Taking the Plunge

Rotorua.
A brief holiday.
A cooler night than Thames although I missed much of it. I was asleep.
Sunny today.
Rotorua streets now landscaped for paved terraces and walkways, slowing and limiting traffic. A comfortable people-feel. Street sculpture and planting much improves the environment.

Sunny today.
Rotorua streets now landscaped for paved terraces and walkways, slowing and limiting traffic. A comfortable people-feel. Street sculpture and planting much improves the environment.

Main horoughfares run through parts of town. Crossing these – as someone unfamiliar – ‘the quick and the dead’. However motorists considerate towards the unalacritous.
I over hear a young Maori fellow explaining that he will be away. In Texas. His Great great … grandmother died there in 1890 and the descendents are unveiling a headstone. Covid?
Pedestrian traffic is in fact very light. A tourist town. Without the tourists. Kathmandu. A large expanse of tents, clothing, bags and outdoor glinkets that one  day might – has one other person ‘just looking’ thankyou in the shop – being served by the only staff member.
Tourist shops drooping with tired souvenirs. Waiting. today the only people passing are Kiwis. We don’t  buy stuffed kiwis. Yes, tourism is stuffed too.
I’m orf. Photograph part of the old bathhouse. Take an uplifting dip in the blue lake. Maybe a yelp.

Track from the Blue Lake observation post.

Water temperature as warm as our local river. Whole beach to myself. Except for two ducks who quackered and chuttered. Lured closer and closer with raisins. A single loud quack if I moved too fast.

If My Cat Were Me

On your own, relaxed, what do you eat?
I choose green beans, roast spud, meat.
But Vegan? Seems a complex show.
Chopping, gathering, more chopping, slow.

The Beingness of Vegan, avoiding, mocking.
Look, just like meat patties! Vegans flocking.
Why pretend to be like us?
Just call them patties, why the fuss?

Vegans, women mainly, take time to think.
Dairy, fish, herb tea to drink.
As I’m older I eat less meat,
But lasagne, vegan, quite a treat.

A purring, carnivore sits at my feet.
If I were a cat and my cat was me,
Boiled spud, two saussies, green beans for tea.

Total Immersion

Past the school to the compulsory stop.
Early morning traffic light is light.
past the ‘Ice-cream Dairy’, the racecourse and the open road sign.
Contractors with flags, and ladders fixing stuff up a pole.
Pass a council mowing thingy cutting back to scruffy, rural grass verge.
Then silence. Silence except for a duck.
A pool to myself.
The early summer splash, frolic and out days are over.
Exercise. Day by day the distance increases.

The duck flies off.

And Finally, Good Evening

Most seem to know each other. Some seek people they have not met before. Comfortable self introduction. Flippancies dispensed with, issues in common with our past recalled.
“If we were in that situation today…?”,

Gracious, calm and self assured, cruises about the guests like a defused nuclear missile. Greetings, expectations that certain things will have taken place by now.
Others, the second of an ‘other half’ are happy for quiet isolation, just to observe. A good Samaritan adds company, sunshine.

Now the shoes. I can see to the back of my wardrobe because preloved clothes removed and to become reloved clothes.
I have exceed my 5,00 steps for the day. Pacing Pollen street to get inner souls for yours truly, Sinner, and dates from favourite shop Restore – plus a luxury mix of nuts.
A river swim, now warm and busy with swimming buddies – God save the eels. Not even Google knows how many strokes of swimming I’ve accomplished. But Google has just told me of others who have locked on to my favourite spot.
A walk around the top of the hill, sunset.
Bonsoir.

Soon, Only 365 Days Till Christmas

She pauses, looks up, squints and figures out labels. Decisions. Behind her another examines an item, replaces it on the shelf. Our supermarket aisle, the whole super market is in pause and ponder mode. We are not shopping for the next meal, we’re shopping for Christmas. A porridge of slow moving people who are patient, pleasantries exchanged.

The intersection, busiest I’ve seen since I moved here. Cars wait, indicators winking, time to nod, shout a quip to a fellow pensioner on the footpath. Road rules politely oberved, Indicators wink, wink, wink.

Shopping lugged from car to larder, or stuffed in the fridge. After Christmas that fridge will have the Big Dig. ‘Best Before,’ da de dah.

A humid early summer afternoon.

Swim

Wot is a Geodetic Datum?

Sunday morning walk. Early. Our main street.
A lone contractor’s truck.
One fellow both arms leaning against the tray,
Breathing out memories from the night before.
His mate returning from the all-night
Pay, grab and gobble Burgher bar.

Stop by our best little provincial book shop, Carsons.
“Paris Indoor Style.“
A white cube. Inside that cube are white cubes.
Furniture. There must be, out of sight, a sign:
‘Please do not sit on The White Cube’

Leave town, up the steps, now a view of The Firth
Captain Cook, 1769, it was Spring.
1500 steps so far.
Highest point. 58 metres above sea level.
That is based on a standardised geodetic datum