New Year's Eve

I took some time this morning to review the answers to yesterday's exam questions. Unfortunately I had copied/pasted the questions into an openoffice document. Attempting to edit out some of the rubbish the slightly panicky cut/paste operation (it's a timed exam) had left in the document caused openoffice to crash. Worse, than this, opening the document again just caused the program to lock up, on all three PCs in the house. Je ne suis pas très amusé. Not wishing to loose the data, I figured that as openoffice documents are in fact zip files, I might be able to extract the information. Indeed, there are a number of files inside the zip file, the most important of which is the content.xml file. It looks like gibberish, being full of xml markup, but a cunning PHP one-liner like this:

echo strip_tags(file_get_contents("content.xml"));

resulted in all the data being extracted. Huzzah!

This evenings festivities we had decided to share with V&W. We had prepared a large pan of chilli, and Di and I worked together to make a plum crumble, using some Christmas plums Vicky had scored from a neighbour's tree. The scoff was due to be consumed later that evening, but in the afternoon, we walked into the mount to see what was going on. Alas not a lot it seems, although a lot of the beach was cordoned off, and the no booze zone had been extended all the way up to Tay street. The really annoying thing, however, was the fact that bag searches were in operation and Di got searched twice on the way into town. It was all a little bit big brother and were it not for the old grannies doing the searches, it would have been far from amusing. Perhaps as one of the premier Xmas hotspots in the country, this is to be expected as all the nutters turn up to see in the new year. Having looked around, and a quick stop to feed the kids Burger King, we walked back via the off licence where we scored couple of bottles of fizzy for later on.

We scoffed the chilli and plumble (excellent nosh) and I went to pick Sam up from Woolworths. I chose to take the main road into Bayfair, and noticed that the cops had blocked off the road into the Mount, and were stopping *everyone*. As traffic was backing up, and not wishing to waste any valuable drinking time, I took the backroads home. No coppers, other than the sleeping ones lying across the road.

We drifter round to V&W at about 8, drank lots of beer and played "Balderdash" and Triv until the wee hours, pausing briefly at 00:00 to pop the cork on the fizzy and indulge in mass snogging. Balderdash is one of those games that does go on for a while, but with a little lubrication and some outrageous made up answers such as "Ukranian Toothless Weasel" can induce fits of laughter that are mostly uncontrollable and greatly hinder one's ability to lie convincingly. We stumbled home around 2.

Third Time Lucky

Not a huge amount to report yesterday, so I won't.

I was again listening to the TMS commentary, and was pleased to find that England managed to win the 2^nd test. It would have been rather cool to listen to it all, but the South African time zone doesn't really lend itself.

Imogen managed to fall off her bike, not seriously enough to do any significant damage to herself or the bike and she was back on it again in no time subject to the application of a plaster or two.

The girls were all dressed a little bit different today. For some reason best known to them, they had all decided to wear black tops instead of the traditional pink. It was kind of weird to see them all dressed as miniature All Blacks, but Phoebe in particular looked fantastic in black. It must be the shock of blond hair and the cheeky smile.

Needing a break from the Christmas festivities, I took my third PHP practice exam. This time there were no failures, and everything was rated as "excellent" apart from the three passes. A little more swatting is required I think, and then I'll book in for the exam proper and see if that does anything for the job prospects.

Board Board Board

Rather annoyingly, I can't find the lead for my scanner. Thus in order to make a playable copy of a new piece of music I wanted to learn, I was reduced to using the camera instead. Despite my best efforts at flattening the book out, the images still showed some curvature at the edges and were of course in full colour, rather than grey scale which made for a rather poor copy. As a consequence I spent rather a long time tarting about with various graphics packages making them all black and white and editing out bits of shadow. After all this I sort of forgot to have a crack at the piece and went shopping instead.

Well, not exactly shopping, we went to the Warehouse to score a body board that was sufficient to support my vast bulk in the water. Di was quite taken with the idea of having one too, so we agreed to buy for each other and call them late Christmas presents. We did check out the pukka surf shops, but they wanted upwards of $150 a pop, and the Warehouse ones were $100 less 20% off in the sale.

Having bought the boards, the obvious thing was to go down to the beach and try them out. It certainly makes a huge difference having the right size board. Apparently it should reach from your feet up to your navel. As my navel has a unique variable height feature (something to do with a bulging midriff) I had no choice but to take a guess at the position it was supposed to be in when choosing the board. I managed to catch several really decent waves which chucked me right up on the beach and got reasonably good at shifting the weight around in order to steer the thing. Di never tried hers out, largely because we encountered V&W on arrival and a large amount of gossip was exchanged instead. It's so quiet out on the water.

After all this fun, we all decided that Wayne ought to get the barbie out and thus we piled back to theirs via a quick stop off at ours to get out of the wetsuits and a trip to New World for supplies.

Panda Woman

This morning I caught Freya trying to extricate her bike from the garage, but at the expense of the Mirth Mobile's paint work. She wasn't massively receptive to the admonishment she received. I thought it might be an idea to rearrange the garage a little, such that all the odd boxes adjacent to the house wall disappear to make a decent amount of room for the bikes. The major task however was to compress the pile of rubbish that had accumulated on the other side down to a much more manageable level and then use this space for the boxes. NZ Van Lines had promised to pick up the remaining packaging, but at this time of year they were unlikely to be making house calls. Consequently I decided to fold up all the paper and cut up the cardboard such that it would all stack neatly in a couple of boxes. Stuffing various boxes under the eves of the garage out of the way of any potential rain also proved useful and the requisite space for bikes was duly found.

Later on in the afternoon we went back to the beach for another body boarding session. My technique has definitely improved and I managed to catch several decent waves using Imogen's board. It is clear that I do need my own, though, not just because an adequately sized one would be more advantageous, but because Phoebe is becoming more adventurous and more reluctant to relinquish hers. Also it might help preserve what little skin remains on my knees.

Di made the fatal mistake of not applying any sunblock to her face, and continuing to wear sunnies. Naturally, this resulted in a panda like appearance when she took them off later on in the evening, and an appropriate amount of mickey taking. I am not allowed to provide pictures, however!

Boxing Day Body Boarding on the Beach

After yesterday's stuffing, we weren't really that hungry. I guess this is quite a normal feeling on boxing day. The kids were out on their bikes zooming around like loonies and generally enjoying them.

At about 3ish, we headed on down to the beach and tried out the new body boards. Phoebe was a little reluctant to get stuck in and preferred to teeter around on the edge of the water. We were most honoured to receive a visit from our favourite cave dwelling book worm, who came down to the beach and joined up with the family, against her better instincts. However she moaned like stink about the beach being a "sandy hell hole" and resolved never to darken its shores ever again. Sigh. Her pasty white complexion will continue and I suppose we'll just have to get used to it.

As Phoebe wasn't making the greatest use of her body board, I asked her if she'd mind if I had a go. She naturally refused point blank to let me have anything to do with it. However, I cunningly asked if Imogen could use it, and she agreed! Imogen was more than happy to let me use hers, which was a bigger size than Phoebe's and was actually able to support my vast bulk in the water.

I probably spent about half an hour trying to body board, and
actually did manage to catch a couple of decent waves. There is
definitely a technique to it - for a start it's important to remember that this is a body board, and therefor getting your body and not your head towards the end of the board is generally the best way of getting maximum buoyancy out of the waves. While I tried to remember this, I was at times spectacularly unsuccessful.

We were joined by V&W, who declined to actually get wet but instead sat and watched all the frolicking. We drifted home around 5 and got the barbecue ready. V&W joined us at about 6, and we barbecued and drank until about 11ish. The menu included the usual burgers, sausages and steak, and also some garlic prawn skewers, which were most reasonably priced at $14 for ten. All this was washed down with a few beers and more 'froaig, and the dulcet tones of Aggers and co commentating on the Boxing Day test.

Bicycles Bodyboards and Barbies

Christmas day. Our first downside up one. It started quite early at around 7AM with the requisite mad present opening frenzy. It took me a few minutes to locate the camcorder with which I traditionally record the look of awe and wonder on our kids' faces when they find out what I have sold my soul for in order to line the coffers of large multinational corporations to their benefit. Most of the girls had a barbie and various bits of chocolate, a body board and a bicycle. Rhiannon had an art pack and of course the manga books which took such a while to arrive.

Di appeared happy enough with her CD and the small box of Ferrero Rocher that I'd bought. I was of course delighted with all the chocolate I received from the girls, and especially thrilled with the toasted sandwich maker that Di had bought me. I should have guessed that something like this would be on the cards, since the traditional scotch simply is not feasible.

The major benefit of a down under Christmas, is that you can take your new bicycle for a ride. This is indeed what Imogen and Freya did, although Imogen's bike needed an adjustment to the seat height. Phoebe isn't a confident cyclist and was only just riding a very small bike back in the UK. She took a while to get going on her bike, but did manage it in the end although starting off, steering and stopping are still areas of concern. What she really needs is a wide open grassy space to try it on.

