It's a whole new world

It's a whole new world!  Progress does not stand still while I live my quiet life in the sticks.  Which if fine with me, I'm all for change and improvements.  But then comes the day I need to re-enter that brave new world and I find that the years that have been quietly passing by have stolen some of my confidence for venturing amongst those changes.

I knew I'd never find a carpark in downtown Auckland so took an easier way out.  I'd catch a train from a suburb with which I used to be very familiar.  I'd been to the building I needed to visit before and knew it was just around the corner from the downtown train terminal.  (And it was the terminal so I couldn't miss the station.)  Couldn't be a better plan. 

And then I met the first obstacle.   And the first of several kind people who came to my aid. The carpark was all changed and there were roadworks outside, I couldn't find the entrance.  I took a side road and stopped to seek assistance from two young ladies having a chat over their prams.  One gave me a withering look, obviously patience with old ladies is not her strong suit. But the other lass was lovely, walked with me to the corner so she could point out exactly where the entrance was, explained how tricky it was, and even offered to come with me if her friend would watch her pram for a few minutes.  I wasn't going to bother her grouchy friend again, that's for sure.

Next new experience was buying a ticket for the train from a machine.  Normally I think I could manage that but the arrows on this one did not respond to my touch and I was desperately trying not to punch it when a teenage Asian girl came along who knew exactly how to deal with it.  She spoke to it in very terse language (don't ask me which one) then gave me her opinion, very politely, of the Auckland rail service.  Somewhere in that conversation she decided I needed a guardian angel and she stayed by my side until she reached her station just a few stops short of mine.  Which is just as well because I find I am no longer equipped to travel city public transport on my own.   My pint size companion had no hesitation telling an old Afghan man on the other side of me to, "Leave her alone," when he invited me to go to the mall with him and when I declined said he'd come with me instead.  Three youngsters who I'd guess would be around the same age as her bumped my leg with their bikes and she told them to apologize.  Which, bless them, they did.  I wanted to give her a hug when she left.

With a definite "I've got this" attitude I left the train and headed towards the building that housed the Australian Consulate.  Note I say housed.  As in past tense.  I don't know if I could give a repeat performance of the stunned look I gave the board that tells which business is on which floor.   It appears the whole building is now private apartments.  I think this is when I started muttering to myself.  Any ageing friends, take it from me, this is the best way to get help when you need it.  Just mutter to yourself and look around in an utterly lost, bewildered fashion. 

Luckily a very beautiful, upwardly mobile looking youngish lady was passing me heading for the lifts and made a detour to the letter boxes when she spotted me.  I sometimes object when people call me "dear" in a condescending fashion but I let this one get away with it, I was so thankful that she knew where the Consulate was (were?) now located - and it wasn't very far away.

A visitor is expected at any minute so will tell you later about the next level security at the Australian Consulate.  

That pigeon

There's been a lone pigeon driving me nuts.  Maybe not quite but darn near.

Just one.  Not one of our beautiful native pigeons, a feral pigeon.  I think that's what they are called.  The type that are found around human habitation.

It's living somewhere close by but I've never seen it.  But hear it?  Oh yes, I hear it.  Day after day, hour after hour.  I watch the clock waiting for mid-afternoon when the sound stops.

I don't know why it annoys me so much.  It brings back memories of my grandmother and no memory of her is ever unwelcome.  I tell that pigeon daily it's lucky Gran isn't here, she'd have it trapped and in a pigeon pie before it could utter another coo.  Maybe it's her voice somewhere deep inside me saying, "Go and chase those blimmin pigeons away from the chook food."  They were always 'blimmin' pigeons, the closest Gran ever came to a swear word.

Maybe I'm finally turning into one of those cranky old ladies who doesn't need much excuse to be irritable, although when it comes to words I prefer irascible.

On the bright side I got to spend time with my oldest grandson over Easter.  And that young man is the most golden-natured of people, could cheer the grouchiest of souls.   He was helping his mother to paint inside her unit.  Being so tall he didn't even need a step-ladder.

