The (Largely) Unknown NZ Story.

So, how come I start this journey with a Viking Longboat in a New Zealand Fjord?

Simple really, so we need to go back in time, when Ethelred the Horror sailed form Norstad, Norway, a noted longboat manufacturing area. With four other longboats and his marauding gang he sailed west determined to find the lands his whanau had visited before written record. Soon after catching a favourable TradeWind they reached what would become Iceland (Hrafna Floki Vilger6arson). One longboat and crew stayed on the island and the other 4 longboats headed further west, eventually above the Arctic Circle and the large island of Greenland (Grænlendingar). Modern history attributes the arrival of both island as 988AD.  I tend to think much earlier.  My calculations have them before 882AD.  Why?  In 882AD the remaining longboats (3) left one behind in Greenland and headed sou'west to uncharted land.  Thought to be islands, the area that would become Nova Scotia was settled by the 3 remaining longboats.

Ethelred the Horror and his men (no women).  After months of replenishing and trading with local iwi, one remaining longboat returned east to Norstad with the news of the discovery.  It never made it. Ethelred the Horror commanded the two remaining waka and headed south to find Southland, the revered land of southern Ice and Fire.  After sailing down the West Coast of the America's replenishing with local iwi and taking on some girl flesh as they went. Most of those girls literally "Jumped Ship" fearful of their crude hosts.  So, by the time the two longboats reached the Pacific Ocean, and catching a helpful Sou east Tradewind they eventually discovered Rapanui.  At this time, the Moua'i production were prolific.  A descendant of the current Nistfarg, Redfendrig the Ugly, noted for his whakapapa telling and noted that 16 foot giants were the only occupants and had no food to eat. The Moau'i workers hardly noticed their much shorter Vikings so leaving was not fraught with parting.  Catching another Sou East TradeWind and heading west into the mid Pacific, they happened to discover what would become later as Tahiti.  All  this in 883AD.

Tahiti was barren of human population, but plentiful food, be it vegetation or fish. Miraculously both longboats were still in good repair and only one loss of life since departing Greenland. Remember, all 4 original Longboats were manned by Viking soldiers.  No women allowed sorry.  And that is where the story takes a "what If" slant.  Seafaring warriors need female company, for company, and reproduction, that is children.  For 12 months (or so) they had not had a good roll in the hay and no matter how he could, Ethelred the Horror could not satisfy his crews demands. Towards the end of the journey (what is not known) one Longboat stayed in uninhabited Rarotonga whilst the team's leader and his boat travelled sou-west, eventually discovering a cooler less tropical series of large islands.

What had dogged Ethelred on his epic journey, was the lack of women, for breeding, passing down the lore, and looking after their men. One would say he was unlucky to be where he was when he was.  In 250 years time, The Polynesians would also venture from Rapanui to Tahiti, north to Hawaii, southwest to Rarotonga.  When they arrived in Rapanui, the Giants of Viking Legend had gone and only their Moua'i  remained.  Somewhere off Aitutaki Atoll lies a Longboat in full burial regalia.

Our heroic Viking Leader then settled at a place that would become Otautahi, the only known settlement on the very large southern island.  Why there?  Simple, much needed women. With the predecessors of the Mori Ori a tribe called Hoothri (toothless Men), the Vikings, who were more known for their brutal battles and raping and pillaging (the Brits gave them that name), took up farming and Moa Harvesting in the plentiful Totara Forests. The only known predator at the time for the Moa was human and  Hikoioi (Haast Eagle) If a census were to be taken in 890AD of Aotearoa you would find 2,346 in Te Ika o Maui and 5,949 in Te Waipounamu. Rakiura numbered a healthy 476 (current Population 406)

Over three hundred years and before the arrival of the Polynesians, the Viking blood was assimilated into Mori Ori culture and eventually watered down.  Ethelred the Horror was noted journalist; in that he could store in his mind and pass it down.  His last journey, aged 88, was to Te Ika o Maui to see his whanau and marvel at the works they told their journey in rock carvings. According to our esteemed Viking, the Kaimanawa Wall was very much prior to Viking origin.  In 930AD, departing from Whanganui-a-Tara, Ethelred the Horrible met his maker, a very large sea-serpent later known as Tangaroa, a taniwha of the deep.  His body was laid to rest in Peta One.  As far as the Viking Lore goes, it ends. Except - Shield Maidens were introduced to supplement domination of the known world.

