The Kiwi Dream

Camping at Lake Aviemore

If the American dream is earning fat wads of cash, the kiwi dream is camping by the lake with lots of petrol powered acessories.

We have been staying down at Lake Aviemore, watching the people with their jetboats fishing, waterski-ing and zooming across the water.

We were there with our new Kathmandu tent and camping furniture, but to be honest no-one was impressed. Our neighbours, for instance, had in-tent satellite TV.

We went on a couple of walks. One was a deathtrap, beside a near-vertical drop into the depths of the reservoir (no fencing, obviously). The other was to see the impressive Clay Cliffs at Omarama, advertised as an easy 100m walk. Inevitably, this was in reality a 2km uphill slog on a slipperly gravel surface in 100 degree heat. There was a great view at the top though and we definitely earned it.

The Clay Cliffs at Omarama

Is it me or is pop music crap these days?

This is the end of 2009, my year of middle-aged outrage. And I would like to finish the year with this thought.

Is it me or is pop music crap these days? Half of it is pointless vapid drivel from an identikit Simon Cowell pop-drone. The other is people shouting about g-strings and booty over the top of random electronic beeping. You certainly can't sing along to that!

Mind you, I can remember the days of Rick Astley and Sinitta. So perhaps nothings changed.

Making washing powder.

Boxing day and we've been making our own washing powder. You have to mix laundry soap with washing soda and grind it into a powder. There is washing soda everywhere and I have almost blown up the food mixer. We might not save all that much money but it will be interesting to see if it works.

Mind you, I generally assume that if the clothes have been through the washing machine they must be clean, regardless of whether they actually are, so I probably won't notice.

It's a Kathmandu Christmas

We love Kiwi camping shop Kathmandu. It is full of clever things for when you go camping, like hammocks, or fold up kitchen utensils. Whatever you have at home, there’s something in Kathmandu that does the same job for when you are camping and folds up to one tenth the original size or less. And it’s all so cleverly designed. When Jo and I go to Kathmandu, we run around from shelf to shelf squealing in delight. I think in this way it is like Ikea – as far as I can remember.

And excitingly, Christmas presents this year were mostly from Kathmandu. Jo got a fold up wardrobe. I got a fold up Kitchen. Jo got a blow up chair. We were squealing in delight once more. It was great. I can’t wait to get out there camping in the next few days with my fold up furniture. We will be the envy of the camp site.

Happy Christmas!

Rolling Over

Toby is 4 months old today and to celebrate he rolled over on his own, the first proper landmark in baby development.

There was no-one to see it though as we were out the room.

It's a beautiful day but the nor wester is howling through (as always) so it's too windy to go out.

Sicko

Toby is the sickiest little baby ever! He has just been sick down me, not an unusual occurance. He has been sick about five times since I got home 3 hours ago. He is sick on Jo about 5 times a day on average. It is quite annoying. But he seems quite happy.

Judge John Deed

Tonight I am watching high-brow UK drama series Judge John Deed. It is a bit old fashioned looking. The acting is a bit wooden and the sets look like they might fall over at any time. They only use one camera angle per scene where I am used to at least seven. I also think it needs to be filmed in orange sepia and I think Judge John needs to take his glasses on and off all the time. And they should play techno music in the background all the time. And blow some stuff up.

Then it would be a bit more with it. They might get a spin-off series, say Judge John Deed: Wales. Or something.

Domestic Chocolate Wars

Jo and I have a routine. We get Lily into bed by 8, then we have a copy of coffee and a cake, or some chocolate. Obviously, we can't eat these things in front of her because she wants them and they send her loopy.

It's worked well until recently, but she has started getting up after bedtime to investigate. "Daddy what's that" she says, "daddy I would like some chocolate / ice cream / biscuits"

Now we have to listen for her door and if we hear it then we scramble to hide the chocolate behind the sofa. Then we try and act normal.