We had decided, largely upon the insistence of Wayne that we would have roast dinner. Imogen had asked for lamb. Wayne wanted a ham, and Vicky had decided the kids should have chicken. As we were all going to V&W's, we agreed to pool resources so we cooked half the veg and the lamb and they did the rest. Various bits of garden furniture were ferried to their house and placed strategically in the back garden, their four place table having been deemed insufficient for our tribe. It was most fine eating Christmas dinner under a warm and cloudless sky, but it didn't feel all that Christmasy at all. Also there's a lot of preparation and clearing up and to be perfectly honest, it's not really in keeping with the NZ lifestyle. Next year's dinner will most probably be a barbecue, possibly featuring beer can chicken.

Dinner went really well, everything was done to perfection and we all ate and drank and were quite merry. We left at about 8ish, took the kids home but then Di and I popped back for drinks, and games of Trivial Pursuit and Scrabble. Alas Wayne managed to win the scrabble despite me getting rid of my Q and using all my letters up, and V&W won triv, which was a DVD based media/music version which ruled me out since I'm useless at pop music. I introduced Wayne (and Vicky!) to the delights of 'froaig, and ended up dispensing a couple more drams than perhaps I was counting on. Unfortunately at about 11:30 Sam rang to say Phoebe had barfed up (too much chocolate) and this curtailed the festivities.

In The Nick Of Time

Would you Adam and Eve it? Just when we'd given up all hope and sent the last sarcastic email, Whitcoulls actually managed to deliver the remaining books! We decided not to let Rhiannon know in order that there might be some semblance of surprise in Christmas Day. We did note that the books appear to have come all the way from Eastbourne, in the UK, i.e. 50 miles from our old stomping ground. Suffice it to say that we won't be using Whitcoulls web site again, and would urge anyone else reading this not to bother either.

It does seem that ordering things directly from the UK is actually the best thing to do, if they'll deliver to NZ of course. It also helps if you have a ready supply of quids with which to pay for these things, thereby avoiding any currency exchange nonsense that the credit cards tend to charge. It also seems to be the case that some companies in the UK will not charge VAT on foreign consignments, and in all probability NZ customs tend not to charge GST either. I hold up as examples my UK purchased CD, and the bottles of 'froaig. Also, a neighbour of V&W's, who runs a Norton Commando tells me he imports spares from RGM Motors in the UK and gets away without GST or VAT.

Di went shopping for some last minute provisions, while I made good my threat to make some mince pies. My first task was to locate the scales. Having searched every cupboard and drawer, my search was fruitless. I resolved to play it by ear and use the markings on the butter packet to indicate the weight. Next job was to find a mixing bowl. I remembered that we had a large pyrex bowl, but this was not to be found in any of the cupboards either. Hmm. I went into the garage and rummaged through the four boxes of unpacked glassware and ceramics. No joy. However, I did find the plastic bowl from the scales which looked to be big enough for the task at hand. Everything else went pretty much to plan, although I had to improvise pastry cutters from a half pint and pint glasses and I managed to turn out three dozen mince pies in quick succession.

Upon her return, Di reminded me that the Pyrex bowl got broken before we moved to Bognor, some 14 years ago. Furthermore, she retrieved the scales from the only drawer I never bothered to check, because it was full of tea towels and nothing else. Nothing else except the kitchen scales it would seem. Sigh. I guess that the reason I don't touch the kitchen from one decade to the next is that I simply cannot fathom the logic Di uses to organise the kitchen. I am not confident the italicised words are used in their strictest sense.

Christmas eve itself passed quietly with a few beers and some 'froaig being quaffed and not too much argument about what to watch on telly.

Party

I went and collected the bikes from Bike & Pack. Everything was in order and the bikes were all suitably pink. Imogen's has a really funky gear change mechanism with separate levers to change up and down. It really looks the business, and although it's pink and too small, I'm rather jealous especially as Di has acquired a bike from the fish woman who works in New World. She live on our road and apparently leapt out on Di yesterday and thrust the bike at her. The tyres were flat, but nothing some air couldn't resolve. It's nothing flash, but as it's free Di brought it home. This just leaves me and Rhiannon without bikes.

We were both invited to a "quiet" evening of pre-Christmas drinks. As we were a bit short on baby sitters, I dropped Di and Vicky over at Papamoa and went back home and watched telly. About 10PM, Di rang me to nag me to come along "for the last hour". As Sam was now I residence I wandered over and we ended up leaving at gone 2 AM. I poured Di and Vicky into the car and deposited them back in their respective homes. Naturally I'd stayed completely dry, but there was no sign of any coppers anywhere.

Avoid Whitcoulls Like The Plague

I went for a run this morning - down to the Mount and back. The legs were a little stiff and had been since the last attempt, but once I'd stretched out a bit and eased into it it wasn't too bad. Alas the annoying cough/cold I've been suffering from for the last three weeks got the better of me and I unfortunately left some morning tea at the side of the road. This prompted an innocent bystander to remark "no pain no gain". Quite, although there wasn't actually much pain. By the time I'd got home the tubes were pretty much clear. In order to ward off the stiffness, I ran a cold bath and shivered for about half an hour or so and generally irritated all the girls by being in the wrong bathroom. Not being completely well hard, I eventually got out and had a shower.

Di took Vicky down to Bayfair for some Christmas shopping. This was supposed to take a couple of hours. Hahahahahahaha!. Four hours later I rang to find out where they were, only to discover they'd just got out of the coffee shop!.

The major issue of today was the non-arrival of Rhiannon's remaining 19 books we ordered from Whitcoull's web site. I rang the head office number, and was connected to an extension, which just rang out until it cut off. I rang again, and the woman, sighing like it was all too much, put me through again. Again no response and I got cut off. I logged in to the web site and was just about to send a snotty email, when I noticed the customer services phone number at the bottom of the form. Stupid place to put it, IMHO. Wishing to vent my spleen, I called the number. I refused the numerous attempts of the automated call handling system to leave a message as there was a "high call volume", and instead chose to wait for a real live human being, or whatever they had that might resemble one. However I was thwarted yet again as they gaily announced at 4:30 that they were now closed for the day and that I should leave a message. I did. I am not holding my breath for a reply. I sent the snotty email anyway.

I also applied for a job which requested a decent cover letter. I think I composed one that was up to the task and demonstrated that I could at least turn out a few coherent sentences, something that seems increasingly rare these days.

Present And Accounted For

Imogen's friend rang at an inconceivably early hour this morning. Imogen wasn't minded to take the call so we advised her to call back later. She did Imogen wasn't in the mood to play so didn't take up the invitation to go visiting.

This actually played well with my plans to take all the girls to Bayfair to help me pick some presents for Di. I was advised by the girls that chocolate was not a good idea as they had already bought loads. Di was OK for perfume having scored a large bottle duty free on arrival. She had also warned me off jewellery claiming she had enough already. Hence the need for some inspiration. Not that the girls were much help - they zoomed straight in on Wendy's for ice cream. We did however make a stop at Westpac where I opened accounts for Imogen and Rhiannon. Alas Imogen wasn't old enough to have her own account, so she had to have me as a name on it. Also she wasn't allowed an EFTPOS card, unlike Rhiannon. This didn't cause quite as much agro as I might have expected. Maybe this was because Imogen has managed to save quite a stash of cash which she deposited and I had to sub Rhiannon $20 to be going on with.
I did eventually come up with an idea, but of course, I can't yet say anything, can I!

Just as we arrived back the furniture repairers turned up and I helped the chap load the sofa into the van. He promised it would be back the following day, which was a relief otherwise we'd have to spend Christmas on the floor.

A Domestic Dispute

On Friday Di managed to break the sofa. It seems that this particular manufacturer doesn't understand that us 40-some-things need to push on the arm to get our ageing a***s out and that the arm needs to be strong enough to support this. We phoned the factory outlet and they sent a man round to have a look. He said he'd get it sorted out.

Di decided we needed to get the barbie out as it was a pleasant evening although a bit windy. V&W were duly invited round and in fact most of the neighbours kids seemed to be in on the act at one point or another as the evening became an almost biblical catering event in terms of numbers. The barbie and/or me performed rather well. Everything was cooked with just the right amount of authentic barbecue flavour. V&W's kids started to get a bit tired and wouldn't settle in our beds, so after we'd put the barbie away and got our kids to bed, we headed round to theirs and finished off the beers. I managed to instigate my cunning method of listening to TMS on Wayne's laptop, and we sat outside listening to Aggers & Co while staring up at an exceptionally clear sky, scoping for UFO's.

Saturday we walked into the Mount for an exciting dinner at Burger King, the highlight of which was watching a dollop of ice cream that some one (not us) dropped on the floor and gradually slide down the ramp out of the door. The staff seemed somewhat disinterested in cleaning it up so the entertainment was not only free, but long lasting.

Later we wandered round the rock pools at the base of the mount and rummaged around for whatever we could find. The usual fish, shrimps, hermit crabs, snails and starfish were today supplemented by an 8 inch purple crab which I managed to winkle out from its hiding place under a rock using a stick. This was in fact the mk II stick, since the one Imogen had procured was big enough to use as a javelin, and not much used for tactical cancerian extraction. The poor old crab had one claw and one leg missing, which on closer inspection were old injuries not related to my clumsy poking. The kids were rather fascinated by the crab, especially when it was released and scuttled off back under its rock.

