hope that doesn't happen. It would be a shame for them not to hold onto it for at least a little while."

*shaking my head in dismay*.

Shield Fever? - The People's Trophy

2006-09-27T11:12:00.000+12:00

Well, it's finally happened.

QBE Insurance Harbour Rugby have won the Ranfurly Shield for the first time. And, also for the first time, in just over a week the hallowed shield will be on display at QBE Insurance North Harbour Stadium when QBE Insurance Harbour Rugby play their home quarter-final in the Air New Zealand Cup. Of course, listening in the media you could be excused for thinking that QBE Insurance have not stumped up what is presumably a significant wodge of cash to become the naming rights sponsor for both the stadium and the union's rugby team. So far, in this week in which QBE Insurance should be receiving a bonanza of exposure as the media interview the CEO of QBE Insurance Harbour Rugby, the coach, the Mayor of North Shore City... I have not heard any of them refer to the stadium, or the team, by there contractually agreed names.

I wonder why companies like QBE Insurance bother backing New Zealand rugby by sponsoring stadiums and teams when the administrators are, a decade or so into the professional era, still completely unprofessional about things like this. The marketing department of QBE Insurance Harbour Rugby need a real bollocking, I think. They should have been in the CEO's, the coach's and the mayor's ears and reinforcing their obligation, having gratefully accepted QBE Insurance's cash, to insist that people referred to the stadium not as "North Harbour Stadium" but as QBE Insurance North Harbour Stadium.

When you ring ticketek to book a ticket at the stadium, or when you use their website, the ground is not listed under 'N' for North Harbour Stadium, it is listed under 'Q' for QBE Insurance North Harbour Stadium. When you are at the ground the ground announcer and the scoreboard call the home team "QBE Insurance Harbour Rugby".

I think the lack of professionalism displayed in this week is criminal. It should have been the week in which QBE Insurance got the most bang for their buck, but instead they have been ignored.

That said, what a wonderful result for the union. I listened to an interview on Radio Sport the other night when I was driving home in which Willie Lose was talking to the CEO of the Canterbury Rugby Union. They discussed how Canterbury had, and how QBE Insurance Rugby should (although, of course, they just said 'North Harbour') leverage the shield. It made my skin tingle... I'm not a North Harbour fan, I'm a dedicated Mooloo man, but just the proximity of the shield has me excited. Not for me, but for all the fans north of the bridge.

Canterbury's CEO talked about how during their time with the shield they had tried to get as many people from their area to touch the shield as possible. He said it didn't spent a single night in the trophy cabinet. That every day that it was not out in a school, or an RSA or a rugby club it was sitting on the front desk in reception at the Canterbury Rugby Union's offices, and that he could not tell you how many people had come in to look at, touch, hold and have their photo taken with the shield.

This is what is so special about the Ranfurly shield. It's the people's trophy... in most sports, when teams win cups or shields they go into a trophy cabinet for a year. The thing with the shield is you never know how long you are going to have it. It could just be days, or it could be years... that uncertainty is what moves people. They want to see touch and feel the shield, and because it might be gone next week, for who knows how long, you need to get busy and make the most of your opportunity with it while you can.

That's what sparks shield fever.

People say shield fever is dead, but it's just not true. Every single time a smaller union, or a union who has not had the shield before wins it, people in that region go ballistic. It's their time in the sun, and while they might not be able to claim that they are the best in the country, they've got the shield... they won it, and they won't be giving it up until someone wins it off them. The genius of the shield structure - running in parallel to the normal league competition as a challenge trophy is so special.

I hope QBE Insurance North Harbour stadium is jumping next weekend. I hope it's full. I hope the people of North Harbour come out in numbers and show that they are proud to have entered the shield holder's club now.

I'll be there. It reminds you of what it is like to be alive when you are at events like that.

Hayes Bannister & 'The Perfect Romance'

2006-09-19T08:32:00.000+12:00

It has been claimed that Hayes Bannister is 'ruggedly old scool' and that he is 'the epitome of [the] ultimate romance'.

I refute this claim on the following grounds...

Firstly, let's define 'The Perfect Romance'.

The. - this is the singular form of 'them'. Dropping the 'm' off the end makes it singular. Like you might say: 'Them perfect romances what used happen back in the days'; or if you only wanted to talk about one of those perfect romances you'd just say "The perfect romance...". If you add letters to the end of 'the' you can modify it in all sorts of ways. As already shown, if you add an 'm' it makes it plural. If you add 're' on the end of 'the' however it changes it from pertaining to you, to pertaining to somone else:

e.g. "There perfect romances were no where near as good as the one I had with Hayes Bannister."

And if you add "ir" onto the end of "the" it shifts the object in space:

e.g. "The perfect romance happened over their..."

So, that shows that "The perfect romance" is a deeply personal thing, that happens once, and once only, to you, here. Dig?

Now let's move on and look at Romance. 'Romance' is the plural of Roman, who were the Italians before they decided they were going to change sides mid-way through wars. So, you might say:

"Them Romance over there look like da baddest bruthas in the hood!"

Which means, roughly translating, means: "See dose mafia dudez wit da greasy long hair over dere? Don't mess wit dem bro 'cos dale fcuk you up bad!"

Clearly, no sensible blood wants to be having companionship with fullas like that! This proves that Romance are not the sort of people you wanna get involved with. No relationships with them, no companionship niether!

So that brings us to what 'Perfect' means? Perfect means better than really good. It means the most bestest things imaginable. It means ain't nothin' wrong with that sh1t whatsoever at all!

Perfect Romance therefore is hard thing to get your head around. 'Specially since you don't wanna be messing with the Romance in the first place, eh? But Perfect Romance do exist. If they really are the bad-ass muther-fcukers we think they are, then the Perfect Romance is dead romance! And since we are looking for the epitome of the ultimate Romance, like they had 'back in the days', then as we all know, even bad ass muther-fcukers don't live forever, right? And therefore all those dudes like Hayes Bannister, and Olivier Mulligan Predergast III and their crips - they MUST be dead by now, 'cos 'back in the days' was a long time ago. So those Romance are dead, so they are the perfect Romance!

Now the only area where I think my theory is even remotely vulnerable is that it is claimed that Hayes Bannister was 'ruggedly old scool'. Now I've seen the Romance, and quite a few of them are diego wops who ain't never gonna be considered rugged. Maybe in winter, when they is really cold - then they might be rugged up to keep warm, but the rest of the time those Romance usually just wear open chested bright coloured shirts and gold chains around their necks.

Nevertheless, sooner or later those Romance boys are gonna get cold as! Then they will be rugged. So they're rugged, they are Romance, and since they are dead now, that's gotta make them perfect 'cos they can't be messing with us once they is dead.

Boom-Shanka!!! The Perfect Romance does exist!

Told you so.

:)

Wahi Tapu Pakeha?

2006-09-18T13:23:00.000+12:00

I am nearing the end of reading Michael King's 'The Penguin History of New Zealand' and the section I have just read resonated deeply with me.

In the section 'Post History', chapter 30, 'Configurations Old And New', King writes:

'Having passed through an era, up until the 1970's, in which the Treaty was not observed or honoured, however, and into one in which that deficit was being rectified, the country became aware of a strong Pakeha aspiration for the values and imperatives of their culture too to be recognised and taken as seriously by the government and the country as a whole as that of the tangata whenua. This impulse came from a growing conviction among Pakeha that their culture, like that of Maori, is no longer the same as the cultures of origin from which it sprang - that it has become, in fact, a second indigenous culture by the same process by which East Polynesian people developed Maori culture: transplanting imported concepts and values from one place to another, observing them change over time in a new land and new circumstances, and eventually focusing attention away from the ancestral home and fully on the contemporary homeland.

