A Letter to Murray McCully – he replies


The reply to my original letter is posted here as a PDF MurraryMcCully or as a picture below,

This is a response to a letter I wrote to my MP, who had changed his mind about supporting the “same sex marriage” bill, one of ony 4 MP’s to do so in the negative way.

MurrayMcCully

I’m not convinced it’s a form reply.

I’ve let his secretary know by way of a reply what I think .

Erica

Thank you for your reply.

Please, if you would be so kind, and should the Minister care to know,  tell him that, should he be standing at the next election, he will not be receiving my vote, as he has enjoyed in the past.

Of course there are more pressing matters of Economy, Welfare, Education, Health and Security but he had it in his grasp to be someone who actually did something for everyone, and not because he has a fear and loathing of the real meaning of equality, and was cowered by sanctimonious religious bigotry.

You’ll recall I’ve been married 25 years, I’ve no axe to grind, no flag to fly, but to take a stance that it’s all equal except for some is morally bankrupt, and frankly he’s disappointed one time to many.

It might only be one vote, but it might make a difference.

Auckland Lantern festival 2013


The Auckland Lantern Festival is celebrated on the first full moon following the Chinese New Year.

In 2013, the event, from 22-24 February was held at Albert Park in Auckland.

This year we tool the in-laws, which as it turns out was a disaster, and so, for the very brief time we were at the event here are a few pictures. Who knew that FIL was claustrophobic, and the crowds made him have a mild panic. Why MrsPdubyah would organise to go to a crowded event is beyond me, unless it’s some kind of daughter revenge. Anyway  here you are:-

The park was packed, but I would urge you to go, and if you have good spirits and don’t mind the jostle and the hustle this is the most cheerful and happy event that you could image, all the lanterns are amazing, and although we had to leave almost as soon as we arrived what I saw made me smile a lot.

The 12 ways of Christmas – The Holiday with the ‘folks’


We’re lucky enough to enjoy a beach house. We’re lucky enough to have ‘Christmas‘ in the summer months, being as how it’s New Zealand and it’s all the other way around.

As “workers” we work hard all year and get a couple of weeks off to do nothing, to laze about, twiddle thumbs, shower occasionally, eat, drink, eat, sleep, nap. It could be so nice.

But we’re also unlucky enough to have parents who drive us madly insane. Not my parents, but the in-laws for me, the parents for MrsPdubyah.

They were school teachers and so eery year they would spend a goodly amount of weeks at the beach house. For them it’s just another house, it’s managed to acquire all the town house things and none of the beach house things.

You could transplant this house to a town and you’d never know. Now holiday homes are different, they are full of art, sea-shells, mis-matched furniture, rustic tables. We don’t have one of those. The neighbours have those. The neighbours….

We have a house at the beach, and it’s a harrowing experience to live though a week here. We used to be able to do 10-14 days, now we get to about 4 days and start getting a twitch. We’ve not had any days at the beach house when they are not here, we call as say “are you going to beach this weekend” they invariably reply “if you are we will”, it’s maddening, frustrating and difficult to broach.

Age will turn you into a prisoner. A prisoner of routine. Every day you have to do the same things. Up at 7am, washing in washing machine at 7:30am, go get newspaper at 7:45am. Cereals at 8 a.m.  Washing the dishes is an immediate task, heaven help us if they are left for more than 10 minutes.

Then it’s 9 a.m. so possibly mowing the lawn, picking fruit from the tree, spraying some weeds. 10 a.m. tea of course. 10:30 is mid morning siesta, because they’ve worn themselves out.

More washing at 11:00 am, they wash clean things to maintain schedule I’m sure of it. Random vacuuming and brushing time till lunch, when we have a selection of mulled over left overs and a cup of warm water.

Hourly switch on the radio at 30 seconds to the hour for the news bulletin, the log range weather for everywhere, then off. No music allowed, and don’t change the channel, ever.

Afternoon siesta.

Discussion about what the neighbours are up to, who’s at the beach, who’s not, why, if we don’t know why make a guess. Read the death notices to see which friends might have had the temerity to die when they’re at the beach and not in town. It happens.