On Sunday I took the noo shoos out for a trial run, of about 4K or so. It's amazing how much more supportive new shoes are than the old ones I've been pounding around in. No obvious ill effects and the leg behaved itself.

There's a church at the end of the road, and a large patch of land adjacent to it. There was some sort of event going on, involving free sausages and a bouncy castle. Although there was a distinctly Christian theme, the kids made a bee-line for the bouncing and we went along to stop them getting into too much trouble. One or two of the regular congregation attempted to "spread the word" but we politely declined to listen. Possibly a bit mercenary to go along like this, but it was an open event, and the amount of noise their P.A was blasting out it was hard to ignore.

One of our neighbours came in for a chat and a cup of tea, which was nice. Always good to be on friendly terms with the neighbours, particularly as the kids all seem to be getting on pretty well.

At tea time, there was a mad search for the ketchup, and not even Di with her infra red echo locating radar sixth sense was able to find it. Looking in the cupboard, I did manage to find it in one hit which was of course thoroughly annoying as it's usually the other way round. I did however take exception to the way the cupboard was "organised" and was half full of empty Tupperware containers. I "went off on one", and despite protestations, all empty Tupperware was stuffed in a cardboard box and shoved in the garage. This helped immensely, and pleased with the result, I rearranged everything else so that it made some sort of sense - like all the cereal boxes in one place, all the tins and jars in another, and all the sauces and condiments together. I expect this organisation to last for exactly 0.5 pico seconds, or until the next time Di opens the door.

Later I listened to the final day of the test match until the tea interval, when England looked safe. Should have known better. Still, at least the Quarter Cask was up to scratch. Oh yeah.

Test Match Special

Wednesday was fairly uneventful. I found a cunning method of persuading the BBC's radio 5 live to allow me to listen to the cricket commentary on the first England v South Africa test match, which kicked off at 21:30 over here. Such is the time zone difference that I retired to bed when the lunch break was upon us. Jacques Kallis was being rather annoying and scored 100.

On Thursday, our next door neighbours took Phoebe and Freya and their own kids with whom ours play, to their mother's place for a pool party. We were a little worried about them going on their own, and especially as Phoebe is not yet a strong swimmer. However after assurances from the parents that they'd look after them, we let them go. Everything went swimmingly, and although Phoebe was suffering from the "want mummas" she had a good time and only "nearly drownded" once.

We had a call from one of Imogen's friends, who wanted to come over and play as her mother was at work. A rather early call, at about 8:30 but as Rhiannon was also off out this morning with one of her school mates, having some company for Imogen wasn't a bad idea. I was offered $20 for babysitting - I wasn't aware that I was but declined anyway and settled for the large back of crisps and bottle of coke that accompanied the visit. Not that I got to see a lot of it, though.

Later I attempted another online mock exam. I did better than last time, with everything graded excellent except for two passes and a fail and an overall score of "Excellent" rather than "Pass". However, as some of the questions were exactly the same as the first exam and I had researched those answers thoroughly, it didn't seem quite such an achievement. I did think it might be nice to see which questions fitted into which of the 12 topics, or maybe even some answers to some of the more esoteric questions such as whether performance or maintainability is the most important, and the argument behind the answer.

Rhiannon had not made contact all day and it was now 8PM, so I managed to get her to answer her phone. She was down the Mount at her friend's parents' pizza spot. It closed at 9, so there was just enough time to pick her up before settling in to day of the test match. Kallis was out early on with another wicket falling before lunch/bed.

School's Out For Summer - It's Christmas

It seems like only yesterday that the kids were breaking up for summer, and yet here we are again breaking up for summer. Something somewhere in the universe is very wrong. We now have a six week break until they all leave us in peace again. The next six weeks will doubtless be filled with screams, crying and shouting. In other words business as usual.

I was rather pleased to take receipt of a parcel this morning, all the way from the magical island of Islay, Scotland. It contained no less than three bottles of just possibly the best whisky in the world - Laphroaig Quarter Cask. This was the same variety that reduced me to tears when dropping a duty free bottle while boarding a taxi shortly after having landed here. Total cost was £88.38, including £16.95 delivery. As a Friend of Laphroaig, I get 10% discount from the online store, and in this case an additional 10% birthday discount. My attempts to escape paying UK VAT appear to have failed, however I have also escaped paying GST, and I was pleased to note that the consignment was labelled "gift" which may potentially explain why. Less than £30 a bottle is pretty much what I'd expect to pay in Blighty, so I'm feeling rather pleased with myself and fully enjoying the Christmas spirits, both seasonal and 48% A.B.V. The same stuff sells for $120 in the few and far between establishments that sell it, so around $70 a bottle in funny money represents a substantial saving.

Di wandered in about 5PM saying the V&W were having a barbecue. We duly trotted along and consumed the VickyBurgers, hand made delicacies containing all sorts of meaty goodness. Wayne was espousing their greatness and waxing lyrical about the pure content, until I pointed out that he had no idea what was actually in the mince they were made from. This sort of stopped him in his tracks, and we contented ourselves with listening to the dying minutes of the final test in which the Black Caps were robbed of victory by some inclement rain down in Napier which made its way up to us a couple of hours later.

Illuminating

Yet again I fund myself learning and revising the inner workings of the PHP language, and finding occasionally that I don't know all that I think I do. It does appear that despite the claim that I do not need to be a walking manual, it is rather useful to be one.

We received the last of the kid's end of year reports today. All of them seem to be achieving above average and for the most part putting in above average effort. The extended summer holiday does not seem to have done them any harm.

Craig has come to my attention today, since he seems to have neglected to hand over his house keeping and has now spent it on beer. He really does need to learn to add up or at least take an interest in the balance of his bank account. Usually when you've got an unusually large amount of money in your account, it generally means you've forgotten to pay for something. Maybe he's thinking all the free buns and sandwiches he brings home can be take the place of his housekeeping, however cream cakes do not pay the power or phone bills. Ever more bizarrely he doesn't appear to know when he's getting paid from his new job. Sigh.

We're looking forward to the kids finishing school for the summer. Hang on, haven't they just done that.. oh yeah....One of the problems we had with the UK schools was that there were one or two kids, or more accurately parents, who were always infested with nits and despite regular attention, our mob always seemed to acquire them from these unfortunates. The same principle seems to apply over here, although it seems that the NZ variety are easier to remove and not as veracious as the UK. Either way, isolation for a few weeks should finally see them clear. Until they go back to school that is.

Although Di had bought a Christmas tree, there weren't any lights. I kicked up a fuss about this and some were duly purchased from New World for the princely sum of $12. Not just yer usual lights either, multi function LED jobs with all sorts of different flashes and delays, all of which made it feel just that little bit like Christmas, despite the warm weather and lack of clouds/rain.

Maiden Voyage

I've come to the conclusion that I am in need of some new running shoes. They are a couple of years old, and the injuries are starting to creep in again. The cramp/torn muscle that has persisted for most of the week has finally subsided, so I figured it was worth a trip to Rebel Sports in Tauranga for some new boots. The 30% off sale was also an incentive. Although they're a multi purpose store rather than a specialist running shop, I felt that having purchased various motion control shoes to support by fat *ss over the years, I ought to be able to ask for a pair and end up with something resembling what I'd asked for. The guy in the shop was very helpful - and we got the sizes right, which is I suspect because he could speak English sizes on account of his strong north-east accent. I also scored a cheap skateboard for Freya, who has expressed an interest in one and keeps stealing Imogen's. It's not anywhere near as good, but at $49 less 30% we don't much care if she wrecks it and it'll do to practice on.

The small patch of "grass" at the front of the house has got rather long, and so I popped into Bunnings Warehouse and bought a strimmer with which to annihilate it. Annoyingly there was no power cord - I guess for $47 this is an optional extra. A quick trip to New World (always a source of cheap electrical stuff) scored a brace of 5 metre extension leads enabling me to go-a-reaping.

Checking the third and deciding test, I was pleased to note that my newly adopted team were 471 in reply to Pakistan's 223. Sadly they failed to take any wickets, before the close.

The new barbie was fired up at 4:30 and made a fine job of numerous burgers, sausages, some salmon steaks and a couple of beef stakes as well as frying the onions. The girls seem to have made friends with the two Maori boys who live in the house in front of ours, and we ended up feeding them burgers as well. One of Imogen's friends rang up feeling a bit at a loose end. Although it was getting on a bit, we said she could pop round, and bring her mum. Thus the barbie went on a bit longer until the wind got up at about 7 PM and we called it a day.

Baby Sitting

This morning I finally got around to assembling the barbecue. It took about an hour, and the only major hiccup was getting the drip tray to fit. The instructions simply said "Slide the drip tray under the burner" and then went on to talk about the gas valve. No way was it going to fit. It was only when Di from her lower vantage point noticed the screws that needed to be loosened that the job was completed. Subsequent reading of the instuctions from start to end revealed that it did mention these screws, several sentences after the aforementioned statement about the drip tray.

The barbecue came in a massive box. I don't know what it is about boxes, but small children seem to go wild for them. At one point we had three of the kids in the box, with the lid on. Phoebe was inevitably the first one to get scared so the lid came off, and the scissors came out and the box started morphing into all sorts of cars, houses and whatnot that only a childish but brilliant mind would come up with.