That this increasing valuing of their own heritage should lead Pakeha to become advocates for their culture was something of a surprise. The assumption that most Pakeha grew up with was that their culture was strong enough and pervasive enough to persist through and despite any vicissitudes or challenges it might encounter. And perhaps it was. They imagined the special measures undertaken as a Treaty obligation to protect and strengthen Maori language and culture were necessary because of their vulnerability, and that such measures would not in any way threaten the viability of Pakeha culture.

Then a series of events, none of them directly related, appeared to suggest the former imbalance was being corrected by the creation of another imbalance. In 1997 the Treaty Negotiations Minister, Doug Graham, was quoted as saying that Maori had spiritual feelings for mountains, lakes and rivers that Pakeha lacked - a statement strongly resented by the large number of non-Maori New Zealanders who habitually took their recreation in such places and regarded them with a respect and reverence that at least equalled and in some instances exceeded that displayed by Maori. Then, in 1998, in the same month that the national museum, Te Papa Tongarewa, refused to remove from display in a visiting exhibition of contemporary British art the sculpture Virgin in a Condom, which was giving strong offence to some Christians, the Waikato Museum of Art and History withdrew a Dick Frizzell exhibition because moko on the face of a caricatured Four Square grocer offended Tainui kaumatua.

Four years later Transit New Zealand postponed work on State Highway 1 near Mercer on the ground that local Tainui people believed such work would disturb a taniwha or guardian spirit. At almost the same time North Shore City Council announced that it would proceed with the widening of Esmonde Road in Takapuna, even though that would carve six metres off the front of Frank Sargeson's section, including the legendary 'hole in the hedge' and the area of former garden in which his ashes had been interred.

Both sets of events arose from different decisions by different officials in different institutions. But those in favour of Maori interests all grew out of Treaty-based obligations in legislation or mission statements to consult with Maori and to observe the principles of the Treaty of Waitangi. In the case of State Highway 1, the relevant factor was the obligation to respect wahi tapu or scared places.

Most Pakeha had little difficulty accepting that. The problem they identified was that the country by this time had legislatively based procedures to protect the values and sensibilities of one culture and not the other. They did not want to see anything taken away from Maori, just to ensure that the measures of protection and respect extended from the one culture to embrace both cultures: to see wahi tapu of significance to Pakeha, such as Frank Sargeson's grave, given as much protection as wahi tapu of significance to Maori; and to have the history and experience of Pakeha New Zealanders valued by the country as a whole, and by its institutions, as much as those of Maori.'

Michael King writes a lot of things in this book, some of which I disagree with strongly, and many of which I find myself nodding in agreement with. I am somewhat disenchanted by his comparatively cursory coverage of such subjects as 'Think Big' and the 1981 Springbok tour, which I feel are two significant contributors to the shape and nature of the modern history and contemporary culture of New Zealand.

However this section of writing by King I think is an outstanding piece of capturing history as it is happening. I feel he had his finger right on the pulse of the nation as history was being played out in capturing that shift in the national consciousness.

Burning Down the House!!!

2006-09-08T10:03:00.000+12:00

Slimy Will contacted me last week and suggested we go to the Battle of Bridge together at Eden Park on Friday night. A few phone calls and emails saw the numbers swell to include my flatmate Ian and his girlfriend with four names, Shernett the Pernett, and maybe Kermit the Frog and Miss Piggy (a.k.a 'A-coupla-Khans'). The plan had also been expanded to include dinner at Taiko before the game, and the group further expanded to include Slimy Will's wife Roberta and possibly a couple of other Brazilians...

Kermit was going to check with the lovely Miss Piggy on Thursday night. However, he is a muppet, and since it was late when she got home he didn't bother. When I rung him on Friday morning to enquire why I hadn't heard back from him Kermit explained it had been too late to call me, yadda yadda yaddie...

So I explained, again, that the table we had booked could seat up to 14, and we currently had only 8, maybe 10 counting the Brazilians... so there was plenty of room... he said he'd check with Miss Piggy when she got home and would probably see us at the restaurant.

Dinner rocked, as usual at Taiko, and midway through the second half I got a txt from Kermit explaining that he was truly a muppet of the finest order, and he'd forgotten about it... until then.

For the record, Auckland broke Slimy Will's heart, again...

Saturday lunchtime I get a txt from the Wonkey-Donkey, fat handed man a.k.a. Dangerous Dan Khan, a.k.a Kermit the Frog saying "To make up for last night's stuff up, how about you come over tonight for games et. al.?"

So at 6.30pm I picked up Seanie-Pawnie and we drove out to The Attic. Dan made a valiant attempt to explain why he was outside, in the dark, caressing his body with tree branches and leaves by saying "errr Hi. I was just.... gathering firewoood"... Due to the 3 games in one hand and the Limburgs in the other I, rather rudely, failed to stop and appreciate the new pebbles and grasses Miss Piggy had been planting next to the already treacherous, but beautiful, stairs down to The Attic. I also failed to soak up the import of the newly painted mushrooms on top of the lights. Such a fillistyne!!!

We had a long over due catch-up-yarn and then introduced a coupla-Khans to Villa Paletti. Before the commencement of play Brother-Di was in charge of (a) putting some of Dan's freshly collected 'firewood' on the fire and (b) placing some of the (it turned out not to be) damp logs on top of the firebox to "slowly, but in an entirely safe and controlled manner, dry out ready for burning LATER."

Villa Paletti was magnificently successful. A huge amount of fun, and an ideal way to begin proceedings. For the record - best pillar withdrawal definitely went to Brother-Sean who, when all felt sure that none of the three pillars on the bottom level could be removed safely challenged my "I need to add the green floor" assertion and did in fact pull one of his pillars out leaving just two pillars on the bottom level. Kermit's turn was next - and he decided not to go for full glory, and claimed he could not remove another pillar from the bottom level (leaving just one).

Orange and Green!

Eventually the whole house came crashing down around our ears.

No, not the Muppet's house, although, that was a close run thing......

I meant the Villa Paletti. Sean just got too carried away after the glory of his earlier heroics and bit off a little more than he could chew... Brother-Di took the first win of the night. See page 2 of the Miscellaneous folder in the akl-german-games Photos page at Yahoogroups.com for photos of Villa Paletti. (http://games.ph.groups.yahoo.com/group/akl-german-games/phot...)

Game 2 was Santiago, and early on I began enjoying the faint aroma of tea-tree bark smoking. I do love fires. As the game went on, the intensity of the aroma built, and built, and built... Without actually setting off any mental trip wires I actually took note that it was becoming rather difficult to see Sean across the table from me. He was slowly drifting in and out of focus through the thick aromatic smoke that was filling the room.

Suddenly, a smoke alarm went off. Kermit leapt to his feet and dashed downstairs to the fire... He yelled over his shoulder to Miss Piggy "Go up to the bedroom..." Which was quite funny really, because Di had been really rather outdoing herself in suggestive innuendo in the lead up to the out break of the fire, and I thought to myself that Dan was rather cool under pressure if he was sending the Missus up to the bedroom at a time like this, especially with guests over and all... but you know, it's their house...

