I'll be there....

Not so long ago, the radio played the theme to Baywatch. Everyone was astonished, gobsmacked, that I recognised it.

Not that I was a fan, or even in on whatever night it screened, but you'd have to have been on Mars or somewhere similar to have missed that music, and even the opening credits, being indelibly burned into your brain.

Anyway, one of the very best practical jokes I have come across involved Baywatch.

Way back in the day... that'd be the day when James Bolger had a steady hand on the country's helm... I worked at Parliament. And in those days, they had an emailed newsletter that got sent to everyone in the complex each day. I think they called it POLI, Parliamentary On Line Information (should probably have been POI, but I wasn't around to point that out when it started), which was the name of the unit I worked for, and so they should have called it POLI Newsletter (or POI Newsletter perhaps).

The newsletter was a public forum for POLI users to make announcements and/or requests. Typically you'd have the Bellamy's menu for the week, complete with healthy heart ticks where appropriate, some guff perhaps about staffers getting engaged, married, retired, etc, and there would be a few please "Did anyone tape last Wednesday's Coronation Street, please contact... etc.

One day, I heard the laughing travel around the office as people opened & read their POLI Newsletter. And I did the same when I came across:

"Did anyone happen to tape last week's Baywatch? I missed it unfortunately & would love to borrow the tape for a few days, contact J--- S--- Ext XXXX or email."

The guy then proceeded to field poisoned emails for the rest of the day, and I believe, more than a few abusive phonecalls from those who had read his plea & disapproved of his viewing pleasure.

I emailed him to say that while regretfully I had not taped Baywatch, I did have the entire series of Xena Warrior Princess on VHS. Which was a lie as it happened.

The payoff was the next day, when the next POLI Newsletter included an apology from the man's PA, it seems that the day prior had been his birthday & his devoted PA took the opportunity, when the hapless fellow went to the bathroom without logging off, to sit at his PC & compose his heartbreaking plea for slow-mo Pammy footage.

The laugh that went around as that one was read was even louder than the day before.

A Dog's Life

She's not actually allowed 1) in the bedrooms and 2) on the furniture.

And she knows it.

Pretty Green!

My favourite colour.

A few things to reinstall, obviously.

Memorable Quotes | GREYS ANATOMY | TV2 | tvnz.co.nz

Memorable quotes - Grey's Anatomy. An oxymoron?

Anyway, I went looking for more Dancing with the Stars contestants & somehow found this.

Memorable Quotes | GREYS ANATOMY | TV2 | tvnz.co.nz

And I'm going out on a limb here - Grey's Anatomy is really lame! LAME! And boring.

Let's reflect:

Was it ever good?

I don't think so.

Would civilisation end if we never heard any actor in a white coat referred to as McSteamy, McDreamy, McSomething, McStupid, or McUnshaven?

I don't think so.

Will it get better?

I don't think so.

Are spinoffs in the wind?

I think so. Look out for (stretches to remember characters' names)... oh who cares? they'll be all over your TV before you know it.

Would TV2 stop screening it mid season like they did the Sopranos?

Like fuck they would. Another reason to hate it.

Trying to figure out what's different...

Two images of Wilma - I think moving to the new blogger (whatever that was all about) has restored the profile picture of Wilma that was lost ages ago - presumably we've lost Younger Brother as an author, but he wasn't posting much anyway.

SunnyO

It's hard to be stri-icken...

With the lips of a chi-icken....

BTW - I am so sick of that Hinder song. And there really should be more words that rhyme with "chicken".

Random blog-this link takes you to a mathematical equation. YOWEE! Exciting eh?

A good attempt when you don't know the answer (David Farrar)

Hooked on Avacadoes

“It’s home-made of course”, Reg said as he extracted a long, long pole, on the end of which was a neat hook, just like a boathook.

“It’s just like a boathook” he confirmed “Except it’s an avacado hook.”

He was demonstrating how to get some of the hundreds of avacadoes that hung from the top branches of a mature avacado tree. A week earlier, when no one was looking, I sent a couple of 14 year olds up into that tree, with instructions to get us a couple to sample.

10 minutes later, when I returned to see how they were going, I came upon a carpet of avacadoes.

“Too many! How are you going to get them past the estate agent to the car?” The kids looked dismayed. I told them where the guy was & instructed them to skirt around the other way, through the bushes, and to the car. Then I walked in the opposite direction to see where the guy had got to.

He was right where I sent the kids. Figuring they were resourceful, I abandoned them.

Later, we counted the 4 dozen good sized fruit they’d somehow sneaked away with. They’re ripening up nicely.

One week later, we were back, getting a salutary lesson in how to get the fruit down, without climbing the tree.

Reg took up position outside the stables, under the avacado tree.

“On the lawn Reg, on the lawn…” advised his wife. Reg paid no attention.

As Reg reached up with his pole & hook, Mrs Llew asked Mrs Reg “Do you catch them?”

Mrs Reg said “No, I usually do it from the other side on the lawn.”

The hook caught a nice plump fruit, Reg beamed and said “You just give it a sharp yank.”

The avacado came free & headed like a smart bomb for Reg’s forehead. He went down like the proverbial tonne of bricks, his glasses askew.

“Oh shit!” I said.

“Don’t bruise it!” Mrs Llew wanted to say, but managed not to. Looking at M beside us, she added “That’s your job in future.”

M dryly replied, “If you get me a crash helmet.”

Mrs Reg had the final word, “You can tell he doesn’t do this very often.”

Reg straightened his glasses, composed himself & handed the freshly picked avacado to Mrs Llew.

We giggled for ages – later that is - at the time no-one wanted to guffaw in case Reg really was hurt. He wasn’t.

The Entertainment News Everyone's Been Waiting For!

So who have we got?

Paul Holmes,
Suzanne Paul
Michael Laws
Greer Robsn
April Ieremia
Brendan Pongia (who?)

...snooze...

There must be more than that though - is it 8 to start with? No politicians so far. I guess Blumsky's the only likely one to volunteer... but he's probably not quite a "star". Although, heh, are the others?

Only one sporto, and no current Shortie Street actors either (Robson was on it for a while though was she not?).

Look who's dancing with the stars -Stuff.co.nz

Nuts, nuts, nuts.

Any man walking along the street carrying flowers gets a lot of attention. Women smile, and sometimes mouth a silent "Awww..." Men smirk.

I don't care though, I'm getting laid tonight!

And as I strode proudly & manfully toward my destination I suddenly saw one word sprayed 3 times on the pavement:

"Nuts, nuts, nuts.

And that is a sign, because today, in fact, approximately 5 minutes before this auspicious sighting, I had had a call from a man with glad tidings.

"It was sticky, but you've got it!"

He was referring to our latest property purchase. I haven't time this week, but next week I'll be getting my new business cards printed:

"Blogger, Broker (Arms), One-Dimensional-Collectivist-Fuckwit, Orchardist"

Well to be honest, what we did today was go unconditional - this gives us approximately one month now, to win lotto.

Easy eh?

More eyecatching Icelandic topography from the talented Rebekka.

Another reason to visit scenic Iceland!

Notes from a one dimensional collectivist fuckwit

Collectivism - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Meh. I had to look it up, but I don't think it's me.

Well, "collectivist" anyway, I'm sure the rest could be debated.

Practise, practise, practise*

“Oh shit! It’s 20 past 7!”