Di had arranged with Vicky that I would babysit her kids while they both skipped off to the Warehouse, in order to score a pair of parasol bases and "have a quick look round". I should have known what that meant. The kids were duly deposited and our lot made the usual fuss of them and the women disappeared in the Mirth Mobile. Not ten minutes had passed, and Lyla filled her nappy. It was rather evil and came as a nasty shock after several years of full infant continence to find myself changing nappies once more. 3 hours later, the women returned, with a tad more than a parasol base, blaming all this vast expense on "Christmas" etc.


Baby sitting

Blood on the Fingerboard

I spent the morning revising some of the answers to the mock exam. I had cunningly cut and pasted the questions and answers into a text file for later review. I need to review all of the answers, but so far I have noticed that there are some rather sneaky questions which attempt to focus you on one thing but are in fact testing another. Others were thought provoking and worth taking to pieces and analysing because they did increase my understanding.

This afternoon we went to watch the Year 6 leaver's assembly at Mount Primary. Every student who was leaving was given a leaver's certificate, and a personal anecdote from the head. Imogen's was a little short and sweet, but noted her all round academic prowess. A couple of pupils had put together a short film on memories of the school, in which Imogen's main memory was apparently not having to wear uniform. It was a rather long and slightly emotional assembly, but enjoyable nevertheless.

Wayne appeared later on in the afternoon, a stringless acoustic guitar in one hand and a pack of strings in the other and a desire to have me fit them. This proved to be a rather bad idea, as I managed to snap the G string. Wayne took it rather well, and I dug myself out of the soft and brown by using the E machine head instead. It will mess with his mind when he tries to tune it up but the alternative was another $27 for a new set. After tuning up, we attempted to "jam", with Wayne playing some chords and me attempting to improvise a melody. It sounded mostly hideous, with the occasional bar or two (I'm assuming we were playing in 4/4) sounding not too unpleasant. It was at this point that Wayne's carelessness with a Stanley knife while fitting NZ style plugs to various electrical equipment became obvious, with a split in one finger depositing a none too shabby amount of claret on the fingerboard. We took the coward's way out and opened the beer.

A Grand Day Out

Today I went on a jolly with Wayne up to Auckland to pick up his stuff. Unfortunately they've used a right set of muppets to get their stuff over, and have to pick it up themselves. We set of at 8AM, picked up a trailer en route and the made the mistake of trying to get down Hewlett's road at rush hour. Bad mistake. We did a U turn and took highway 2 instead - much better idea and only slightly longer. Di rang to tell me she'd scraped the Mirth Mobile on a protruding piece of concrete. Apparently it "would come out with T-Cut". Yeah, right. She was hoping that telling me now would allow sufficient time and anger to pass before I actually saw the damage!

The journey up to Auckland was uneventful, passing through Paeroa, home of the World Famous in New Zealand Lemon & Paeroa. We stopped off for some late breakfast and a couple of lemon slices for later on. We arrived about 12ish, but the person who was dealing with it all was at lunch. Half an hour later, we had the paperwork sorted and were off to the depot to collect.

There were three pallets in total, but none would fit in the van without being partially taken to pieces, so my trusty swiss army knife was put to good work. It was a hot day, and we were both parched, so we picked up a large bottle of mineral water and appropriately enough given our route up here, a bottle of L&P. It's basically lemonade, despite the hype, but without being too sweet or fizzy. The other moment of note was the usage of the water deficient plastic portaloo on a hot sunny day. No description I could possibly give would do this justice.

The drive back was similarly uneventful, other than missing a turning on highway 2, which resulted in us taking highway 27 for a while before getting back on track. A quick stop for some diesel, and we got back to the Mount at around 7. We made a quick stop at Woolworths for some beers, and then back to W's to unload and wind down with a beer or three and reflect on our day's labours. And then home to inspect the damage to the Mirth Mobile.

All Clear

Di spent this morning and some of the afternoon taking a group of school kids from Phoebe's class - rock pooling. They were all behaved, unlike the bunch I had the pleasure of hanging out with the other week. They were all girls, however and approximately 5 rather than 11 which probably explains why. Sadly, the rock pools had little in the way of exciting wild life in them, which was a shame as Phoebe had a brand new net for catching fish and shrimps that she had no chance of using. The tide was also on the way in, which put a premature end to the search for various fauna.

Apparently the highlight of the day was the man in the park who has spent the morning laying new concrete paths only for the whole school, and indeed several other schools to turn up and run through his pristine but wet concrete. Naturally, Phoebe was culprit in chief but to be fair there were no cones or tape to isolate the area, and when you're 5 and full of bounce, hopping, skipping and jumping along newly laid concrete is fair game. The workman was rather a grumpy sort, but was given short shrift by a number of parents and their respective charges.

While all this fun was happening, I stayed at home and took a mock exam in an attempt to become Zend Certified. I was pleasantly surprised to find that I had actually managed to achieve a pass, although some areas were rather dodgy. More swatting is most definitely required, particularly in the areas I've not really had much experience with, such as XML and OOP.

Another look at the bank account today, revealed that Whitfools had apparently finalised their charges, and we now have two that total the correct amount. It wasn't until later this evening that we actually got an email reply (so much for the promised phone call) which left much to be desired and basically blamed the bank for all the problems:

Many thanks for your email.

Please note you have not been overcharged for this order.

At the time of placing an order, a holding authorisation is placed on your card to confirm that there are sufficient funds for the order total (which was $287.20).

From your transaction history it appears that the authorisation process was completed but for an unknown reason the transaction amount of $272.84 failed, meaning that these funds were left 'held' on your card. A second successful transaction attempt was later made. We apologise for this technical error and can only assume that the card processor was unable to complete your transaction due to the high volume of orders being submitted to our website.

Authorisations generally take about 10 days to be released, but may be longer, depending on the type of card used/bank. If you have any further concerns, please contact your bank and do get in touch if I can be of any further assistance.

Not a particularly satisfactory answer, especially as the second transaction bloody well did hit our account. Bunch of muppets. Moral of the story is do not order anything from Whitcoulls web site.

Reflecting on this fiasco a little more, I can't actually see much point in having a visa debit card, if this is the polava it creates. The only difference between a visa debit and the EFTPOS card we also have is that it can be used online. I am beginning to regret not taking out the offer of a pukka credit card, which would I suspect have avoided this aggravation. It's not like the debit card is free, either.

What Fools

Another day, another online ordering fiasco. The erroneous "electronic" transaction appeared this morning under the name "Whitcoulls". The bar stewards have indeed charge us twice. I did a bit of googling and managed to find a number for head office and rang up to find out what on earth they thought they were playing at. The poor woman on the other end seemed resigned to being shouted at, but I declined to do so, since all she was able to do was to put a request through to head office in Australia, who would allegedly contact me "within 24 hours".

Mightily annoyed by all of this, I decided to dispute the transaction with Westpac. Unfortunately, they were not much more use than Whatfools. Apparently the transaction is not final until about 7 days after it occurs and as such cannot be disputed until after it is. Westpac explained that what happens when you use your visa debit card is that a pending charge gets put on your account, reducing the balance and the balance available. Until the merchant finalises the transaction, it just sits there. This is allegedly to stop you going overdrawn, which I have to admit it does do, but at the expense of needing to keep a large balance in the account to cover Tom, Dick and Harry applying pending charges willy nilly. They did give me a fax number for their credit department, allegedly so that Whitcoulls (if they ever responded) would be able to sort this mess out.

A little later Di received an email which claimed to have despatched 19 of the 20 books ordered. The value of this despatch ties up with the extra charge we have incurred and I'm guessing that they've found one book missing and shipped a different order or something in order to get round it. What sort of crappy software they're using I can only wonder at.

Craig arrived home from his new job with yet another basket of doughnuts, buns and pizzas. If he carries on at this rate, we'll be as big as houses, or be paying a fortune to chuck it all away. My lack of gratitude resulted in some choice words being exchanged and accusations of grumpy old bar stewardness. But seriously, it's nice once in a while, but we are on pay-per-throw here (one has to purchase pre-approved sacks for rubbish disposal) and anything we don't eat will cost to chuck out.

With the end of the school term approaching, Di has rented a pool key from the primary school. This means that we can go and use the school's pool any time we like out of school hours. We decided to give it a whirl and took Vicky and kids along too. The pool can't be much more than 10 metres long, and is not very deep at all - I can sit on the bottom quite comfortably and enjoy a dry beard. Still, with the sun beaming down, it was a most pleasant way to wind down the late afternoon.

Mysterious Money

Following from Rhiannon bat ears overhearing our recent bicycle discussion, she'd twigged that there might be a chance that she could score some manga books for Christmas. She'd made a comprehensive list of the ones she wanted, but was whining mightily about the prices "in this crappy country". She does not possess her mother's ability to sniff out an Internet bargain. Diane found that Whitcoulls were offering 20% off, and promptly splashed out on the best part of $300 worth of books. This is where the rot set in. I'd noticed that there were two "electronic" transactions for similar but not identical amounts on our bank statement. As "electronic" is not particularly helpful with identification of the perpetrator of these charges, we could only guess that Whitcoulls had had a moment and charged twice. Looking at the amounts, one was exactly 95% of the other, which as we'd ordered 20 books, seemed to me like they had found one to be out of stock and therefore replaced our order of 20 with one of 19.