He then called out again... "Di... quick... go up to the bedroom... and turn the smoke alarm off."

It turned out that the wet logs Miss Piggy had put out to dry were either not very wet, or dried faster than anticipated and were apparently actually glowing red on their undersides when Kermit arrived to take corrective action.

A close call!

Santiago was also a game of much hilarity. You are allowed to keep your money secret you see. Kermit had a shirt with a chest collar and took to keeping his Escudos in his pocket, and theatrically fishing out a few when needed. I had my wallet sitting on the table so I began keeping my hard earned Escudos in there - I think it should be a house rule from now on when we play Santiago that everyone must have a wallet to keep their Escudos in. It was very entertaining.

My use of my wallet proved decisive, scraping to a 113 - 104 final margin over Brother-Di, with Seanie-Pawnie and Brother-Kermie way back there. Incidentally, and somewhat controversially, I am actually claiming an extension of my lead in a precedent setting 'next day take-back' move... when I went to pay for breakfast on Sunday I found I still had Dois Escudos in my wallet... so I was actually on 115! I am very glad Miss Piggy didn't pip me by one...

We then decided to play Ys+ with the delightful glass gems. It's only the second time we've played with the Ys+ expansion but I have to say I am impressed. Having a larger range of Character cards, plus the event cards available makes for a lot more depth in the game. For example in this game the "Speculation" event card came into play for the first time. This lead to a LOT more activity in the market than is usual. It reads:

"Each player may secretly choose a gem in the stock and place it behind their screen. At the end of the game, players reveal their choices. If a player’s gem corresponds to the highest gem on the market (draws are tackled normally), they earn 3 victory points. Players who have not chosen the right gem lose 2 points. Players who did not choose a gem neither earn nor loose any points."

It came out in the second turn, and it became apparent that I had selected a Blue gem, Sean had selected a Yellow gem and I suspected that Di had selected a Green gem. It coming out early was interesting, firstly because it was very difficult to asses which coloured gem was likely to end up as the most valuable, and secondly because having made our selections (Dan chose no gem) it was soon very obvious what we had chosen as we all made strong plays to affect the market to our advantage.

In the third turn the "indiscretion" event card also came into play. It reads:

"Indiscretion: When counting the columns, the one the players have bet the most on rises by 4 instead of 2; the second column rises by 2 instead of 1. Draws between columns are treated normally, like columns whose value must be reduced (-1, -2)."

This saw the market completely filled for the first time I can remember. It was also interesting that for the first time I can remember there was a situation where it was crying out that the best thing for me to do was be first in the turn order - In the final turn Yellow gems were currently the top priced gem on the gem quotation scale, with Blue gems second.

I bid two of my 1 brokers for the turn order auction - carefully NOT bidding either of my zeros. It turned out that I actually came second in the bidding behind Di, as both Seanie-Pawnie and Kermit bit 0 - 1. Di selected 4th, and I immediately took 1st position. My first action was to place two 0 brokers in the market in the Yellow column. This left only one space for a broker in the market, which Sean promptly filled with a 4. He had none of his zero brokers left, having placed one in the throne room earlier, and used his other one in the bidding in phase 2. This meant I was able to manipulate the market to make Yellow drop and Blue rise ensuring Blue gems finished as the top coloured gem. This resulted in a 5 point swing between Sean and I.

Unfortunately while I was busy bashing Sean, Brother-Di was creaming the gem collection in the city in the last round. Before the count in the throne room, I was 4 points ahead of her. She finished second in the throne room, collecting 7 points, and I finished 3rd, collecting 3. We were level on points tied for the lead, and the tie-breaker is total gems collected by each player. I had 27 and she had 29!!! Her second victory of the night.

I then dashed home for the All blacks test.Great night. Great fun. Good to catch up with the muppets!

BC

Since so many of you have commented...

2006-07-25T18:32:00.000+12:00

I've got sick of sending this privately, so here it is for all... this is an extract from the further partly serious-partly piss-taking discussion between Andy and I... this is for all of you who maintain it's not a split infinitive anyway, who maintain I should state what i do want instead of what I don't, and who quite clearly missed the point that i was winding Andy up...

I said to Andy...

To clarify...

On 7/20/06, Andrew Royle <Andrew.Royle@hiswork.com> wrote:

ok. understand. So they need not to ask it. got it.

From: Brandon Clarke
Sent: Thursday, July 20, 2006 2:33 PM
To: Andrew RoyleSubject: Re: A waste of time

Completely disagree.

If it said "not need to ask" that indicates that there is an absence of a need to ask.

What I meant here was, if I had said "not need to ask" or if they "need not have asked" that indicates, to me anyway, that they either could have asked, or, they could have not asked, but that there was no pressing need for them to have chosen to ask. "not need to ask" demonstrates that the asking was not needed, but despite that, you could still ask, because you can do things that are not needed...

That is not at all what I was trying to say. I was specifically trying to point out that this person had a need, and that need was to refrain from asking said question... hence, ""SURELY, if ANYONE in the world should need to NOT ask that question, it's my phone company" I wasn't trying to point out that they need not have asked, I was trying to point out that as a phone company they need to not ask it."

Not needing to ask, and needing to not-ask are two completely different things. As pointed out above, not needing to ask does not preclude asking anyway, however needing to not-ask does preclude asking entirely.

If someone I knew happened to be a complete anal grammarian, then perhaps they might propose that a suitable wording might have been

"SURELY, if ANYONE in the would needed to refrain from asking that question, it's my phone company?"

However, having said that without-prejudice, I still maintain that the verb "to not-ask" stands on it's own merits

Things that make you go hmmm... What the F@#%!?

2006-07-25T11:12:00.000+12:00

What is it with the media? I _know_ that the average person is pretty damn thick. So one part of me says "yeah, okay, fair enough." but, but, but...

This morning I am watching Sky News and they covering the situation in southern Lebanon. It's not good. Not by any measure. It happened to be the time of day here in New Zealand when the Sky News feed is the 'Sky News - UK' one. There's wholesale destruction, and there's a lot of scared people. Pretty shocking stuff. Then they cross to northern Isreal where Hezbolah's rockets are landing intermittently. There's a village there where yesterday they evacuated all of the children by bus to places south of the rockets' range.

Apart from that fact that ALL of the reporters insist on pronouncing the city of Tyre in southern Lebanon the same way as those black round things on cars (due, presumably, to the same spelling) despite the fact that whenever any of the locals pronounce it in interviews they say "Tier" (and, well, wouldn't that tell you something?) ... apart from that, up to this point, the coverage had, I thought, been quite good.

But then they interviewed a father whose children were being evacuated that morning. The father they picked just happed to be the chemist who ran the only pharmacy in the village, so he could not leave with his children. That showed the heart rending separation of a family... fair enough. He also just happened to be orginally from Leeds in England.

*shaking my head* Why do the media do that!? SURELY this is a story about Israelis and Lebanese people dealing with a tragic massive upheaval in their admittedly already turbulent lives? Are we really that pathetic that we can only easily digest this if the media somehow delivers the view of it all to us through a person who "used to live in [insert the city in the country the target audience is from, e.g. Leeds]"? Surely in that village there were also 100% Israeli families being separated? Surely it's more apt to view the impact of the conflict on their lives?

I'm not trying to discount the impact of it all on the guy from Leeds' family at all. But why do the media always try to show us an event from it's impact on the New Zealanders in the city, or the Australians in the city when it's the Australian media etc.?

