Heading north along the west coast in the Hokianga, a few miles up a side road (9.27 kms to be precise, you can tell by the property number) is the tiny St Barnabas, Waimamuku. And just inside the door, is the record book. You can see it's a while since I was last there.
Further north, at Awanui, right beside State Highway 1, was a bible that surely must be valuable, sitting on the pulpit in an unlocked church.
And, at the back of the same church was a handwritten letter from a tourist who had stopped there to pray:
Back in the Hokianga there was an example of handwriting as art. The words are on an old door.
By an east coast harbour:
Anyone into palmistry? Here's my life written in my hand.
What about graphology? Although you may prefer to analyse what I write rather than how I write it. Can you guess that there is one person I work with who drives me to distraction and I often need to breath deeply and chant "I am a Rock" (and your water just flows around me) or "I do not give you the power" (to drive me nuts).
But, wait, I have a favourite handwriting - little grandson:
A close second - a grand-daughter. My four grand-daughters prepared the cocktails for Christmas Dinner last year. I can assure you the Merry Berry Blast was deliciouus but the Snoopys Soda needs a bit more work.
As often happens a topic I have been dreading turns out to be relatively easy and very enjoyable. Why not have a look at what the rest of the FMTSO team has come up with. The are here.