With those cheery words, I greeted the day. I was supposed to be up at 6.30am, although somehow my alarm was switched off…

Y’see, I drew the short straw to transport a couple of kids to an inter-school triathlon, I had the swimmer & runner for a team event, the rider was arriving under her own stream. All had to be at Scorching Bay from around 8.45.

I showered, dressed, woke up the swimmer & got her moving, waved bye bye to the dog & wife heading out for a walk, then received stern instructions to the effect that I should still be there when she got back so that good luck wishes could be conveyed… I busied myself putting the recycling out.

Then, 15 minutes late, having greeted dog & wife home, checked the list of things the swimmer needed… we were off! First it was round to the runner’s place, where we also picked up an extra & drove her to her pickup point up the road. And then we entered the borderline gridlock that constitutes traffic crossing from one side of the city to the other… and we listened to borderline music suitable only for teenagers…

And that reminds me to set off on a quick tangent & tell you what one of the 3 van drivers to a rowing regatta in Cambridge told us:

“The drive is OK, the girls are all really nice, no problem there… it’s their music that is the problem… it turns a tedious drive into an insufferable life sentence. You don’t want to listen to their music.”

And back on topic…

The girls talked about the upcoming event, and both expressed nervousness because they haven’t practised in the slightest for months, although both have been kept fit by other sports.

The cyclist also hadn’t practised in the slightest in living memory, but hey, it’s all about competing right?

They came third. Next year, they’ll train.

* I have no idea if I have used the right form of "practise". Never have known which is which, or if I ever have, I forgot it 5 minutes later... Just as well it wasn't covered when I did this test.

Field to back Govt as independent

I'm only doing this to beat David Farrar to the draw. But should you have been concerned about the prospects for the current regime... seems they live again!

Field to back Govt as independent - Stuff.co.nz

'Catwoman' robs Taranaki bank - Stuff.co.nz

'Catwoman' robs Taranaki bank - New Zealand news on Stuff.co.nz

It's hard to tell, but it looks like she might be cute - I predict a stellar media career on her release from prison, a stint on a couple of Treasure Islands perhaps, a fling with Ridgey, y'know, the usual.

Great Minds

Had several occasions recently where in hindsight, I have realised that everyone in the room had the same thought as me, but for various reasons, no one said a word.

1. Mrs Llew & I were being shown a macadamia drying room. It was a medium sized room furnished with several rods mounted from wall to wall, from which hung string sacks of drying macadamia nuts. There was a serious looking dehumidifier in the corner.

And did I mention the entire room, walls, ceiling, was lined with tin foil?

Hours later, Mrs Llew mentioned "Didn't you think that was the perfect room for growing cannabis?"

And I did. Not that I would know of course.

2. Sat in on a committee meeting discussing fundraising. Let's say for the sake of argument, that this was fundraising for a dragon boating team...

One person was adamant that we needed to get a calendar shot & printed, of the boys, with their shirts off.

I countered "Um... it's February, are you talking a 2007 or 2008 calendar?"

The calendar champion was not to be deterred - "Can you think of ANYTHING that would sell better than a calendar with pictures of the boys with their shirts off?"

There was a conspicuous silence, during which I, and as I discovered later, pretty much every other person in the room, thought to themselves - "Yes, a calendar with pictures of the girls with their shirts off..."

But wimps that we are, and seeing as we're talking about school teams here, I think everyone decided it'd be way to icky to mention it.

That's what blogs are for.

2005 calendars should be off the presses soon. We ended up deciding that the calendar should be of the parents with their shirts off*. Mine's September, ensure you're wearing sunglasses. Get in early to avoid disappointment.

Today's random "BlogThis" site takes you to where the gloves come off, where the blood boils, where the air is thin, where the ears are thick... etc. My money's on Welly_Girl BTW.

Blogger Bash - How about it? Whale Oil Beef Hooked

* I have recounted this story once before by email, and in one of those weird occasions where the world was in tune with itself (does that make sense?) I clicked "Send" to the recipient, just as an email arrived from him with the news that he'd just been photographed with his shirt off for the Listener.

That skydiver who survived...

Hat tip to the Spareroom. I plundered it shamelessly.

Seeing as Mr Holmes lived though, I avoid feeling guilty about laughing at the dialogue:

Jonathon: "You OK?"
Michael: "No."
Jonathon: "Does it hurt anywhere?"
Michael: "Yes."

World exclusive skydiver video... watch the incredible footage here! the Daily Mail

Michael's not the first person to survive a terrifying fall like that, but those who have form a reasonably exclusive club.

I remember seeing hilarious footage of basejumpers leaping off a bridge someplace. It sure was a long way down, and one guy suffered a gear malfunction & did his very best Wile E Coyote impression, silently dwindling into the distance, and landing with a barely audible "Pffft" in the shallow river some several hundred metres below. He also lived. Walked away unscathed.

Should you ever find yourself plummetting several hundred or thousand metres without the aid of a parachute, you might want to bone up on increasing YOUR chances of joining that club. Here are step by step instructions on surviving a long fall.

Sex bloggers bare all on the internet

Hah! You wish!

Sex bloggers bare all on the internet - Stuff.co.nz

You must be thinking of this guy...

Actually, I just liked the headline.

That's it! I'm outtahere.

In my life, I have walked out of very few movies. And to put that in perspective, I can probably own to have seen thousands of movies in my time (many of them, over some dozen years, from the same seat in the same cinema), and this isn’t counting video cassettes, DVDs, SKY or TV screenings.

But no matter how awful, boring, or insulting to my intelligence, the number of films I have abandoned midway can be counted on one hand. I even sat through a scratched, and baffling screening of The Colour of Pomegranites, although a mate who attended with me did complain to the projectionist at the absence of a car chase.

I got to thinking about all this yesterday, after describing a movie that I did stay the distance for, Hybrid, which is about the man, Milton Beeghly, who invented early hybrid corn varieties, and the movie is literally as exciting as watching corn grow, which is what you do for pretty much the whole running time, in hindsight, I should have fled at the first closeup of a corn field maturing in slow motion.

I remember being at a very late film festival screening of Reanimator, which is one of the most hilarious (“Herbert West has a perfectly good head on his shoulders… and another on the table in front of him.”) and grisly stories ever committed to film. The movie opens with an autopsy being performed for the benefit of watching med students, the doctor doing the honours instructs the class “…and you peel the skin away from the skull just like an orange”. And as they showed that skin being peeled orange like, the first of many dozens of patrons began leaving the theatre, we’re like 30 seconds in. The audience sontinued to stream steadily out until almost the final scene, in stark contrast to the very first Hong Kong film shown at a festival, The Iceman Cometh, where the largely chinese audience continued to enter the theatre (and proceeded to converse loudly) right up almost to the final scene.

I was made of sterner stuff as far as Reanimator went, the movie is frickin brilliant. Jeffrey Combs, who plays Herbert West, earned a cameo in Peter Jackson’s The Frighteners on the strength of this performance.

The film that I most vividly remember walking out of, was called The Ghosts (Das Gespenst), and coincidentally it was at another film festival that I encountered it. The programme notes claimed it was a comedy. Laughs were promised. Not only, but controversial laughs, because it had a reputation for being blasphemous.

But who knows? I didn’t get that far. I watched the so-called special effect as the statue of Christ came to life, I watched him turn into a snake, and back, and meet the nun with whom he would purportedly form an intimate relationship, but I didn’t see the relationship develop because I gave up after what seemed like a 30 minute scene of two characters (supposedly the comic relief) squatting back to back & trying to shit into shot glasses… not even the promise of hilarious blasphemy could justify the ennui of this scene. And so I left after not a single laugh or smirk.