BC

Anal Grammarians and robust internal debates.

2006-07-20T15:22:00.000+12:00

Andy has never met A-Couple-Of-Khans. I know they would get on famously though. Andy is, and this may come as somewhat of a shock to Brother Di in particular, indisputably the most anal grammarian I know. Those of you who know me well enough will appreciate that far from being a criticism of Andy, is, in fact, one of the things that endears him to me most of all. On one of my visits to London Andy loaned me Eats, Shoots and Leaves by Lynne Truss - truly a highlight of my reading history.

The Only Sarah of course will recall with equal measures of joy and dismay the wonderful neon sign that sadly no longer hangs on K' Road in Auckland that proudly proclaimed that this was the site of "Julie'ts".

Last week, whilst preparing for my jaunt to Wellington, emails were exchanged between myself and Andy as follows:

Andy wrote:

"hey

we are booked for dinner Saturday night, after all, so brunch Sunday and any-other-time-you-want-to-spend-hanging-out-with-us-at-home looks like the plan for the weekend."

(note we had previously discussed that one of the things Andy had scheduled for the weekend was to construct a garden shed, as they have a baby on the way. And, no, the baby is not going in the shed. The tools are going in the shed. They are currently in the spare room. Which is earmarked as the baby's room.)

So I replied:

"Sweet as.

Floriditas on Sunday morning looks like my definite preference. Saturday early afternoon might be a good plant to do-the-thing-with-lots-of-hyphens-in-it..."

And Andy retorted:

"cool. Sheds, surprisingly, will be hyphenated.

We have just had a robust internal email debate about infinitives, as to whether to-split-or-not-to-split."

And then I said:

"Sheds-will-be-hyphenated I take to mean that early Saturday afternoon will involve the Garden shed?

I am particualry partial to a plan that involves me wandering down the hill to buy scones (or-something-similar) and returning for quality cups-of-tea with appropriate accoutrement during a break-in-the-shed-activities.

Sound good?

BC

P.S. I take it the not-to-split faction prevailed in the aforementioned robust internal debate?"

Andy, bless him, then replied:

"yes, ok, yes and it-was-a-dead-heat. But you can guess which side I was on."

Hehehehe. Joy. Pure Joy!

So, having read my recent post here about my dreaded encounter with Harry from Hong Kong, Andy passed the following comment:

"[A] small point <...> you split an infinitive (4th BC comment in conversation with Harry). And with no good reason IMHO. "

All of this, and in particular the ensuing discussion, is probably about as paletable as a plate of cold sick to most people, but it makes me exceptionally happy to have Andy as a friend...

Because I knew the reply would bring me exceptional pleasure, I simply replied with:

"Please explain?"

And Andy bit...

"bearing in mind that I am probably one of the more anal grammarians you know, perhaps read this first...

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Split_infinitive

In particular, noting the following excellent comment "Most experts on language from the last 100 years, however, agree that this rule was misguided, and indeed that the split infinitive construction can sometimes help to convey one's intended meaning more accurately (as in the case of "to boldly go")."

Following this exciting research, perhaps consider whether you wish to amend "SURELY, if ANYONE in the world should need to NOT ask that question, it's my phone company" to "SURELY, if ANYONE in the world should NOT need to ask that question, it's my phone company"

AWR"

...

Completely disagree.

If it said "not need to ask" that indicates that there is an absence of a need to ask.

That is not at all what I was trying to say.

I was specifically trying to point out that this person had a need, and that need was to refrain from asking said question.

hence, ""SURELY, if ANYONE in the world should need to NOT ask that question, it's my phone company"

I wasn't trying to point out that they need not have asked, I was trying to point out that as a phone company they need to not ask it.

...

"ok. understand. So they need not to ask it. got it."

...

No.

The verb which they need to do the doing of is the verb to "not ask".

Perhaps the linking faction would like this to be presented more accurately as to 'not-ask'?

BC

Hehehe.

Andy's most recent effort was:

"I''m not going to answer this now - I have some work to do. You will have to wait. But when you get it, you're going to feel it."

I am simply giddy with anticipation now...

Distressingly, as I have been constructing this post, I have noted that Andy is from the "Two-spaces-after-a-full-stop" faction. On Tuesday night Slimy Will and I were visiting A-Couple-Of-Khans at the attic for dinner, fine beverages and a couple of games of Mykerinos. During the evening's conversation Will and I were aghast to discover that Dan was an adherent to this mad convention as well! In fact, Dan revealled that he had once been a proponent of the 1 - 2 - 3 rule... one space after a comma, two after a full stop and THREE to start a paragraph!

*shaking my head in disbelief!*

Floriditas: Cafe Perfection!

2006-07-20T13:27:00.000+12:00

I flew to Wellington for the weekend to catch up with some friends. During the winter it's not unusual to wake up in Kingsland at least partially submerged in a sea of fog. Seasoned Kingslanders tend not to panic though... by the time you get to the top of the hill you've emerged into a fine winter's day.

Well, usually. Friday morning involved getting to the top of the hill and still being firmly 'in amongst it all'. In fact, the New Market viaduct, and the entire motorway through to tip top corner was also deeply submerged in eerie grey goo.

"Gonna play havoc with flight times" I thought to myself...

and I was right... my flight was delayed nearly an hour on the back of late arriving flight crews still scrambling to resurrect the day's schedule after the chaos of the fog disrupted morning.

So I finally arrived at the corner of Dixon and Cuba sometime after 11pm. Mark met me there. It's one of the truly great things about having good friends that when you see them again after sometime there's no adjustment needed. Mark and slipped right into walking along next to each other in much the same way we would have if I was one of his co-workers and we'd only last seen each other a matter of hours before. The same thought filled my thoughts last night when I had dinner with Rik & Kim and Dave Cooper came over for a Laphroig with us... I hadn’t seen them for a couple of years but it was just good fun relaxing at catching up with them.

A few drinks at Mark's place and then bed rounded out the week. Saturday morning was a treat. Mmmmmm. Breakfast at Floriditas... my vote for the best breakfast cafe in New Zealand. Their cheese and rocket scones are a culinary delight, and they simply serve the best cup of tea of any cafe I have been to in New Zealand. Each teacup is a joy to behold... fine china with gold leaf handles and rims, matching saucers. How delightful.

Their cheese and rocket scones might be fantastic, and the cups of tea even better. However, surely the highlight of the Floridita's experience is their 5 grains bread. I like it with the vine ripened tomatoes and cracked pepper but you can get it with fruit preserves, avocado or just on it's own. You can buy loaves of it to take home and enjoy too and sweet Jesus, Mary-mother-of-god, and the twelve apostles lined up side by side it is magnificent!

Saturday afternoon I trundled up to Kelburn to visit Andy and Sam (and Millie too... she's such a babe) armed with said cheese and rocket scones. After a we trip to Placemakers with Andy for supplementary supplies wee set about beginning to build his kitset shed. .....despite the warning in the instructions which warned against erecting it in high winds. I did comment that one wondered therefore why they were permitted to sell them in the first place in Wellington... Andy and Sam are approaching full Wellingtonian status because that one actually got a nibble...

When the light faded (and Andy's hands were starting to freeze solid) we ceased work with the door 100% complete and the front wall very near to it.