 

Storm coming

About 10 years ago the weather bureau issued a serious storm warning with the usual advise about securing loose outdoors items, etc.  Little Georgia helped me haul anything that could possibly be moved by a strong wind into the house.  Before she went home she told me to be careful not to trip over anything as the living room was a bit crowded.

There was no storm, not even a strong wind and when she arrived the next day, the cheeky little girl asked didn't I feel a bit silly now?

Yesterday, when the serious storm warnings started about ex tropical cyclone Fili moving near the country I moved the deck chairs to a safe place and started watching the sky.  I took a photo but noticed when I looked at it that it certainly didn't look very threatening but it probably was a bit darker than it looked on the camera.  So I stood on the deck and checked the camera settings.  I must have been quite engrossed, the next thing I knew the sky opened and dropped buckets of rain on me.

It hasn't rained since.  Not here, anyway.

Leap Castle

 

Yesterday I had reason to look for more information on Leap Castle in Ireland, with which my paternal ancestors were associated. After reading for hours, I now think perhaps I should deny any connection. 

 Photo courtesy of Wikipedia 

The castle was built by the O’Bannon family somewhere between the late 12th century and the 15th century, although likely around 1250.  It is well accepted that the fortified tower house was built upon a much earlier settlement site which dates back to the Iron Age. Though the O’Bannons were powerful in their own right, they were pledged to the O’Carroll family, who took control of the castle away. The O’Carrolls used the castle as a site for battles, and numerous massacres occurred inside the walls.  Yes, that's my lot.

Thanks to my DNA and Ancestry.com I've been in contact with a third cousin on this side of the family, a retired high court judge who is an amazing researcher.  I so wish I'd known her when I visited Ireland in 2015.  I visited Galway, Limerick and Cork all of which aren't very far from the castle which is located in County Offaly, Ireland, just outside of Coolderry, north of Roscrea.   Another relative has visited in the last couple of years and was shown around by the current owner, Sean Ryan.  She has sent me photos but they aren't as good as those I'm using, thanks to Mr Google (sorry Debbie).

 

 Photo courtesy of Wikipedia 

It is often called “the most haunted castle in Ireland,” thanks mainly to the bloody history of the O’Carroll clan. 

It is also home to one of the world’s most famous oubliettes.  The history of Leap Castle is deep and dark.

The opening of Leap Castle’s oubliette

 Photo courtesy of projectdreamscape.org/

I had never heard of an oubliette!  It's a French word and it translates to: a forgotten place where criminals and undesirables were thrown and left to die. It was a deep pit often found in castles. Dating back centuries, it frequently had sharp spikes and a narrow opening with a wider base which made it harder to scale back up.

The victim may or may not be impaled when they hit the bottom, it was a matter of chance. Usually the fall or spikes would not cause immediate death. Instead, the doomed would suffer for days if not weeks before death mercifully took over.

The oubliette at Leap Castle is housed in the Chapel (of all places), generally known as the Bloody Chapel because one of my ancestors stabbed his brother to death at the foot of the altar. 

The Bloody Chapel

The O’Carrolls were brutish and treated their enemies violently. Stories are told of the O’Carrolls hiring other nearby clans to act as mercenaries to murder other clans. Rather than paying them for a job well-done, the O’Carrolls invited them to a feast at Leap Castle, where the unsuspecting allies were poisoned and thrown into the oubliette.

During the 1920s, repair work uncovered the oubliette hidden by a trapdoor and it was cleaned out. Remains from over 150 bodies were rolled out in wheelbarrows. A pocket watch from the mid-1800s indicated how recent the oubliette had claimed souls.

The O’Carolls called Leap Castle their home until it was wrenched from their hands in 1642 by an English soldier of the Cromwellian forces named John Darby.  The castle has been subject to much remodelling and restoration over the years, most of the remodelling having been done by the Darbys. The Darbys inhabited Leap Castle from 1642 until it’s burning in 1922.  Unfortunately Leap Castle was the target for an uprising and was looted and burnt to an empty shell in 1922.  Here it lay dormant until it was purchased in 1974 by an Australian, Peter Bartlett, a descendent of the O’Bannons. This saw the awaking of the ancient building. The work is now being continued by current owners, the Ryans.