If one looks at this image drawn by a crewman on Abel Tasman's 1642 visit.  Note - 

1.  Number of seagoing waka (11), maximum 12 crew per waka - 121 warriors, huge hapu.

2. In the very large rendition of Waka complete with Rangitira, all warriors have Man Bun's and appear to have no hair but oversized heads.  No ta moko either but they do have beards.

3.  All data points to Golden Bay, closer to South of Farewell Spit, but from Tarakohe to tip of Farewell Spit the area is littered with large shoals. Tasman was a navigator, so he knew his stuff, and kept well clear. My guess is Motueka River Mouth.  The image purports my assumptions.

4 Curious facts.  This image is attributed to Isaac Gilsmans, crewman onboard at the time. That image is an etching, better known as Daguerreotype, there are no colours, just a sepia tone image.  So which Dutch Craved Cur decided to colour an historic document with tricolour flags.  

Take a step or two forward in time.  1280AD. The Lone Navigator Kupe makes landfall in Whanganui - a - Tara.  After a few days replenishing kaimoana and herbs he had a visit from a Keha claiming to be a Viking Sailor buried in Peta One (By the River) three hundred years earlier. Kupe departed his new capital to circumnavigate Te Waipounamu, stopping at Otautahi (Mori Ori), Rakiura, and Motueka. On his homeward journey to Hawaiki he anchored his new countries name, after all land was shrouded in clouds.  Ao Te a Roa (Not Aotearoa nor Ao Tea Roa). After many years telling all his families his story he raises a Navy on 14 twin- hulled Wakanui also known by Māori as The Great Migration. Hungry to be at home again (Whanganui-a-Tara) Kupe leads his budding mariners and navigators to the south west corner of the Pacific (Moana Roa).  The rest is history (or is it??)

1325 - Great Migration arrives in Ao Te A Roa - great Moa cull begins.

In 1822, Ngati Toa Rangatira, Te Rauparaha, started a lifelong tale of warring, probably more than his much-vaunted Vikings predecessors. As far as much ancestral history goes most of Te Waipounamu was inhabited by Ngai Tahu (not to be confused with Ngati Tahu - they didn't exist).  The Ngai Tahu Pa at Kaiapoi, was the hub of the trade in Pounamu and by accounts, historians claim his Kaiapoi raid was aligned to controlling the Greenstone wealth and woman and children for slaves.  In reality Te Rauparaha had other plans.  Given tribal knowledge at the time and more especially his visit to Ngati Toa lands at Peta One, he deduced that a curious tribe lived in Te Waipounamu.  Of a pale brown skin, fair hair and hazel eyes, these Mori Ori were distinctive in appearance and in actions (loved to dive for Koura. paua and kina)

1958 Whanganui-a-Tara.  Kupe, Ethelred and Thane join forces. Peace to all.

US President (47th) Donald Trumps Shocking Announcment.

 
Today, 21st January 2025, the 47th US President was inaugurated in his revisit to the White House.  In a monumental day, 150 laws were signed in (or out).  Forget the Mexican Border and troops, forget the US reclaiming Panama Canal, forget (reluctantly) his stance in Climate Change and upping oil production.

For me, the biggest issue is the Law stating only two sexes, Male and Female. With most of his changes, he is going back 50 years.  With the removal of Same Sex  or LBGT relations he is going as far back as a certain religious sect around 32ACE.

In the USA, 29,260,000 people identify as LBGT. That's a huge part of the population (7.6%).  The underlying question, how will Trump and his henchmen police this order?  I'm guessing most Law and Order Officials will note the law, but will remain tied to human rights.  It would be utterly beyond belief that 29 Million LBGT victims will find themselves in brand new prisons to house them.