Gin o’clock, wine o’clock begins as the 6pm news is on the TV. Pre-dinner dishes, of course, washing dishes not cheese and cracker dishes.

Dinner must be before 7 pm. Fretting ensues if it’s going to be later.

Entertain everyone by reading the teletext updates (A service soon to be discontinued).

Read book, coughing randomly until 9pm when it’s bedtime.

Days when the gentleman’s fishing club is in session, make an agreed time “how about around 7am” where “about” means up at 6:30 to prepare, leave at 7 am, no later, no sooner. Fishing line can only be in the water 1 hour. No longer, no shorter. 1 hour. Today I was suckered in with “whatever time” which meant of course 7:45am knocking on the door “are you ready yet” We didn’t go fishing.

We didn’t go fishing because on a 800 meter beach someone had launched a gentleman’s fishing rig into the sea before us, and fretting and panic ensued about them being too close together. Serious fretting, muttering and followed by deep investigation of the mans credentials, home address, and a lecture about “how I do it…”

Fishing was also cancelled, no only to proximity, but because weed was spotted in the waves, and weed is bad. To make up for this disaster he burnt some paper and plastics instead of putting them out for rubbish collection, it’s “what we had to do in the old days”

We’ve taken down the tent, it rained and wasn’t used. Didn’t let it dry now the weather has changed, took it down and stowed it wet. “It’s what we had to do in the old days”

This evening we will again have a discussion about Teletext, the neighbours wi-fi and how it’s intermittent (we have permission to use it, we’re not totally freeloading”, who’s arrived, who’s left, pontifications on the “Sales” the lack of Eggs in the house.

And tomorrow we will do it all again, in roughly the same order, amount of time, and with the same earnest face.

Not a holiday.

 

The 12 ways of Christmas – The Dinner


Since I moved from the Northern Hemisphere to the Southern (England to New Zealand) I’ve always struggled with the concept of  Santa, Trees, Snow, and the “full’ Christmas dinner.

There are some things that just are Christmas dinner, so I can set those aside.

The Trifle for dessert.  There’s probably a law or something that requires trifle on christmas day. Can’t abide the stuff myself, but Father-in-law and the children love it.

I made is a mission a few years ago to come up with a dessert suggestion that I thought would be both “common” and at the same time “challenging” to make. The first one I cam up with was  ”Cassata Ice-cream”. Which turned out to be a roaring success.

Pavlova are a challenge to make, but usually end up well, and given the amount of wine you’ve had before you get to pudding then who cares?

Eton Mess. Which has to be the easiest of my suggestions, fruit, cream and meringue, enough to make a man fat.

But back to the timeline. It’s summer, or getting summery in December in New Zealand, and for years we soldiered on with a roast turkey, Ham, potatoes, vegetables, gravy. One year we just said that enough was enough, and that it seemed daft to have a full dinner on a day when there was much to celebrate and enjoy by way of family and friends than to stand in the kitchen and cook.

So we’ve pushed back “dinner” from 6pm to 8pm, and  we’ve had Salmon and potato Salad, We’ve had Scotch Fillet on the BBQ, something a bit “posh” but not the “old way”.  I’ve also been known to make dinner bread rolls.

One year we asked the children what starter they wanted, and one of them suggested prawn cocktail, which we had to have in the traditional way in a wine glass, oh the horror!

But the end is always Trifle, and one other thing.

This year even to change it up a bit more we’re having our traditional family christmas dinner on christmas eve. It’s the only evening when the children are going to be with us as due to work commitments and them needing the money more than me have to head back to the city on Christmas day evening.

Back in the day though the abiding memory I have of christmas Turkey was the one time when Dad had made a big deal about bringing the Turkey home for christmas dinner. He did turn up with one, Feathers and all. A big one. I have no idea where he got it from, or even why he thought it was a good idea.

Ever plucked a turkey on the back doorstep at 7pm at night in the freezing cold?