I rung up Westpac for more info - they couldn't tell who they were from either but promised that we'd know by the morning when the overnight transactions were updated. The Whitcoulls website has no contact number on it, only the branch numbers and the branches are unable to help with Internet orders. Grrr. The "contact us" form on their website was therefore used to the max, but we noted there was a "48 hour delay" due to "high email volumes". Hmm. Perhaps they're stuffing everybody else, too.

It being another nice sunny day (you are reading this in the UK, right?) we walked into the Mount to register Rhiannon with a new dentist. The school dental service apparently stops when you reach age 13 and move on from intermediate and you therefore have to register with a local dentist. This has to be one on the approved list. Having tried the one round the corner (who wanted $95 each to register me and Di otherwise they would not register the kids and generally looked down their noses at us) we settled on the imaginatively named "Tooth Fairy" dental practice, who seemed a lot more accommodating and were happy to take her on.

While in the Mount, I checked the backpacker's casual labour board. Noel Leeming (think Dixons) were after Christmas staff, but alas the advertisement was two weeks old and unsurprisingly all positions had been taken.

I spent the afternoon swatting up on the finer points of PHP security, most of which was stuff that was either self explanatory or I had an idea about already. Craig had been trying out at a bakery around the corner, and returned at about 3PM with a vast quantity of fresh cream doughnuts and cakes that were surplus to requirements. This being his trial day, we believed he had actually been given them. He has also been offered the job, which is much closer than Breakers, and is actually 30 hours a week unlike Breakers which seems to be infinitely variable. There were far too many doughnuts even for me, so Di wandered off to stuff a load down V&W's respective throats.

She eventually returned with news of Wayne's petrol lawn mower that would not start. This was an opportunity to fart about aimlessly and possibly even fix it. Alas, although I figured out that the "start" position resulted in no spark at the plug, something else wasn't quite right. I suspect it was fuel supply since the float chamber did not appear to be filling up. However as the mower wasn't actually Wayne's and belonged to the landlord, it didn't seem appropriate to take it completely to bits so we left it in its non-functional state and Wayne resolved to call the landlord.

Party On, Wayne

On Thursday we had a surveyor round to value the house. He seemed a little vague about why he was doing it, but pumping him for information revealed that it was a refinance operation, rather than a potential sale which ought to mean that we're OK to stay past the end of March.

Yet another sunny day on Friday, this extended Summer we're having is definitely most agreeable, especially when one considers the UK weather. Ho hum. An early morning phone call from a mightily relieved Wayne, singing all sorts of silly songs as a result of an email notifying permanent residence.

Friday evening V&W cooked us a celebratory dinner and we put away a few(!) beers and generally talked rubbish until an impossibly wee hour of the morning. Party on, Wayne.

Saturday I nursed the prerequisite sore head, although a fairly mild an not debilitating one. That said, I broke the toilet. It was Di's fault. She had bought some of those in-the-cistern toilet fragrance things. The only the snag was that we have a Roca DID Dual Flush Valve which alas defied any obvious means of removal, and my the time I'd figured that out, I'd pulled too hard on the top of the cistern and ripped the valve assembly off its flimsy plastic mountings. Oops. There seems no obvious way to remove the top of the valve from the cistern lid but clearly there must be, since it's obviously not fired in the kiln like the cistern top is. Maybe it was the headache, but I wasn't quite up to figuring out how it all hung together, even with a little Googling. I managed to force it all back together and it seemed to work so I left it at that.

Yesterday I went for a run, but only succeeded in a more severe repeat performance of last week's dodgy leg episode. Trying to run through it was probably not a good move but it's just so damned annoying. I guess I need some new shoes - they feel really flat these days and not at all supportive after 18 months. V&W had rashly agreed to look after the kids while Di and I attended the Tauranga Wine and Food Festival. This was easier to say than get too, because of the Santa Parade taking place in the Mount, which had resulted in some of the roads being closed and hence the buses where not able to get through. Consequently we walked back towards home and picked up the bus an hour later.

Sadly, when we got to the festival, it was rather a waste of time. I'm really glad we did not pay $50 for the tickets, it simply wasn't worth it. After collecting our free wine glasses and bottled water, we noticed that it seemed to be a corporate event, with lots of businesses spoiling their staff, judging by the number of large marquee style tents taking up the centre of the field. There were maybe 30 stalls dotted around the periphery, half a dozen or so of which were wine stalls. Some of these wanted you to pay $2 to just taste their wine! We declined but managed to score a couple of tastes of some of them - they were OK, but nothing special.

Di claimed she was hungry, and so we looked at getting some food from one of the other stalls. She eventually plumped for a venison burger. This is when the realisation that we'd not brought any cash with us - just EFTPOS - big mistake, all the tents weren't taking EFTPOS - quite obvious really. I happened to have a mere $20 to play with which scored he aforementioned veniburger and a couple of Macs lager and limes, which was as claimed, weirdly refreshing although a bit pricey considering the full but small glasses being used. After about 30 minutes, we decided to call it quits and wandered into town to check out what was going on.

Tauranga on a Sunday afternoon is not a lively place. Most shops are shut. We headed down to The Strand, where there are a number of bars and cafes. We stopped in at De Bier Haus, ordered another couple of lager and limes, and a few nibbles. As we had about 30 minutes to kill before the bus departed, we wandered round the shops, such as they were, before finally heading back to the Mount.

Vicky turned up with the kids about half an hour after we got home. They had apparently behaved themselves admirably and not blotted their copybooks, so we may yet be on for a repeat performance.

Cooking on Gas

On Wednesday we found ourselves in the Tauranga branch of the Warehouse, where we scored a 4 burner gas barbecue, gas bottle and cover for $249. The barbie itself was reduced from $299, and the gas bottle and cover were free. As these items are the best part of $100 on their own, this seemed a rather good deal. We were offered an extended warranty for a measly $25, which also seemed like cracking value, so we had one of those, too.

We also stopped off at the Music Planet on Maunganui road, and bought a pink ukulele for Freya's birthday next month. She seems dead keen on joining the school's ukulele orchestra and we thought it would be a good idea to get ahead of the game and make sure that she had one ready for the start of the school year in February. Not wanting it found before its time, we popped in on V&W, to stash it at their place.

The leather repair kit has turned up, partially restoring my faith in mail order services in New Zealand. I have yet to try it out but will report back in due course. Also, the managing director of the freeview box manufacturers emailed to say how disappointed he was with the courier, and promised to refund the carriage charge.

The rest of the afternoon was spent visiting various bicycle shops, since Di tells me everyone needs a bicycle for Christmas. We've looking at over $1,000 which ever way we slice it. The impressive thing is that there are so many shops with some quite extensive ranges to choose from.

Thursday we visited yet another cycle shop, this time in Bayfair. They were actually selling Raleigh bikes. Did we buy British? No, although they offered us a good deal price wise, they were at pains to point out that the "mountain style" bikes could not be used off road (and were therefore less durable than you might imagine) and were only prepared to offer 6 weeks servicing. We eventually decided to place our business with Bike & Pack, who were prepared to haggle and whose range of bikes looked to be of higher quality and could be used off road and should therefore be Imogen proof. They agreed to store the bikes until Christmas eve, but we relieved them of the helmets and locks and deposited these at our favourite neighbour's house. V&W were fretting about their impending delivery of stuff from the UK, and the lack of anything looking like a visa allowing them to collect without leaving large deposits and paying GST. We suggested they hassle the immigration department to see if anything shakes out.

Rhiannon wasn't feeling too well today, so had the day off. She had decided she wanted books rather than a bicycle and unfortunately overheard us discussing prices. She now thinks she's getting $400 for Christmas. She may be disappointed.

Thursday evening we went to see Phoebe in her school production. It had a Christmas theme, but there was a total absence of god or religion, which we found very refreshing. OK, I know that Christmas is a religious festival, but the vast majority don't treat it as such. The kids sometimes get a bit uppity when they have to sing "god" songs, since we've always told them religion is a load of old nonsense, but that they should still respect other people's beliefs even if they are misguided. Phoebe was fabulous in her role as a "stocking", and despite falling off her perch at one point (a classic "you've been framed" moment) seemed to enjoy herself and the production was fantastic, and loud!

Absolute Power - Batteries Not Included

Over a week ago I ordered a replacement remote control for the freeview box, since my size 11s made rather a mess of the original, and my subsequent partially successful attempts to repair it had only made matters worse. It hadn't turned up on Monday morning, so I rang the company to chase. They rang their courier, who claimed that they had tried to deliver but found no one in and had left a card. If they did, I didn't find it. Following a prompt from the freeview people, the courier called me back and arranged to deliver on Monday PM. Monday PM came and went and there was no sign of the remote. I attempted to chase it directly, but not having the consignment number, it was a case of computersezno.

I had also failed to receive the leather repair kit. A chasing email elicited a grovelling apology since it had not been shipped yet. Given that it's coming from the south island, and what with the general poor performance of courier services, I'm not holding my breath that it'll show up any time soon.

