October 2010


Things have been busy up here at Newlands Manor. Woodburners went on special and we saved a boatload getting one installed, which also meant spending WEEKS getting wood together for next season. Man… that’s some hard-out foraging.

The good news is that it’s as warm as toast up here despite this patchy “Spring” weather.

The remainder of the story is that Chef Du Plunge and I have been working hard on getting the base of the garden laid in once and for all. This means that all the beds have been laid (we got a little guy his own shovel. He LOVES ‘dig dig!!’ and getting outside to help me in the garden), all the plants are in, and all the amateur landscaping is complete, for now.

Next is just ongoing maintenance, and maybe replacing some of the generation-old trees dying along the boundary fences. But, the good news is that for the first time since we moved in here (February) I don’t feel like there is stuff that absolutely must be done. Very relaxing.

There has been some failures though. I put in Broccoli and the wind was just too much for it. I’ll have to sort out some a wind-baffling system of some sort (currently thinking perspex – it’s a long story for another day). The mandarin is not doing well – have resorted to popping up there and watering it occasionally. Might end up replacing it with something. And the bamboo in the front garden stalled over the winter, but has started to perk up again.

Otherwise, beginning with that poor mandarin (which might just end up in  a pot so it can be protected a little more), here’s a few snaps. (more…)

You. Yeah, yooou.
Ah FFS… Not You (you muppet). YOU.
Finally… what the hell does it take to make you people listen?
Right. All you people over there take a look at his guy.
Looking?
Right. He, this slightly oily looking bloke, is not a New Zealander.
Right right, yell all the heck you want you’re just making dicks of yourselves and proving my point.
Real New Zealanders don’t make a fuss.
Yes Yes I know that’s “a little bit controversial” but if you can’t face facts then you’re also not a real New Zealander.
“If we’re not New Zealanders what are we!” you say?
Easy question.
You’re hired help.
Weeeelll you can whinge all you bloody like about me saying that, it’s a free country after all, and if don’t like it you can bloody piss off back to Kraplackystan or wherever the hell it is all you people come from.
Racist? Me? What? Look people I’m not saying that I don’t like you, just that you’re… you’re… well… not one of us.
Yes yes, enough of the bloody yelling, didn’t I already say that real New Zealanders don’t make a fuss? You’re just proving my point.
And! To prove it, look at that bloke.
No, him. Yes, him, the white bloke.
Jesus… bloody hard to get you excitable types to focus, ain’t it?
He’s not a New Zealander either.
Well, he speaks with a funny accent.
Maybe French or something.
And no I don’t know how the hell he got in here.
There’s still that boat incident, and don’t think we’ve forgotten the World Cup…
The commonsense fact of the matter is that if you speak funny you’re not really welcome here and you certainly are not, in point of fact, a New Zealander.
What about that white bird you say?
South African.
Doesn’t count.
No that isn’t a double standard and don’t start with all this bloody waving of the arms and demanding ‘something be done’, or ‘I can say things like that’ because I just did.
Hmmm… how in the hell did you get into my neighbourhood anyway?
No, no, nothing, never mind.
Look, if you aren’t really ready to accept the rules then maybe you shouldn’t have bothered coming here in the first place.
Well, we make the rules.
Me and everyone who’s like me.
Well, it doesn’t matter if we’re not a majority because we’re the ones who’re making the rules, and you’re some powerless hired help.
(At least until we deport you…)
Nothing! I said nothing.
Look, the simple fact of the matter is that New Zealander means what we want it to mean, and all you slightly yelly people fall outside the meaning.
OK, OK, maybe if one of your kids actually plays for the All Blacks or storms Monte Cassino or something we’ll reconsider…
Until then, well, quiet in the cheap seats.

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