Sean Ryan claims to have personally met several of the ghosts including the Lady in Red who wanders the castle holding the dagger she used to take her own life and crying for her murdered child, and the ghostly spirits of two little girls who are believed to have lived at Leap Castle in the 1600s. 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leap_Castle

 

Goodbye, dear Alan

Usually I am a very tidy sleeper.  I barely disturb the bedclothes.

Not so last Saturday night after I'd received word of the death of my dear, dear old friend, Allan.  I was filling in for one night as a house-sitter at One Tree Point, right on the harbour.  I pulled back the curtains and spent most of the night gazing out at the harbour watching the lights go out on the other side of the harbour until finally it was just the channel markers blinking in the dark.  I heard the waves gently lapping as the tide came in.  I gave thanks that I was here by the sea as I grieved, as Allan had loved the sea and so many of our good times together were spent on or in the ocean.

l

Early morning, low tide

All night I tried to keep the sadness at bay, thinking of the fun times and concentrated on one night in particular.  It was in winter in the late 80s or early 90s. I was 'keeping company' with Allan, who lived at Mangawhai by the sea not far from where I lived. During the summer months we had enjoyed floundering at night. Let me rephrase that – we enjoyed night-time flounder fishing the old fashioned away, with a spear.

We would wade in shallow water as quietly as possible along the estuary armed with a light held close to the surface of the water. The flounder is a flat fish which come into very shallow water - sometimes only inches deep - after sunset. Stalking shallow beach water and estuarine areas by night offers a totally different perspective to fishing. The fish life can be prolific, with mullet, eels and other creatures of the night more common than the skittish flounder, which can be difficult to see, camouflaged against the sand. When the light is shone on the flounder, they stay very still and should make an easy target. Well, you’d think it would be easy. More fun than easy really. Many flounder lived to swim another day.

When the nights became cooler Allan applied himself to thinking up a way we could still go floundering without having our feet in cold, cold water for hours. He came up with lamps that operated under water (maybe it was battery operated, I can’t remember) which we could suspend from the front of our kayaks. It worked well. In theory. In practise, I found it difficult to gauge the depth of the water while seated in the kayak rather than knowing how far up the legs it came while wading. I thought I was getting the hang of it when I spotted a BIG flounder and enthusiastically thrust the spear at it. However, the spear (with me holding on to the end of it) traveled much deeper into the water than I thought it would and I became unbalanced and tipped into the freezing water. OK, just very cold. But far too cold for me. I screamed and shrieked and then we laughed and laughed as we hurriedly hauled in the kayaks, got them on to the car and headed home for a much needed change of clothes and some warmth.

In those days Mangawhai had a permanent population of about 600 (which was much larger during the summer months) and houses close to where we had lunched the kayaks were all holiday homes. No lights, no-one around. So we presumed no-one was aware of our misadventure.

A few nights later we were visiting friends who lived on the cliff above the estuary but quite some distance from where we had been. After a while the man said we should have been at their place during the week. He and his wife had been watching TV when they heard a blood curdling scream above the sound of the TV. It came from down on the water and they were alarmed, wondering what on earth was going on down there. They thought someone was having their throat cut or something equally terrible. But after a while they heard laughter and voices. They thought the laughter sounded familiar but hadn’t been able to work out who it belonged to. Allan and I didn’t say a word but must have exchanged a look, or perhaps a smile because they then remembered whose laugh it was they had heard. We had forgotten how sound travels on the water on a still night.

Ahh, Allan, what good times we had!

He will  have a funeral service in Australia where he has lived for many years and then his Kiwi family will scatter his ashes in the sea at Piha, a beach he loved so much.

Scatter his ashes on the sea
And as he floats on crested wave
He wants no tears or grief
Or duty visits to his grave.....