National Chocolate Wars

There are two main manufacturers of chocolate in NZ, Cadburys and Whitakers which for years have carved up the chocolate market between them. There is a huge choice of chocolate in the supermarket and a there are huge number of fat people clogging up the street.

They have always sold their chocolate in giant 250g bars. They used to compete by discounting against each other and the chocolate buyer could just buy whatever was on special offer. Then something changed.

What happened was this. Cadburys shrank the size of their bars to 220g. Then they took some of the cocoa out of their bars and replaced it with vegetable fat. Worst of all, they started manufacturing it in Australia.

It's been a disaster for them and they have had to run a series of adverts on the telly featuring their CEO grovelling to the public and begging for forgiveness for diluting their Dairy Milk with Stork SB from Wollengong. And rightly so.

The proper chocolate is going to be back soon and in the meantime they are virtually giving away the old stock. Hooray! We bought 4 bars yesterday and I might go out and buy 4 more today.

However, I have noted that they are not intending to increase the size of the bar again.

Toby at 15 weeks

Here is a picture of Toby. He is 15 weeks old today.

CSI: Orange

Jo and I are watching CSI Miami at the moment. It seems to be filmed through a funny orange filter that makes it look like the TV is about to break down. And then there is that ginger bloke who keeps taking off his sunglasses and putting them back on again. And I can't quite follow the constantly changing camera angles and zooming in and out. And the story is just ridiculous. Is this what happens to middle aged people when they can't understand the telly anymore?

It's finished now. I've no idea what it was about really.

If only you could get Channel 4 in this godforsaken country.

Food Latest: iSnack 2.0 and the price of salad.

iSnack 2.0

Kraft, the makers of Vegemite, have produced a new spread. It’s a mixture of cheese spread and vegemite and has been designed for those who can’t be bothered to open two jars at lunchtime. They launched a competition to name the new product, with the winner being the preposterously crap “iSnack 2.0”.

Unsurprisingly, the winning name has been universally mocked, to the extent that it was removed from the supermarket shelves within 3 days. It is now called “Name me” (again).

The price of salad

Food in New Zealand is much more seasonal than in England. For instance, in the summer tomatoes are almost free, but in the winter they are quite expensive (at $8.99 per kilo they cost more than cheese). With spring being here again, salad is once more affordable for the masses and this weekend I bought my first lettuce for six months. Cheese is still $8.99 a kilo.

Another Move? No thanks!

We've been a bit transient recently, having moved twice in the last year and a bit. Lily is starting to get itchy feet and thinks its time we moved on to a new house. And she has ideas about where we should go. She has started nagging us to move to Australia. She wants to live next to a wildlife park. She mentions this desire at least once a day.

It's one we all share as well, except we are fed up of moving all the time and the thought of emigrating again, with two children, two dogs and a wife fills me with horror.

Alexander The Great

I have been watching the Oliver Stone film Alexander, about Alexander the Great. All the actors are Irish, which is wierd. Except Angelina Jolie who has a Bulgarian accent.

Where Have All the Ducklings Gone

We have been to Hagley Park today. It is a great place, the Christchirch equivalent of Regents Park. It has a playground with a huge paddling pool and an enormous area of beautifully planted Botanical Gardens through which the Avon wends its way prettily. There is a also a small lake which is home to a large quantity of ducks. But whilst there were a lot of adult ducks, there were no ducklings. Why is this? Perhaps they have all been eaten.

Toby at 2 and a half weeks

Here's a picture of Toby lying in his basket. He is doing well but spending a lot of time feeding.

Today the Ducks are Making Me Sad.

On Wednesday I counted sixteen ducklings on the pond. Today I counted only ten. That's heavy losses in two days, although I think that only a couple usually survive to grow into adulthood.

Who could imagine the tragic loss a mother duck must feel as she watches the size of her brood decline day by day. What a life of infinite sadness. Nature is indeed cruel.

Today the ducks are making me feel sad.