Some years later I also walked out of Jim Jarmusch & Johnny Depp’s Deadman, but that was because I had flu & was feeling sick.

New Look SunnyO

In a spectacular reversal of traditional roles, I have devised a new New Year’s Resolution for Mrs Llew. It is:

No More Open Homes!

Ever.

Several years ago, she & I had an hour to kill before some appointment, so we agreed we’d take a look at an open home down the road. “Just for ideas, you understand”. I did.

Two days later, because that was when the tender closed, we owned that house. I said then “No more open homes!”

But the lesson wasn’t learned.

Anyway, the weekend before last, we attended another open home, not in the same street this time (which is what had me off my guard, we have owned up to 4 houses in just 2 streets at times, at the moment we’re down to 3 houses in 3 streets.)

Yes. We have, or will have soon, a new SunnyO.



And here, I have to give my apologies and “I told you so’s” to Martha, who emailed me late last year to ask my advice about a place she & Glen were looking to buy. I warned them off it, and did mention that no way was I showing this to Mrs llew, because she has a habit of buying things like this.



So anyway, Mrs llew saw it herself, and (assuming no major last minute, pre-unconditional, surprises – LIM report is in the post/bank managers are as yet, blissfully unaware of how we spent the weekend - keep perhaps, an eye on Westpac's shareprice in case it dips sharply when she finds out) we now own it.



It’s an old lodge, near the racecourse, apparently there used to be another house on the property, which technically speaking, was the lodge, in which visiting jockeys would reside at times of race meets. The stables are still there, in good nick although used for storage these days. We’ll turn some of them into bunkhouses for when the extended family (and we have quite some extended family, Mrs Llew being one of 25 kids or so - seems like that anyway) visit.



There’s also a sleepout, historic “tack” room, 100 year old beech tree, and a fully functioning macadamia orchard & processing plant. Not to mention every type of fruit tree known to humanity.



It’s a drive to the beach now, not a walk, but it is a short walk to the river, and the racecourse, both of which I’m sure are worth visiting…

Why did we buy it? Well I can see the appeal for Mrs Llew, the trees are established, and planting out the old SunnyO was a race against time & our natural life expectancies. In not too many more years, I will be 50 (!!).

So what happens to the old one, and the sheep, most of whom have only just taken up residence…?

Only time will tell.

But do drop me a line if you’ve ever fancied a section by the beach, or if you have a potential home for up to 7 pet sheep of varying ancestry & age. Although chances are some will move with us. I’m determined to find them slaughterhouse-free new homes. And now that I am an expert on Macadamia orchards (google) I know that sheep do not eat these trees & so can be safely accommodated in their midst. But there ain’t enough space for all of them.

And on that - de ja vu! The place needs lots of new fencing, to keep animals in & out. But since the last time I was faced with that challenge (check the archives) I've discovered that at least 2 of Mrs llew's thousands of nephews are builders specialising in fences.

SunnyO

And if you're feeling swizzed that this is not a new look for the blog, I'm considering it.

In which we continue to state the obvious..

Anna Nicole's Mum demonstrates from which side of the family Anna Nicole inherited the brains.

Drugs may be involved - Anna Nicole's mum - Stuff.co.nz

We'll drink recycled sewage - Aussies

This we also know, I have tried Fosters myself.

We'll drink recycled sewage - Aussies - Stuff.co.nz

Yikes, they're here....

"I've got an open ticket..."

This, we know already.

"so we'll see how it goes..."

Sadly, we all will.

'It wasn't love at first sight' - Loos - Stuff.co.nz

If the poll asking how long this entanglement will last is on the right when you click through... by all means take a punt. I myself voted along the lines that this is forever.

Promise of things to come...

Been a bit quiet recently - been busy.

Anyway, out of the blue (this time last week it was all different) there will be a new look SunnyO coming soon.

julia roberts fights for orangutangs - Google-søgning

No doubt... no doubt...

julia roberts fights for orangutangs - Google-søgning

Maybe it's the pitch for an upcoming movie?

Politics: Citizens unite by Jane Clifton | New Zealand Listener

The column isn't online until 17 Feb, unfortunately. I draw it to your attention because Wilma & I got mentioned :)

Politics: Citizens unite by Jane Clifton | New Zealand Listener

Ridge plans Kiwi future with Loos

Not that I'm one to trade in scurrilous Z grade celebrity gossip, but...

Oh wait, yes I am...

Do we give this relationship any chance of lasting long enough for the happy couple (and Ridge) to settle in NZ?

And once here... think of the reality TV shows we have to look forward to... the gossip columns... especially when she appears on Dancing with the Stars & runs off with both Brendon & Candy...

Yay. Bring it on. (Not).

Ridge plans Kiwi future with Loos - Stuff.co.nz

That reminds me...

One of the things on my list to do this holiday was appear again on TV. Last holidays, and it's on here somewhere, but I can't be arsed searching, I appeared in a brief TV3 slow news day segment. I was filmed planting a tree. I thought maybe I'd get my own gardening show gig from it, but not so far...

So this year the plan was to get another airing, but maybe this time with a few lines to say & demonstrate my TV chops.

Didn't happen, despite the same TV3 camerman from last year holidaying next door for much of the break.

Anyway, I wasn't wedded to TV3 News, I'd have settled for a Shortland Street, Outrageous Fortune or even Karaoke High walk on.

But what p[roved galling, was opening the Listener (or was it the TV guide, I can't recall) and seeing someone I know, with his own, brand new show.

Gnnnffff...

Spare Room » Blog Archive » TV Review: The School of Home Truths

But I have a plan B - and that is, when Ralston is finally ousted as head of TVNZ news, Damian Christie will get his job (positive affirmation expressed to my good mates, Life & the Universe & everything once again) and will tap me to host my own current affairs show. Possibly a bit like Eating Media Lunch, but not so serious & informed.

Or something, hey, I do gardens too!

Comet watching

Well I'm keen - all I need now is for the weather to oblige & gimme a good view of the Western horizon at dusk. Come to papa...

So far, it's been cloud & sea fog every evening.

yesterday, when we planned not only to catch the comet from our west facing garden, while simultaneously barbecuing dinner... the rain & mist eased slowly in about one hour before sunset, easing out my ill-concealed glee at the dual prospect with them, my pork steaks looking less & less like they were going to see the great outdoors, let alone a comet.

Well. In the spirit of positive affirmation & deserving & expecting the very best that life & the universe can deliver, tonight is the night. Comet & barbecue (although the steaks are gone, and something else will take their place on the flames), hell, I might even deserve a few beers too.

Public Address | In the Days of the Comet

tanya horo porn movie - Google Search

A somewhat optimistic google search.

tanya horo porn movie - Google Search

You may or may not know that Tanya Horo also goes by the names Marvey King, and Miss Lucy.

Recent photos

Step by Step Instructions

For making one of these:



















it should be noted that this edifice is intended to shelter a small copse of young crabapple trees from the withering nor'wester.

it should also be noted that since its construction, the wind has blown incessantly, and equally as witheringly, from the south.

IDLE VICE - best blog title in ages!

have a close look - could it be that Mrs Smith used to post as Ms Vile File?

I'd ask, but I seem to have acquired a cookie problem & making comments on some people's sites seems to be an effort. Although my browser swears that cookies are enabled...