That night was Blair's birthday dinner at the Lone Star. Tremendous evening with Dodgy Scottish Girl starting things off in the right direction by ordering a Chocolate Silk cocktail... which is best described as ice-cream and chocolate, blended, mixed with alcohol and served in a cocktail glass as a sort of liquid alco-desert. Quite yummo though.

Dinner was a hoot. Sophie our drinks waitress and Mike the food waiter were top class. Lots of hilarity and banter all round. The menu stated:

Holy Moley Quacamole! <...> with fresh corn chips (when in season) <...>

I never realised that corn chips had a season. Mike assured me they do. So there you go.

Sunday followed with another breakfast at Floriditas, and then second breakfast at Cafe L'Affare.

Good times. Good food. Good friends. All good.

BC

Pilot Fish to user... come in user...

2006-07-20T10:28:00.000+12:00

I'm, apparently, gonna be published in next Monday's 'Shark Tank' column in Computerworld (scroll to the bottom of the front page on Monday to see the Shark Tank column). It's a weekly highlights reel of encounters with DFU's...

I've actually had a week of classic DFU encounters... firstly, last week, I was at work and I rang home to see if Jens was still home. The phone gave a disconnected signal. So I rang Ihug (my ISP). Their main number was also giving a disconnected signal... which was odd. So, briefly, I considered the possibility that Ihug had had a central core meltdown of some sort - so I checked their website... which was still up. I then rung one of their alternate numbers, which rung. That was reassuring...

After navigating my way through their automated "Press 1 to be screwed around by this department, press 2 to be screwed around by that department... etc" answer 'service' I got to speak to Harry from Hong Kong. The conversation went like this:

HFHK: Hello, what is your customer number?

(Now usually I get really annoyed when they ask you this because why on earth would I know my customer number? I know my name, and my phone number, but not my customer number. It's like when I ring Southern Cross Healthcare and they ask me for my policy number... wtf??? But this time I beat him at his own game! Haha!!! I was already logged onto their website and my my "My Account" page right there in front of me, and was able to tell him my account number, and then go through the joy of answering the "Are you really you?" questions... only to make it to...)

HFHK: So what can I do for you.

BC: My phone is not working.

HFHK: Ummmm... it must be. You just called me.

BC: <...pause...> Yes,... but I am ringing you from work, not from home.

HFHK: Then how do you know you home phone is not working?

BC: <...another, more pointed, pause...> Because Harry, I just rung my home phone from my work phone, and it gave a disconnected signal.

HFHK: Ok. What is your home phone number Brandon?

BC: <...another, significantly longer pointed pause, during which I actually moved the phone away from my ear and creased my brow looking at it in disbelief. SURELY, if ANYONE in the world should need to NOT ask that question, it's my phone company...> Why do you want to know my home phone number?

HFHK: Because you are an Ihug/Wired Country customer and your phone and Internet use the same dish-to-the-sky-tower link. I want to know whether just your phone is not working or is it your phone and your Internet that is down.

BC: So how does having my phone number help...?

HFHK: Well I thought I would ring your house and see if anyone was home, and get them to log on and see if the Internet connection is working.

BC: <...deep breath...> But you can't ring my home phone Harry. It's not working! <...pause...> That's why I am ringing you!

*shaking my head in disbelief at the memory of it*

And then I had the delightful encounter with Paul at our weighbridge at Drury on Tuesday this week.

BC: Brandon Clarke.

Paul: Hi Brandon, it's Paul-at-the-weighbridge. Our out-bridge printer is not printing lined up with the paper properly. It's all over the show.

BC: That's not very good. How long has it been doing that for?

Paul: About 5 minutes.

BC: What did you do to it?

Paul: Nothing.

BC: Did you touch it?

Paul: No.

BC: How did you rip the last docket off if you didn't touch it?

Paul: Well <...pause...> I did touch it to do that.

BC: Did you do anything else?

Paul: Not really... I just turned it off, pulled it apart, vacuumed out the inside and put it back together again and switched it back on.

BC: <...significant pause...> Was that approximately when it stopped printing in alignment Paul?

Paul: Yes, when I switched it back on it was all over the show.

BC: I see.

*Wondering how "Did you touch it?"... "No." covered switching it off, pulling it apart, vacuuming out the inside and putting it back together again.*

The Incredible Paucity of Candidates

2005-08-04T10:36:00.000+12:00

Where are all the flatmate candidates?

Normally when we advertise for flatmates, we are inundated, but at the moment it is like a desert out there. We ran an ad in the Wednesday Herald, and got a grand total of TWO replies. So if anyone knows of someone looking for a flat in Kingsland, handy to transport, cafes and Eden Park, to share with two well trained guys aged around 30, just let me know.

In the meantime, for anyone who missed it here is the transcript of my recent excursion to South America and Europe...

The Brazillian Chronicles. May & June 2005.

I made it.

5 weeks of what, at times, seemed like a permanent life in airports and planes, trains and buses has come to an end and I have arrived back in New Zealand just in time to see the All Blacks destroy the Lions in the second test. Yay!

May 24th seems a long long time ago. Most of it was spent packing, and last minute shopping for locks and pack mesh, but with over half an hour spare I was ready... only Will & Roberta were not quite ready... so I had extra time to kill.They eventually made it to my place with Ken The House Minder at the wheel. After some amazing contortionist manoeuvres all four of us and ALL of the luggage made it into Will's Integra... And we were off... in the wrong direction, because it appears I should have said "the OTHER right" when I told Ken The House Minder to turn right. Never mind.

The airport was the first of... let me see... 28 airport visits in 5 weeks. You can count them as we go if you don't believe me... It was a low drama affair and approximately on time our Lan Chile flight to Santiago took off. Great Airline Lan Chile. Highly recommended. Nice planes - no bits falling off as has been reported to be the case sometimes with the alternative - Aerolinas Argentinas... very cute hostesses, good food blah blah blah. The entertainment system was semi on the blink though, so that coulda been better. Nevertheless, 11 or 12 hours later, with the Lost Cities score between me and Will at 18 - 12 to me, we landed in an overcast Santiago (airport 2). The overcast bit was very disappointing because the in flight map software almost could not render the step slopes of the Andes successfully! At Santiago we bid farewell to Roberta who was using air miles with Aerolinas to get to Rio via Buenos Aires. We chilled out in the airport gate lounge, amongst the cigarette smokers (which was a shock to the system) and 3 hours later took off with another Lan Chile flight to Sao Paulo (airport 3) and then on to Rio de Janeiro (airport 4). It was approaching midnight local time and Will and I eventually managed to get our luggage checked into the locked luggage place, and then got in a pleasantly air-conditioned taxi to our hotel in Ipanema. Roberta had given us instructions on how to catch the bus, which would have cost 5 Reals (NZD$3) but we were both only semi-conscious by this time and the leather seats were calling our name. In retrospect we probably did get ripped off (65 Reals) but in our condition it was a bargain. And it was fast. Really fast. Welcome to driving South American style! Martha would have employment for life there I tell you!

Slept like a baby for most of the night, but woke up very very thirsty. Will had forgotten to tell me the vital safety reminder of 'don't drink the water in Brazil' and in my jet lagged sleep deprived state I down three glasses of tap water in the middle of the night... oops. Nevertheless, got up the next morning still alive and ventured out into the city of madness. Coffee and a ham and cheese croissant for almost no money at all and we were feeling pretty good. A nice walk along Ipanema beach - BEAUTIFUL beach, if you ignore the slum on the hillside at one end in what would be PRIME real estate anywhere else in the world.

