Howzat? Ouch!

On Friday we found our house on the Internet. We were rather annoyed to find that the pictures taken for valuation purposes, which included all our worldly goods were displayed for all to see. Di spoke to a knowledgeable friend who was of the opinion that we were within our rights to insist they were removed. This we did via email. Half an hour later, the estate agent was at the door apologising and generally being smarmy. He wanted to set up a couple of sessions where prospective purchasers could come and view the house. I didn't agree to anything there and then, needing to consult with Di who was out shopping. He was also not very complimentary about our rental agent who he accused of jumping up and down without good reason. He was insistent that it was the landlord's responsibility to tell us of the sale and that even though the bank was now the landlord that they weren't responsible. No one seems to be able to give us a straight answer on this.

Di and Vicky went out to the Rain Bar to celebrate the birthday of a mutual friend. As Sam was at home, it seemed like a good plan to nip over to Wayne and demolish a few beers. Strangely, Wayne concurred that this was indeed a very good plan and thus we spent several hours staring at the stars, drinking beer and making erudite observations on the state of the universe. One of these lead to me accepting a request to umpire at a school cricket match on Saturday. I duly accepted.

Rather worryingly, Saturday arrived with a thick head. It was worrying because we honestly hadn't drunk that much. Maybe "NZ Pure" isn't as pure as it claims to be. The match was due to start at 12, and so I got a move on straight away and swatted up on the various umpiring signals that I would need to know. Some I already new, but others such as "run short" and "dead ball" where new to me. The match was a 40 over affair between Mount College and Tauranga boys. I took the first innings and made it through to lunch without making any bad decisions. However the innings was not without incident. Each team was allowed to field one adult. Tauranga boys had such an adult, who was a little bit on the competitive side which was rather painful when he decided to play an aggressive hook shot straight to square leg. The square leg umpire gathered the ball in his ample belly. It bloody stung, I can tell you.

After lunch I tried my hand at scoring. It was rather more frantic than umpiring, since there are zillions of boxes to fill in and not much room. I made rather a hash of it, which wasn't helped by 3 no balls and 5 wides in the first over. After the drinks break I resumed my umpiring duties, presiding over a spell of hostile bowling in which four wickets fell to one bowler, who apparently played for a county team. One of these wickets was a plumb LBW I had no issue giving out. Tauranga eventually won by about 30 runs, bowling out the Mount in 35 overs.

After all this fun, I headed home where Di had prepared a BBQ to which Wayne and Vicky were invited. We watched the sun go down while stuffing our faces.

Sunday we didn't do much. We kept off the beach because of the tsunami warning. I did manage to get another AJAX website thingy working though, which was nice. Rhiannon lurked in the mount and had to be retrieved a little later than she wanted, although it was quite late enough as it was a school night. A torrent of bile was flung my way all the way home. I love her so much.

One in the Eye - Not Cricket

I volunteered to help out at Freya's class camp on Wednesday and Thursday. Thus I presented myself at school at 2PM and was introduced to the class. We drove the kids to the teacher's house, where the camp was to be held, along Papamoa Beach Road. It was a whacking great place, 3 stories high, with a pool, a grassed area and various wooded bits and of course it was only a minute from the beach. One of the first activities was to get on to the beach and collect driftwood for use on the camp fire later on. I volunteered myself for fire duties, since this is most definitely a man job and as the only man there it boiled down to me. I managed to get the thing going with just one match which I found rather gratifying. The idea of the fire was to "cook" some bananas and chocolate in tin foil which the kids prepared. This all passed off OK and the results were mostly edible. However the fire needed to be built up again for a latter marshmallow toasting session, and that's when I managed to poke myself in the eye courtesy of a low hanging branch, dislodging a contact lens which morphed itself into a ball of molten snot as it headed inexorably towards the fire. Fortunately I had packed several spares, and just about managed to avoid swearing loudly in the vicinity of 30 sets of delicate impressionable ears.

I had been scheduled to sleep in the boys tent, but alas two of the boys got really emotional which necessitated the teacher taking my place. Thus I slept in a bed. However, a rather annoying insect, possibly a cricket had taken residence in the pile of firewood immediately outside the window and was most definitely audible. Thus I received various strange looks as I began dismantling the pile of wood (which wasn't actually much more than a barrow load) in search of the offending bug. I failed to find it, but it got the message and kept itself quiet allowing us all to get a decent night's kip. It was quite a late night for the kids, but this didn't stop them waking before 7.