A note for my fellow sufferers from The Land of the Brave.  New Zealand has a vibrant and happy LBGT Community and treated as equals, by and large.  Apart from two crackpot religious sects, no one is decriminalised.  Feel free to apply for residency here, as we will also welcome your skill sets as far as being a positive role in society and in the workforce.  Nurses and Doctors are always on top of the list as far as recruiting from overseas.

Thoughts??

Whale Song - a tribute.

 

Whales’ Song (for Susan)

 

They're the leviathans of the deep,

mournful singers whose songs

reach out,

across many oceans and seas,

calling for their families

wherever they may roam,

in a deep blue playground

of bittersweet memories

whales’ songs linger on.

 

She is alone, a cow with her grown son,

singing her way to a new beginning,

following the herd to Hawaii

and points,

north and south,

her song arching out for all to hear

some far, some near, some deaf to

her whale’s song.

 

Her path takes her many places,

and one day a new face appears,

sings back to her

in unison,

he, from a point so far away,

but his resonance echoes deep channels

across ocean’s floor,

echoes to whale’s song.

 

And they meet, mid-ocean, and frolic

in the gay abandon of knowingness,

singing the same tune,

playing the same games,

swimming the same channels

and, attuned, they go on

singing each other’s whale song,

together.

New Zealand Public Holidays

 Just musing on our holidays.

Poignant or Not Poignant.

New Years Day - Poignant - exists for two reasons. Celebrate the New Year and have a day to get over the hangover.

Day after News Day - Not Poignant

District Anniversary Days - Not Poignant

Chinese New Year - Poignant

Waitangi Day - Poignant

Ramadan - Poignant

Easter Weekend - Good Friday Not Poignant - Easter Monday Poignant

ANZAC Day - Poignant all day holiday.

Kings Birthday - Not Poignant

Matariki - Poignant

Kate Shepherd Day (August 28th) Very Poignant

Diwali - Poignant

Labour Day - Poignant

Christmas Day - Poignant

Boxing Day - Not Poignant

Pigs, Dogs, the Ozone Layer, and the Enigma of Humans

 Pigs, Dogs, the Ozone Layer, and the Enigma of Humans Ernest wallowed around in his pen, lapping up the mud onto all parts of his opulent porcine flesh. He was happy. His pen was empty today and he could enjoy his 9th birthday in relative peace. He rolled over, smearing more mud onto his back, gave a joyful flick of his ears, and settled down to a mid-afternoon nap, looking forward to the pleasant thought of more slops from the trough in an hour or so. 

The sun beat down, attempting with difficulty to permeate the stench-ridden mud on Ernest’s back and side. Some of it managed to fight its way through to the pinkish flesh, UV rays biting deep into the exposed epidermis. Ernest did not care! He could burn as much as he wanted today; he was nine, after all. It did not concern him that there was ozone depletion in progress. Nobody tells pigs anything, anyway. 

He heard the soft padded footfalls approaching the pen from the barn and raised an ear to monitor the progress of whatever was nearing his enclosure. He could tell from the rapid motion that the interruption was four legged and probably Seymour, the border collie. Bugger, he thought, the last thing I want to do today is converse at length with some demented sheepdog on the merits of chasing one’s tail. 

 Ernest feigned sleep, ensuring his tail switched just enough to indicate to anyone watching that he was deeply unconscious, slowing his breathing to provide further evidence of his subconscious state. Hopefully, Seymour would be persuaded by this not to ‘wake him up.’ 

"Hey, Ernest, I know you’re awake," yapped Seymour. "What ya doing?" Ernest settled down even further into his fabricated deep sleep pattern, hoping the dog would be fooled. This bloody collie could be damned persistent, though. 

"Ernest, I have some news for you. Wake up," he yapped, even louder than the first time. Ernest then knew it was useless and abandoned the falsehood. 

"Yes, you moron, what do you want? Something about some news, did I hear you say?" Ernest pulled his bulk over to his belly, placing his legs strategically under his body, and used his powerful muscles to push the 400-pound weight onto his cleft hooves. Just to give the dog a bit of an insight into his annoyance at being disturbed from his reverie, he emitted a loud belching grunt, and let rip with a well aimed fart in the direction of the dog for good measure. Seymour backed away, the strong smell assaulting his sensitive nostrils and setting off his stomach in small, nauseated coughs. He moved to the upwind side of the pen, and squatted on his back legs, waiting for the pig to approach him. 