Phoebe hadn't been feeling too well, so we kept her off school. Strangely, she seemed to perk up soon after the others went to school, and the telly went back on.

This morning I chased up the remote again. The freeview mob were rather concerned to find that the courier had been so slack. I asked for the consignment number, since my research had lead me to discover that the local depot was a stone's throw from our spot. The cheeky chappy who answered the phone confirmed that they did have it, and said he'd deliver this PM. I thanked him for his kind offer, but declined to take him up on it as I didn't trust them to deliver on it and I had no intention of hanging around all day on the off chance they might get off their arses and drive past. The response was a cheerful offer for me to come down and pick up the remote and slag off their service all in one go. An offer to good to miss. I duly went and picked up, but I chose to vent my spleen on the freeview mob, hoping they'd throw some punches with much bigger clout. Oh yes, and the parcel had a big orange sticker saying "NOT AT HOME NO CAR LEFT". Like, how was I supposed to chase it? Hmm?

The remote works just fine, but sadly the $47 didn't extend to new batteries so these were salvaged from the dead remote. Normal levels of power are now restored, and I can now annoy everyone again my channel hopping incessantly. The power is absolute!

Di had gone to Bayfair with Vicky, and surprise surprise, they had indulged in a little retail therapy. I got a call to come and pick them up. I managed to get them both home just in time for a quick cuppa before picking up the kids. Phoebe was back at school today, and was due to take part in her school production this evening. The school has down rather well here - 5 performances, 200 tickets at $5 each - a cool $5000. And you can buy the DVD for $20. Methinks I might take my own camera with me, not being particularly inclined to swell the school's bulging coffers any more.

Wayne apparently wants me to aid and abet his collection of his stuff from the UK. They have hit rather a problem. It seems that as they don't yet have permanent residence, and actually no passports as they are with the immigration department, getting their stuff from customs may prove an issue, or at least expensive. Allegedly the passport issue can be overcome by a deposit of $1000....which takes two months to return. However, the biggest problem is that as non residents, they are liable for GST on their stuff. The alternative is to leave it in storage, which will of course attract a charge. The moral of this tail of woe is - don't ship your stuff until you have a residence visa.

On a more positive note, today is officially the first day of summer. Seems unreal - December being Summer, but there you have it.

Another Day Another Barbecue

Saturday was a bit of a grey day with attempts at rain, although we fared much better than other parts of the locality which suffered torrential downpours. The Mount itself has something of a micro climate, and is generally brighter and sunnier than the surrounding areas. It must be something to do with the large volcano dominating the sky line.

Phoebe demanded pancakes, but we were low on supplies so I was duly despatched to New World to rectify this. On the way, I dropped in on Wayne, who was suffering for the lack of a bottle opener, a situation that I simply could not allow to persist and so lend home one. It's not entirely a philanthropic gesture, I can't get the beer open with his keyring-bottle opener. He was unsure how to plumb in the washing machine, so I arrange to pop back later on and have a look once we were all pancaked up.

The washing machine was a relatively simple affair to resolve. Although I'd gone round to our new neighbours alone, we were invaded by the rest of the tribe and an extra one. Di had picked up Rhiannon's friend from Papamoa and her little sister had tagged along for the ride.

Wayne was after a barbecue, having been slightly disappointed by having to cook in the kitchen. A predictably intense discussion about the merits of gas versus charcoal barbecues ensued which I avoided participating in and contented myself with earwigging from a distance. We ended up at Bunnings Warehouse who were having a sale and a charcoal effort was purchased. The weather wasn't conducive to barbecuing, so it was postponed to tomorrow.

Sunday was a little dull at first but brightened up later on. I started with a run, but this proved rather unsuccessful as something started hurting and it therefore turned into a walk. Vicky was concerned that it was just too hot to sit outside, and thus we ended up whisking her up to Briscoes and scored her a large black parasol. In fact we grabbed one too. We were all rather amused by the shelf labels in the Plastic Box store - one labelled "More Crap", another labelled "Even More Really Useful Crap"! Some of their crap was actually not that crappy, but at least they weren't actually talking things up.

Wayne had the barbie going, but unfortunately was a little too eager to get things going and managed to incinerate several burgers before the coals had stopped flaming. Subsequent attempts were much more successful, doubtless due to the quaffing of an appropriate amount of Stein Lager, and the large parasol temporarily embedded on a flower pot masquerading as a base. Suitably liquified, we wandered home in time to watch Doctor Who on the telly.

Herding Cats

For the last three days I've been helping out at Mount Primary's "Amazing Race 2009". This consists of about a dozen "tasks" which involve wandering around the town, and occasionally around the mount performing various activities. Having been allegedly "in charge" of 5 kids including Imogen, I can honestly say the experience is much like trying to herd cats. We were under strict instructions to make sure that the group stayed together which proved to be more challenging that you can possibly imagine. Imogen was great, but then she knew she'd have copped a lot of flak if she'd mucked about. The other two girls were for the most part OK, but the two boys....give me strength. One boy was constantly miles behind and kept disappearing to the loo without telling anyone, although he claimed he did. The other was forever climbing up or down something, or leaping off/on/over whatever happened to be biggest and nearest. It was a major achievement getting round the mount in one piece without loosing anybody although we were massively late back which caused a little bit of a flap. One of the boys managed to spray sunblock in his eyes with painful consequences, resulting in me lying him on the ground and pouring the contents of his water bottle over his face while trying to prise his eyes open to wash out the sun block. This of course resulted in everybody else laughing which only made things worse.

Thursday morning, and the Mirth Mobile emits an ominous click when the key is turned and refuses to start. I find the open rear door that has left the interior light on all night that has flattened the battery. This is doubly annoying as today we need to take sleeping bags and other camping paraphernalia with us. Di went on ahead. laden like a pack mule, and I rummage through the boxes looking for the battery charger, all the while expecting the battery to be a write off as they sometimes are when completely flattened.

As Thursday was the day where everyone slept in tents, the first task was to pitch them. Alas, the wind on Thursday approached 35 knots, which made for a challenging experience, to say the least. Several tents were flattened by the time the day's activities were completed, and more tents had to be found rather quickly. An impromptu parents' meeting was called to decide the fate of the camp. The consensus was to give it a go and hope that the wind died down a bit, which it did. The evening rounded off with 90 or so kids descending on the hot pools before turning in for the night. I managed to get a reasonable night's kip in the parents' tent, and was in fact the last one up in the morning, everyone else having made it out before 7 AM.

Day three saw three more tasks put to bed and everyone return in one piece, and prizes awarded before heading back to school. Alas our team were not in the top five, even with my generous but honest marking scheme but on reflection I'm rather glad that Imogen did not win a giant inflatable jandal. While out and about on the last task, I receive a call from an agency with a possible position at Rotorua Council. They have yet to decide if they have a position, but my name is going forward if they do. The commute is allegedly 40 minutes on a bad day, so I might have an excuse to get a bike again. Such a cunning plan is doomed to failure.

Returning home, I receive an email from another agency, rejecting my services. This is the one where there are two candidates, the other one having worked there before.

I discover that when Wayne has borrowed the newly recharged Mirth Mobile to move house, a bottle of vinegar has discharged its contents all over the boot. Vicky has therefore stolen the carpet and has scrubbed it and I find it lurking in the back garden of their new house, a stone's throw from us. Wayne runs out of beer so we wander up to New World to replenish supplies, and this turns into an impromptu barbecue expedition, albeit without an actual barbecue to cook it all on. Sadly I have forgotten my wallet and Wayne has to spring for the lot. He sportingly decides to treat this as a house warming party and we are only too happy to accept. Vicky draws the short straw and cooks it all on the stove. We wobble home around 9:30 a little worse for wear and fall asleep, thrilled by the exploits of the local talent on Australian Idol.

Faking It

This morning I had an email from the temp agency asking me to complete some on line tests. This consisted of a typing/data entry test and tests on Excel, Access and Outlook. I've never used lookout, which I count as a blessing but I still managed to score 57% in the test. This apparently indicated "training is required". Access is also something I've not really used much, and when I did it was access 2000, not 2007. Still, 66% was achieved, demonstrating "broad knowledge" with some areas indicating "expert knowledge". Not surprisingly, Excel was my highest score at 78% which as I've been using openoffice almost exclusively for as long as I care to remember was most pleasing. And the data entry test was 100%.

About 5 minutes after I'd finished all the tests, I got a call from the agency, asking a few more questions and generally asking me to sell myself. They told me a little more about the role, which is alas a very temporary 60 hour position, which pays a fairly poor $25 per hour. Still, If I get it and I am apparently one of two candidates, $1500 would come in handy. The down side is that the other candidate has worked for the same place before, which may well slam the door before it's even opened.

Di had been to visit Vicky, who was having some trouble transferring funds from the UK. As we seem to be well set up with HiFX, Di suggested we do the exchange for them. As it was a really sweltering day, a drive in the Mirth Mobile with the aircon on 11 seemed like a wheeze, so I wandered round to exchange bank details.