The first order of the day was an enforced run along the beach and a dip in the sea. Sounds cold and horrible, but it was in fact really warm and everyone went under the water. Various activities took place until after lunch when camp was packed up and we took the kids back to school. As the school was chucking out at that time, I assumed Di was picking up Phoebe so I went home with Freya. Apparently this was a bad plan as the terse phone call I got as I turned up at home made me realise. As we arrived home, we noticed the rather large estate agent sign on the fence. Still nothing in writing, but it does appear that we're up for auction on March 25th.

Thursday evening was rather interesting. Two of the wooden slats in Phoebe's bed dropped out onto Freya and resisted attempts to reinstall, seemingly because they were too short for the gap. It turned out that one of the other was slightly misplaced and was therefore bowing the bed frame out allowing the slats to drop through. However the major fun was the remote diagnosis of not one but two misbehaving computers in the UK, with constant updates from the customers and help from others flying back and forth via email. One may or may not have been resolved, the other needs the lid taking off. I managed to get to bed a lot later than I'd planned.

Repeat Business

Monday came and went with no more news on the house. We're still not on the agent's web site so we are beginning to wonder what's going on. It appears that my recent attempts at web site design are to be rewarded with some repeat business. I therefore spent the morning resolving one or two little niggles that were reported and working on a description of the new work. I have also started to experiment with Ajax technology and the geek readers among you should know that my request queue is just peachy.

We saw Rhiannon off to camp. I did offer to take her to school in the car since she was loaded down with sleeping bags and the like, but I'm apparently too un-hip to be seen in public. Thus I was allowed to walk only as far as the school gate. Di took Vicky to Zumba at around tea time accompanied by our neighbour, and yours truly was left with three sets of kids. It was a nightmare, largely because our kids kept trying to "supervise" the little ones, who weren't up for this pseudo parenting and protested loudly. Somehow I managed to get back to the laptop to press OK on the order for books I had been in the process of placing with Amazon when they all arrived.

Tuesday involved more of the same from the web site point of view. I duly delivered a massive email and sat back to await the reply which I suspect will take a few days. I continued Ajaxing and went so far as to install the code on a live web site. Amazon UK have now despatched the books which will be here on the 3rd/4th March apparently. Di had sent in an application for a job as a property manager looking after holiday homes. Today she had a telephone interview. I've never heard so much spin in my life! She could work for T. Blair Esquire, no problem. It obviously did the trick as there's to be a face-to-face interview the Friday after next.

Phoebe had a bad day at school. Apparently one little boy was in trouble and had something confiscated by the teacher. Phoebe felt sorry for him and lifted it and gave it him back. Naturally this met with displeasure from the teacher and an appropriate amount of hot water for both of them.

I attempted a run this evening, this time using the Garmin. It does loose signal round the Mount, but this evening it was pretty good only loosing the plot occasionally. It turns out that the route into and round the mount is 12k, which probably explains why I'm wasted by the end of it.

Wednesday and Thursday should prove to be fun - I'm camping out with Freya's class. Apparently I am the token "Dad".

The Right Trousers

Last Friday we went to view a house in Papamoa. It had been described as having a structural issue and came complete with a report on the damage. Papamoa Beach Road is a rather long road, but we weren't quite prepared for the distance we'd have to travel to reach it. We had a look round. He place was rather scruffy and obviously in need of a face lift. The structural issue appeared to be a case of water ingress. The structure of the house is basically a timber frame with some sort of plasterboard on the outside of the property, covered with a moisture proof coating. Alas some cracks had developed which had been left unattended, thus the damage. I don't think there was an actual brick in the whole place. The walls were no more than six inches thick (wot, no cavity?) and it seemed rather unsubstantial and flimsy. It's rather odd pounding on the outside of the wall and having it seem like a stud wall you might find inside. The price of $475,000 was allegedly a cracking deal, especially as the plot could be subdivided, but the area looked a bit rough and it really is miles from anywhere, yet you've still got neighbours and you're on a main road. The decision to take this no further was not a lengthy or difficult one.

