is love all you need?

After an exceedingly busy week and a bit I am almost too exhausted to write this next blog entry, which is made worse by the fact that I am back at work again tomorrow and so the busy period has not had much of a ‘lull’. I wish I could now delight with my hectic past seven days of mad travel and ‘traveling experiences’ but alas the ‘busyness’ was only work. And to be quite frank, work is rather dull. The people there are lovely enough but the actual work is, unsurprisingly, not at all stimulating and I find myself passing the time looking forward to my next break. Now the learning period is over and I know what I have to do, the monotony of such a job has overcome me. Only four months to go!

Last Tuesday Ollie surprised me with a wonderful drive into the rainforest and dinner at the Waitaki Estate, which has an amazing restaurant that looks out over the rainforest and the whole of Auckland city. We had a gorgeous meal with super tasty food and even a chocolate fondue for desert...my absolute favourite! It was a very romantic evening and Ollie even gave me a Valentines card on our way to the restaurant and then stopped to give me a rose on the way home! We are not the most romantic of couples in the conventional sense but every now and then its nice to be a teeny bit mushy! It was a perfect evening and I felt very lucky to have such a lovely husband!

We had another great day on Monday when we took the train to Auckland and had the delight of catching up with Ben and Fliss while their ship was docked in the harbour. The sun was shining for a beautiful hot day in the city and the four of us had a fantastic time catching up, sharing stories and trying to get over the fact that we were all over the other side of the world! We saw their cruise liner which was quite big but unfortunately, that day, dwarfed considerably by the QE2 docked just opposite! We were able to spend a good few hours altogether but as the time came for Ben and Fliss to board the ship once more, we were all a bit sad to say goodbye. Unable to bring ourselves a way just yet, Ollie said that we should stay a little while longer so we could see the ship leave port. As she began to back away out of Auckland it was finally time to catch our train and enjoy chatting about our very good day. It had been so amazing to be together, especially as we hadn’t seen them since the night of their wedding, and even more great to see how fantastically well they were taking married life!

Which brings me on to the real point of this blog. Marriage. What with Valentine’s day and recent ‘celebrity’ break ups, I have been thinking a lot recently about the noun Ollie and I became a part of two and half years ago. And not just marriage but the subject of ‘love’ too. What is it that makes human beings so obsessed by ‘love’ so that human life is based around it. You might think this is not so but think about it. Think about films, songs, books, day to day life, history, all of these things seem to have ‘love’ in them somewhere. And I’m not talking about procreation so much as the feeling and symbol of ‘love’. And why am I putting ‘love’ into inverted commas? It seems hard not to because to define Love is almost impossible and it has so many different meanings that to just write love would mean I was being more specific than would ever be possible. 

I read a very famous passage from Corinthians at Fliss and Ben’s wedding. Although I knew the reading well, it wasn’t until I was stood up in front of the congregation that the words suddenly became so utterly important and each was like a stab at my own heart. What I was reading made total sense. I was thinking to myself, the person who wrote this actually had a very good idea about ‘love’ and however much this reading has been used in the past, actually if you strip away everything but the words, it is the truth. And then I thought about my own marriage.

Before I got married I thought I knew most of what it was about. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, I knew it wasn’t all flowers, romance and smiling faces (mainly because the previous part of the relationship hadn’t been so why would it change?!!) but I couldn’t have imagined what it was actually like. I must admit that I thought I would feel a huge change. That a lightening bolt would hit me, a gate would close behind me and I would find myself in a ‘marriage field’ where married couples lived and no temptation or ‘single life’ worries would ever effect me again. Yes I know this was foolish but I am not a fool if I admit I was wrong surely! In fact once the first couple of months had passed in a flurry of ‘newly wed’ visits, thank you cards, honeymoon and excitement, I found myself completely lost. I was back in the flat I’d been ‘Amy Morris’ in, Ollie was still the same, our relationship was the same and I was still exactly the same. So what had getting married done?  But there was one thing that I did feel different about since we had got married. That under everything, Ollie and I now had a concrete base so that if we argued there wasn’t that nagging feeling of ‘should we be together’ running as an undercurrent. Now we were married we could argue without the threat that the other might leave. But as much as a comfort that was I still struggled over the following months to adjust to ‘married life’. 