A few kilometres of beach walking later and we decided to leave the beach and walk over to the lagoon and then back to the hotel... a crazy guy on a bike pulls up at the pedestrian crossing and says "Skank? Less dollars!? Skank for you?"

Hmmmm. No thanks mate....

"Cocaine? Good cocaine!?"

So we crossed the road. He rides off point at the statue of Christ at Cocavado yelling "Christo! Christo! Skank less dollars!" *shaking my head* Mad place this. So it's a nice neighbourhood. Really nice. One of the worlds best beaches just over there... Mercedes and BMW's in every driveway. Tree lined avenue with mosaic footpaths... really nice. Then, we come to an intersection, cross the road to keep going, and there is a burnt out car body in the middle of the road. I am just reaching for my camera when a little voice at the back of my head said "Nup, not such a wise idea" when 4 youths jump out and yell "Mushela! Mushela!!!"

Neither Will or I know what a mushela is so we frown and play dumb. One of them grabs Will and throws him to the ground. Hmmm, these guys are serious it seems. So I turn around and my mushela yelling yob has a large knife in his hand. And it is raised above his head. Threateningly. And you know that scene in Crocodile Dundee where he says "You call THAT a knife!?" Well, even Crocodile Dundee would have had to concede that this definitely qualified as a knife... So he starts hacking at my backpack strap and I finally click as to what a mushela is... As soon as our mushela's have been removed from our backs the youths disappear into thin air and Will and I have an exceptionally brief council of war, and come to the conclusion that running might be a good idea. So we run. And then Will realises that our Hotel room key was in his back pack, along with our safe key. That's not so good... so we get a cab and race back to our motel and somewhat sheepishly inform the guy at the desk that we just got robbed and lost our room and safe keys... and yes, this was within 60 minutes of leaving the hotel.
Welcome to Rio.

So after getting our safe drilled and a new key issued etc. we decide a calming beer at the bar might not be such a bad plan. Over said beer we decide to catch the bus to Cocavado and see the aforementioned Christo! statue (without less dollars Skank or cocaine). So... traffic in Rio then... first thing is there are a LOT of busses. Thousands of them. I counted 35 in view on one street at one point. It's actually a slight shock when you see a vehicle that is not a bus. So we wind our way from Ipanema through Copacabana and along the shoreline for over an hour to the base of the hill/mountain/mound thing that the statue is at the top of. There is a train that leaves every half an hour for 30 Reals, but we get to be friends with Luis who will drive us up for 35 Reals, now, and not in half an hour, and will take us to the national park viewing spot across from the statue as well. All good. The drive up is rather steep and passes through neighbourhoods you definitely would NOT want to walk through alone, even during the day. The views were one of a kind.

Compulsory trip if you go to Rio. Rio is one of the most spectacular sites for a city anywhere in the world, and this is probably one of the best places to see it from.

The next day Roberta arrived and we spent the day exploring Copacabana (where I stood on the beach and could only see 3 other people on the beach with me at just before midday and an admittedly overcast winters day... but still.... Copacabana Beach... and it was empty!). I bought a new bag to replace my lost mushela, and then we headed off to the airport (airport 5). We got there early. 8.30pm-ish for our flight at 11.30pm-ish. After retrieving our luggage Roberta and I went to the police office to report the robbery. Our policeman was not 100% pleased because the football was on and there was 20 minutes to go and his team was up 1 - 0. But once we got into filling the report and he learnt I was keen on football too he mellowed a bit... We got the report filled and then found our flight was rather delayed... hmmm. Welcome to airports South American style... HOURS later we finally took off for Recife (Roberta's home town).

Paulo (Roberta's Dad) is there to meet us at the airport (airport 6). It's good to see him again, and really good to get to his apartment building and settle down and say hi to Amelia (Roberta's mum) and Pedro and Daniel (Roberta's nephews). It feels like a giant trek is over and we can now relax... but then sleep beckons and I just flake out.

Recife is a city of about 2 million people right out on the corner of Brazil that pokes out into the Atlantic. It is a place of stark contrasts (as is all of Brazil). Paulo is an architect, and therefore is reasonably well off, especially by Brazilian standards. The back wall of their building backs onto a favella (slum) which is a fascinating social phenomenon.

The view out the front...

and the view out the back over the favella.

The land is privately owned, and apparently one day it will be vacant and the next day literally overnight, 20 or 30 families will have erected ramshackle shacks on it... they then gradually make home improvements with bricks and concrete and window frames salvaged from demolition sites etc. Power is connected through pirate connections to nearby powerlines, which the power company apparently would like to disconnect but no staff will go and cut the lines for fear of their life... water and sewerage are similarly connected unofficially, the sewerage often into storm water drains instead of the sewers... so it ends up untreated in the river - not good. When Paulo gets his power bill he gets a charge for his usage, and then an additional charge which is his share of all the power that the pirate connections use up... you look down into the favella at night and since they don't pay for the power they use all the lights are burning brightly. Very odd.

The next night was Roberta's cousin's wedding. I had a pre wedding disaster when I went to iron my trousers... now I am pretty well house trained, and am actually very good at ironing. However this was my first encounter with a Brazilian iron. In New Zealand, when you iron cotton fabrics you set the iron to almost it's maximum heat setting... you are then careful not to leave the iron sitting on the garment of course. Well, in Brazil it seems they must have fabrics that are a S H I T L O A D tougher than our cotton ones. The temperature dial just had numbers on it from 1 - 9. Thinking that discretion was the better part of valour, I set the dial to just on 7... thinking that if it wasn't hot enough I could always bump it up a bit later. So then I pick the iron up and bring it to within about a centimetre of the trousers and black smoke starts billowing up. I swear the iron could only have been in contact with the trousers for a nanosecond, and there was a LARGE iron shaped hole in the leg of my trousers, and black fabric remnants seared onto the face of the iron.

Hmmm. Never mind. So we head off to the wedding later. I am in the car with Paulo (jnr.), Roberta's younger brother who I am sharing a room with. We pick up his girlfriend and then his grandad Fernando. On the 'character spectrum' Fernando resides firmly at the right hand end... he's like the definition of what some people would call 'quite a character'. You know how old people have large ears? That's because your ears never stop growing. Fernando has harnessed this fact and turned it to his advantage. He can breathe through his ears. I swear! He must be able to because he was in the middle of a sentence when he climbed into the car and no one else said anything during the 20 minute drive to the church... we couldn't because Fernando was quite happily chattering away. It was all in Portuguese so I missed most of it, but Paulo and Michaela were pissing themselves laughing most of the time. After the church we moved onto the reception which was quite an event... I was in jeans (as a result of the iron incident earlier) and felt rather conspicuous as everyone else was in a suit or a full cocktail dress. Hmmm. In Brazil Johnny Walker must make enough profit to subsidise the company's activities everywhere else in the world. They don't drink scotch as an end of evening drink there... they start with it... and it just keeps coming. Waiters walked around the room all night with trays full of whisky tumblers overflowing with ice and seemingly bottomless supplies of JW red label. Nibbles proceeded from 9pm to about 11pm... then the entrees appeared... then it was more whisky until mains began at about 12.30am... then the dancing really took off, and Fabio (the groom) got up on the stage with the band and played, and then sung, to rapturous acclaim. We skulked away sometime between 2am and 3am, and as everyone else did, pilled into cars and drove home. No concerns about drink driving here.... you're probably safer driving drunk at night here anyway as all the swerving, red light running (which is normal at night there) and crazy Brazilian Ayerton Senna style driving just washes over you like water off a duck's back when you are a little drunk. A great party.

