Seeking Scar

This morning as I ambled back from school, after delivering the Spawn of my Loins to his place of daytime incarceration, I was seized by an idea. Actually, I need to go back a step and deal with a small matter. My son loves school, he positively enjoys it, and for more than just eating his play lunch and getting the odd ball colliding with his happysack. By his age, I had come to dread school, just the sheer boredom of so much of it, apart from my standard four year with Mrs Burke, when I was ten years old.

Mrs Burke, who had a severe, blonde bun, also had a husband who worked as a pilot for Air New Zealand. She was encouraging and could be extremely stern, but did have the wonderful idea for the school concert of staging Camelot. She modified the lines somewhat, and took a veritable chainsaw to the plot, but the highlight of the show was me, well for me and my parents at least. It was staged in the old Halswell Hall, a barn of a place, sort of both dusty and damp, drafty and heated by several inadequate bar heaters from the exposed rafters. But it did have an elevated stage and a curtain.

For Camelot the cast, drawn from my class, were in costume. I was in a red dress, made up like a harlot and with two black rubber balls stuffed down the front of the dress, I had more bust than Pamela Anderson and probably about as attractive as the murderous, red caped dwarf in Don't Look Now. I got to sing about three lines and had a peck on the cheek from a fair knight (who was a girl). It was stardom, and saved me in the class from my usual distractions of seeing how long I could silently hold my breath, whether I could master whistling with cupped hands or adding up the number of letters in other pupils names. It was a good year.

Anyway, my idea today as I sauntered home, was just how useful and wonderful it would be to have a prehensile tail. Don't scoff! It would be immensely useful. Think, it's raining, you are leading the dog and talking on your mobile telephonic apparatus. At the moment, as you are, a regular biped, you have to either cease one's conversation using the dispenser of radiation, or let the mutt run free. This is where a prehensile tail would be invaluable, it could hold either the umbrella, the phone or the dog and life would be peachy.

I can also see a use on the bike, no more crashes with one hand stuck rummaging about in back pockets trying to find that last morsel of food to stave off a whimper, with one's tail one could keep both hands on the bars and comfortably search one's pockets, or even more devilish, the pockets of others for sustenance.

I mentioned this idea to my minion after school today, he was mortified, mainly because, even though he had to admit it was quite useful, it would be damned embarrassing for him at school to be known to have a father who is slightly mutated and happy about it.

I'll flag the idea, as I want him to continue to enjoy school, and not rely on being in drag to make the school day interesting.

The monkey halo

Today I received a phone call from my twin brother. Oh alright, the man who should be my twin brother, but as some of you know, I have no fraternal relations, it’s just more that at various times he and I are more than a little alike, mainly mentally, especially in our love of things childish and our shared ability to irritate some folk.

Granted that one of us got looks and one of us got charm, it would be a damn well sighted mother who could tell that we don’t spring from the same hewn rock.

Anyway back to the phone call, without any preamble, Mikeal, my twin, tells me he watched a documentary on Cousin Jeffery this morning. It’s not every day that one gets a phone call to chat not every day that one gets a phone call to chat about serial killers and it was a reminder that I have been far too serious of late.

I was going to write about the company AquaBounty and their AquAdvantage® Fish, a frankenfish made by splicing trout and tilapia genes into salmon to produce a fish that grows twice as fast as non genetically tampered with salmon. But I would only make your eyes glaze over, so instead, do your own research and be mortified at what the future may hold in terms of food production. Oryx and Crake is upon us.

Instead, I shall dwell upon the miracles of the Turkey Deep Fryer. A friend had been given of these contraptions, by some friends in the States Initially he viewed this thing with contempt, but on Saturday night he decided to try it. He and I were both extremely leery of it, as it is a pretty rudimentary device, and we had both seen the videos of the frozen turkey put in deep fryer and what happens. It's a large contraption, and 8 litres of oil filled it about 1/4! So we donned welding gloves and goggles, and cooked potatoes, a chicken and some sausages. The sausages cooked in 3 minutes! The chicken and potatoes were done 25 minutes. They were crispy, brown and looked like a million dollars, and they were not greasy and very, very tasty. Now I want to use it to make donuts. mmmmm.

Squirreling

I need a handful of snatched summer memories to get me through the damp and dark of winter. Yes, I have a large number from this past summer, and also previous years, but this weekend just been dispelled the threat of the pending autumn and stayed my fears of the looming winter. I am happy in all seasons and weathers, but I do especially love the heat of summer.

On Saturday, with no Stunt Monkey to be accountable for, I packed my faithful furry friend into the car and went for an explore. I had limited time, and I wanted to see Destruction Gully. Nestled halfway between Huia and Whatipu on the northern side of the Manukau Heads, it's steep country with bush and views.

The track down rolls along a ridge, then plunges, the last thirty metres are steep with lengths of hose to hang on to. The bay itself is small rocky, with very deep water in close and a clear view of the Tasman Sea. It reeks of large water dwelling life forms and has that wonderful mix of beauty and danger. I shall return with more time to try and ensnare some of the underwater critters.

On Sunday, it was a glorious morning, windless, clear and sunny. Junior and I rolled out south, took in Hunua Gorge and then back via Clendon and the airport and a new route up into town. It was just magnificent riding. My legs, when I got home, were loaded and tired, and I was content.

One odd note was the prevalence of unfriendly, or ignorant riders. As we rode around the airport, and Mangere Bridge there were numerous riders, and inspite of us waving madly, saying "Good morning" and smiling, very, very few even acknowledged us, several making a studied examnination of their front wheels or the paddocks to their left. We did ponder our invisibility, but realised that we were visible after a warning toot from an impatient fat man in a Pajero.

What is with this new found lack of common greeting? Walkers will say hello, runners will smile, cyclists are just blank?

That minor grizzle aside, it was a great weekend, and one to store for those wet, stormy days ahead.

Backward apparatus

Sometimes the weather is just a damn aggravation, and today was one of those days. The grand plan was for the first of the long rides to kick in and a few of us venture out to Aka Aka. The last two trips out there, in the depths of winter have been wet, windy affairs, so an autumnal roll would be lovely.

It would have been lovely if the weather wasn't quite as hideous and all and sundry wisely called it off. So instead I rolled about out west. I was starting to feel a little complacent and smug about the conditions, until a decent squall hit me, soaked me and blew me up rises, and the wisdom of not venturing south was shown to be correct.

Maybe tomorrow, summer or even autumn will come back and riding will be back to a warm dry affair.

VCA 2010 RACE RUN from changoman on Vimeo.