Later on that afternoon, a button fell off my shorts, which necessitated me sewing it back on since there was no chance of them staying aloft. They seem to have become rather loose lately, and once I'd finished the needlework, I wondered if my dinner jacket and trousers would fit any better. The last time I wore those trousers, they were unbearably tight. This was partly a result of me being a fat git, and partly the result of inept alteration following my last modestly successful attempt at loosing a few pounds. The dry cleaners we took them to managed to take two inches out, but did it with the adjustment bit on the tightest setting. Anyway, it turns out the aforementioned trews are now a little baggy and comfortably on the loose side of snug. This made up for the rather disappointing BMI of 28, as measured on Wayne's WII Fit. I'm not convinced it's accurate.

Di went out to her inaugural netball team meeting....at the Rain Bar. Hardly an appropriate venue for a sporting activity, unless you count Sky Sports as a sporting activity. She dragged Vicky along with her for backup and reappeared several hours later having talked a few of her potential team mates out of joining the league on day one. Probably a wise move. Allegedly Di is now chief coach.

Saturday we went to the beach. No seaweed but the surf was pants. Bizarrely Rhiannon came too and actually went in the water and attempted to catch some waves too. I wasn't sure whether to pinch myself or her to discover if indeed she had been cloned or otherwise bodysnatched. Upon reflection, her shouts of FAIL! every time I didn't quite manage to catch a wave should have given the game away but I was too busy hurling the same insult back at her which she seemed to enjoy. Is the troglodyte evolving, perhaps? No sign of sharks today, but at one point as I was wading back out of the sea I saw this rather odd pattern of black shapes about 6 feet from the shoreline. I thought it was some sort of optical effect where the sun catches the undulations in the compacted sand, but having stopped and stared for a few seconds, it was in fact a school of fish, each one about 10 inches long, swimming in no more than a foot of water. It did make me wonder if the bronzies had scared them that close to the shore.

Sunday. Beach again. This time sans Rhiannon, who disappeared down the mount but managed to appear outside the house just as we were returning from the beach. I hadn't bothered with the body board since I'd suspected the surf would be poor. Instead Phoebe and I dug a big hole and Phoebe insisted I move the big log (about 15 inches diameter and 8 feet long) about 30 yards along the beach so that it formed a bridge over the hole. Quite why she could not reuse the hole under the log which she had dug yesterday is a mystery. You need to be six to understand it I suppose.

It's All About Colour

The high light of Wednesday was the viewing of a couple of houses in Papamoa. The first one was in a cul-de-sac near Domain Road which is a main road leading onto Southern Highway 2. There was a considerable amount of road noise which was rather off putting. The house was owned by an elderly couple and alas the décor was very similar. The outside had a frankly bizarre purple edging which had to be seen to be believed. The killer however was the tiny bedrooms which coupled with large windows which seemed to start at floor level would make stuffing loads of bunk beds everywhere a little challenging.

The second house was more towards the centre of Papamoa. The size and layout was better, but not ideal. It was owned by a British couple from Birmingham who had lived there for six years. However, the grey/green outside continued everywhere on the inside. It really was a return to the Black Country. The whole thing would need a coat of white paint inside and out before you could live in it. Rhiannon might have liked living in a cave, but we didn't. Overall, neither of them were really what we were looking for.

This morning we had an inspection visit from the rental agent. Everything was in order but the discussion centred around the impending mortgagee sale. No one has talked to our rental agent and we have yet to have any official notice from anyone. The estate agent hasn't been in touch and it's all looking a bit amateur and a right cock up. Our rental agent cannot believe what's going on and was not at all happy with the estate agent and has given him rather a large amount of stick about the whole process. Tee Hee.

When I'm Cleaning Windows

I started Monday with some window cleaning. We hadn't touched them since we moved in and one or two were looking a little grubby. I'd done about half the house when Vicky and her kids descended on us. I can't quite recall why but it took a couple of hours until I was able to finish off, not that I particularly wanted to. I managed to do all the windows, inside and out. The major pain in the arm being the blinds. These seem to be dust magnets and necessitated the use of the Dyson to rectify.