"Yes, Seymour, you bloody cur, you have my attention. What is so damned important as to wake me on this fine day?" "Do you know why you are in your pen today by yourself?" asked the dog, a sneer spreading across his features. His mischievous behaviour was disturbing Ernest. Seymour was normally a peaceful, honest working dog, only taken to occasionally playing pranks on his penned mates. Ernest was puzzled. 

"Come on, spit it out," he demanded. "You obviously know something that affects me." 

"Well, I was up at the farmer's cottage earlier, sniffing the backside of that suave Snookie, you know, the white poodle that lives up there, and she kept on giving me the come on. So, I tried to get on for the ride of my life, and the farmer’s wife comes out of the house and gives me a good stiff kick on my hindquarters, just as I was about to - you know?" 

Seymour turned his head towards his tail, licking the ruffled fur on his rump, the target area. He looked back and continued. 

 "Anyway, I hightailed it around the house and hid under the veranda, licking my wound. Guess who else was under there?” 

Ernest cocked his head to the side, signalling for the collie to continue, as he no doubt would. 

"Jasmine and Sooty, those two cats that spend all their time locked up inside the house," said Seymour with surprise. Those two cats outside? What did this mean? thought Ernest. 

"Outside?" quizzed the pig, somewhat perplexed by the relevance of this information. "Yeah, seems they got caught doing it on the lady’s bed and were banished. Anyway, they were talking about something when I interrupted them. They asked what I was doing under the veranda, and I told them my tale, whereupon they told me theirs. We shared a little laugh, then Sooty piped up and asked me, 

‘Do you know why all the pigs, sheep, and cattle have been sent away?’ and I replied I didn’t know they had." At the mention of his porcine mates, Ernest pricked his ears to listen to what the dog was about to say. Something important had happened, and he hadn’t been aware of it. 

"Go on," he said. Just as the dog was about to continue, a loud human vocal explosion erupted from the farmhouse, the farmer obviously discontented with something. The sound of "Bugger it, damn, fuck, bugger, bum, fuck it!" ripped through the still country air. The animals in the vicinity of the tirade cringed in fear. The master was not a good person to be around when he was like this. Then another tirade: 

"Bloody ignorant fools. When are they going to get it? I ask six simple questions and all I get is fucking fools, fucken madmen, and deranged bloody idiots replying, thinking the world is created for their mother beeping pleasure!" 

Silence ensued as he settled down again to his business. Seymour, who had laid down at the outburst, crawled over to the pen, closer to the pig, to finish his revelation. He bunched his strong sleek leg muscles for a quick getaway, in case the pig decided to assault his nose again. 

"The master has apparently changed his ideals. Polly was sitting in the study, watching him on his computer, reading some stuff, and he turned around and started talking to the parrot as if Polly would understand. Which, of course, she does. Anyway, he says to her, ‘I am now a vegetarian. No more grazing animals creating holes in the ozone layer with their methane emissions, no more killing animals for humans to digest and get sick on, no more chemicals to assist with the rapid growth of the grass, and no more guilt. I am becoming an environmentally friendly farmer.’ 

 Polly says she was bemused by the context of what he was saying but he seemed dead serious." Seymour leapt to his feet, moved around the pen to the water trough and lapped up some discoloured water. Man, he got thirsty when he talked. Ernest followed him over and had a drink himself, just for good measure. The story was going to be lengthy and, he felt, important to his longevity. 

"Anyway," continued the dog. "Polly says the master then rings up some cartage company and overnight they take all the animals away. He then rang an organic hydroponics distributor and signed up the farm for the organic growing of vegetables. Bizarre! I am out of work, you survive for some reason, and the world changes because of some computer information. There’s no figuring these humans," concluded the dog. 

"Yeah, no figuring," replied a pensive Ernest. "Why have they kept me, then, do you think?" 