Di has also rented a pool key for the primary school's swimming pool. $40 for the summer, with a $5 refund when the key is returned. It's quite a small pool and not very deep, but the kids seemed to enjoy splashing about in it. With the 6 week summer break coming up in 2 1/2 weeks, it seemed a reasonable thing to have on tap.

Uh, Wot?

Shhh. My head hurts this morning. I guess I overdid it a little last night. Although we didn't stay until the 1AM closing time, we packed it in about midnight which was about right, or so I thought. The rest of the day was a bit of a waste really - I didn't do very much other than fill in an application form for a temp agency. They were also threatening to ask me to take an online test to prove my claimed wizardry with Micro$0ft products.

It was a really pleasant day, and about 5PM after a bit of a snooze I was feeling a little more human (OK, less like a bear with a sore head) and we all headed down for a half hour on the beach. It was actually quite windy on the beach, but the sun was really warm and the two elements fought it out with each other while we were alternately chilled and warmed. The kids dug a big hole and Phoebe leapt in and out. The wind picked up so we wandered off home.

Don't Try This At Home

We took Rhiannon over to visit her new friend over in Papamoa this morning. It was interesting looking at their house, since we were offered it while still in the UK but declined since we weren't comfortable with taking a 12 month let on a house we'd not seen. Just as well, since the acoustics in the kitchen/dining area would have done my head in - very echoy.

I was beginning to feel a bit like a Pom on holiday since the majority of blokes seem to be wearing some sort of shorts and here I am in Levi's 501. Thus a trip to Farmers was in order where I bought a couple of knee length khaki efforts for $120.

While we were in that neck of the woods, I popped into Dick Smith's and bought a soldering iron, figuring I'd have a crack at fixing the remote control - nothing ventured, nothing gained and all that. This turned out to be rather a mistake. I managed to resolder across the broken tracks, and on first try, the remote worked. Huzzah I thought. Sadly, I soon discovered that I could turn the volume down, but not up and some of the channel buttons wouldn't work. I borrowed Di's glasses which while not exactly reading glasses did help me see what I was doing. There can be no denying that age related presbyopia is rather conspicuous these days. Di's favourite trick is apparently to double glaze herself by wearing contact lenses and glasses in order to read the paper. Alas despite the improvement in vision, I still couldn't get the other remote functions to work. It was only after the sound was turned down to almost nothing that I discovered that the freeview box remembered its setting when switched off! I had in fact made things much worse by trying to fix the damn thing. The TV now has to be turned up to full blast in order to hear the freeview box, but there's a slight danger of acoustic feed back if one inadvertently switches over to the DVD

Rhiannon's friend's parents brought her back and everything seemed to have gone well. Various invitations for sleep overs were exchanged, but apparently my warning about Rhiannon's evil trouser coughing were not well received. I spent the rest of the evening getting the evil eye.

The highlight of the evening however was a night out on the pop with Wayne. We started off in Latitude 37 before moving on to Mellick, an Irish bar where I was able to consume copious amounts of the black stuff, which after the first few mouthfuls which were a little odd (must have been the Tui) tasted just fine. It wasn't a particularly busy night, but we ended up sharing some conversations with a few characters, and we ended up outnumbering the natives with out recently acquired Canadian, Greek and Ukrainian drinking buddies. We stumbled back to Wayne's place and tried to get the radio 5 live commentary working. Alas my best efforts to find an open UK proxy failed and I left him to it.

Damn And Blast

This morning did not start at all well. Freya was struggling to get the television working and in my efforts to help her, I tripped over the toy box and trod on the remote control for the freeview box. Sadly the application of in excess of 100 kilos to a flimsy printed circuit board did it no good at all and it refused to work from that point onwards. I therefore had to order a new one online, at the cost of $47. Opening it up (I might as well, it's dead) revealed numerous hair line cracks in the circuit board. And to add insult to injury, Diane pointed out the page sized Repco advert giving 25% off everything. Presumably this would have included the brake pads I bought yesterday.

Vicky and Wayne are due to move into their new house this week, but were still shopping around for various household items. Vicky was under the misapprehension that the Warehouse was in Bayfair. This isn't the case, Tauranga or Papamoa are the nearest branches so I gallantly offered to take Vicky out shopping. Wayne was otherwise indisposed playing cricket.

After the shopping trip we all went down to the marina to watch a fishing competition, mainly on account of the free sausage sizzle. Alas, by the time we arrived the sausages were gone so we were reduced to mucking around on the foreshore. Freya managed to find a couple of live 5 point starfish which we avoided bringing back with us.

After all this healthy outdoor fun we went back to ours and ordered pizza. Wayne was still incommunicado and as it was an away match, we scoffed all the pizza. He turned up a bit later looking rather hungry and downbeat on account of an 8 wicket defeat. We stuffed some cheese on toast down his throat and washed it down with a beer and this perked him up no end.

For some obscure reason, we ended up playing poker, which is something I've never done before. It seems I've a lot to learn, but I did manage to bluff Di and indeed Wayne a couple of times and managed a reasonable showing. Craig interrupted the proceedings by requesting a lift home and I took the opportunity to deposit VW back at their place before driving Craig out to a party near Bayfair. It was necessary to wind the windows all the way down since Craig has no idea of how to apply just a little aftershave. On the other hand, it saves on fly spray and insect repellent.

Sports Day Revisited

After Wednesday's wash out, the school rearranged sports day for Thursday and Friday. Diane and I spent the morning watching Imogen compete in the long jump, high jump, shot put, discus and sprint. Imogen was third in the high jump, and claims to have been third in the sprint, although she appears to have been robbed by the referee. It was rather refreshing to see a junior school doing proper sporting events. OK, the shot put was a plastic ball and the discus a rubber ring, but the idea was the same. Also, the whole thing was competitive, with the winners and runners up getting a certificate. All the kids took a turn, and some were much better than others but it's all a contrast to the UK, where the events are a bit limp and the emphasis is on everyone having a go and not on winning. Is it any wonder the UK sucks at sport? Later on we watched Freya doing some of the same events. She was 2nd in 100 metres, 3rd in 50 metres and 3rd in shot put.

This morning, we went back to school to watch Phoebe do her events, and Freya complete the rest of hers. Phoebe was amazing. She was 2nd in the sprint event, 3rd in the cross country (a lap of the school's exterior perimeter, barefoot) and was 4th in the shot put. She finished in the top third of all but two of the events, and scored 16 out of 18 points. Quite an all round athlete.

The whole atmosphere in the school is just great. It's also totally open - you can just walk in off the street and watch the kids do their thing. No one bothers you. There's no paranoia like you get in the UK, where schools are fenced off and you have to be numbered and indexed by the office before you get anywhere near your own children. The openness is perhaps a little worrying, but there does not seem to be any trouble with it. Let's hope the UK style everyone-is-a-pervert mentality does not creep in any time soon.

Another case in point is the play area in the school. Back in the UK, the infant school had to remove its climbing apparatus because it was a matter of an inch or two taller than the "new" "improved" "safety" regulations. Not doing so would have meant the school's liability insurance would be invalid and any child hurting themselves could sue for millions. By contrast, the climbing equipment here is the best part of seven feet tall. Kids are allowed to jump off and use it as they see fit. There is a danger one or two of them might someday come to grief, but no one seems to worry too much. The ACC covers any liability which has the knock on effect of enabling the kids to find their own limits, without having artificial "safe" limits being imposed upon them. As I joked with one of the mothers - if the kid is dumb enough to fall off, it only serves to cleanse the gene pool.

The Mirth Mobile has been developing an annoying squealing noise when braking, and also when being driven on the flat. It's been doing it since I got it. I tried not to worry too much about it figuring it was just the brake pads that needed doing. With all the running back and forward to school over the last couple of days with the windows down, the squealing has become much more noticeable. As I have no excuse for not taking a look now that all my tools (including trolley jack, axle stands and a selection of hammers) have arrived, I jacked it up and took a look. The front pads have loads of wear left, but the rears. Oh my. The weren't quite down to the metal, but there wasn't a lot left.

The reason for the horrible squealing however, was due to a strange metal protuberance, which was scraping on the face of the disk. I'm not entirely sure what this thing is or why it's there, but my guess is that it's a wear indicator and it's supposed to be connected to a wire or something and turn on a light when the pads wear down. The Mirth Mobile has no such wire, so it's completely useless.

The search for new pads was now a priority. Craig mentioned that he'd seen a car parts place on Hewletts road. This turned out to be a branch of SuperCheap Auto. Sadly, they had a computer sez no moment and couldn't seem to find a 1999 Honda Accord 3.0 V6 VTiL in their list of cars, so they directed me down to Repco who were much more accommodating and relieved me of $49.99 in exchange for a set of pads. Now the fun began. Getting the calliper off was a bit awkward, since the pads seemed to have seized on to the disk. Judicious application of a hammer and a bit of leverage saw it pop off. Now for the really fun part, pushing the piston back into the calliper. No amount of pushing, shoving, levering, hammering and swearing seemed to move the damn thing. I took my life in my hands and undid the bleed nipple hoping that this would allow the piston to move. No joy. At least I had escaped without tearing my nipple off. Always best avoided, that one. At this point a bit of googling was called for. It turns out that the Honda Accord has a feature whereby rotating the piston clockwise by means of the very large cross in the back of it screws it back into the calliper. D'oh! Easy peasy once you know. Copious amounts of copper grease was applied and the whole lot shoved back together. The other side should have taken about 10 minutes - sadly one of the calliper mounting bolts rounded off as I tried to undo it. Grrr. I finally managed to get it off with an extra deep 6 sided socket, which I was reluctant to use since it was only a 1/4" drive, and I had to adapt it up to 1/2" to get the leverage on it. Fortunately it didn't snap and I got the bolt out. Pads changed, I put the bolt back in. Naughty, but it tightened up OK and I won't have the Mirth Mobile long enough to merit another set of pads.

