Friday, 1 April 2011

No Joke

Yes, it is real: Scrubby Bottoms
The first of April has come and gone and with it the usual line up of gags, spoofs and false news stories.

We have Chaucer to partly blame for promoting this strange annual observance, some 700 years ago in his Canterbury Tales.  Certainly by the 16th century April 1st was celebrated for its foolish japes.

According to an entry in Wikipedia in 1698, several people were tricked into going to the Tower of London to "see the Lions washed".

There have been other classic pranks such as the Dutch television station in the 1950's who informed their gullible viewvers that the leaning Tower of Pisa had finally fallen over.

In more modern times companies such as Google have continued the tradition.  This year is was a new piece of funcionality called Google Motion which claimed one could control Gmail with your body.




Another prank by Google has been to promote the often revelied font Comic Sans, because ithey discovered it "consistently outperformed all others when it comes to user satisfaction, level of engagement, understanding web content, productivity, click-through rates and conversion rates. We’ll therefore be rolling out Comic Sans as our default font across all Google products on April 4, 2011".

However not all strange stories on the first have been April Fools jokes.  Take for example news that a 50-strong gang of chickens that terrorised residents in Southport has been evicted by Lancashire Police.

Or, news that a baker has been flooded with complaints after calling his shop Nice Baps. 

But perhaps once of the most bizarre has been the revelation that Britain's National Trust has published a list of the UK's top 10 "silly walks" to such colourfully-named locations as Scrubby Bottoms, Pembrokeshire, Booby's Bay, Cornwall and Windy Gap in Surrey.

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Tuesday, 29 March 2011

Kerikeri Capers

Paunch compost is not for the faint hearted.  It features in a large street sign in the Northland township of Moerewa and is one of the many things I noted on our three day trip to sub tropical Kerikeri.

Suffice to say it is several decades since I last visited Kerikeri and it has undergone a major transformation.

Where once there were dusty roads, forlorn farms, brightly painted and semi-derelict weather board houses, there are now organic farms, a smart cafe culture and wineries.

We deliberately timed our visit to beat the heat of summer and the peak tourist season.  Late March always has more settled weather and the region is not called the 'winterless North' for nothing.

Banana palms in fruit, magnificent nikau palms and tropical foliage grows with wild abandon in these parts and we were fortunate to sample the season's newly picked mandarins.  Kerikeri has been well known for citrus fruit and the fruit we tasted were some of sweetest I have ever had.

The town is far more laid back and less touristy than its near neighbour, Paihia.  I remember a summer holiday in Paihia when I was ten years old.  Our family tented in the local camping grounds and had the beach front largely to ourselves.  I first learnt to row a dinghy from these shores and got as brown as a berry -  skin cancer was largely unknown at the time!

The camping ground has disappeared and has been replaced by a rows of motels, each vying for custom in what has become a Bay of Islands mecca for the tourist trade.  Being only fifteen minutes drive from Kerikeri we decided to spend a morning in Paihia.  Some T-shirts caught our eye as these were heavily discounted to $NZ8 at the end of the season.

The rock oysters were as plentiful as ever and the old ferry from Paihia to Russell still plies its trade. Russell was formerly known as Kororareka. During the whaling and sealing days it became known as the "Hell hole of the South Pacific" with rampant prostitution and a complete absence of any laws.  It is a much more sleepy place now.

We stayed in three and half star accommodation in Kerikeri; the Colonial House Motel.  The place was nestled in the trees and a tui sang each morning and evening from the highest branches.

Our cabin was clean and comfortable for the two of us and our deal provided for a free continental breakfast tray and 20 Mb of broadband.  Our affable hosts Alan and Andrea whipped up a batch of complementary cookies for us as guests which was a nice touch. All for the princely sum of $NZ120 per night.

It took us four hours to drive from our home in Auckland to our motel, allowing for a good break enroute.





Kerikeri and it environs are best known as the first place of European occupation in new Zealand. The Mission House or Kemp House as it is often known is the oldest building in the country and was constructed in 1822. The adjacent Stone Store is also one of the first.  Both have been lovingly restored by the Historic Place Trust.

It is also the home of Makana chocolates which offers free tasting which were yummy but pricey.  Best value for money along the Kerikeru Road leading into town, was the bakery at Reeds Vege Express.  Their filled rolls and savoury muffins were great value.

For those who enjoy a stroll through native bush, there are several interesting walking tracks to suit all levels of fitness.

If you are visiting New Zealand and fancy experiencing our heritage, natural beauty and some of the best that New Zealand has to offer in local produce then don't miss Kerikeri.  It is an easy car journey from Auckland.

All in all for us, a very pleasant three days away from city life. 
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Death By A Thousand Cuts

Source: Captain Capitalism
My death by a thousand cuts took place in a claustrophobically small aircraft toilet, some thirty eight thousand feet about the Earth.

I had forgotten to pack a razor and had resorted to using the one provide in a cellophane pack by the airline.

Being early morning in the time zone I had left eight hours before didn't help my mood as I wrestled to open the packet in the small confines of the toilet cubicle.

The trick, of managing to keep any hot water in the stainless steel basin also eluded me.  It was then I discovered that the small tube of shaving cream provided was of sufficient vintage to ensure that it had hardened solid and could not be coaxed out, no matter how hard I squeezed.

Not to be outdone I resorted to using liquid hand soap form the dispenser attached to the wall.  The arrival of turbulence prompted the announcement from the stewardess to "please return to your seats and securely fasten your seatbelts".

It is the first and only time that I decided to disobey this instruction.  My shirt had been removed by this time to stop the liquid soap continuing its run and there way no way I was going to repeat the procedure after the airpockets had passed.

The hand held plastic razor was of the twin blade variety.  Not that I had any problem with reverting from the  usual four blade version I was used to, to this more primitive and flexible piece of plastic and sharpened steel.

The fact that razor manufacturers always seem to add another blade to their product on an annual basis I find slightly absurd.

A more apparent problem soon emerged with the first sweep of the blade across my chin.  Forgetting that the blade was of similar vintage to the tube of cream I was therefore mortified to notice that large bloody welts had suddenly appeared on my face.

I am not sure if it was the altitude, but blood seems to run more freely in a pressurised aircraft cabin.  There was no choice but to forget about shaving and focus on first aid with the help of a dwindling supply of paper tissues.

Thankfully when I emerged from the toilet as a bloodied version of the Australian comic Norman Gunston, there were few awake in the cabin to witness my sheepish return to my seat.

While Heathrow customs did look somewhat askance at my appearance, the rest of the journey into London proved uneventful.

However I learn a valuable lesson: I pack my owner blade razor and will never again try to use the complimentary airline version.

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