But then we had our first wedding anniversary and things changed a little bit for me. I felt stronger, I started to see Ollie as my husband and I no longer got a dry tongue every time I said ‘husband’. As a couple we became even closer than we had been (although if someone had told me that it would have seemed impossible) and we argued even less frequently than we had ever done before (not that we argued that much!). It was as if we had started to feel ‘comfy’. And there are things that have happened since we have been married that we have got through that I know before we wouldn’t have made it. And now here we are two and half years on and we have grown even closer. For a worrier like me it is a great comfort to see that you can’t know the future and neither do you need to because things do always work out, even if it isn’t in the way you might have thought. I was never unhappy but I am definitely happier every day that goes by with Ollie as my husband.

Someone once said that there is no such thing as a selfless act, but I disagree. Marriage is a selfless act. O.k so you agree to it because you want to commit yourself to the person you love but it isn’t about what you want it’s about what you want to give to someone else. In order to make it work, you have to give yourself completely to this other person and hold nothing back. You can’t give half your heart, half your mind, half your time. It just doesn’t work. And it’s scary. Really scary. Because as humans we are fundamentally selfish. But marriage doesn’t work with selfish behaviour. And as such humans perpetually continue their love affair with contradictions. But as is plain to see, despite all this, marriage does work. And isn’t that a miracle? And it is wrong to judge any couple because no one can know what makes a marriage work for others but instead every couple should feel proud. You are living against all the odds and deserve the upmost respect. 

And what about all these ‘celebrities’ (Not sure I ever like that word) that get married and have the big expensive day only to break up a few years later? Why are there only a small proportion that make it? ‘Ordinary’ people look up to these ‘idols’ and wish they could perpetuate their ‘greatness’ in their own lives but they don’t realise. That actually they're not all that great. I’m not saying it is wrong to do well or be famous of course it isn’t, but it is wrong to lose sight of what life is really about. Some celebrities just don’t have the time to give themselves to that other person. Like I was saying before. And I’m not painting everyone with the same brush, you will know what I’m talking about. They become lost in the superficial world that unfortunately by idolizing them, ‘ordinaries’ have created. A hype bubble that blows life catastrophically out of proportion. Eventually washing up people who never really had a chance in the first place. You have to feel sorry for such people. But marriage mixed in with all that, as is proven, doesn’t stand a chance. It is too demanding. You can’t send a PA to do the talking, to make the big decisions or the little ones that actually really matter. And for people who aren’t used to sacrificing their own wants, ‘real’ marriage is impossible.

But this is what makes me sad. Marriage is often viewed as a ‘logical step’ or as just this big party and an expensive ring. But these things are nothing to do with marriage. You could stand on a hill, just the two of you, and whisper in an ear that you will give yourself to them and that would be enough. Marriage is a promise. It is not a bank balance, convenience, or a nice idea. Marriage isn’t beautiful or wonderful on its own. It takes the lifetime, perseverance and commitment of two people to fulfill its glorious potential.

21/2/12


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it really is hot water!

It’s hot. It’s really hot. And I have spent the last three days at work, away from the sunny days and cursing the fact that it wasn’t this nice on my days off! The only chance I got to enjoy this amazing weather is when I walked the twenty five minutes to my bus stop or ran out with an order to a car. Neither of these, especially the later, allowed me to appreciate the sun fully, if at all! It has been so hot that even I, goddess of the sun hazard of burning, have chosen to find shade wherever possible in an attempt not to boil. I’m not so sure that the actual temperature is far above that of England in the summer (on a good day!), but the intensity of the sun and lack of Ozone layer here make a cloudless day impossibly warm. But now on my day off I can finally enjoy the weather and suddenly working to earn this day has payed off.

After a very busy evening at work in which I ran around for eight hours and then managed to mop the whole restaurant in ten minutes (I’m sure that’s a record and I have already celebrated that it is...even if it isn’t), I woke this morning after a long sleep feeling in a rather good mood although still a little exhausted. Getting back into work after a few months off has certainly been a shock for my body but mentally it’s great to be occupied again. I have become much better at my job already and can now run around like everyone else making as few mistakes as an ‘Amy’ possibly can. In one way this is a good thing because everyone has been able to stop checking on me and I even got thanked for helping out another new employee by showing them what to do. Not bad after only two weeks at the job! The down side to all this though is that I now have no excuse for not helping out on the rushes. Last week I would have been side tracked for getting involved and deemed to slow, but now this is not so. Had I any sense I would have stayed ‘rubbish’ for longer and allowed myself much less stress. It would appear though this is not my way.