Duck News

There are now sixteen ducklings waddling happily on the lawn at the office with their mother. No sign of a father though.

Making Me Happy

Seen on the office pond today were twelve newly hatched baby ducklings. The staff are watching with interest and delight, and a slight sense of dread.

What's Bugging Me?

What's bugging you? That's the title of a weekly feature in the Selwyn Times, where they give grumpy old men outside New World the opportunity to sound off about whats on their mind. As a grumpy, newly middle aged man I have been waiting for my chance but it hasn't arrived. That's what's bugging me.

That and those tiny little individual labels they put on every piece for fruit saying what it is. How annoying are they? Very.

And another thing. They wash all the carrots now. They look very pretty but washed carrots only keep for about 6 hours.

This is the kind of needless hassle that degrades our lives.

Making Me Sad 2

After writing the previous entry, I remembered a sad story, this one from last year.

There were two ducks living in the office pond. In the spring they produced lovely ducklings which waddled in a happy line across the grass in front of the lunch room and brought delight to the staff. Then the ducklings started to disappear, one by one until there was only one left. Then there were none.

What was happening to the cute baby ducks? Investigations revealed that a monster eel had picked them off.

That made me sad.

The eel is no longer resident but the ducks have not appeared this year.

Making Me Sad Today

Having a new baby is a time of great happiness and also worry and emotional turmoil. Anything can bring a tear to my eye at the moment.

For instance, I have noticed a lot of ducks in Rolleston. There is no water to speak of. They all spend their lives wondering the streets, forlornly looking for a pond. It's a futile exercise. They won't find one.

Whenever I see them, it makes me feel a little bit sad.

Toby Comes Home

Today Toby came home for the first time. He has been super good and slept lots. He seems quite content. I can't really remember what Lily was like on the first day home.

Signs I am Turning Middle Aged 2: Car Park Rage

Tiny Car-Park: Christchurch Hospital

At the hospital today was further proof that I am on the slippery slope to middle age. I indulged in the truly middle aged pass-time of arguing over parking spaces.

At Christchurch hospital, the car park is miniscule and has about 30 spaces. Visitors queue for a space and usually wait about 10 minutes, unless people jump the queue and drive the wrong way around the one way system to nab the space, or push in. Its quite a stressful wait.

One such person pushed in in front of me with his red Mazda sports car. I jumped out of my seat and said "do you know there is a queue?"

"I've never been here before"
"Are you going to go to the back of the queue?"
"No, you don't know what I'm f*cking doing here"
"What are you doing"
"minding my own f*cking business"

This carried on for a while so I called him inconsiderate and rude before returning to my car sanctimoniously, feeling quietly satisfied that I had upheld my honour. I'm not too bothered at having people swearing at me. It's basically what I do for a living.

Further evidence that I am turning middle aged is that I have found it necessary to spell fuck as f*ck in case any other middle aged people are offended.

Baby Toby Arrives

On 24th August, baby Toby was born, the second child of the Hattams of Rolleston. He was 9lb and half an ounce, which is a good size, as the nurses keep telling Jo. He was born at 10.37 to the sounds of Daydream Believer.

As you can see, Lily is clearly thrilled to be a big sister.

Jo is bringing him home tomorrow so that's when the sleepless nights begin.

Tomorrow's the day

Tomorrow is a big day. The ashes will be decided, probably tonight. Then, at lunchtime tomorrow, our new baby will be born.

What a day.

Signs I am turning middle aged

1 Hairier eyebrows
2 Less hairy head
3 flabbier thighs (danger of chaffing)
4 Man-boobs

An Inconvenient Arrival

In two weeks time, our second child is due. Jo is expecting to have a ceasarian section on the Monday. Annoyingly, this clashes with the final day of the Ashes series.

However it could have been much worse. We are quite relieved that the baby isn't being born on a Tuesday when it would clash with top Kiwi drama series Outrageous Fortune.