IDLE VICE

to solemnly tell what no man has told before

A few posts back I split an infinitive (shock/horror!!)

"they had a creepy safety officer at the time who used to solemnly tell us of his lifelong study of poisons..."

Years ago I had a comment added to the end of an essay I wrote, just after whatever mark I got, which said "infinitives are far more elegant unsplit". And by and large I have lived my life accordingly ever since.

Then, over the break I read an article somewhere in which the writer argued that this grammatical rule is pretty much poppycock.

You see the reason teachers for hundreds of years have inisted on students not splitting the infinitive, is because in Latin, from which English has evolved, the infinitive was a single word which could not be split anyway (I believe he said that some other Latin descended modern languages still sport this feature). And so on that spurious basis, we have laughed at William Shatner's "...to boldly go" as if he was some sort of grammatical moron.

Turns out he has the last laugh on us all. And so henceforth, I promise to boldly split my infinitives & to faithfully crusade on the issue wherever, and whenever. Like.... whatever!

There. Let that be the last word on the subject.

Award Winning Blogger! Apparently.

I forgot to post this a while back - my Quixote award for services to Wellington's weather. I'd link to the Quixotic post that accompanied it, but they come & go it seems...

Here's the one that reminded me though. And my cholesterol is just fine thanks.

peterquixote: Ilew's cholesterol

If you haven't seen this... you should.

Reminds me of my student holiday job at Dulux paints - they had a creepy safety officer at the time who used to solemnly tell us of his lifelong study of poisons...

...and who, during fire extinguisher practise would make inappropriate comments to the people with the extinguishers: "He's very potent!", "That's a BIG one!", "Hold firmly onto your hose!"

But less creepily, this also reminds me of numerous barbecues past...

Spare Room » Blog Archive » A Fire Safety Demo… goes horribly wrong...

The Hills are Alive with the Sound of Kaka

To deflect attention from my apalling (SunnyO word of the day) last post...

Prior to Christmas, on a couple of occasions, I noticed two rather large, dark green parrots playing in a tree near the top of the Cable car. Someone who seemed to know told me they were "Kaka", native parrots. That's since been confirmed by all & sundry, and so we can assume that these new neighbours are indeed the real thing & not escapees from a local aviary.

In fact, they almost certainly will have hailed from the nearby (as the kaka, kereru & tui fly) Karori Wildlife Sanctuary.

And am I correct in assuming that this has been a bumper breeding season for birds? New ducklings continue to appear at the duckpond, way past the end of Spring, tui continue to thrive & reluctantly share their territory with interlopers... and in the last few days, it's not two kaka playing & harassing the jealous tui, it's more like 6 or 8 (depending on who you talk to).

At around 6pm, the air is pierced with their high pitched call, interspersed with the occasional appalling squawks - I'm undecided if these squawks are also the kaka, or some huge magpies I've seen in the vicinity.

Whatever, it looks like the tui are having to cede some territory, albeit extremely reluctantly.

Kākā - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Appalling Christmas story.

Some of our guests arrived 2 days early this year. They were to have come through just before New Year's Eve... but we knew plans had changed when we rang them on Christmas day.

"I'm sorry, Rupert and his father had words last night & the family drove South at 2am..."

We didn't ask for details, but wondered at the gifts for Rupert's children lying under his parents' tree in Napier.

A swift call to a mobile revealed that Rupert & loved ones drove to Taupo to spend Christmas & a few days there. No further update (about which we were scrupulously disinterested) on the cause for the dispute.

Eventually the story did come to light, and it is an appalling tale, but briefly:

Rupert's father is a curmudgeon who regularly battles with his family, and routinely threatens one or the other with being cut from the will should they talk to one or another about various & historic family issues...

But no worse than that, I mean, lots of families have these in their midst.

This year though...

Christmas Eve, 2006, a big family dinner, at least for those of the family being spoken to at that time, drinks, festive music, grandparents, parents, step-parents, children, grandchildren. Alcohol. And I'm guessing (but guess it merely is) prescription medicines of some sort.

All was going swimmingly, the women folk were dancing, some of the men folk were talking.

Over in the corner Grand-dad, not all that elderly, by himself, deemed this the appropriate time to get the family jewels out & show them around.

Words ensued. Heated words.

Families drove away.

Is it wrong that I am both appalled & strangely amused by this?

Meetings with Remarkable Men - The Chief of Sinners

Approximately 4 times a week, during our extended break, would find me & a 14 year old on her way to rowing practice, standing on Paraparaumu railway station waiting for the 8.35am to Wellington to arrive.

Having performed my drop off, and waiting just long enough to ensure the train was on time, I'd head back to SunnyO for about 4 hours until it was time for me to head South again to pick up the sporto.

Over the statutary holidays the station was bereft of humanity. Except of course for us. Later, as commuters started heading back to work, the place got pretty busy, although it should be noted that the public lavvy there is regularly devoid of loo paper, soap, and even on occasion, will not flush.

I would have reported that last one, except that on emerging onto the platform to go tell someone in authority, I was stopped by the open, smiling visage of a familiar face...

I've speculated about this guy in the past, even dreamed up some appropriate backstories for him. Then I got bored with it.

He was in his trademark trilby hat & rainproof jacket, and yes, he was staring right at me. He flicked a glance at the girl who'd joined me and asked, "Is THIS your daughter?"

He said "I've seen you in town!". I had to admit that over the course of what must surely be the last 25 years or so, I've seen him too. What most surprised me is that he recognised M, she later told me that he regularly targets her in his ministrations for the Lord, whenever she walks past. De ja vu.

Anyway, he asked if we lived up that way, I told him only sometimes, mostly we're in town. He asked where & then was able to give me the address of the closest mission to our house. Useful. I think he said that he lives in Forest Lakes... that's a long commute in my opinion.

He asked our names & I gave them. Then in return, I asked his. He looked stricken for a moment, then he leaned in close & conspiratorially whispered "The Chief of Sinners!"

He smirked, then added "But I have been redeemed!"

Then, I missed it, but M swears he added quietly, "Confidentially, it's Paul".

Which if you ask me would be the perfect christian name for someone of his calling.

Anyway, we bade our farewells, M waitied until he'd boarded & chose the carriage furthest away...

We didn't come across him again, but I'm guessing we will again before too long.

nicotine coloured toenails - Google Search

Brilliant! I am 3rd in the list for the google search below.

nicotine coloured toenails - Google Search

Well... I bin gon'n dunnit

Just back from having my "bloods" done. And all those well-wishers who told me that medical science has moved on since the last time I had this done... hey, you were right! I could see no leeches anywhere in the clinic!

And this time there was light! And surveying the tiny reception area, I could tell that last week, in the dark, when I was wondering if I was about to sit on someone's lap, there could have been no more than 3 people ahead of me, unless they were all sitting on each others laps... but no matter.

I realise, after Sarah and Peter (say, that's some interesting looking entertaining you've been doing there Peter, or is that the entertainment?) assured me that they use a very fine gauge needle these days, that it's not the piercing of my flesh & veins that bothers me (although putting it like that, it's unlikely to become my favourite hobby), it's where they take it from that irks me.

And it was painless, and quick. But still, it makes me woozy. If they could take it from some other place that doesn't irrationally bother me, like the shoulder, or upper arm, or buttock... I'd have no qualms. But like my thumbs, my inner elbow or whatever it is called, is sacrosanct, I don't like being touched there (might make an exception for say, Naomi Campbell, but I'll cross that one should the occasion ever arise). Heh heh... I said "arise" in the same sentence as "Naomi Campbell....