So in my waking good mood I decided to put on a dress and get out of the house for the day. A ‘dress day’ is me making an effort. Ironing the dress before putting it on is me making an extraordinary effort! But today I thought ‘to hell with it I’ll see what all this freshly ironed feel is about’ and I ironed a dress to wear. For those that don’t know, Amy and an iron rarely, if ever, meet. It’s not that I don’t appreciate what an iron can do but more that if one hangs their clothes to dry correctly, very little creases appear, thus disposing of the need to go through the rigmarole of fighting with the ironing board, getting your fingers trapped as the legs finally spring down, tangling up the wire of the iron, doing ‘the iron dance’ as your legs, garment and wire get muddled, burning your upper arm on the upright idle iron as you twist around the shirt or whatever and then fighting the board once more as you try to disassemble it and cram it into whatever over crowded cupboard it came from. And don’t tell me I have it wrong...all ironing to me carries this woeful pantomime of needless effort when a simple correct hanging of clothes will suffice!

Anyway as I was saying, I decided to iron my dress. I took my time and ironed every crease I could find, even the small sleeves at the top. Feeling very proud that I had accomplished such a difficult task I hung my dress over the back of the sofa to stay straight while I had a wash. I’m not going to lie, putting on the ironed dress did give me a strange feeling of pride as I looked in the mirror! However, I was foolish to think that I was going to get away with being a lady for once. Less than an hour after the wonderfully ironed dress had been donned and I had swished it down the road to the bus stop, the universe regained its cruel, cruel balance. Needing money for my bus fare, I popped into the dairy to get some cash back. 

Now I should have just grabbed some mints as my purchase but no, I had to chose a Ribenna carton. Sitting in the bus shelter feeling extremely warm I eagerly untwisted the cap of the chilled Ribenna. Not realising I was squeezing the carton, I finally managed to remove the cap (why I was struggling so much to open a child’s drink is beyond me...), when to my absolute horror the damn this started spouting purple liquid at me...AND MY PERFECTLY IRONED DRESS! I tried to do the ‘push away dramatically’ maneuver with the carton but it was too late. As I looked down, I saw it. A big splosh was expanding at cell splitting pace towards the lower part of my dress. Dismayed, I didn’t even dare ‘dab’ for fear that I’d only make it worse. I hastily drank the rest of the Ribenna, which I didn’t enjoy because I was too annoyed, and then took up my post as ‘watcher of the stain and disappointment control officer’. How unfair life is.

* * *

For our next road trip Ollie and I decided to head to the Coramandle and the famous ‘Hot Water Beach’. The Coromandle is situated on the east coast, kind of opposite to Auckland but separated by a bay, so you have to drive south in order to travel round to it. We left on Sunday afternoon after work and enjoyed the drive over. We had been here once before when we all went to Whitianga (remember it’s a Ph!) for the weekend back in November. I had decided we should camp because it would save us money and I also wanted to make sure we used our tent as much as possible seeing as Ollie had carried it all this way.

Arriving at the holiday park, Ollie was immediately ‘tent conscious’ as we parked at our spot surrounded by large family tents and camper vans. Ollie complained that his was too small and that other people would laugh at it. I said that this was no time to worry about body image and that we should get on with putting up the tent! (Couldn’t resist sorry!) We could smell our tent before we could see it. Apparently the rain of South Carolina and the snow of Arizona had taken it’s toll on our little Vango and it stank of stale water. Even worse, there were small rings of mould dotted around the inner canvas. Not allowed to help erect the tent, I was in charge of arranging the pegs so Ollie could put them in. I tried to bang them with the hammer but Ollie deemed me a hazard and removed the tool from my grasp. 