We had an email from the rental agent, who surprise surprise had not heard a peep about the mortgagee sale. Di spent several hours looking at potential new homes on the net. It's certainly the case that you get a lot more over in Papamoa for your money. The fly in the ointment with that plan is the morning school run since we really don't want to move the kids, and Rhiannon wouldn't move anyway since Mount college is still the closest school. Moving the littluns would not be a good idea as they have only just settled in. We were advised by a neighbour that if we do move, not to tell the school since they can apparently kick the kids out if they've not been there that long. Such is the problem with strict zoning/catchment areas and a popular and decent school. We would I suspect use Vicky's mailbox - at least until the year was up.

In the evening, Di dragged one of the neighbours off to Zumba. Vicky was planing to go, but came over all faint. Both made it back in one piece just in time for me to take my turn to sweat with a run into the mount and back. I took a moment to sit and survey the beach, and was acosted by a well meaning woman, concerned that I had overdone it. The truth was that I'd pushed it rather hard on the out lap. I explained that back home it was far too cold and miserable to do this sort of thing and that I was merely taking a moment to a) breathe and b) enjoy not being in England in Februrary. She found this quite amusing and wished me well.

Today we were Vickyed again. She'd had a call from the Warehouse about the vacuum and they'd agreed she could take it back. They were at one point apparently insinuating that it had been tampered with in order to make it faulty so that a refund could be claimed and wanted it taken off to a technician. Harumph! In the end they did the decent thing and exchanged it. I agreed to babysit again and this time got away without changing nappies. The only casualty being a cup of juice being dropped and its lid falling off.

Later we went into Tauranga to pay the water bill, and had a chat with the agent about all the shenanigans. Someone somewhere isn't playing by the rules, since we're supposed to be notified in writing about a sale or change of ownership. This has not happened and the only way we know is that the agent charged with the sale has let us know. Apparently under the tenancy act when ownership changes, fixed term tenancies automatically become periodic, at least from the landlord's perspective. I'm not convinced that the tenant has the same rights. Either way, someone needs to be writing to us. Looking through the legislation it is the case that we are supposed to allow potential buyers to view, but we don't have to do this at a drop of a hat. We can be a little awkward, which we probably will be and the chances of an "open home" session are about zero.

While in town, I dropped into the AA and paid for the registration on the Mirth Mobile. You can indeed pay for any number of months you like, as long as it's at least three. I decided not to be awkward (yeah, really!) and plumped for six.

Di continued to surf for houses, and made a couple of appointments. I was highly suspicious of the house that came with a structural report, expecting it to have no roof, or some other such problem and sure enough, it has an issue. It may be worth a look at the right price, since there are lots of people over here who simply do not want to do any work at all. A possible career in property development beckoned, for about thirty seconds.

We were supposed to attend the third and final meet the teachers barbecue, this time at Mount College. However, the drizzling rain put paid to that since Rhiannon returned from school with a message that the whole thing was cancelled.

That's Our Lot

Freya went to a birthday sleep over on Friday after school. Her friend's mum had around 20 girls stay the night. She must be mental. We were a little worried that Freya would have a rough time as she'd not been away from home over night before, but she was fine. Apparently she woke up at about 5AM missing mummy, but after a quick chat she was OK. Imogen went to a volleyball session organised by school at the Mount Activity Centre and cunningly managed to avoid piano practice as a result.

Rhiannon spent Saturday lurking in the Mount with her mate, whose parents run a pizza takeaway. She'd skipped off rather early and we weren't expecting her until late. Apparently the temperature in the shop was too much to handle and I got a text to come and pick her up at 6.

We spent Saturday afternoon on the beach. Not much sign of the weed that made things rather slippery last time out, but the waves weren't much use either. After we'd got in and finally got Phoebe out of the shower (I'm sure she's half mermaid), Imogen was spotted doing her piano practice without having been reminded. Hurrah!

Sunday involved rock pooling in the pools round the mount. A fair collection of snails, hermit crabs, shrimps, starfish and crabs were collected. Phoebe had brought her back pack, but we couldn't work out why. It turns out that it contained not just her bathing costume and goggles, but several tupperware jugs and about ten packets of crisps. The jugs were apparently for catching fish. The pièce de résistance, however, was the cold sore cream. She'd brought it just in case anyone had one on the beach!