But anyway, it is done. I have work to do. And the first coffee of the day (fasting) and a muffin to consume.

Actually I drank & scoffed those before I typed this. But you get the idea.

Today's random link is to David Slack's Island Life, because he's posted a picture that will satisfy your curiosity should you ever have wondered what John Key would look like with a Beatles' haircut.

Public Address | Island Life

Looking toward the space station

Nothing to see here folks...

Look what's down under - Wellywood from space!

Fantastic picture.

Now, there are two reasons I believe this is a photoshopped fake:

1. The spacewalkers are suspiciously all oriented the same way & upright - folks, believe me, space isn't like that! Not the last time I was there anyway.

2. The pictures suggest that at some stage recently, the weather was lovely over Wellington.

I rest my case.

Look what's down under - Stuff.co.nz

Scurrilous gossip - Ridgey & Loos woman.

I think we've covered some of the exploits of Ms Loos before on this blog (but I can't be arsed looking previous posts up), but essentially:

Uber-slapper who somehow scored the job of PA to Lord David Beckham & then scored the man himself. And got caught by Lady Posh Spice.

In her career highlight to date, she appeared on UK TV in a low rent reality TV show & jerked off a pig. Commentators claimed she looked like she knew what she was doing. The pig, engrossed in a post coital cigarette, made no comment.

Anyway, read the latest, Ridgey's allegedly a class act.

Ridge's ex speaks out over Loos - Stuff.co.nz

More photos here...

Is this the good news or the bad news?

Il Divo cancels NZ leg of tour - Stuff.co.nz

It's official, we're a 3rd world city

Hard on the heels of the gas outage that lasted for weeks earlier in the year, now I find that a critical part of the city (critical in this instance, means a part that I needed to use today) has had a major power cut. Power not expected to resume till near lunchtime.

No idea what the cause is, but here is how it has inconvenienced me...

I use an insurance broker. A non sequiteur? Possibly. Anyway, I'm all in favour of using brokers (I am one myself as it happens, but not for insurance) as you get independant (supposedly) advice & service.

Anyway, I'm beginning to suspect that our broker shuffles me between policies every few years in order to renew & increase his commission. And that's because he frequently suggests I chop & change for no apparent reason (he cites advantages to me - I see inconvenience usually.)

Also, this may be hard to envisage, my broker looks & sounds like a pony-tailed, Elton John spectacle wearing, Paul Holmes. Scary.

Anyway, the latest is that I need to up my life insurance policy & he has just the one for me. But it requires that I go give some blood.

I hate giving blood. And you have to fast. And for fuck sake, this is Christmas!

So anyway, I've already had the deadline for my "bloods" lapse once, & received a stern wagging of the pony tail & Holmes voice lecture, and I have promised to go do it soon.

And so today, fasted, slightly less wined than usaul the previous evening... I headed up to the Terrace to get my fucking "bloods" done. On the way I wondered about the throngs that lined the footpaths. Then I entered the building which houses the clinic, and it was all pitch black.

"Power cut" said some guy coming past me, "All up the Terrace".

So somewhat pissed off I started to head back to work. Then I changed my mind figuring how much power does a blood test need & so I went back.

I climbed the stairs in the darkness to the first floor. A woman with a torch was wandering back & forth along the corridor. I asked where the blood test place was & she told me that it was along the corridor, but there was a wait as they were doing people one at a time. I asked how long will it take?

"A while"

"How many people are ahead of me?"

"Half a dozen or so"

"How long does each person take?" (thinking that this is like getting blood from a stone & why do they need me here in that case"

"5 to 10 minutes"

"I'll wait"

I followed her back in, and the clinic was in total blackness. She waved a hand at a corner that was pitch black & told me to take a seat.

I could see no seats, and as I edged closer I could hear people snickering. Fearing I was going to sit on someone's lap I asked if anyone was there. More snickering.

I sat in the first empty seat I could feel, and even at this stage I had no idea how many other people were there.

I left, bought a muffin & a coffee & returned to my sun drenched office, which has power.

Chances are slim now that I will make the new deadline for my "bloods". Fuckem.

Power outage - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Rabid letters to the editor blogged...

This deserves passing around - if you're an avid reader of letters to the editor of the DomPost & other Wellington publications... you may have come across Ronald Smythe of Mt Cook, and H Westfold of Hataitai. Well someone has gone to the trouble of publishing their letters to sundry media organs, on a blog.

And they're very funny.

I was interested to note, from his letter in your May 24 issue, where he spouts his usual heathen rot prompted by my letter of May 3, that Mr Hare the village atheist hasn’t yet gone to the Devil who prompts him in the first place!

I call him by that term because his writings against Christianity and the Bible are on that level of polemics – I’ve long known he lives in the city of Lower Hutt, thank you.

What has happened to the youth of today? | the wellingtonista

Hat Tip to Alan at Halfpie, who somehow came across this blog.

Are You Up For The Perfect Job?

I've seen a few jobs in my time, which scream for the perfect applicant:

Quality Controller - Cadbury's Chocolates, comes to mind. All the chocolate you can eat?

FHM magazine once claimed that the perfect job was "Orgasm tester", but they didn't supply a job description.

And closely related perhaps, Durex are calling for sexually active volunteers, "with the right attributes" to test their condoms, just in time for the summer holidays.

I presume that "with the right attributes" means having something to put the condom on... but I could be wrong. Maybe it just means willing to shag an awful lot to give the product a proper "road test". Who knows?

In fact, if they could get enough female volunteers too, they could speed the testing up - just give all the volunteers free run of some appropriate venue for a couple of weekends & collate the results.

I see no mention of remuneration... that'd be the gig right? "Professional Condom Tester" on your business card... and the census form... or how about that perfect part time job to support the studies? I imagine the folk at Student Job Search are getting restless right about now...

Durex wants applicants for condom testing - Stuff.co.nz

and also...

A whole year of positions... brought to you by your next employer.

Warning: Some scenes my disturb young & or etc....

Nah, just kidding. I did consider taking photos, but in the end there was nothing much of interest.

We penned the new, suspicious & untamed sheep in about 5 minutes. RESULT! This IS unusual. Our existing two sheep, well versed in being penned by a bunch of amateurs... were having none of it & eluded us. But hey, it wasn't their day in the sun & so we cared not a whit. The two old boys did come running up to the pen to see what was going on though.

Our shearer guy turned up, cast an experienced eye of the new ewes & said "Shit, who sold you these ancient bags of bones...?"

And so I told him. Turns out that the mother of the rams is the ancient one, the other one is more diplomatically, middle aged. And so I was slightly shafted by Richard from Waikanae, who not only palmed off two rams on an ignorant city slicker, but also their toothless mother.

Oh well. At least she'll see her remaining few years out peacefully. And moneywise, I'm still ahead, so he caused me just a little bit of stuffing around to get where I wanted to be in the first place.

The placing of the rings over the tails & goolies, was anticlimactic. The guys seemed pretty unconcerned, occasionally they displayed a few signs of minor discomfort, but no bleating, no obvious distress. After they'd been released back into the paddock, they sat a while in the shade, then joined their very skinny mother (she'll put weight on again now she's been sheared, and may well have a few more years left in her yet) in a big patch of clover.