I poked my head into the tent but it was impossible to breath. In the sun the stench had thickened. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to sleep in it after all and my inspired Impulse spraying had only worsened matters. Leaving the middle flap open while we went exploring was our only hope of exorcising the rot and rescuing us from a very smelly nights sleep. Ollie had been informed that low tide would be at midnight and that this would be the best time to dig a pool and find ‘hot water’. He’d also been told that if we took a certain path down to the beach then we might be in with a chance of seeing some glow worms. That kind of information might not excite some people but oddly enough Ollie and I were eager to see the worms! 

As it was only six o’clock we decided to take a walk to the beach to check it out before we went back later in the evening. As we walked along the shore and completely failed at dodging the waves, we joked that maybe ‘Hot Water Beach’ might not be all that it was supposed to be. Perhaps we would rename it ‘Tepid beach’ or ‘Mildly warm temperament beach’. The beach itself was pretty stunning though and definitely worth a visit even if the water failed to impress.

* * *

At half past ten Ollie woke me up and we headed towards the beach. I had taken a nap earlier on so that I would be wide awake for the ‘hot water’. I had felt bad abandoning Ollie for a few hours but apparently he had been fine and sat with some children in the T.V room and watched Ice Age 3! We took the ‘Glow Worm Trail’ and apart from it being extremely difficult to see in the dark and being attacked by jutting branches and spiky bushes we weren’t getting much worm action. Ollie was moaning at the lack of ‘glowing’ when suddenly I saw something in the mud bank. Three or four tiny pin pricks of white florescent light were dotted in the black, like stars in a cloudless sky. They were small and yet the bright light was so intense. Ollie and I were transfixed as our eyes adjusted and more little glows appeared. I tried to take a picture but the camera wasn’t good enough to capture the effect and I ended up with ten photos of nothing. But to see them was magic. A worm that glows. Weird aye!

* * *

Down on the beach we made our way between two out crops of rock where the underground reservoir was situated. To our disappointment a large coach load of travelers had already monopolized the situation and had started digging a giant pool in the best spot! The only parts left were the ones right by the waters edge and digging there was impossible due to the fact that every time you made a tiny bit of progress, a big wave would come and wash it all away! I dug my feet into the sand and got a shock. The ‘hot water’ was actually boiling! We couldn’t believe it! The sand was even warm to walk on in that part of the beach, and the water below amazingly hot. The beach certainly lived up to its name! Undeterred, Ollie spent a long time digging. Hole after hole was caved in by the sea but he wouldn’t give up. Unlike me, he wasn’t satisfied with just heating his feet. He wanted to get in it!

After a while though he gave up and joined me in warming his feet. It was such a strange sensation to have our feet heated in the sand and the cool sea lapping about our ankles. We sat down and shared a bottle of wine and some cider. Being on the beach at midnight was an awesome experience. Moonlight makes everything special . A thin veil of cloud blanketed the sky. Ollie told me he called it a ‘Mackerel sky’  because the clouds looked like fish scales. I liked that. ‘A Mackerel sky’ I mused as I lay back and let the scene sink in beneath my skin. This is why we came traveling.

* * *

I awoke to Ollie’s voice threatening to take down the tent with me still in it. It was nine, we had to be gone by ten and Ollie was bored of my sloth tendencies. It was as if it was fifteen years ago (I hate being able to say that) and Mum and Dad were making the very same threats as I refused to get up and help pack away our holiday in Cornwall. Only Ollie didn’t have an air bed to let down as encouragement...our travelers back packs don’t stretch to that! 

The day wasn’t the sunny one we had hoped for and our idea for a beachy relax would have to be re-planned. Ollie had spotted a Cafe sign the night before so we searched it out in hope of breakfast. And what a find it was! I don’t usually compliment Ollie on his finds (they usually involve fishing shops or old boats) but this one I was impressed by. Hidden away by bushes decorated with shell hangings and a woodland garden was a wonderful little cafe. We sat down outside with a coffee to wait for our orders. I had the most amazing blueberry pancakes that came complete with barbecued bananas and cream (oh my!) and Ollie had an awesome cooked breakfast. I had been craving pancakes ever since we left America so I was relieved to finally have them again, and they were sooo good! Afterwards we were both so full that I was quite glad I wasn’t heading to the beach. My belly certainly wouldn’t be ‘bikini fit’ after four pancakes! 