Not long after we'd got back, we had a call from an estate agent. He told us that he'd been appointed to sell the house we're living in at auction. Arse. Apparently the auction will be on the 18th March, which is rather poor timing. We are considering buying the place as it will make a good rental property, but the valuation he's quoting is way more than it's worth when you compare other properties in the locale which give you more for less. Our contract locks us in until the end of March and we're on a six seek notice period. We are therefore expecting to get our marching orders any day now. Who exactly we get these from remains a mystery. One would assume that it would come from the rental agent, but as nobody except us is talking to them it seems unlikely. The landlord is presumably no longer in the frame, since the bank (which one, there are two mortgages) must have ownership now otherwise how could they sell what's not actually theirs? The bank of course has no idea who we are and probably does not know who the rental agent is. It's a right old mess. The timing of the auction means that if we do decide to bid and we're unsuccessful, we will have less than two weeks to find somewhere else assuming we do get notice to quit. If on the other hand we do find somewhere else, then we might end up renting a place and also end up buying this one. It should be an interesting week.

Rhiannon went out in the evening to watch Avatar at the cinema with her mates from school, and then they went to a restaurant afterwards. She didn't have enough money, so she did her best to prise some out of my pocket. It came at a price, namely 1/2 hour on the guitar with me providing some "tuition". This basically consisted of me being shouted at when trying to explain something and lots of tears and complaints about what a horrible father I am. She is clearly back to her old self. Progress, of a sort, was made and $20 made its appearance in her back pocket. However, when she returned, having spent only $10, the other $10 returned whence it came accompanied by complaints of theft, fraud and deceit. Naturally she'd forgotten that she was supposed to be using pocket money for this little sojourn and the extra was a treat.

Craig still has a monster monk on and is still not talking to anybody. He keeps looking at accommodation on the Internet, but apparently it's all too expensive or too grotty to contemplate which only adds to his gregarious demeanour.

Hello, Good Evening & Welcome

Tuesday was not particularly remarkable. We went to the primary school for a meet and greet session with the Principal and the class teachers. A good portion of the meeting was taken up with the new "National" standards that the John (Don) Key government is hell bent on enforcing on everyone. There's a lot of hoo-haa in the press and the unions are up in arms. The nub of the problem is that it's eventually going to lead to the same crass league tables that afflict the UK. These result in some schools being marked as "failing" when in fact they had imparted a great deal more learning on their pupils than the $16,000 a year private schools, which start off with a much better educated intake. There's also the age-old issue of what level X actually looks like since this is largely a matter of opinion which naturally varies dependent on the marker and also the text. Of course, these matters are being glossed over. The school's take is that standards are a good thing, but the league table nonsense isn't.

We received a letter addressed to some one other than us. We've had a few of these, but this was a new name we'd not encountered before. It was hand addressed, which rang alarm bells. Upon opening it, it turned out to be a water bill addressed to our landlord, which had been returned as undelivered since the address in Australia was no longer valid. Rather than stick it back in the post again, we contacted the rental agent who said to pass it on to them. Apparently we're only liable for the water supply and not the various other penalty charges that were included.

On Wednesday I investigated the services of a property website called Terranet. For a modest fee, they provide all sorts of interesting facts and figures about property, including the details of the mortgagees having an interest in the property. It seems that our landlord has two mortgages on the house. This muddies the waters somewhat, as we were intending to approach the lender and apprise them of our inclination to purchase, just in case they might me interested in avoiding all that auction nonsense - assuming we can agree the right price.

Still suffering from boredom, I spent several hours bashing the guitar strings, and as a result Villa-Lobos, initially spinning in his grave at close to light speed now revolves at a similar rate to the washing machine, but with a noticeably better tune.

Di wanted to take the water bill to the agent in person, since the bill was due for payment straight away and there was a vague threat about a restricted supply. Thus we drove into Tauranga and Di went in and had a chat, mentioning the dual mortgage arrangement we had uncovered. The agent was less than impressed and recommended that even if we don't get asked to leave, we should get out as soon as possible. She's looking for another house for us, and I think as we're model tenants, we'll get first refusal.

I also had a notice that the Mirth Mobile's registration is due for renewal. $247.86 inc GST will see the thing legal for the next 12 months. There's also an option for 6 and even 3 months. In fact it looks like you can specify anything over 3 months. I won't know until I try and as it's not due until 3rd March, I shall not be rushing to do it too soon. There's no significant penalty to taking a shorter term, other than a $7.56 administration charge for renewing. Beats the UK.

Managed to run round the Mount, but the home stretch was rather stuttering.