Christmas dinner at my childhood home would have been an all-in affair, not only the parents  8 children, the dog, but various girlfriends and boyfriends, neighbours and acquaintances. Dinner was served on a roster system, how do you fit that many around a table that seated 6 :-) It would have been a big turkey.

The 12 ways of Christmas – The Tree


This year might be the year when we don’t have a traditional tree decoration at home. By decoration I mean a tree with things on it.

As a child the tree was an important part of the Christmas thing.

  • It was always a real tree.
  • it was always as tall as the room, sometimes taller, the fairy looming over the room at an awkward angle.
  • Every year we had to make a new base for the tree out of some wood in the form of an X.

Every year Come easter the tree might still to have been found behind the shed, brown, spindly and forlorn. It would be a few months till Bonfire night, unless we had one earlier.

MultimeterEvery year the same things happened in preparation. An important part of the tree was the lights. a Lot of lights. one of the chores was checking each and every light bulb. Because. This involved sitting with an interesting multimeter device the like I have not seen again, and checking each one by passing a current through it. Every one.

The bulbs were I remember coloured. And each bulb socket had a flowery looking surround. Each bulb was an Edison screw type bulb and not a bayonet fitting. We called them fairy lights. I’m not sure we still do.

LightsDecorating the tree was a family affair and there were always lot of hands. The hanging ornaments were fragile glass globes. Some of which had been broken in the previous 12 months.

But an important part of the tree dressing was the decorations made from lollies and walnuts

.

RosesTake a tin of Roses Chocolates, they come in foil and cellophane wrappers, brightly coloured and shiny.

You get a reel of cotton and you make each sweet an ornament by making a loop of cotton using one end of the wrapper as an anchor.

You then hang the lollies on the tree.

During the next 20 days, or whatever time frame you have, you get a reward treat of a lolly from the tree, opening the chocolate and leaving the foil and cellophane on the tree, empty but still pretty!

There was the Round toffee one, the long toffee one covered in chocolate, the one with the walnut inside, the sold chocolate one, the one that was strawberry,  the orange creme…

Mother would also make walnuts to hang from the tree, using a matchstick in one end of the walnut whole to make an anchor.

And there you have a tree with lights, glass globes, Cellophane lollies and walnuts. Add a rope or two of tinsel and a can or two of fake snow and there you have my traditional memory of a tree.

An enormous pine smelling plant, that dropped pine needles from the moment it was in the corner, and kept watched over the room. We didn’t have the presents under the tree as a tradition, we were many children and there were many temptations, until christmas eve. It wasn’t  a big deal.

Come taking down the tree time there were always willing hands to investigate and find the cunningly hidden lollies or those that were too high to reach for esger young hands.

With children we’ve carried on at least the lolly part of the decorations, the glass globes have moved onto shapes and stars made of various things, safer and less likely to cut and injure.

Happy Families – yes you’ve left home but…..


MrsPdubyah and me, well we’re a nuclear family, 2 adults, 2 children, cat, or more correctly now 4 adults and cat.

Even more correctly 3 adults at home and one who’s left to be an adult. The only constant is the cat, and there are plans to get a kitten, it’s not a good thing.

The transition from at home to away isn’t a clear cut as you’d think. Number one son remains top of mind for MrsPdubyah.

And to be honest I’m about as bad, if not worse. #1 son tells us that they have everything they need, and that they’re saving to get the better things. Now as an aside this doesn’t appear to hold them back in the buying of needful things like DVD’s and gadgets, but that would be mean spirited of me to point out.

Anyway, my  weak moment came when I know that boy child, who has to wear safety shoes for work essentially destroyed them, and they’ve been hanging off his feet. In a moment of madness I brought him new ones. Not cheap ones mind, because they come in cheap, mid and executive . But enough.

I’m compelled however to balance this out and so I spent an equal amount, after negotiation, on upgrading the iPod for girl child.

I’m poorer and yet richer for the experience.

MrsPdubyah, you’d think would be more pragmatic. I don’t think she is.

The latest thing is a bed. Now when you’re being frugal and on a budget that would make a monk frown, what you get is what you get, and so they have what is best described as “average” by way of a bed. Lucky for boy child there is a tax rebate, and as such he’s in a position to upgrade from fleapit to actual bed.