Watching the Ashes

England have just beaten Australia at Lords for the first time in 70 years.

I love the Ashes. Five days of twists and turns. Endless tension but realistically very little happening at any one time.

You can't watch them on the regular television here so I am mostly following it by reading the over by over commentary on the internet. I stay up late into the night, refreshing my browser every two minutes. Has the update been posted? Has anything happened? The excitement kills me.

The cricket then, is the main point of interest for us this winter. Apart from the iminent arrival of baby number 2 next month of course.

Pony Poo Price War

It's quite common herabouts for rural folks to put up signs at their gate advertising horse manure for sale. The preferred term is pony poo.

Up until a few weeks ago, the going rate for pony poo was $1 a bag. Then one seller reduced his price to 50c. Now it can be had for 20c a bag. A bargain I am sure you will agree.

Crap Telly: Enough is Enough!

Now that we are parents, Jo and I collapse on the sofa at 7.30, after bedtime, and then we stay there all evening. We have become slaves to American crime dramas and reality TV.

For instance, on Friday night over the last year, America's Next Top Model merged seamlessly into New Zealands Next Top Model and then into Stylista (like top model except contestants compete for a job at Elle magazine. And are extra bitchy). Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares has merged into Tabithas Salon Takeover.

It's time to fight back.

I have designated Wednesday night as Intellectual Movie Night. Jo is quaking in her boots at the thought of low budget Britich films and American documentaries. I might even subscribe to the London Review of Books.

A dog called Angustina-neela

Lily loves pretending to be a dog at the moment. Sometimes she likes to be a dog called Angustina-neela and sometimes she likes to be a dog called Mayonaisa-trunter.

These are quite unusual names. Today she told us what they mean.

Apparently Angus means pink and tina means skin. So Angustina-neela means pink skin something.

Meanwhile Mayonaisa means fur and trunter means mayonaise.

So Lily likes to pretend to be a dog called pink skin or mayonaise fur.

Brocolli or Cauliflour?

It's always a dilemna at the supermarket. Should we buy brocolli or should we buy cauliflour?

The freezer is quite small so there isn't really room for both if we want to stock up on ice cream and hash browns.

So, we always buy Watties Brocolli and Cauliflour mixed together. But I don't like eating them together. I like brocolli on its own, and cauliflour cooked in sauce. When I want to cook them, I have to separate them.

Fortunately there is room for separate bags of peas and sweetcorn.

The Avon Calling

Autumn has come here to New Zealand and Christchurch is looking very lovely with the leaves turning brown.

We took Lily for a walk along the Avon, the river that winds its way back and forth through the centre of the city. It's quite a small river and it is pleasant rather than grand. Its banks are lined with trees and its waters filled with quacking ducks. The city takes some pride in making the river looks nice, which helps to make up for the godawful buildings that overlook it, straight from the Eastern European school of concrete architecture.

Christchurch is a strange combination of Oxford and Bratislava.

Spencerville

Summer is not quite over here and today we went off to our favourite beach at Spencerville, just to the north of Christchurch. It has miles of golden sand and calm waters. As often as not, its blowing a gale but you can’t avoid that in this country. It also has a pine forest, mountain biking tracks, a nature reserve and a free animal park. It’s super-fab.

Today, as always, I dug a hole for Lily by the shore and she jumped up and down in it.

Who Does That?

The question of the week was “Who does that?”.

The question related to an empty cake box, which was put back into the cake tin after it was finished. A member of this household was looking forward to cake all day only to find, after Lily’s bedtime, that the cake box had no cake in it. Who would do such a thing?

The answer is, of course, me. Jo fixed me with her special hard stare and let me know how disappointed she was.

Oops.

The Rolleston Dogwalking Park

Big News today - the Rolleston Dogwalking park opened. Up till now we've been expected to walk our dogs on the lead or drive for 15km to walk them by the river. Today we drove past on such a journey and noticed that the soon to be opened dog park was in heavy use already.

