The signs they are a changin'

I was awoken the other day by my mobile phone, not literally, It didn’t leap onto the bed and vibrate ridiculously on my chest…that would be just weird. Nor did I wake up to its alarm, but the annoying sound of a mobile with a dying battery. It’s the worst sound bite ever, it sounds like a miserable owl. Mewing and blahing away,

Mmmwamwamwaaaa….. “charge me please” in phone speak. Checking up on the ashes score had taken its toll, and been on the road a few days it had hardly had any juice. Wide awake and assaulted by the mesmerizing dawn chorus I leapt up out of my five star bed ( the passenger seat) and headed to the kitchen (the boot.) to put on the kettle. It’s a perennial theme but you always forget something when you stay in the outdoors and although I had the tools to skin a kiwi, plane a door and assemble a light aircraft I had forgotten cups. Cups the most basic of objects, but your ultimately lost without them. I toyed with the idea of using a shoe for the morning coffee instead, I sat, half asleep watching the sun come up, sipping coffee from a plastic wine glass. I pondered over the days itinerary, packed up and hit the road. I had broken the trip from Northland down to Hastings into chunks staying on various campgrounds, in the car ,and visiting a few touristy hotspots. To keep my self entertained while driving, I’ve been making a mental note of funny or  weird road signs. I’ll share my top 3…..

3. For sale 3bdrmd two bathrmd kiwifruit.

2.REAL free range eggs.

1. Work to begin 2011…Pavement rehabilitation.

PAVEMENT REHAB.. what the fuck is this all about. There was never anything wrong with the term…..roadwork’s. Pavement rehab!!

So is alcoholism and depression so rife in western society that even walkways need counseling. It’s not that pavement rehab isn’t a good term for it but I’m very much of the if it ain’t broke don’t fix it crowd. Mankind obviously peaked 50 years ago. We had people building computers from scratch in great rooms, inventors, genii, musical and sporting heroes. Now the world decides to employ people to make sure pavements don’t feel discriminated against. Or to test for minute sea level rises in Holland while North and South Korea play nuclear backgammon. We’ve all lost the plot.

       Talking of plots, returning to the point. I arrived In Hastings safe and sound and made my way to the Hanna family Boysenberry farm. This was to be my fourth wwoof host and a group of people I would be spending the majoritory of the harvest with. Now for those not familiar with a Boysenberry, I certainly wasn’t before. They are like a Bramble on steroids, a huge hunk of a Blackberry. Sweet and slightly sharp. The farm is a fabulous place and although an early dawn start is required most mornings the day’s are breezing past. The evenings, more interestingly, have been used to sample some fantastic Hawkes bay wine or crack walnuts to sell at the roadside stall. The cracking area, a walnut Nirvana. Imagine the softest wooden, weather worn table. Out on a porch with magnolia door frames and wind chimes. The nutcrackers polished  handle dulled from years of soft hands and firm grips. As perfect a set up for the task if ever there was one. Lately the evenings excitement has been peppered by the ashes, and mainly describing to my fellow wwoofers, Canadians and an American, what a cricket bat is, why Shane Warne is fat and why the Aussie cricketers are the only sports men in the world not to rub their sun tan cream in. Why is that!?! They come out after lunch looking like an horrendous version of the black and white minstrels. (Not that the Black and white minstrels were good, but at least they were professional!)

I think my cricket enthusiasm is rubbing off though, they boo when Ricky Ponting comes on screen, much like you would when a pantomime villain enters from stage left. Moreover they have started to draw sharp intakes of breath at the right time and shout an undistinguishable phrase like ‘howazeeeeethtrrtrt’ when someone is caught out. The way this is going I might even win them over to getting rid of the appalling phrase that is ‘soccer’ and start adding u’s back into word’s, in the English language, that were perfectly good to start with! I sign off tonight, on Christmas eve in a sunny and blustery Hawkes bay. Hope you all have a very merry Christmas and a fantastic New year wherever you are on Planet Earth.

I’ll leave you all with the words of Mr. R. Starkey

“Well I'm getting happier all the time, which is very nice..”

Have a good one.