Don't bury him beneath the ground
No cold imprisoned tomb for him
Or headstone with an earthy mound
That's not the place he'd want to be.

It's where the winds blow fresh and free
I know that he will lie content
The sea he loves his cemetery
And waves his only monument.....

The bowling green

Thor and Zeus were battling it out overhead on Sunday night.  I can't remember when we last had such an impressive storm.  I got out of bed to draw back the curtains then enjoyed it immensely, laying snug and warm in my comfy bed, watching the flashing fireworks in the sky.  I did spare a thought for young children having their sleep disturbed and perhaps being frightened as thunder shook the houses.   I gave thanks once again that my grandmother had shared with me her love of a good storm, the wilder and turbulent the better, her only concern that her fig tree didn't fall on the house.

The storm came with torrential rain, the most we've had in quite a while, causing lots of local flooding.  It drained away quickly.

This photo was taken early the next morning of the bowling green, just a stone's throw from my house.  

photo courtesy of Lisa Netto

Close to Home

It was a bit later than originally planned but last weekend my friend, Chris and I finally had our 2021 mid-winter break.  At the end of summer.  Covid interrupted our plans. 

We first took a mid-winter break together in 2000 when we explored the Coromandel Peninsula.  Sometimes it's just been for a couple of nights, sometimes a bit longer.   This was a short one, just two nights, Friday night in Parakai near Helensville and Saturday night in Dargaville.  Maybe it will be a longer one this winter.

Helensville is only a couple of hours from here and the garage I use to service my car is in Dargaville so I go there reasonably often.  You can see Helensville at the bottom on the map and Dargaville at the top.  And lots of harbour in between. 

When I first came to New Zealand in 1973 I lived at Pouto and in the early 2000s at Tapora at the end of the peninsula on the opposite side of the harbour, so the Kaipara Harbour holds many memories for me.  

With Covid restrictions finally lifting, Kairpara Cruises, which are based in Helensville, are once again operating their two day harbour cruise from there, with an overnight stay at the grand old Northern Wairoa Hotel in Dargaville.

 photo courtesy of Kaipara Cruises website

The boat coming to pick us up on a dreary Sunday morning.  On a fine day the hills of home, the Uppity Downities, are clearly visible.  It rained shortly after but cleared again an hour or so later.

I didn't get any decent photos.  My newish camera has been a disappointment.  It takes nice photos but I can't see the screen when I'm outside on a sunny day.  Not sure if it is the screen or my failing eyesight.  And my phone wasn't purchased with it's photographic ability (or lack of same) in mind.  And then I was so busy looking at the sights that I forgot about photos and got lost down memory lane.

Just a couple of bays before we reached Pouto Point

 

It was a wonderful weekend.  Everyone on board was friendly and enjoyed the cruise immensely.  Our hosts, Terry and Gaye couldn't have done more to make us comfortable and keep us well fed and watered.   Captain Terry's commentary on the points of historical interest were informative and interesting. Gaye is a brilliant hostess.

Remember planes and airports?

Until a few weeks ago, my last flight was returning home from visiting my family is Australia the week Covid arrived in Australia.  I've always loved air travel, no matter how long or short the flight but strangely, I hadn't missed it.  I'd just forgotten how good it feels.

The weather gods were out to please me on both the day I traveled down to Taranaki and yesterday, the day I came back.   The beauty of having two short flights is the plane stays low enough to allow good views of the countryside below.  On the flights south I just sat there enthralled, with my eyes glued to the sights below.  I'd forgotten how beautiful our world is.

After the downgraded version of Cyclone Dovi passed over us in Taranaki when I was family sitting while my daughter was in hospital in Hamilton and her husband was keeping her company, I'd been watching the weather, waiting for the wind to die down, wondering if my flight would be cancelled as New Plymouth airport is right on the coast and subject to bad winds. 

I couldn't take any photos of the first leg of the journey as the plane window was so scratched I could barely see out of it. (Not good enough, Air New Zealand.)