It was heaving with about six groups of dogowners - not bad considering it is not officially in business yet. It is a triangle of land with sides of about 150m so its not huge, but a dog park is considered quite a luxury in this country.

It is a sore point with us really. There are endless football pitches which are used for 2 hours on a Saturday for 4 months of the year by 100 people or so. But no dog parks which are used by dozens of people all the time.

Thats the main thing that's going on here this weekend. Jo is out for the night so I am staying in with a bottle of wine which is two thirds gone already.

The Accident Club

As I have previously stated, NZ has the world’s highest rate of childhood accidents and Lily added to the statistics this week with an injury at kindergarten. It was a very Kiwi kind of injury as well. A boy dropped a saw on her hand and she needed a plaster. In other countries, the DIY workbench has no place in early childcare but here it is part of the curriculum.

We have been to a party today. There were 12 shrieking kids running around. One of the Dads made an impromptu climbing frame out of a couple of ladders and a plank.

Lily's 3

Lily has been looking forward to her birthday for months now. She loves to pretend that it is her birthday and yesterday she was 3 for real. She was so excited we had to sing happy birthday 3 times, then Felice Cumpleanos which is the same thing in Spanish as viewers of Dora the Explorer will already know.

We had a party at the weekend with 15 toddlers running riot in the house. During which I was shocked to discover that pass the parcel is fixed. Only one other Dad turned up so the furtive boys drinking session I had been planning had to be cancelled.

Walking Through Wasps

Today we went for a walk at Coopers Creek, in the foothills of the Southern Alps behind Christchurch. Here a path winds its way through native forest, along the slopes of the hills. Across the valley, Mount Oxford stretches endlessly into the sky, rising to scrub and scree at the top.

It is very a pleasant walk but the route is infested with wasps. In some parts there were ten or twenty on the trunk of each tree and more on the ground beneath it. We had to watch quite carefully where we put our hands.

I got stung twice. Once by a bee and once by a wasp. The first one hurt more, but the second was more scary because it was on the ankle and I thought the wasp was flying up my trouser leg. I screamed like a girl.

Cheese Concern Widespread

I am not the only one concerned about the price of cheese. This is an extract from the Selwyn Times:

Pensioner David Hannan is bugged about the price of cheese.

"The price of milk solids is going down and yet the price of cheese and milk isn't. In spite of what the dairy board people say about the price going down by a dollar or so the price of cheese has gone up."

He said he couldn't understand how the price of milk was stil so high considering the prices of milk solids have been going down. He said the public deserved some answers.

Quite.

Earning the View

The MacKenzie Country is best known for Lake Tekapo, a gleaming turquoise reservoir set in the middle of a landscape of brown tussockland, with the Southern Alps as a backdrop. It is quite special, especially if viewed from the handily placed Mount John.

You can drive up to the top which saves a lot of hassle. But I think that half the enjoyment of a mountain view comes from the satisfaction of having climbed up there in the first place. It’s the satisfaction of having earned the view. If good scenery is all you want, you may as well just go to the cinema.

Jo doesn’t agree. We drove up.

Waitangi Weekend

We have been camping in the forest this weekend, with the dogs, down south in the MacKenzie Country.

It was Waitangi Weekend (New Zealand’s national day). Everyone goes away on Waitangi day and the roads were not exactly clogged with cars pulling boats on trailers, but they were certainly quite busy.

The campsite was not anywhere near full but there were other people there. Jake soon decided that we owned about half the site and made a nuisance of himself by barking at anyone who came remotely near.

Milking a Cow

Lily is hoping we can have a day out at the farm. She wants to milk a cow. She has been planning the details carefully.

She will take her green bucket from her bucket and spade set and Mummy will take her blue bucket. The blue bucket doesn’t have a flat bottom so Mummy will have to milk the cow with one hand, but Lily will be able to use both hands as she can put her bucket on the floor.