There is a coastal road that goes from the town of Coromandel, right round back to Auckland and it was this route that we decided to take. We started off by going across to the town through the heart of Coromandel forest. The road was more of a track that was windier than a piece of spaghetti but the scenery was immense! A river tumbled across boulders and rocks beneath us, carving its way between the lush greens of the densely covered hills. At one point we stopped to see a small waterfall that appeared out of nowhere. The rushing water in the silence of trees was a perfect sound. 

Coromandel wasn’t quite the place we had imagined so we didn’t stop but kept driving, onwards along the wonderful coast line. The sea meets the land in a great smash of blue and green. Thick forest gives way to rolling farmland hills and stoney beaches combine with calm sea. The dramatic landscape made time evaporate. We could have driven on the edge of such beauty for hours, never getting bored.

Eventually we reached the town of ‘Thames’. More Bognor than Greenwich, this seaside town looked as if it has been plucked from the American Gold Rush and plonked awkwardly in New Zealand. Again we didn’t stop. The only highlight of the town for me was the appallingly named ‘Paki Paki Bike Shop’ and the fact that it had a ‘Amy St’. Although it was nice of the people of Thames to name a street after me, If I could have chosen a town to have a street in, Thames wouldn’t have been it!

After that the landscape changed once more. Gone were the hills and forests and in their place vast flat lands of nothing much in particular. Soon we were back round the bay and without realising, heading fast towards more familiar place names. A highlight of this part of the journey was coming across the ‘Westpac’ helicopter (named after Westpac bank that sponsors it) performing a rescue mission at Maraetai beach. I don’t know what had happened but getting the chance to see the famous rescue ‘copter was ace! It’s always on T.V and we had got to see it in action, landing right in front of us!

The day was far from over but after five hours we had both had enough of the car. We parked in the city and spent the afternoon having a drink in the ‘Belgian Beer Cafe’, which Ollie was very excited about, and watching the highlights of the Super Bowl. We had a very posh dinner at a small restaurant on the viaduct and felt a little out of place. We hadn’t realised it would be so expensive and ordinarily it wouldn’t have mattered, but having spent the night in a tent and the day in a boiling car, we didn’t really look ‘posh meal’ material! The fish we had was excellent but their portion sizing was a little off for Ollie. He was still hungry when we’d finished! 

It had been a lovely couple of days and as always I didn’t want them to end. But with plenty of country yet to explore, I couldn’t wait to start planning our next trip.

10/2/12

what's that smell?

Standing in the book shop feeling a little disappointed at the selection and even more disheartened because I was only here after the Library had proved even more of a let down, I picked up a paper back from the ‘traveling section’. Leafing through the book whose title had something to do with Pomegranate seeds or something equally as vague, I read a few lines from somewhere near the middle. It’s common knowledge that writers make a huge effort to attract people with the opening of their book so I always look to the middle to get a real gauge of just how good a read it is! Think I’ll catch a bad writer while their sleeping! The brief paragraph I read was alright, nothing special but also not completely inane. As I picked up another book and gave that a quick peruse, something inside of me became the teeniest bit alive. These books, I thought, they aren’t a million miles away from my blog. And more to the point my style was definitely better than the first book I’d picked up. At that moment I caught myself in the mildest of confident moments and quickly doused the flickers deep within my writing pride. 

You see I have this idea. An idea that just maybe my blog could eventually be turned into something more than an insignificant website drowned in the depths of the oceanic internet. That maybe this could be my first attempt at convincing a publisher that I’m a ‘newbie’ who might be worth taking a chance on. But it is a very small idea, perhaps only a dream. And it isn’t often that I have a positive thought on it either! In fact I’m not at all convinced I’m any kind of a writer at all. Now this is not a plea for praise or good comments, it is a simple fact that probably won’t ever change. Even if I was privileged enough for someone to take notice one day and see myself on a shelf in, dare I say it, Waterstones (of course and independent store would mean much more but they are sadly rare these days) I still don’t think I would have any more confidence in my ability. I know this because it has happened before elsewhere. Not many people will know, because I don’t talk of it, but I once passed my Grade 8 certificate on the flute. Even after achieving the highest grade I still wasn’t sure I was really any good. 

I always want to be better than I am, at anything! I have an unsatisfiable obsession with comparing myself to others and never settling until I have made it to the top. But where is the top? I’m not so sure there is one. But it is this that constantly pushes me on, pushes me to continue to write, to continue to dream.