Have you ever noticed however that everything you want is at least 10%, and often 25% or more than you want to pay.  You can get a fairly decent bed for $700, and a really decent one for $1,000 (New Zealand Peso’s) (and they are long term investment, I’m not canvassing where to buy a cheap bed) (comes with a 10 year warranty)

So in a 2-1 deal we’ll make the difference between want to spend, and what we want them to spend.

This we justify in out heads as the difference between not being able afford more than noodles for lunch, and having to cut back on chocolate to afford bread, and for a thing that makes a difference. A big thing. Sure we could provide food, but you’ve left home, fend for yourself, however in the reality of things a bed is pretty important, you spend 1/3 of your life in one asleep, and being young a significant amount more staying awake.

So we’re sticking to out guns, you’ve left home, make your own way, but just in case keep us in the loop because we’re a soft touch for some things. Not that we have to be, or that in some way what you’re doing is different to what we did when we were at the same stage of life, but we know it’s hard, and there is a difference, relative to, the amount of money you need to make a difference and don’t have, to what the same amount money means to us. In the big scheme of things.

And we’re not a soft touch, there isn’t a bottomless money pit. And can I have my credit card back please.

 

Two Funerals and a wondering


To be honest it’s been a few funerals,  but specifically I’m thrown off by axis by one of which was this week, the other from 1988.

This week the funeral of a friend, Des Tierney, a good bastard by any measure. If I end up half a good a bastard then I’ll be spectacular. No one exemplified the meaning of community than Des. There won’t be a million words or books written about Des, and that’s a pity in some regards, but he’ll be an oral legend, around these and other parts.

The other funeral, my Father. The one I didn’t go to because I just moved to New Zealand, in 1987.

The thing that links them? Well in the sadness of things they both died before they were 60.

And why then would I be thrown into the funk that I have. Well I’m not getting any younger, and I’m now contemplating, as I did with some incredulity at 16, as being as old as my dad. Except now that the words “when he died” are added on the end.

So why should I panic about the age my father died? He was a heavy smoker with a sedentary lifestyle, it’s not the way I am. And how does the passing of a friend conflate a story to make it a doom.

In a normal thinking they don’t. But as your own mortality, and your own perception of that mortality changes you begin to fret. I spoke to a couple of of me friends about this, and they get it, what I’m feeling, they didn’t laugh, they just compared theirs to mine, and we all agreed that it was a nothing. It is what it is, there is no binary thing going on, that event A does not meant that it will equal a similar event  A for me, or them.

So now here I am wondering why it is that I never owned a Lotus Elite Turbo, and E-Type Jaguar. A 1967 Mustang fastback , or a V8 anything, and it’s not like that would define me in anyway. It might bring me immediate pleasure, and the added angst of maintaining and paying for it.

I’m now wondering why I never went home to England and abandoned almost everything to a new country, like no one ever did that, but I’ve not been home, not am I likely to go home, and I left in 1987. And yes it’s still home. Go figure.

Do I think people will tell grand stories about me when I die? You’re having a laugh, the most heroic I’ve been was when never.  Should I worry about that?

So a life just as ordinary. A fear and doubt. A surprise? There are many things in my head, and a weight on my shoulder that has descended for no reason other than self.

But if I had a motto to live by it would be “this too shall pass”, and it will. Might get that as a tattoo.

Happy Families, the one with the lost photographs #2


I found some more recent pictures, some of me as a fine young man, and they are presented here for your amusement.

Yes almost literally in a tree, can you believe it?

Me holding onto my Dad and Uncle Jospeh in the foreground like he’s been startled by the Paparazzi. He’s dressed very well for a ramble in the countryside. Poland 1967ish

With my Cousin Andreiz (he’s the tall one) apparantly. Again in the trendy turn ups and a fashionable yellow top, probably with airplanes on it. On reflection shorts seemed a lot shorter and high-rider than now too

Back Left – Lesley, Back right – shirly with her Crystal tips hair, and Front Right Andy (looking like a tubber) and me on the front right.