The window was slightly better on the next leg, my photos are still murky.

 

Sorry about the crooked horizon.  I've forgotten how to straighten it.  This is a semi-regular occurrence, I'll remember again in a couple of days. 

Tide was out coming into Whangarei

It's good to be home.  I enjoyed my time in Taranaki despite the fact we didn't leave the house much.  My daughter was concerned about having to postpone her surgery if she caught Covid. 

Yesterday's scene

 My outlook is vastly different today.  I think we are enveloped in the clouds that hang around the mountain.  Still raining, really heavy downpours from time to time.  A stay at home and relax sort of day.

Time passes

I've just realized my last post was just after Christmas.  As it turns out it wasn't my last, just my latest because here I am with the will to post again.  Thought it might have left me permanently.

I've been through a bit of a down time, no particular reason why, just lost enthusiasm for life (and blogging) there for a while.

At the moment I am grandson, dog and cat sitting in Taranaki while my daughter is in hospital having an operation.  Nothing too serious, thankfully.

Mustn't forget the three sheep and a goat.  Here's my youngest with the ram.  I could write a book about this girl and her pets, she's had a pet of some description at her heels since she was a toddler.

 

The sheep have been shorn since I arrived.  It's been really warm and humid, so they are lucky to be without their heavy coats.  The little dog, Jasper, seems to think there's something interesting in the wool.  He's wonderful company but I think he is fretting a bit.  I hope he'll be happier at the weekend when Aiden will be home all day.

No pics of Lola, the cat I gave to Justine as a rescue kitten over 12 years ago.  She's always been aloof.  I remember how she wouldn't come into the house when Aiden was a baby and in the living area.  She'd wait until he was out of sight and asleep.  She's now like that with the dog.  But she has finally mellowed a little and will let you touch her - briefly.

The house next door is for sale and thanks to their For Sale ad I have this drone photo of my daughter's home and Mt Taranaki.  (We cut the neighbour's house out of it.)

This is the lovely view of the ranges from my bedroom.  The lawn and hills will be green again in a day or two after all this rain.

It's raining lightly today and slightly cooler.  We had really heavy rain a few days ago and more predicted for this weekend.

Christmas 2021

For the first time ever I spent Christmas Day on the road.  And for the first time in many years my three NZ based children and their families and I were not together.  We had hoped my son in Brasil would be home for Christmas this year but that was a pipe dream.  

My older daughter, Leone and I spent Christmas Eve with my older son and his family.  There's no denying Christmas is always better when there are little children and their contagious, joyful excitement.

 

After a quick visit to my grandson, Michael at his partner's family home, Leone and I hit the road for the long drive to Taranaki and my younger daughter's family.  For our Christmas lunch we each had a chicken sandwich purchased from a petrol station.  Perhaps the best part was ripping them from their cardboard and plastic wrapping.  And, of course, a specially purchased drink of cold water.

The roads were quiet and we arrived to a warm welcome from Justine's family who, for their first time had also spent Christmas Day without other family.  Leone's daughter, Jami arrived the next morning so that's when we had our 'celebration'.

Jami's smile always lights up a room.

We filled our few days away with archery, table tennis and a board game which I actually enjoyed.  I'm not a great lover of board games, usually get bored.

Here's my favourite photo.  Late in the day, Justine and Jami preparing to take a selfie - until Justine realised her dress was the same colour as the shelter cloth.

 

Two young men and three young ladies

Three weeks without a post. I had nothing to say.  Then, in one day, I have at least three good stories to tell.  Well, I think they are good anyway.  

But first, a little rant about something that astounds me.  I've just heard on the radio that supermarkets here are putting up "Shop nice" signs to remind customers to not abuse the staff.  Really?  I'm glad I won't be going near the shops again between now and Christmas if that is a happening thing.  But then I remember that yesterday at the doctors surgery a young mother with two little children was very rude to the receptionist.  Because we are at Covid code red as I call it (it's complicated) the desk was set up in the doorway of the surgery.  The young mum insisted it had been 1.45 pm but it was already 2.10 and she'd lost her appointment.  The receptionist found her another time slot with another doctor later in the day but that didn't suit madam who spat out, "Bloody ridiculous" and turned to walk away, nearly knocking me over in doing so.   