Today Di and Vicky descended on the Warehouse to return a dead hoover and two of our patio chairs. Just as the girls were about to slip out of the door, an agency rang with details of a PHP job and I had to fill in some of the blanks on the CV. Hopefully something will come of it. The girls scooted and I was left with Vicky's kids, who behaved really well. One filled her nappy not long after the girls had departed and I was reminded how unpleasant children can be. We managed to get through two whole DVDs before they returned. Women and shops. A combination to be avoided at all costs.

This evening there was another meet the teacher event, this time at the Intermediate. Imogen's teacher is great, and tells us that Imogen's writing is way beyond everyone else in the class. Imogen was visibly proud of this and left feeling rather important. Good on her. The meeting was preceded by a sausage sizzle organised by the PTA, and we came away $10 lighter than we went largely due to a massive disagreement on which drink was suitable.

I appear to have upset Craig. He's not talking to me. He's not talking to Di, either, since she agreed with me that his recent driving performance does not rank as satisfactory.

Long Live the Muppet King

Sam took the little girls to school this morning. Imogen went on her bike, as she'd been nagging and whining on about "everybody" else cycling. It's certainly true that a number of kids go bombing past us with shouts of "hi Imogen". It's like a precession some times and gets a little monotonous.

Di, Rhiannon and I marched ourselves into reception at the school and announced our presence. The dean was busy. We said we'd wait as long as it took. The receptionist said she'd find him. She did and we were in his office a couple of minutes later. He was clearly very busy as a queue of other kids needed to be attended to and a couple of phone calls answered. We prompted Rhiannon to explain the situation, and backed up her statements. He was more accommodating in person than he was on the phone, and eventually agreed to move Rhiannon to the class she wanted. The fact that the school had recommended she attend intermediate to make friends I think sold it to him. Either that or the fact that we turned up mob handed and it was the lesser of two evils to give in. He did caution Rhiannon that she would have to ensure that she didn't cause any upset in the new class. This seems to be a no brainer, as Rhiannon has always behaved in a exemplary fashion. We left the school with a much happier girl.

Craig received a letter today - it turns out he's been zapped by a speed camera and has been issued with an $80 fine. No points on his licence apparently since the filth didn't pull him over. However a couple of nights ago he was pulled over with Sam in the car, for doing in excess of 70 in a 50. He got let off with a warning but it could easily have gone the other way. He's barely had his licence back two weeks and he's been tugged by the fuzz twice. Naturally, a little stick was applied which he did not take kindly to, but is was no less than he deserved. Being banned for a year has obviously not focused his mind on his idiot ways and he still regards the roads as an extension of the PlayStation.

Di decided she was going to join a Zumba class this evening. She took Rhiannon along - much to everyone's surprise. Rhiannon hates anything at all physical. Di came back an hour or so later complaining of some bits that were hurting, but full of praise for the Vin Diesel look-a-like instructor. Rhiannon hated it and vowed never to go again. There were apparently 80 or so women paying $8 a pop. Sounds like a lot of money for old rope if you ask me. A brisk jog into the Mount and back is what you need.

Bored, Bored, Bored

Rhiannon came home from school on Friday with her head in her hands. She's not the sort to bond easily and is clearly finding it very hard going. She spent the rest of the weekend moping about and generally being very miserable. On Saturday night we find her crying on our bed, which made our minds up that enough is enough. There will have to be a tete-a-tete on Monday. All three of us will park ourselves in reception and wait until we get an appointment.

The rest of the weekend passed of smoothly enough. We ended up on the beach a couple of times with the body boards. Alas there was far too much weed about to make for an easy passage out to where the decent waves were, not that they were really that decent. The weed was really slippery, and made it difficult to move into the surf. I did manage to catch a few reasonable waves though. We had a barbie on Saturday, no particular reason, just because we could.

I am becoming rather bored. Now that the exam is out of the way, I have little to focus the mind other than an excessive amount of guitar practice. I am also more than pulling my weight in the kitchen, washing up and tidying etc. I've even had the hoover out twice and even taken the strimmer to the grass. I've decided to have a look at the Rottorua job, mainly because I suspect the salary will be rather substantial. If nothing happens however, I think the next few months might involve kiwi fruit in some form or another.