Leaving the book shop without a book, a real accomplishment for me, I made my way through the shops to a nice quiet corner, a coffee and a think. Well not a think so much as a reassessment of my current situation. Here I am on the other side of the world, working, living and creating stories that will probably one day be told to my children (what a thought!). But it is the strangest feeling to know that the places I am seeing, others back home might never. For example, speaking to Mum and Dad about where I am and realising they may never come here, that they don’t know everything I do anymore. I must be grown up if that is the case! Although the thought is less comforting than ‘I know everything you could possibly think of Amy,’ but I am no longer five! But if I look at in another way at least I don’t have to say swear words in my head anymore and play the game ‘I bet Mummy doesn’t know this one’!

Touring America was slightly different. It was a fast paced race from East to West and we lived a visitors life style. But here I have constructed some semblance of a ‘normal life.’ I have a job, I ride the same buses nearly everyday, I have a local town I visit several times a week, I know the local shop keeper, I know most of the bus drivers on the 466 route, I know the 466 is always most never on time, I have a favourite reading spot and I know the best supermarket to go to for great deals! And yet this isn’t my home. I am suspended in a time that is disconnected with my ‘real life’, like I have entered an alternate reality. I keep expecting to wake up back in England and for this New Zealand life to be only another fictitious story I like to tell myself sometimes. I don’t think it helps either that the seasons are upside down. The months mean nothing to me and somewhere in my body the balance is off. My brain can’t compute. This really is a different world and home is static until I return.

* * *

Last weekend Ollie and I took a couple of trips. Now he has a car that is kind of his everything is made easier. On Sunday I woke up to an itinerary all planned out for me; a lovely surprise! We made our way north, past Auckland, further up the East coast. It was a warm day that felt like Spring as we sped (well I say sped but the limit here is about 60Kmph!) past lush greens and twinkling blue ocean. The first stop on Ollie’s ‘tour’ was a cheese and yoghurt factory in Puhoi. The little building was unassuming and yet packed with afternoon visitors. As we walked into the little shed like cafe and shop the smell immediately hit us. An intoxicating aroma of rich cheeses and freshly baked goods. My kind of smell! Peering through the windows at large wheels of cheese, my stomach begged me to smash through and get eating. Deciding it would be terrible not to buy some of the smell, Ollie agreed we could take three different types home. We had already chosen the cheeses we thought we would like when the woman, Joanne, offered us a taste test. Of course we both said a salivating yes.

As each small piece of cheese made its way into my mouth I tried my best to act maturely and not squeal too loudly with delight. ‘Watch out for this one, it is quite strong tasting’ warned Joanne as she passed us a red rinded brie (Unfortunately the actual name is not in my head at the moment) that stank it’s way around my tongue. Wow! ‘The stinkier the better’ I said, immediately revealing my immaturity. I saw Ollie blush in embarrassment, ‘Why does she have to say that sort of thing’ is undoubtedly what he was thinking. Having tried all the cheeses, which were all delicious, we had a big decision to make. Which ones to take home? Our original choices had now been plunged into uncertainty and with a very clever sales enhancer from Joanne, ‘Why don’t you decide over a coffee from our cafe’ we blindly obliged. But it was good coffee! Naturally I had a chocolate brownie too!

Back at the counter we queued up to buy our 600g worth of cheeses, a brie, a blue cheese and a 7 year old mature cheddar. As we waited Ollie recited over and over the correct pronunciation of the Brie. Joanne served us and as she wrapped up our pieces said, 

‘Aren’t you a little young to like smelly cheeses?’ 

To which I replied, ‘Well when I was little my Granddad would often pop different bits of cheese into my mouth and say ‘Go on Amy, now what do you think of this?’ so I established an elevated palate from a young age!’  

‘Where do you live?’ was Joanne’s next question. We explained that we lived in Manurewa and that I worked in Papakura at McDonalds. Her reply was that if I was working there, work must have been hard to find! She said it was a shame we didn’t live closer because she would of had me working in the cheese store. And then to both mine and Ollie’s astonishment she proceeded to give us her mobile number and told us to come and work for her at a ski resort further south and that usually they gave interviews but that we should phone in June and tell them she said to hire us right away! Had we really made such a great impression whilst simply buying cheese?! If nothing else it was certainly a compliment!