I'm pleased to have this sorted.

Wether lambs - or not?

Walking Wounded

For the 2nd time in as many months, last night I walked home through the Botanic Gardens with Wilma, past many concerned looking people, covered in blood (well reasonably bloodied anyhow).

I really must start carrying something. Like bandages perhaps, although some tissues would be useful, to help with my sundry mishaps.

The first time was when I was playing with Wilma & one of her pals, a mad little staffy called Havoc, throwing a stick for them to chase, and at one point, both Havoc & I lunged for the stick at the same time. I got the stick, Havoc got my thumb. Yow!

It was just a little puncture, but I dripped blood for ages, having nothing to wrap around it.

Last night, circumstances, a thrush & Wilma, conspired to see the heavy end of a retractable leash wrenched from my grasp & wrapped around a shrub. A further wrenching, just as I was bending down to secure the leash, and by association, a bird chasing dog, saw the heavy leash whip out from around the shrub, travel approximately 3 feet through the air & connect at high speed at precisely where my nose meets my upper lip. The thrush got away.

Damned lucky I didn't lose or chip a tooth, or break my nose. And of course I thought "Oh yeah, I promised myself I'd carry tissues from now on... pity..."

And so once again I trooped through the gardens covered in blood, alarming the locals, who averted their eyes at the sight, until I could find a tap to at least recover some semblance of dignity.

I only mention this because my nose started bleeding again about 30 minutes ago. Well, not my nose as such, more the cut right below it...

Meanwhile - what's going on at Trivial Pursuit? No update since August, then yesterday, the whole site appeared in my RSS feed & on investigation the only difference I could see was that comments have been disabled. Then again today, a post from March appeard on Bloglines...

Watch this space I guess.

Trivial Pursuit

The Unspoken (Godwin's) Law of Shaving Moustaches

Is there any man since the 1930s who has not followed the ritual pictured at the end of the below link when shaving off his moustache?

ChCh-Changes: Movember - the moustache disappears

Cheers Mike

The Unkindest Cuts of All...

Being of the male persuasion, I have to confess that the topic of castration does not sit that well with me - although since it's not me being castrated it is something else that won't be sitting well for a short while.

But somethings just have to go & I have just arranged with our local shearer to pop around this weekend, shear a couple of ewes that need it, and dock & castrate the little rams that I inadvertently purchased from a farmer who advertised ewes & ewe lambs for sale, and who then sold me two rams without mentioning it. And it didn't occur to me to look. Anyway, I haven't complained becuse he DID sell me the two lambs for the price of one, and even having to pay the shearer guy will still see me come out ahead.

Docking, in case you're not a real kiwi, is where the tails are removed to prevent fly strike later in the sheep's life.

And these little fellas will be getting the deluxe treatment - tails & testicles.

There are various ways to affect these alterations in your livestock - I'm not entirely sure, but I suspect our guy will be using the little rubber bands that are stretched over the "bits", and which form a kind of tourniquet. In a day or two the offending "bits" drop off. Wilma won't be around to profit from the event, I'm assuming some local seagull will score bigtime over the next few days.

Doesn't the very thought make your eyes water? If not, I suggest you click on the link below & scroll down to the pictures of the medieval implements that are available for the task... and then tell me it didn't bring tears to the eyes. I'm not sure I ever want to own a tool that calls itself "The Emasculator"...

Anyway, I note in this page that it suggests the procedure take place in the first 7 days of the lamb's life - other sites I have looked at tell me it should be done before they're 6 weeks old - we will just scrape in this weekend within the 6 week deadline.

And I'm informed that the pain lasts for maybe 15-20 minutes max. I'm not looking forward to the noise they'll make in that 15-20 minutes...

Anyway, sometimes a man's just gotta do what a man's gotta do, or pay another man to do. I console myself that it must surely beat the meatworks.

Sheep 201 - Docking and Castrating

Help Fight Gnomelessness!

Cool prezzie alert - Locally made Gnome Homes & Gnomaloos. Hand cast by a master blacksmith in the Hutt Valley (who also does a good line in Roman Armour, and let's face it, who doesn't like parading around in Roman Armour?, and a few other ideas he's working on which I'll report on when they come to fruition, but which must remain under wraps for now so as not to give away his ideas to competitors.)

I just got a couple of Gnomehomes & matching Gnomaloos for my nieces, they also come, I'm told, in camouflage colours for the boys, and in various combinations - Gnome Village, and the bulk pack which I guess could constitute a Gnome City.

You can get them through this site, or by emailing Murray (click on the little Murray figure for the email link), or through numerous retail outlets, including Christopher's Crystals in Cuba Street.

Welcome to www.gnomehomes.co.nz

Star Boating Club “Row-A-Thon" - Fri/Sat | the wellingtonista

Star Boating Club “Row-A-Thon" - Fri/Sat | the wellingtonista

Today's Eva Green News

I came to this wikipedia page via a circuitous route...

Watched The Dreamers this weekend - which is the perfect movie for all those who want to see more of Eva Green. Lots more. All in fact. Lots more than you'll see in Casino Royale.

And I went looking for a review of it & came to Wikipedia, along with a bunch of other links.

So that promised news:

1. She's been cast as Serafina Pekkala (hot, broom riding, witch) in the movie version of Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials. Yay!

2. She's dating Marton Csokas, probably best known for playing Leonard on Shortland Street. Good score Leonard! Although to be honest, I thought you batted for the other team. NTTAWWT.

Eva Green - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Bilbo Cruise.

Years ago I caused consternation in the mind of a previous wife after perusing a copy of Premiere magazine & suddenly announcing (true) that someone was planning a movie based on the Bridges of Madison County - a favourite of Mrs Llew #1.

She asked "Do they say who is going to be in it?"

Quite offhand, and untruthfully I replied "It says they're rewriting it to suit Tom Cruise."

Later, as she was sealing the envelope with the torrid words of profanity to the studio in question, I had to admit that I was fibbing. I can happily report that the news that Clint Eastwood would star met with tentative approval at least. By now she wasn't prepared to believe me when I said it was being rewritten to include a gunfight & car chase so that Clint felt comfortable with the script.

But anyway. Here's my prediction for the Hobbit film, should Sir Peter Jackson not make the cut.

Bilbo Baggins - Tom Cruise - I figure they can save on the special effects to make him small, especially when paired with

Gandalf - Clint Eastwood

Elrond - Morgan Freeman - it's written in Clint's contract these days, that Freeman has to play his best friend in every movie he's in.

Pingepoo - Katie Holmes - Elrond's other daughter, who develops a crush on Bilbo

Smaug - Andy Serkis, in a nod to Jackson.

Just my thoughts - take 'em or leave 'em.

ReelThoughts

Mission Accomplished!

After several days of phone calls to some reticent guy called Richard in Waikanae, the deal was struck. 2 ewes & two ewe lambs (it's important they are ewe lambs, as rams are bigger & harder to handle, and need "things" done to them so that I don't have even more lambs next year & end up REALLY overstocked). All I needed to do was hoof it up the coast, give him a call when I was 30 minutes away, hire a trailer & meet him at the farm.

So I did. I'd spent the evening before loading up the car with stuff to take up to SunnyO for Christmas, then I unloaded it again because I'd forgotten to put our removeable towbar on & it's in a cunning hidey-hole underneath the baggage area, put the towbar on, locked it in place & loaded up the car with: a punga fern that was cut down & has recovered enough that we will replant it, a big wicker basket, a segment of telephone pole (long story, it will be useful for something), a few odds & ends from the basement that are no use in kelburn, but will be in more rural climes, and a truckload of new bedding.