Why Does it Rain on Sports Day?

I coughed and snorted my way to school this morning with Rhiannon, who became increasingly disgusted with my bronchial discharges. Well at least I tried. It started to rain the moment we set off so we went back and fired up the Mirth Mobile. A return trip was made to deposit the rest of the brood at their school. We were supposed to be going back to school at 10AM for sports day, but a quick phone call a little later revealed that it had been cancelled because of the weather.

We had taken another look at the requirements for getting hold of a community services card. Apparently we are able to use birth certificates as documents "over 2 years old". We'd also figured out that there's a local Work and Income office in Bayfair, where we would be able to get our documents certified. Unlike the UK, where you have to make an appointment to see anybody, over here, you just walk in, or at least it seemed like that. The office was a rather large open plan affair, and there was no evidence of any protective barriers or closeted interview rooms you get in the UK. I guess people getting upset with government bureaucracy is not an issue over here. The girl on the reception desk made copies of our documents and offered to send them off for us. Result. I had been wondering exactly what the card was worth, and a little googling around indicated that it lowers prescription charges from $15 to $3, so it's good that we carried on with it. Rhiannon has finally admitted that she is having difficulty seeing properly (no surprise, we're both blind as bats) and hopefully the card will lead to cheaper eye tests and glasses.

I ordered a leather repair kit over the Internet. With any luck it should make the scratches imparted by Imogen's trousers all but invisible. I do hope so otherwise that's $75 wasted. Watch this space.

My face has begun to peel quite spectacularly. I was already going quite brown before over exposing myself and going read. I now have what appears to be a dirty tide mark of brown surrounding areas of new pink skin. I have no intention of sharing any pictures, so you'll have to use your imagination if you want to feel thoroughly nauseated.

Imogen went to the doctor and had a tetanus injection. Apparently it's standard practice over here for a tetanus shot around age 10/11. It's indicative of the outdoor lifestyle I suppose. Rhiannon had the first of her HPV vaccinations yesterday. Both seem to have escaped any major side effects with only Imogen complaining of a sore arm. We deliberately ignored the vaccinations being offered in the UK, since the all knowing, all wise UK government opted for the less encompassing Cervarix vaccine, which only protects against two strains of HPV, whereas the rest of the world seems to have gone with Garadasil, which protects against four. Admittedly, these extra two are not believed to be cancer inducing, but they are responsible for cases of genital warts and it seems to us to be rather silly not to protect against this at the same time.

Westpac have very kindly pre-approved me for a credit card. This is rather worrying as I don't as yet have any source of income, but this seems no impediment. The credit limit is a mere $3,500 but they have offered to waive the annual $44 fee for the first year. I would also get to collect "hot points". Woo! Tempted as I am, I think I'll stick with the UK cards which I could use if something major crops up.

Kill! Kill! Kill!

Today we finally succumbed to the delights of the Mount Maunganui Hot Salt Pools. Vicky and Wayne are regular visitors and we can see why now. It's very relaxing and as residents we get in for $6 each instead of $10. We bought a ten entry ticket and will therefore be going back at some point. A Subway for lunch, and then I tried desperately not to fall asleep for the rest of the afternoon.

I wanted to throttle Imogen this evening. One of the rivets on her jeans managed to fall apart leaving a really sharp edge. Alas it has left scratches on not one but both of our new sofas. The jeans were immediately consigned to the bin much to the chagrin of Imogen, who seemed somewhat oblivious to the damage she'd done.

Monday Morning Blues

Rhiannon had another filling replaced on the grounds that it was leaking and decay setting in under the filling. This is exactly the same problem that Imogen had, and it does rather call into question the standard of treatment we got in the UK. As we had a private dentist I can only wonder about our teeth.

The girls resumed practising their instruments, to much protest. Some nonsense about not having a teacher or something. Rhiannon seems to have forgotten very little, however Imogen either does not or will not remember what the note directly above middle C is.

I seem to have developed an annoying snotty nose/cough which as it's heading towards summer is rather odd. Maybe it's just the usual November dose, which takes no notice of season. Whatever, it's a nuisance.

Sam's staff discount card turned up in the post this morning, so we wandered down to Woolworths to try it out. If saved us a whopping $4 on a spend of $140. I doubt we'll be making the trip toBayfair specially. On the way back to the car, I spotted a motor home in the car park. Nothing unremarkable about this you might think, which ordinarily I would agree. However this one was a rental from Wenderkreisen in Auckland, the firm we rented from when we visited last year. In fact, looking at the reg number, it was the same exact truck we had! I guess my flamboyant driving on highway 17 last year wasn't terminal

Boring

Another week has come and gone, none of it particularly noteworthy. I continue to swot up on the PHP language, but other than that not much has changed. I've heard nothing more about a job I expressed interest in, despite having a chat with the agency. I can only imagine that they've been inundated with applications, either that or they've done the usual Kiwi far-too-laid-back-for-your-own-good thing that they have going over here.

Last Saturday I managed to run into the Mount, round the Mount itself and back again, a total distance of just over 12K, which explains why it did me in.

The kids are really settling in at school. Phoebe no longer has to be peeled off you leg and will now run on ahead and doesn't want to be followed into class. I am no longer allowed to meet Rhiannon after school, because her friends might see and she'd be embarrassed. Rhiannon's week away has certainly helped her get to know her friends a lot more.

HMRC have managed to produce my long awaited tax refund, which was just like Di's was exactly what I had calculated. We had a letter about the community services card application. Apparently they want certified copies of passports witnessed by a Justice of the Peace, and also they want utility bills and whatnot, which apparently have to be two years old. Fat chance of that happening, so unless we can get them to acknowledge how stupid that rule is, then it's game over.

We have finally managed to get our deposit back from our last place in the UK. There was a lot of nonsense about wanting to see that we'd paid all the bills which as we'd either shredded or packed them in a container proved difficult. The agent hadn't mentioned this before we left, so it was rather annoying to have them requested after we'd left. The landlord however decided that the windows were dirty and claimed for window cleaning. We'd argued that we left them as we found them, and after some wrangling he agreed to pay half. However, the agent took £60 off, which was steep to say the least. We had the last laugh however, as the agent cocked up and paid us £1400 instead, followed by a grovelling request for a refund. We duly refunded all except the window cleaning portion which we wanted to see a receipt for. Our honesty was rewarded with the window cleaning being written off. It's interesting to note that you really have very little recourse if you do make a transfer to the wrong account, as you can see from this article. However, in NZ, well, with Westpac at least, you can cancel a payment made today up until 10PM. This does mean that there's no such thing as an instant transfer, but it does give you a way out if you drop a booboo.

Having failed miserably to get the wireless access point working, I have been a little more successful getting a wireless card to work in my desktop which is exclusively a Linux machine. Huzzah. The only downside is the rather poor network performance which is a function of being 5 rooms away and therefore dropping the signal to a very low rate. Trying to make it function as a wireless bridge so that other machines could access the Internet proved to be a bridge too far.

I received a CD which I ordered from the UK. It took about a week to arrive, which I didn't think was too shabby. However, and airmail letter posted by my brother back in the UK seems to have taken only a couple of days, which is just dandy.

Craig has been having rather a hard time at work. He's been taken out of the kitchen and stuck in the bar. Not that he's done anything wrong, they just wanted to give him more experience. Alas this comes with a cut in hours. To make things worse, they've appointed a new chef who's been barking orders like Gordon F. Ramsay and trying to lord it over everybody else which needless to say was not well received. However, it appears said new chef has gone one step too far and has been given his cards which has brought rather a smile to Craig's boat race.

Today (Sunday) we went to hang out with some more expats on the beach opposite the Tay Street Beach Cafe where there are some free gas barbecues. This spot is also outside the booze free zone, so we were able to blow the froth off a few while soaking up the sun. Alas I have soaked up a little too much and have a rather red face. We were expecting to be out for only an hour or two, as we've all gone rather brown, I never quite got round to the sun block, which was on reflection rather a mistake. The kids were all sunnied up though. Rhiannon got on famously with another girl, the daughter of one of the expats, who was going through a goth heavy metal phase but was seriously into manga, which was a common frame of reference. Imogen had invited a couple of her school friends, who rather formally introduced themselves to me and shook hands. The formalities disappeared later when they all insisted I swing them round by the ankles and generally rough house with them. I can see why Imogen gets on with them - they're all boys. Phoebe and Freya were kept busy running round after Wayne and Vicky's kids, as per usual, and we all tried to stop them eating the sand, mostly ineffectively.