Next Ollie spied a honey shop just further down the road. We pulled in to take a look. There we were able to see a queen bee and all her workers on a honey comb and learnt all sorts of facts that I never knew I wanted to know about the process of making honey! Ollie was able to purchase a piece of honey comb which he was delighted about because he’s always saying how he loves it! As he was paying the girl behind the counter recommended trying the honeycomb on a cracker with blue cheese. And she was right. It is delicious!

It was the middle of the afternoon when Ollie and I were driving, through some wine country, past a small town called Matakana and decided to stop for lunch. Sitting by the river at a slightly posh bistro I sipped my glass of sparkling rose and, unusually for me, felt at peace. Our food was tasty and I enjoyed the calm while Ollie got over excited because he thought he spotted a big rat on the other side of the bank! For the rest of the afternoon we drove around visiting various little beaches and taking windy roads that led to nowhere in particular. It was just great really to be seeing a bit more of New Zealand and its often astounding beauty.

* * *

Monday was ‘Auckland anniversary day’ and so as neither of us had any work and it was looking like a hot day, we decided to head back to Piha beach that we had visited a couple of weeks before with Charlotte, Nigel and Skye. The beach is notorious for it’s humungous waves and insanely strong rips. It is even the location of a popular TV documentary series over here called ‘Piha Rescue’. The sand is black and in the sun gets so boiling hot that it is unbearable to walk on. The lifeguards are always on the look out and the space where you can actually swim is marked by two flags that are very close together. This results in swimmers and body boarders often getting in each other's way!

As it was a little cloudy when we arrived, Ollie and I decided to climb ‘Lion Rock’ which separates North and South Piha beach. It has significance to the Maori people, I think something to do with a battle took place there although I feel bad because I can’t remember exactly what the sign said! Half way up the rock a group of children where rehearsing what seemed to be different Hukas, led by a young woman. It was totally awesome to be looking out over the sea from such a striking rock with the amazing sound of the children in the background. I love random moments combining like that.

The sea was a nice temperature and although the waves weren’t huge to begin with, Ollie and I were having fun. We were in the blue for a good hour and during that time the waves picked up and became almighty! Now Ollie was fine, he could hold his own against the raging water, but me? Well I was like a limp feather in tsunami! If I didn’t jump at the right time I was a gonner! I would get swept along towards shore for meters at a time. Unable to push back I would helplessly wave at Ollie who was suddenly far off in the distance! And that was the dignified result of the waves. What happened far more commonly was that I would get pulled under, lose my footing, lose my bikini bottoms, burst out of my top and swallow mouthfuls of water. Eventually when I came to the surface I would have a runny nose streaming into my mouth, stinging eyes and a horrific expression on my face...which Ollie told me to try and control because I looked ridiculous! It was such good fun though that I didn’t care! O.k so I did care that I was pulling moonies at people but it was worth my dignity!

At one point though I did get scared. I had taken a bashing from a massive wave and had gone to stand up out of the water not realising it was still too deep. My head didn’t come out of the water and I had gasped, taking in a lot of salty sea. When I did finally emerge the first thing I saw was Ollie swimming purposefully and at a pace towards me. He saw me and exclaimed ‘Oh my gosh I thought you were in trouble!’ I then realised he had been doing a ‘life guard’ swim and I couldn’t help laughing. Secretly I was very pleased I had such a strong swimmer for a husband! I then realised that another man was standing nearby and he had also stopped to make sure I was o.k. On another occasion I had pushed down on my leg because I thought I was deeper than I was and my knee popped back the wrong way. The pain was horrific and for a moment I thought I had broken my leg. I couldn’t walk and was limping desperately through the water. Ollie made sure I was O.k. but did plead with me to look a little less ‘needy’ as he didn’t want the lifeguards to spot me! Clearly I am a total hazard in the water!

Feeling exhausted from the battering waves I returned to what I do best, sun bathing! It was now a boiling afternoon and a couple of hours lazing about was the perfect way to end the day. Ollie even lay down too which is so unlike him! He didn’t last long though and returned to the sea for one last swim, that he could enjoy, this time without his special wife...

3/2/12