"Well, they kept four cattle and one pig, so my guess is he is happy to have some animals around to help with the natural fertiliser if you get my drift," responded Seymour. I can be quite insightful at times, thought the collie. 

 Ernest mused over this information. Of, course; I am to be kept as a faeces production plant! How ignoble. I am going to grow old producing piles of crap for the 18 vegetable gardens. Oh, woe is me! No more meat in my scraps! I am an omnivore, and I need meat. Why do the decisions of humans have to affect us bloody animals all the time? He wondered, then, why pigs could not fly, because if he could, he would be out of there in a jiffy. Then he thought, a flying pig! Huh. Would need a wingspan the size of a small Cessna to carry my large frame around. The pig dismissed Seymour, thanking him for the discourse, and settled down once again. He made sure his mud-caked body was revitalised with its natural sunscreen and started thinking about the changes that had been sprung upon him. Okay, no more mates to grunt with, no more sows to try it on with, no little ones to piss him off, and a pen all to himself. Not a problem. The meat scraps - that was a problem. But if it meant the gap in the ozone layer would close and negate the need for him to cake himself in mud, so be it. The weirdest of things, however, was the challenge this presented to the humans. They could make a small difference by killing all the grazing animals, but how on earth were they going to kill their transportation animals, those metallic objects they drove around in? And were they capable of not growing onions and capsicums and other vegetables that made them fart? He thought not! 

 These humans were a bloody enigma, he thought, as he went to sleep in his pen by himself, under the bright midafternoon sun.

Council's Use of Electricity

 In the middle of the city (Palmy) is a parkland colloquially known as The Square.  It is largely green space with four other incursions, The Bus Station, The Car Park, The Clock and Memorial Towers and the Civic Centre. I have my thought on all but well recorded in past missives. 

However what I want to raise is the blatant use of lighting.  On average these lights are on 12 hours a day.  Yes they look nice or good but are they really?

As seen in the attached images, the use of lighting is pervasive.  The reason often used by officials is to create a safe place to walk at night during the dark hours. However the fact remains, this is not needed.

I'm not a mathematician but the use of electricity is erroneous AND the ratepayers pay for this luxury.  With an energy crisis eminent I feel it is time the ratepayers lobbied the Council to have all these lights switched off, yes even the clock tower. 

Manawatu Waterpark Venues Proposal.

 

Click on Image for full viewing.

Proposal for Manawatu’s Aokautere Rowing Venue and Ian Ferguson Canoe Slalom Venue.

 

There is one thing missing from our Manawatu region.  A suitable water venue for water borne sports.  My proposal is for two water venues, the Ian Ferguson Canoe Slalom Venue and the Aokautere Rowing facility.

 

The Ian Ferguson Canoe Slalom Venue is self-evident.  An international venue capable of local talent use, national competitions and international competitions. There is a Stop Bank on the borders with the Manawatu Awa with grandstands placed at start, mid-section and finishing areas. 

 

The Aokautere Roing Facility is a multi-use facility, primarily rowing and canoe sprints.  But also available for recreational and competition sports use, like Waterskiing, Wind Foiling, Jet Ski racing, Kite Boating, skiff sailing et al.  The Aokautere Carpark is also a venue for Land Yachting.

 

The Aokautere Rowing Facility is 2,500m long and 100m wide.   It has two embankments either side [from start area (2km) to 150m at end of course where two Grandstands and Admin/Storage areas are].  The course is 8m deep from start to finish.  Envisaging heavy earth moving equipment scour out the course and depositing the soil on the embankments to create viewing areas.

 

There are four 30 room motels to be used by competitors, in competition sports, free of charge.  Outside competitions, the motels are for commercial use. Horizon Council as owners maintain these facilities.

 

There are two 100 vehicle carparks.  The Aokautere Carpark and the Te Matai Carpark. The Aokautere has access from Aokautere Road to both venues, and the Te Matai Carpark has access by a footbridge over the Manawatu Awa also to both venues. Envisaging both carparks are free parking.  Also, on competition days, buses will service the venues from the city for free.