The next day I left work at 12.30pm, ran a few errands, whizzed back home to change into farming gear (so as to not look like some city wuss when I met Richard), picked up the dog (more rural cred), and sped North.

At Paraparumu I spied the perfect trailer. I hired it. Then I discovered that it wouldn't fit on the towbar the dealer assured me was standard when we bought the car - hey, the bike rack fits OK what gives?. I got a refund & shot round to the hire centre the garage recommended to discover they didn't have any trailers that fit a 2 inch (as opposed to 1.7/8 inch standard) either.

Then I decided, "Bugger it" if necessary I'd load them in the back of the car & stuff all the baggage, & dog in the front seat with me & hope that either they could all hold their bladders & bowels for the short trip, or that the tarpaulin I laid down would save the interior.

Just in case I stopped at every garage between there & Waikanae & asked if they had a trailer that would fit.

And LO! The Waikanae BP did. SO I was saved.

When I met Richard, after passing the farm & doing a very impressive 3 point turn with a trailer on a rural road... he said that I had a choice - 2 ewes & two lambs, or 2 ewes, and 3 lambs... he had one with twins.

I hummed & hahhed - I don't want to overstock the place as I mentioned, but Mrs Llew had offered that in case the two wethers die of old age soon, I should consider getting 5 new sheep, so I said "OK". After all he was offering them for the same price as 4.













I had to grab the first ewe & heave her off the trailer. Her two lambs hurled themselves off after her & buried themselves underneath her, their little tails wagging madly.

Say what? Tails? I hadn't noticed that, they're supposed to be docked. And then on closer inspection I realised "OHMIGOD! The two "T"s! Tails & Testicles!" That bastard Richard had sold me a couple of ram lambs, & I can see why they were cheap, it saved him having to do "things" to them to make the "wethers".

But rejoice, I rang our shearer & explained the situation, he said "No problem" he'd visit & do those "things" to them & all would be well.

I don't intend to watch, but hey, this is NZ, rams lose their knackers every day & seem none the worse for it.

Later, I ran into a neighbour, Mary, whose husband is Master Tim (my fencing master - Anthony Hopkins to my Zorro - lots about them way back at the beginning of this blog), she had already noted (ex farm wife that she is) the two "T"s, and suggested that Tim might pop over later & do "things" with his teeth. I politely declined the offer & told her Alan the shearer was onto it. I'm presuming Alan uses approved implements for the task. We're trying for "humane" around these parts.





The new kids got themselves accustomed to their new home, but the old guys, George & Otto were nowhere to be seen. They were of course, holed up in the forest. Although they knew something was up because at one stage I saw them peering through the fence at the new arrivals.

So I went & chased them out. They were curious, but nervous. They sneaked up on the two ewes & sniffed at the back of them, as animals do, then ran off when they turned around. But stayed fairly close. I guess it's the storming phase for the new team.











Last I saw of them all, they were heading up into the forest to explore the rest of the property.

Wilma & I left them to it & headed back to Waikanae to return the trailer.

Bagpipes - a cruel joke on the Scots?

Right, before I start... off on a tangent... over at PA System they're looking for the Word of the Year. Bagpipes isn't it, but don't you think that just the sound of it evokes... I dunno, something Heath Robinson? something suffering chronic emphysema? something that ate the perishable bits & someone had to compose Silent Night? Or maybe not.

Anyway, I loathe bagpipes. I have long suspected that bagpipes, like kilts, were an elaborate practical joke played on the Scots by the English, in revenge for the Scots being a troublesome & pugnacious bunch (ie, by standing up to them). While we're on that - click through that link & notice how William Wallace looked nothing like Mel Gibson. Astonishing isn't it? Further, the real Wallace was a giant of a man, Mel is er... well he probably looks up to Tom Cruise.

William Wallace would not have worn a kilt & played the bagpipes. (Disclaimer - I have no idea if that is true, but it should be).

Until quite recently today there was one wailing away outside Astoria, 4 storeys down from where I am sitting. Mercifully, he has gone now. Can we not get some law enacted to restrict them to Highland Games in the provinces?

I'm keen to hear John Key's views on this.

Bagpipes - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Voter seeks someone to vote for.

You can only have some sympathy for the dilemma the true conservative is facing right now.

Voter seeks someone to vote for. «

Might I suggest the Maori Party?

BTW: Great cartoon in yesterday's DomPost

New Sheep

Yay! Some guy not far away is selling about 500 sheep - ewes & ewe lambs (which either means there is something in the water/pasture affecting the birth of boy sheeps... or something medieval has happened to them. I'm guessing the latter.)

Anyway, I'm down for two ewes & two lambs. I made sure the property was lamb proof the other day. Now I just have to figure out how to get them between Waikanae & SunnyO. I don't think Mrs Llew will be happy for me to cram them in the back seat of the llewmobile.

In the nick of time too - the two lonely old gents on the property are nowhere near keeping up with pasture growth... it's a jungle out there.

Will wonders never cease!!

Jerry Bruckheimer & Tony Scott have made a decent film!!

Review: Deja Vu

In less surprising news, Casino Royale is apparently terrific.

First Annual Wellingtonista Awards Voting | the wellingtonista

"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of sheep--and skips--and selling-houses--
Of Wellingtonista Awards--and things--

I've been remiss sorry - busy. Remiss not just here, but over at the Wellingtonista, at where I am rumoured to be a valued member. I can't recall when I last posted though...

Anyway, get on over there & cast your vote in the First Annual Wellingtonista Awards. There will be prizes. There will be ceremony... there will be martinis... there will be buffed & scantily clad beautiful people...

First Annual Wellingtonista Awards Voting | the wellingtonista

On a more sombre note, I got a call last night from Master Tim at SunnyO, another sheep has died, the last remaining ewe, Pearl. Like the other two who lay down & died over the last two years, she just laid down & died. Fine one evening, dead in the morning.

These sheep are quite old now, as far as I can tell (about 8), so I guess it's to be expected. Although I believe they CAN live much longer. I do find it slightly odd that all the girls popped their clogs first, we've got the two boys left now, George & Otto.

I'll call the local vet & ask if there's anything weird happening with sheep in the area, but I really do suspect that they've gone of natural causes - they're well fed, sheltered, recently sheared & drenched, have shown no signs of the usual ailments that kill sheep.

Anyway... We need 3 or 4 new sheep to keep our two old boys company. Anyone know of anyone with 3 or 4 youngish (at least 1 year old) ewes (they're slightly smaller, less belligerent & easier to handle than the wethers) that need a new home? In the Kapiti Coast area?

Onto other things now - we finally sold our surplus house in town. Yay!! I have resolved never to be a landlord again, too many houses to maintain takes its toll.

We had the place "homestaged", that is, furnished while vacant, because the estate agent assured us that makes for a quicker sale.

They did a brilliant job - after the tenants moved out we were a bit despondent at the state of the place, not that they damaged it in any way (aside from a big stain on the carpet), it just looked run down & grubby, which is a testament to my neglect as much as anything the tenants did or didn't do. And we had a slight plumbing problem that necessitated some repair & relining of the laundry, and replacing the rotted laundry tub.

Once we'd cleaned it though, and had bits fixed, and furnished, the difference was remarkable. It was transformed from a student flat to an executive home!