Road Legal

Yesterday I popped in to Mount College after walking Imogen to school. I asked to make an appointment with the dean to discuss Rhiannon's problems. I also had a chat with her former class teacher at Intermediate, who confirmed that she was indeed as capable as her peers. She also explained that the reason for the missing test results was because Rhiannon did not exist on the government database and thus they could not be entered. Hmm. Computersezno apparently. I didn't get a call back from the Dean, so I rang and left a message.

Wayne and I went over to Hamilton to watch the Black Caps Vs Bangladesh. I'd never been t a twenty20 match so I wasn't sure what to expect. The journey over was uneventful, but we dud take in some rather fine scenery bombing along highway 29. Hamilton at this time of year seems to be very floral and generally looks quite a nice place, even if it is too far from the beach. We managed to find our way to Seddon Park, and then tried to find somewhere to park. A helpful sign that said "Cricket Parking" was followed, only for an attendant to start waving a "car park full" sign about. Then there was a change of heart, and a swift right turn, possibly cutting up the waiting traffic on the other side of the road allowed us to get in and parked for the princely sum of $5.

We located a decent spot to sit, behind the wickets opposite the pavilion, and then decided to investigate the beer and scoff situation. Beer was a tab pricey at $6 for a 375 ml plastic bottle of lager, but the food wasn't too badly priced, although a distinct lack of vegetarian options had Wayne making a move on the chips, a move that I concurred with.

The match itself was rather disappointing. Bangladesh rolled over for 78, and the Black Caps took just 9 overs to put them to the sword. We made an early break for before the final runs were scored and were first out of the car park, although it was a tight squeeze as all the cars had been wedged in rather tight.

This morning I did get a call from the Dean, and in short there was no shifting him from his opinion that she's in the right class. There is apparently very little between the two classes and some lessons are setted so Rhiannon will actually spend time with her friends, assuming that she's of a similar level. The test she took isn't the deciding factor apparently. I did manage to get a promise that the situation would be reviewed in a few weeks and that she may well move at that point. Moving now is sadly not an option that he was prepared to consider. Growl, claiming that the classes were both full. Rhiannon of course now blames me for not sorting it out and I am public enemy no.1, but there's no change there.

I finally got round to taking the Mirth Mobile for it's Warrant of Fitness. Cars over six years old have to be tested every 6 months. I had been recommended to use VTNZ, who don't do repairs and thus have no vested interest in failing your vehicle just to get the work. As with all things car oriented, VTNZ is located on Hewletts Road. I drove in and joined the queue in reception. It seems that they also do driving tests and other licensing stuff, just like the AA do. However, this particular station didn't do WOF, unless you're a truck and they sent me packing to the other VTNZ station further down the road, scarily enough opposite Turner's auctions where we acquired the Mirth Mobile some 5 months ago.

I went into reception and gave the number plate. From this they know what the car is and who I am and where I live etc. Kind of scary, is some of that info really necessary? I was relieved of $50 and given a job sheet and told to join a queue. The whole setup is a bit like a supermarket, with various lanes. You join a queue, leave the keys in the ignition and go and sit on the benches under the tree in the shade and watch the world go by. Someone comes and drives the car into the testing bay, various blokes pop up from the subterranean inspection pit and tweak various bits and pieces about. The testing procedure takes only a few minutes and eventually your car is deposited at the side of the shed and you're given the news. It passed! There was a scribbled note about one of the tyres, but I couldn't make any sense of it. I might ring them tomorrow.

I also had a call from a job agency about a possible position. Alas it's in Rotten egg-orua and it's a management role. I get to herd nerds rather than be one. Not too sure if it's for me, I'm not one for too much MBS, I don't fancy the hour or so commute and the stench would most likely get to me after a while. On the other hand the money might be cracking (it's not specified) but I'll need to wade through the fourteen page job spec to decide for sure.

Ran round the mount and quite a lot of the way back but then died and jogged the rest. Cooled down outside with iced water with the juice of a lemon which sadly fell off the tree next door into out garden.

It's Quiet...

Today was the first day of school. Hurrah! it was a necessarily early start since there is a fair amount of logistical planning required in order to get the tribe ready and assembled in the correct uniform with the right book bags and sports kit. I am generally a bit crap at this, so my job is to set the alarm clock the night before and to roll over and wake up Di when it goes off. I generally manage to get this bit right. After the customary new uniform photo, Rhiannon took herself off, Di took the little ones and I walked with Imogen up to Mount Intermediate. There was something of a throng of kids waiting for the bell, and I hung on until the last minute before they all bundled off into the hall.