I felt so sorry for the receptionist, she was obviously upset, I said something I hope was appropriate and reached out and touched her arm.  Then had to apologise for touching her and we both had a laugh and sanitised.  That's what the galloping covids has done to us.  I'm fed us with this climate of fear that our government and the media are trying to force upon us. 

Three times earlier in the day I'd wanted to give people a hug.  I don't cope with what I don't want to hear very well these days.  I know my eyesight has gone downhill quickly but I really wanted to hear differently from my delightful Scottish optometrist, or at least that a change of glasses might help.  Nope, this is it until I get the cataracts removed.  I miss reading.  Thankfully, I can enlarge the print here on the computer.

Anyway, to cheer myself up I decided to treat myself to lunch at a favourite cafe which I used to visit quite frequently but haven't for a month or so.  It was lovely to be recognised by the smiling Thai owner who asked had I been well?  Is the pumpkin and kumara salad still my favourite?  That's life as I know it and want it!

So, where are the two young men, you ask.  I'm getting there.

My next stop was at the supermarket. As I was driving in my phone rang. Seeing it was from my younger daughter I rang her back after I parked and turned on the air con as it was quite warm. The bad news was a student at my grandson's school has Covid, the good news is Aiden is not regarded as a close contact at this stage so should not have to isolate meaning Christmas is still happening at their place. 

The young lady at the entrance who keeps count of how many are in the store at any one time is a cheerful soul who has a kind word for everyone and laughs easily. She has one of those laughs you don't forget in a hurry and the security guard seems to keep her amused. But when I came out of the store I was her amusement. I said goodbye to her while reaching into my handbag for my car keys. No car keys, she offered to have another look in my bag for me, definitely no keys. She offered to keep an eye on my trolley while I checked the car and would you believe it? There they were in the ignition, aircon still running. The lass burst out laughing when she saw me coming back to her, brandishing the car keys. She assured me she would write to Santa and ask him to give me one of those things you wear around your neck, I think she meant a lanyard. She could have meant a leash.

I daresay you've guessed what happened next? Yep, flat car battery. I was just about to ring the Automobile Association for assistance when a refrigeration company work vehicle parked beside me and a young man got out. I quickly askd him if he had time to help me and he didn't hesitate. I had jumper leads in the boot and we tried those but they weren't long enough but he had some too and, yes, they reached. Honestly, the whole thing took about 3 minutes. He reminded me of my grandson, Michael so I told him I'd be proud if he were my grandson to which he replied that he wished he still had a grandmother. His cheerful kindness warmed my heart.

Next comes the second lovely young man. Actually this time it was one young man and one middle aged man.

As I was parking the car at my next stop the older man tapped on my side window. Startled me a bit. I wound down the window and he asked was I pulling in or pulling out. I think I may have frowned, because to me it was pretty obvious I was pulling in. Then I noticed a young man had come to stand in front of the car, pointing at my bonnet. They wanted to stop me in case I was pulling out with my bonnet not properly latched. My bad. When I dropped the bonnet at the supermarket I hadn't noticed that we hadn't put the battery cover back on correctly and that had stopped the bonnet from latching properly.

The older man drove off when he saw the young man was taking care of me. He then walked into the shop with me and made sure I had my mask on and scanned in correctly.

I must look dolally as well as old.

I don't know why I wasn't so successful with young men when I was young enough to take advantage.

Fritz

Remember my unexpected visitors last week?  The cute little blonde girl and the little dog?

Fritz has been on the loose again in the village and this time has found a friendly cat. Thanks to whoever posted this photo on Facebook, I know he was hanging around the school and the retirement village, he obviously likes people, regardless of age.

I hope the little girl didn't see him at school, she must have been heart broken when she had to give him back.  Or maybe he went to school to see her.