And the homestaging was fantastic, Sally, has a wonderful eye, and supplied not just furniture, but flowers, soap, towels, fruit, paintings, rugs...

We briefly discussed staying there for a few days to enjoy it.

And it sold quickly, for a fair price, and we are content. And so is our bank.

On the actual real homefront news... we engaged two huge tasks last weekend - I had 6 metres of compost delivered kerbside, for our new garden beneath & beside our newish cardeck, and the same day, had a massive skip rolled in so that we could empty our large basement of junk.

By Sunday evening, the skip was filled completely, and about 5 metres of compost was lugged to its resting place and our new garden planted out with box hedge & roses. We'd planted the weeping pear some time before & can report she is doing well.

Monday & Tuesday I could hardly move. But it's gotta be good for you right?

Interestingly, I can see that even though the skip is bursting at the seams, neighbours are sneaking their rubbish onto it hoping that we won't notice. Although last night, I was at the gate, quietly watching some guy with a bag circling our skip, I thought he was looking for someplace to stow his bag. But in fact, he was sizing up some of our junk, which he extracted, smiled contentedly, turned & went to walk away with his treasure. He saw me then, didn't blink an eye, and so I said "Help yourself!".

But now I can report that we have a most impressive & roomy basement, there is still some stuff to go, firewood for instance, which we will donate to the next door neighbours who have a fire, some terracotta pots, huge!, which we have argued about - I see no reason why they cannot be utilised somewhere in our garden, Mrs Llew sees no reason why they cannot be perched on top of the pile of rubbish for removal. And a very old bicycle. Which I haven't dragged out yet, it looks like something from WWII, or one of those old UK period TV series, you can imagine Francesca Annis biking all around Somerset or someplace.

But then I suppose I imagine Francesca Annis doing lots of things.

That bike would make a wonderful project for some kid who enjoys tinkering with, and renovating old bikes. Yeah. Right. Mrs Llew will certainly disagree, but I reckon it could make a marvellous & remarkable climbing frame for some decorative plant, somewhere in the garden. Either that, or mounted on a swivelling pole, it'd make a great & notable weather vane. I'll take sensible suggestions.

And that reminds me of something irrelevant, but something I was thinking about the other day, something that a lecturer told us when I was studying Tess of the D'Urbervilles. And that is, how the invention of the bicycle was a major turning point in the evolution of society - it brought affordable transport to the masses, those who couldn't afford horses & carts. Suddenly people could travel beyond the boundaries of their villages. They could conduct business, socialise, marry beyond the confines of their immediate family... etc etc.

Fascinating eh?

That's what I call driftwood.

Unconfirmed rumour has it that Tom Hanks' stranded Fed-Ex troubleshooter in Castaway built his makeshift reaft from driftwood washed up on Otaki Beach.

Whether that's true or not, Otaki sure has its share of mulch, wood, planks, logs, and as you can see, whole trees washing up. It's usually worse after a big storm.

This one takes the cake though, we saw it from miles away & had to go investigate. It's taken with the phone, so not the best images, but if you look carefully you can spot a happy dog checking it out, and get some idea of the size of the thing.

I have wondered in the past just how such large trees get washed so far up the beach, and this one strains credibility.

There's a fair amount of water traffic off the beach, swimmers. surfers, kayakers, fishing boats, and inflatable dinghies... I wonder how many encounter submerged objects like this?

Check this out!

I want one too.

Grabthar's Hammer: Tiki-Tiki

Although if you click through to the Stuff article, that looks disconcertingly lke Jenny Shipley in that tub to me.

The worst ever kids' TV show

Sorry, there's something amiss with the Public Address site, where I would direct you to David Haywood's scholarly thoughts on the best kids' TV shows ever. I recommend you check out his links to legendary footage of moonbabe Gabrielle Drake changing her clothes in a cut from Sylvia & Gerry Anderson's UFO.

I'll toss the link up later (done), but meanwhile, here's my pick for the WORST kids' TV show ever.

D o u b l e D e c k e r s

Apparently this was a US/UK collaboration, and depending on which fan site you visit, it was either a major hit on both sides of the Atlantic; or a major hit in the UK, but failed to fire in the US. Alternatively you have come here, and you can take it from me that the show would have sucked from wherever you viewed it.

It featured seven ethnically & physically diverse, all singing, all dancing, London poppets who have a clubhouse in an old double decker bus.

The double deckers were led by Scooper, played by Peter Firth, who went on to achieve a few years of fame later in his career. And the show was, I think, an attempt to cash in on the success of the Partridge Family.

I cannpt even think of the theme music without coming over nauseous...

Get on board! Get on board!
Come and join the Double Deckers.
Take a ticket for a journey,
On our double decker London bus.
Ring the bell (ding! ding!),
Toot the horn (honk! honk!),
When you ride with the Double Deckers.
Fun and laughter is what we're after,
On our double double double decker bus.

If David Haywood nostalgically opines that they don't make 'em like they used to... the Double Deckers will make you feel glad.

What the test post was about

Clarification as promised... I was just posting to see how quickly this site popped up in the "Last Post" feed at the brand new Public Address System.

And either it didn't, or I missed it. Oh well.

But go & take a look, it's Public Address Interactive, everyone's there already, probably you as well.

Public Address | System

test post

Heh heh... clarification later. SO I may as well ramble a bit.

you know what? I was told off for trying to reaffix the big Beware of the Dog sign to our gate last night & forced to visit a local shop & stock up on junk food for visiting... kids.

As it happened all we got was one group of really young-uns & their olds, who got an assortment of really bad things for their optimistically large sacks (I dunno, I had a bunch of raw carrots, potatoes & parsnips all peeled & cut up & soaking in lemon infused water & no-one, NO-ONE wanted them. Kids these days.

Anyway, I happened to be out walking the aforementioned Hound of the Llewervilles (my family name) when they came & I got a frantic call from Mrs Llewerville, "Artichoke!" (my given name) she screamed "I fear we may run out of things to give kids!"

"Never fear Tantula", I said "When we're down to the last few barrels of airplanes I'll make a run to the shops again."

And I carried on my way.

When I got home, some 3 hours later, I found that there had been no more kids at all, and we still had some 50 kilos of fruit bursts, airplanes & snickers sitting just inside the front door.

Later, another bunch of kids did arrive, led by our very own 14 year old, Marmalade, she announced she would be late for dinner, but not to worry, she was already feeling sick.

And they swanned off into the night, a motley bunch of adolescent M&Ms, superheroes, ghosts and god knows what the rest were.

in my day, in the old country, we didn't Trick or Treat, we stayed at home, the 2nd to last house in a cul de sac bordered by a disused canal on one side, and spooky woods on the other. We dunked for apples & shit like that & watched my dad roast chestnuts on the open fire.

In fact, I recall one of those moments you get now & then, when something really painful happens to someone & you really want to just burst out laughing but you have to choke it back because there is actual agonising pain involved.

Have I told this story already?

Anyway, if you have roasted chestnuts, you know that they're not done until they pop.

Well, all my dad's chestnuts popped except for one, so he fished it out of the fire with tongs, and carefully used his teeth to try & hurry it along.

And it popped.

And it was days before the blistering died down & he could talk properly again.

End of ramble. There was something else I meant to mention, but it's gone now. SO later dudes!

BTW: Some kid left us with this - what do you call a snail? A booger with a crash helmet.