Daddy can’t come because he doesn’t have a bucket. Unless he can borrow a bucket from the lady that owns the cow. But he doesn’t have any boots so he can’t come even then

Feeling the Isolation

Here in Christchurch , you know you are a long way from anywhere. To the north, the nearest town of any size is Blenheim (population 25,000) which is about five hours drive. To the south, unless you count Ashburton (which I don’t), the nearest place is four hours away (Timaru). To the west, you can forget it until Australia. And to the East, there’s nothing until South America. New Zealand is isolated – but Christchurch is super-isolated!

When Lily Gets Older

Lily has been making a list of all the things she will be able to do when she gets older. The first is drive the car (with mummy as a passenger). The second is the washing up. She is also looking forward to buying a pink bra and having hands big enough to fit inside the oven gloves. And watering the garden with the hose. And being able to put a video tape into the VCR herself, for Mummy to watch. She’s going to choose Dora the Explorer on for her. I am sure Jo can’t wait for that!

Shelly Beach

Yesterday we went exploring on the Banks Peninsular. We were looking for a nice secluded beach, of which there are many. They are secluded because it is almost impossible to find the way down to them.

We were using a guidebook to find a beach. It said the path to the first option (Wreck Bay) was 20m past the sign saying “Private. Dogs shot”. That sounded quite an unusual landmark, but alas we couldn’t find it. I expect the owner took it down when he found out that it was being used as a landmark. He certainly doesn’t sound like a public spirited kind of chap.

The second option was marked by a rag on a stick. We couldn’t find that either. But we did strike it lucky with the third option, Shelly Beach which was across a sheep field and down narrow, winding animal tracks.

We have been in this situation before, when there is a wonderful place to go but access just isn’t as easy to get there as it could be. In the 35 degree heat, we plodded down the paths. Some were next to almost vertical cliffs. I was struggling with a 15 kilo child strapped to my back and dragging an unwilling spaniel behind me. Jo is unstable on her feet at the best of times. We got there in the end but it was quite fraught for a while.

The beach was quite lovely. The sparkling turquoise water of Lyttleton Harbour was calm and beautiful and Lily had a great time running in and out shrieking with laughter. But then the wind started blowing. The whole thing was also slightly spoiled by the thought of having to go back again afterwards.

So we probably won’t go back there again!

Hedgehogs

There's a hedgehog that lives behind a bush in the garden. You might think it is nice to have a bit of wildlife around, but it sends Molly and Jake crazy.

They spend half the evening restlessly pacing around the living room and the other half at the bottom of the garden, noses 2 inches from the hedgehog, barking manically and waking up the neighbourhood.

I don't know what hedgehogs are doing here. They are not native so somebody brought them over. Why would anyone do that? They are quite boring really. They just lurk at the bottom of gardens being spiky.

Being told off by a two year old

I don’t know where she gets it from but Lily now has a whole repertoire of things to say when she catches her Dad with a beer. Jo denies being involved but she is definitely the main suspect.

This is the barrage of comments I receive if my two year old daughter sees me with some booze:
“it’s a bit early for beer Daddy. Daddy’s a boozer! He’s drinking booze! Goodness Gracious my Daddy’s on the wines.”

That’s quite a telling off to get from a toddler. She starts kindergarten in a few weeks so Jo will have less time to coach her then!

Two Minutes to Midnight

It’s New Years Day 2009 and Jo and I are both exhausted. We have had a busy couple of weeks moving into our new house and unpacking and also cleaning the old house from top to bottom. And it has been another action packed year.

Which might explain why, after making a special effort to stay up late last night, we dropped off at 11.58.

I always think New Years Eve is silly anyway. Why celebrate the end of the year? What difference does it make? Who needs it?

We had a lovely day today, with a barbeque on the beach at one of the sparkly turquoise bays near Christchurch. 2009 should be less tiring as we are feeling quite settled here now in our lovely new house.