That weekend we packed up and drove 70 odd km inland to Gravata where Paulo & Amelia have a 'weekend house' in a condominium complex. It's a great place to retreat from the big city. The drive there saw the price of petrol at the service stations drop from 2.49 per litre to 2.03 per litre in just under 30 km which was rather interesting to see. Paulo has a shop in Gravata which still sells coca-cola in glass 1 litre bottles. The next morning he took me exploring and we drunk coconut water from fresh coconuts, and bought yummo cheese bread nibbles too. June is the festival of St. John in Brazil, and in the north east they take it very seriously... coloured lanterns and streamers are everywhere and fireworks go off all the time. They have explosive fireworks which put double happies and thunderbolts to shame. These things sound like bombs going off! In Gravata the shops had vast selections of streamers and lanterns - it all looked very cool.

On the Sunday morning we got in the car for a drive to Roberta's uncle's ranch. 80 kms down the motorway we turned off onto a small rural side road... which was paved, but you had to pay attention because pot holes were not uncommon. We followed a truck with a HUGE sign on the back saying 'JESUS'. I saw it and said "Je-SUS!!!". We then turned off onto a smaller rural side road (un paved this time) and went several more kilometres, before turning off onto and even smaller rural side road where second gear was a dangerous gambit. A short while later we emerged at Zacca's ranch where a party (which had started the day before!) was in full flight. Kiwis and Aussies like to think they know a thing or two about BBQ's. We don't. We are amateurs. We arrived and a beer was thrust into my hand, a chair was pulled up and there was meat. Lots of meat. Many different kinds of meat. Beef, Lamb, Pork, sausages... and it just kept coming... they like to eat it rolled in some sort of cornmeal flour which is quite nice, but I actually preferred the meat on it's own. Oh, and there were NO salads in sight. None.

Next adventure was Will and I flying from Recife (airport 7) to Rio de Janeiro (airport 8) to Sao Paulo (airport 9) to Porto Alegre (Airport 10) which is the capital of the southern most State in Brazil. Recife - Porto Alegre was a 6 1/2 flight stretched to 7 1/2 hours after we sat on the ground in Rio for an hour waiting for a dwarf to board the plane. We were met in P. Alegre by Iascara, a friend who we had met when she was in New Zealand 18 months ago. We caught a taxi from the airport to her place in Bella Novum, a Suburb on the southern edge of Porto Alegre which took about 45 minutes (take note of this time for the return journey below). Roberta had warned us to pack our woollens as it is winter, and it gets really cold in the south of Brazil (apparently). Iascara said that usually at that time of the year it might be 6 - 10 degrees C... well when we were there it was daily highs of 28 - 32... lucky I had my scarf huh!?

We stayed with Iascara's family for a couple of days, and then went with her dad, brother, uncle and cousin to see Brazil play Paraguay in a world cup qualifier match at Internacional's stadium. On the Saturday Will and I went into town and explored a bit. I bought a Brazilian soccer shirt in preparation for the football game, and then we waited for a bus home...

...in the wrong place for about 45 minutes. Stupid gringos...

Will and I were resplendent in our Brazil shirts, but we didn't exactly stand out. It was a sea of yellow except for one small (loud) section of red and white stripes. (Nola, I have the tickets for you, but there were no programs) It was quite an experience... 90,000 odd fans (I think) and with Brazil winning 4 - 1 nearly everyone went home very happy. Tremendous atmosphere... helped by the 10 minutes of explosives/fireworks detonated continuously for 10 minutes on the roof of the stadium before the national anthems...

Oh one highlight of the stay in Porto Alegre was Will's attempt on the world sleeping record. He had a 23 HOUR sleep! A huge effort indeed!

After Porto Alegre Will and I took the bus, "Angio Class", to Florianopolis. It's a 6 hour trip and I think I saw more trucks in that six hours than I have in the rest of my life combined. Florianopolis is the capital of Santa Catalina state. It's a university town of about 270,000 people - a small town by Brazil lain standards. It's on an island that is about 500m offshore. The island is about 30 kms north to south and 15 kms east to west. We stayed in a sleepy little village called Barra de Lagoa where the lagoon that is in the middle of the island drains out to the sea via a small river. We scored a 2 bedroom apartment with full kitchen etc. for 40 reals a night (about NZD$25.00). I'd go back to Florianopolis any day - it was beautiful, peaceful and very relaxing. One night we went to a bar to see the Argentina versus Brazil world cup qualifier on TV. Late in the game (approaching midnight) I was starting to feel a little chilly... goose bumps on my arms and everything. No wonder... the clock across the road said it was down to 19 degrees C! Obviously I was acclimatising to Brazilian conditions!

Another 6 hour bus ride took us back to Porto Alegre... then a 2 hour ordeal in a bus got us to the other side of Porto Alegre... it was 'ride the bus for free' day and I think we squeezed about 150 people onto the bus. Pure madness. We then chilled out at Iascara's place for a few hours before catching a taxi to the airport. This time we had Ernie as our taxi driver... and he drove the fastest milk cart in the west! It took us barely 25 minutes to get to the airport (number 11), all without losing any paint or sustaining any panel damage along the way too!

Our flight then took us back to Recife (airport 14) via Sao Paulo (number 12) and Rio de Janeiro (number 13). These red eye flights might be cheap, but they are a little draining. We landed at 6.30am and by 9am I think I was fast asleep. The next couple of days were spent leading up to Will & Roberta's Brazilian wedding, for which I looked the part in a hired suit, with no large iron holes in the legs of the trousers! It was a helluva party with drinks flowing freely all night and fantastic food and great company. Two days before the wedding I had been at home alone and the phone had rung. Due to my limited (non-existent) Portuguese my phone policy was don't answer it unless it rings twice in a row which would be the signal that it was Will or Roberta or Paulo calling... the phone rung and I ignored it then it rang again straight away, but I had been faked out... Someone asked for Roberta in Portuguese and I stammered my way through a terrible attempt at explaining she was not home and that I did not speak Portuguese when the voice on the other end of the phone said "Is that you Brandon?". I was so surprised...it was Taciano, a friend of ours from New Zealand who is from Recife. I did not know he was in Brazil so it was a great surprise to be suddenly talking to him... At the wedding I got to meet his parents which was very cool and loads of other friends and family of Roberta's.

We got home at about 3.30am and the next morning I was up at 8.00am and into a taxi to the airport (number 15) for my 10.25am GOL flight to Salvador (airport 16) and Rio De Janeiro (airport 17). GOL really are an impressive airline. They only fly within Brazil as far as I know although they might have started flights within South America. Their staff are incredible... the same staff that check your bags in take your tickets at the gate lounge and are also your flight crew... they are all multilingual and when they look at your passport at the chicken counter they see that it is a New Zealand one and greet you in English.... then, an hour later at the gate when they are saying a "Thankyou, have a good flight." as they take your boarding pass they remember you are English speaking... nothing is too much trouble for them... when they are doing pre-flight checks, if someone is reading the stop and lean over and turn the overhead reading light on for them... little things like that. And it is the most superbly branded airline I have ever seen.

