New Year's Eve 2010

This year I turned 60.  That's years old as opposed to degrees of rotation.  No big deal.  On the day in question I felt no different from the day before although in an existential sense I suppose I must have.  I must have simply because time does not repeat no matter what Hollywood suggests (Back To The Future). 

2010 was different because I did something I never dreamed I would have when I was a boy.  I attended my graduation ceremony at Victoria University to be capped with a Master of Nursing (Clinical) degree having obtained a Merit pass which I'm told is an honours grading.  The day felt strange because this was the only time I ever attended any of my graduations, and this was the fifth time I was to graduate from a formal professional education programme.  I'm not sure what happened in the picture but James looks like a startled opposum caught in the headlights. 

I had decided once completion of the degree programme was confirmed to attend this graduation to honour my wife and son for the sacrifices they made while I studied and worked at various places in the North Island.  I always considered that although my name features on the bits of paper, they were both equally involved in my education and paid a price measured in my unavailability while my nose was buried in books.  With hindsight I should have done all my basic professional quals' when I was single, but, that's the benefit of hindsight. 

So, putting on an academic gown, stole and trencher and joining the parade of graduands to walk up Lambton Quay to tje Michael Fowler Centre preceded by a Pipe Band felt surreal, but I greatly enjoyed the experience.  Here is a picture with my hat on looking like a pompous old git.

And this is a picture with Judy and Tania (daughter-in-law).

The other defining part of this year was the sale of our house.  I naively thought because we'd spent lots of money on our house bringing it up to standard that it would sell quickly.  How wrong I was!  Wairoa's real estate market has been depressed for the last year or so (just like the rest of NZ) so our house didn't sell until we'd had it on the market for nearly a year.  I've calculated we'll get our money back and a small amount extra but that in no way recompenses us for the amount of hard work we've put in ourselves.

So, 2011.  What will that bring?  One hope I have is to obtain my amateur radio licence.  Another is to enjoy the tranquility in a new environment.  And lastly, to travel to Tasmania to visit friends and see what work opportunities exist there.

A Yroa Moggy's life

The other morning I went in to see if Judy wanted a cup of tea.  This is what I found.  The moggy is Freddie.  I'm bound to say that when I first walked in and lookeed in the half light I thought Judy had a acquired a Davy Crockett hat but on closer inspection I relaised that hats don't purr and that's what this one was doing.  Contentedly.  Loudly.  This picture required the use of the flash but first I had to remember how to activate the flash.  Panic!  Where was the manual?  Oh yes.  I remembered now.  The manual is helpfully embedded in a PDF file on a CD that came with the camera.  Where's the CD I hear you ask?  Good question.  I've no idea right now.  NO that's not strictly true.  The answer is - packed away.  Somewhere.  The great thing about this camera is that if you turn the knob thing at the top for long enough most things seem to improve, and that's what happened.  The picture is proof of my assertion.

This morning I woke to the experience of my throat being walked on by a moggy.  Guess who?  Yup.  Freddie had arrived!  I let him continue to tread me in as I struggled to become fully awake.  He wasn't actually too much bother as he has lost his WINTER WEIGHT.  God help me.  If he'd still been carrying all that moggy lard he'd have got the old heave ho smartly because I wouldn't have been able to breathe. 

Some years ago when Judy and I were living apart I acquired a kitten thqat used to amuse me by its late night antics.  For example, it would perch on my chest and procede to wash me.  YES, wash me!  You know how rough a cat's tongue is eh?  You don't?  Trust me it's tongue.  Real rough especially when it's licking your eyelids?  EYELIDS!?  Uhuh.  One night I remember putting up with it for a while until I decided that I'd had enough and debated how I could tip the cat off.  I settled on the famous Nielsen-Rapid-Roll.  This manouvre proved to be a very bad choice because I'd failed to read a moggy-owner's handbook.  I didn't know but discovered kittens have the ability to correct for sudden events at a speed that far exceeded my speed of turn by several nano-seconds.  Nanoseconds after executing my sudden turn in my bed the kitten clung on to my face (make that eyebrows and cheeks) with a reflex response that Cassius Clay possessed (circa 1965) at the beginning of his professional boxing career.  I remember having to explain my injuries to my class the next morning.  Being still traumatised from my late night experience I and felt much worse as a consequence of their complete lack of empathy.  One girl cried.... with laughter.  On well.

As for this morning's episode, well, it all ended peaceably.  Feddie's fur tickled my nose; I sneezed loudly. Freddie got off my throat to investigate the noise and I got up out of bed uninjured.  Hooray!

Did I mention traffic in the driveway?

These are ours.  The old Dunger on the left is mine; the Telstar belongs to Judy.  On the other side of the fence is ONE of the many that come and go from the neighbours.  On occasions we've had cars completely blocking our entry to our home driveway  off the common roadway. 

Oh, and on one memorable occasion a couple of years ago we had four cars in  the driveway and one up our drive in front of the garage from 11.45 pm until 5.15am.  That was the occasion the neighbour's daughter and her drop-kick boyfriend came and used her parent's house bringing the entire Raupunga Black Power contingent from the pub for a party.  All was booming stereo, slamming doors and shouted conversations until something happened and the lot left very abruptly.

What did I do once these paragons of cultural virtue arrived and started their 'party'?  I came out to my office and wrote the draft of a major assignment whilst at the same time tossing up whether I needed to load my shotgun.  No you didn't!   Don't lie!  Oh yes I did. 
Let me tell you; there's something really quite scary about confronting half a dozen young fellows with their arms folded over their chests and polka dot hankies covering their faces standing in the drive not too far from where your wife is supposed to be resting/sleeping.

In this picture you should be able to make out the top of THREE cars and there's at least another one down the back of the section.  Yes folks!  I tell you the truth....  If ever there was a sociological commentary embedded in this post about the mobilisation of the masses - then here it is.

Boxing Day

When we came home from Waimarama Judy picked a few strawberries that survived after the birds had paid a visit.  One was particularly large so I took some pictures.

By the way.  I've discovered the time stamp has no resemblance to NZ time.  It's now 5.01pm.  8-)