Phoebe apparently was in a completely different class to last year and all of her friends were missing. This is no surprise as she is younger than most of them by some margin. Initially devastated, she cheered up when given a job to do, namely keeping the tables clean.

Three o'clock comes around, and I pick up Imogen, whose new sandals seem to be leaking black dye everywhere. Shes seems to have had an OK day, the high point of which is that assembly is held with chairs for them to sit on and her bum does not go to sleep sitting on the floor. She's tagged along with a few kids she vaguely knows from primary and all seems to be well. I ban her from walking in the house, since the first steps barefoot on the tiles leave black ink like marks behind. I am forced to sling her over my shoulder and deposit her in the bath where she cleans her feet up. Freya and Phoebe seem to have adapted well - no complaints from Freya, and Phoebe seems happy enough, although complains that the work is too hard but has cunningly got someone else in class to do it for her.

Rhiannon however is in floods of tears. She has not it seems been placed in the G&T class, unlike her other 5 mates. She claims she's in a class of "thickies" and is wailing incessantly. Di contacts the school and speaks to the year 9 principal. He claims she is in this class because of her academic ability. I smell a rat here, as she was coping just fine at intermediate and was either top of her year or near it back in the UK. It's unclear at this point why they have assessed her at this level, but the missing exam repeated at the end of the summer holiday (hardly the best time) and the rushed telephone interview that she had during the holidays may be a factor. All her friends had face to face interviews with parents in attendance. The class is apparently one below the G&T class. To add insult to injury, she's not doing art or Japanese, the two subjects she most wanted. The year principal is apparently available on Friday (next two days are training days) so an appointment will be made. I will have an explanation.

A bit later in the evening, I needed to nip over to Papamoa, but alas the Mirth Mobile wouldn't start. I conned Craig into driving me over in his 'onda. Surprisingly he agreed and actually drove quite sensibly, if not quite at the speed limit. I couldn't figure out why the battery had gone flat, usually it's a light left on or a door open that does is but the thing was locked. As I am about to start fiddling about, I spot that the gearshift is in D4, rather than P. D'oh! D'oh! D'oh! I am about to give Di some unjustified grief to cover up my plebbling inadequacy, when she reminds me that it was me that drove it last, picking up Rhiannon from the Mount yesterday. I take refuge in running hard into the Mount and back, working off some of the nagging anger about Rhiannon's problems.

Premature Party

Today we had a party to celebrate Phoebe's birthday. It wasn't actually her birthday, until later in the week but as she kept asking when it was we gave in and threw a party a few days early. It also meant that we avoided having to hold it after she'd gone back to school, which would have been an anticlimax. Naturally, we had V&W and kids, and the neighbour's kids over for various nibbles. Sadly the party poppers didn't quite last, but this is largely as a result of them being "opened" so they could be "tested" before the party started. Rhiannon skipped the party as she was spending time down in the mount with her mate, again.

We had made an appointment to view another house a few doors down from us which was coming up for rent. Thus we temporarily abandoned the kids for 10 minutes or so leaving Vicky in charge and went to look round it. It wasn't in the best decorative order and looked decidedly shabby in places. The tenants had been in there 5 years or so, and thus they had "grown" into the house as you might expect. Although the living space was larger, the bedrooms were smaller and there was only one tiny bathroom and one toilet. It simply wouldn't do.

When we got back, we found that the kids had been playing with the garage door and had left it in a half open position. This revealed an unwelcome visitor, who had made a rather poor judgement call and had decided to crawl along the gap where two sections of the door meet, just as the door had been closed. The remnants of this inch long critter are shown opposite. It is alas one of the downsides to living in a tropical climate, that you do sometimes encounter massive cockroaches which take a fair amount of effort to squash. But not in this case! ;-)

After we'd disposed of various children, I finished off entering an online profile for a contract recruitment agency. I'd postponed doing this so far as I was waiting the outcome of the ZCE exam. It required me to enter details of the two bribed individuals who had rashly agreed to provide references. Both duly completed their bits of stuff, and having read what they'd written, even I would sleep with me. Thanks guys, beers all round when I get work, I think, hemispheres permitting.