At Rio I swapped planes to an American Airlines 777 for the 38 minute flight to Sao Paulo (airport 18) where the captain decided he was too sick to continue on to New York... so we got off the plane and were given a pretty generous meal voucher to help us through the 4 1/2 hour delay as they flew a new captain in... bugger. Eventually though we took off bound for New York's JFK (Airport 19). I caught the train into Manhattan and checked out ground zero and the streets around the bottom end of the island, and bought some new shorts. Then it was back to JFK (airport visit #20), where 4 gate changes and one terminal change later we made it on to the plane, only to find that there were 2 Juliet Smith's, each with a boarding pass to seat 14C (behind me). And the plane was completely full... so no spare seats. Apparently the airline staff jargon for this is a 'seat duel'.... there were several animated walkie-talkie discussions along the lines of "Tango 46, seat duel on 14C, REPEAT seat duel on 14C.... Negative, negative! No seats available to relocate. We STILL have a live seat duel on 14C..." Very amusing stuff. Eventually it was discovered that a certain Mr. George Chen had checked in, but was not on board the plane. This was good news for the Juliets, as they could now sit down and the seat duel was resolved with a relocation from 14c. However it was bad news for all concerned because Mr. George Chen's bags needed to be unloaded from the hold which took about 45 minutes. So, over 2 1/2 hours late we finally took off for Charles de Gaulle (airport 21). My sister Brigid met me at the St. Michel Notre Dame metro station and took me for a short walk through the streets of Paris - showed me where she lived and worked and then on to the hotel she had arranged for me.

We then went out for lunch and a walk through the Gardens de Luxembourg which was very cool. I then had a we nap for an hour and a half to help me recover from the 55 hour ordeal from Recife - Paris, and then my friend Yann rung me to wake me up and say he was just finishing work. Brigid had gone out to meet up with some of her friends and her, me and Yann met up and went out for a few drinks, and then dinner, and then a few more drinks... It was really cool to catch up with Brigid and to spend time with Yann in his city, with him showing me around. The highlight of the evening was finding this pub Yann new with a crypt downstairs... you had to descend a staircase that was so steep and twisting it would be impossible to get down drunk, but the reward was this cool little room (cool in temperature and atmosphere) with a vaulted stone ceiling. Very intimate, and a great place to sit and drink Sangria. Brigid went home just after midnight and Yann and I picked up my stuff from my hotel room and drove to his house.

Welcome to Paris.
The next day Yann had the day off work so we got up and headed into town for red wine and tapas for breakfast. It was a music festival in Paris that day, so after a leisurely brunch with a few card games we hooked up with Yann's mate Laurent and hit the city... a few hours were whiled away in a bar drinking Mexican beers and playing San Yuan before we did some more exploring and ended up at a restaurant for pizza and drinks. Then it was onto the Place de La Bastille where there was a big concert going on... and where I experienced the joys of tear gas for the first time... not directly, but it was near enough to be unpleasant. The next day I spent with Brigid walking around Paris... the Louvre, Cleopatra's needle, The Eiffel tower, Place des Invalides (napoleon's tomb) lunch in a cafe and then St. Sulspice and Notre Dame. My feet will never be the same again but it was an excellent day. Paris is an incredibly beautiful city. I loved it. That night friends of Yann's came over to play games, including Guillume who I had met in New Zealand a couple of years ago. Great fun all night gaming...

The next day I was off again, on the train to Belgium. 5 minutes out of Brugges I was involved in what according to Danny D'Hoogge was Belgium's "first major train accident in 50 years". It was certainly my first train accident, and it was pretty scary stuff... we were cruising along at around 80 - 100km's per hour when there was a god-awful BANG... followed by loud screeching noises and more bangs in rapid succession. When overhead wires started falling down and slapping the side of our carriage it was clear all was not well. By the time the train had come to a halt there was a rats nests of tangled wires dangling off the back of our carriage, and one of the steel girders holding up the wires had collapsed and crashed into the carriage behind ours, breaking windows and sending two people to hospital. Rather exciting stuff, but far from ideal. The next hour was spent trying desperately not to die in the train... with live wires all over the ground no one was allowed out, and with the power not on in the carriages the air conditioning stopped. 33 degrees outside and hotter than that in the train. Not a comfortable hour at all. The we were loaded onto another train for the 5 mins trip into Brugge where we got on another train which drove 3 minutes out of Brugge and sat there for 20 minutes before driving 3 minutes back into Brugge, where we all got off again and got on another train... which eventually took us to Knokke - my final destination!

Danny's girlfriend Anna-Cabana picked me up and we then called into the Butterfly Garden where Danny and his family are now running a cafe. It was very amusing to see Danny behind the bar and his kitchen staff calling him "Big Boss!" hahahahaha. After helping to tidy up it was a short drive to the sea where I got a photo of me in the North Sea. That night Danny, Anna-Cabana and I went to Brugge for dinner which was really rather special It's a REALLY cool town with canals all though it and cobbled streets and lots of flowers in window boxes etc. I could definitely spend more time there...

The next day Danny had to work and loaned me a scooter and a German soldiers WWII crash helmet. I spent the day zipping around Belgium and Holland. I stopped in Sluise in Holland for lunch and had Maarjees - raw baby herrings - YUM-MO!!! Also on Danny D'Hoogge's must eat items for the day were ice cream from the place down the road - awesome icecream, Luiske Waffels from somewhere on the promenade (very very good) and a Crepe Normand which the chefs at the Butterfly Garden cafe ended up whipping up as I had failed to find them anywhere else. It was a really really awesome day, and it wasn't finished yet. Anna-Cabana had been preparing for a Raclette bbq that night back at her farm house. Many beers and wines and lots of melted Raclette cheese on HALF a potato later we turned in for the night.

The next day I caught the train, without any accidents, to Cologne where Sabine met me at the train station... which is RIGHT next door to one of the worlds most impressive Cathedrals. "Oh..." she says casually... "have you seen our Cathedral?" WOW... And so started Sabine Geister's accelerated course in Cologne Appreciation studies. 3 intense days of sight seeing, dining, sweets and chocolates consumption, beer drinking, grilling (not bbq-ing I'll have you know) by the lakeside, Cathedral climbing (all 511 stairs!) pizza making and university touring. Three absolutely top days in which I got to meet Marieke and Julia - the other two mouse-keteers of whom I had heard so much of while Sabine was in Germany... and they lived up to the billing Sabine had given them. Some people claim that a game of Mama Mia was played when we were by the lakeside, but strangely Julia and I have no memory of that having happened at all! The first night there Marieke joined Sabine and I and we went out dancing till the wee small hours in a Klien Kolshe bar.... lots of proper German beer, Cologne style, and lots of German football songs VIVA COLONIA!!! etc. etc. How much fun was that!?

After three days I left Sabine at the Hoppinoff train station, even though I was hoppin-on this time. She headed back to Prum and I started the amazing 60 hour journey home which involved a train ride to Brussels and then Paris, then a plane trip from Paris (22) to New York (23) where I was upgraded to business class WOO-HOO!!! for the trip to Sao Paulo (24) and then Rio (25) where I met up with Will who had flown in from Buenos Aires. We had about and hour and a half to kill before boarding our Lan Chile flight to Sao Paulo (26) and on to Santiago (27). A 3 hour lay over there was filled with a beer or two and watching the Copa de Libertores semi final between Sao Paulo and River Plate, and then we boarded the plane for our final flight back to Auckland (airport 28) where Baum picked us up bright and early!

And we were home safe and sound!

BC