 

Costings: -

Both venues are yet to be costed.  As these venues are Horizon owned and operated, costs should not be prohibitive.  And they provide a recreational and competitive use and becomes a legacy for Te Papaoiea and its residents and visitors. Fair to say, costs for spectators are a manageable cost, say day passes at $30 per adult, $15 per child aged 8 - 15, $50 for adult couple, and $80 for a family of four plus.  But it is not a moneymaking endeavour, Horizon manages them as public facilities.

Basic Logistics.

1.       Grass Embarkments mowed regularly.

2.      Water for the Ian Ferguson Canoe Slalom Venue and Aokautere Rowing Venue initially drawn from the Awa Manawatu with a full flush out of both venues weekly.

3.      Rowing and canoeing craft housed in storage buildings at start and finish lines of Aokautere Rowing Venue.  Canoes also housed in Ian Ferguson Canoe Slalom storage building.

4.      Lane markers are manipulated up and down by hydraulics depending on events.

5.      Maintenance crew and facility managers.   One Facility Manager for each Venue with a maintenance crew of 5 for Aokautere and 3 for Ian Ferguson.

 

Queen Street Auckland CBD 1975 to 1985.

 As a young sailor, Queen Street was a regular venue for having a few drinks with mates.  Below is a list of Pubs, Bars, Nightclubs and Strip Joints that proliferated then.

List from Admiralty Steps to K Road.

Customhouse Quay

Hofbrauhaus

Britomart Tavern (Early Opener.)

The Akarana

Queen Street/Vulcan Lane

Maxi's Wine Bar

Queens Head

Queens Ferry

Another pub in Vulcan Lane I have forgotten, opposite Queens Ferry.

Brewery Lane (Main Bar from Queen Street through to Albert Street)

Can't remember the name - on Albert Street but aka Trannies Bar

Can't remember name Disco Nightclub under Brewery Lane

London Bar

Alladins Nightclub (under Civic Theatre)

The Crypt Nightclub

The Powerstation Music Venue

Shortland Street

White Lady (Kai)

Fort Street.

Les Girls Nightclub

Trader Nathans Bar

Karangahape Road

Las Vegas Strip Club

Pink Pussycat Strip Club

Victoria Street

The Empire Hotel

Can't remember which street, running parallel to Queen Street (next street over) Auckland RSA

The Out House at Muriwai Beach Bach

 A little history.  Back in the 50's my wife's Grandfather, Jim Barker (aka JimPa), lived in a house on a 1/2 acre lot (144 Hinemoa Street, Birkenhead) and built his family home (pictured, the original homestead).

He worked down the road at the Chelsea Sugar Works for most of his life. He was an avid collector, going to auctions and bidding on whole lots (dismantling Villas).  But he also did something odd, maybe a hint of a canny knowledge of the value of land.

In the 50's and 60's Jim Pa bought sea front land at Onetangi Beach, Waiheke Island (pictured),

a small lot at Long Bay, North Shore, and another 1/2-acre lot at Berridge Road, Muriwai.  Over the years he sold off Onetangi Bay and Long Bay leaving him with Muriwai.  He built a one-bedroom home (bach) with lounge and small kitchen.  It was his retreat from the city.

I first met Jim Pa in 1985 when I first met my wife.  He was a quiet frail man then and soon after (1986) he passed, just before our wedding.  I admired him a lot.

In the following year myself and my wife's father (Ron) took it to task to clear the section of collected stock. What was located on the section?  For instance, motor mower bodies, car parts, several new baths and a complete villa stacked in racks. Several very large skip bins later, 95% of the section was cleared. I did a bit of internal reconstruction on the house all using recycled stock at hand to make things easier for Nan and sold off timber and tools with money going to her.

Anyway, back to Muriwai.  The existing outhouse was a ramshackle dwelling with holes in the walls, trees growing through the cracks, and a dodgy seat. As stated, JimPa collected anything and after he passed, I took it on myself to build a new Outhouse cum Storage shack.  I had all the ingredients.  Creosoted 4x2's, Kauri Weather Planks, iron, recycled nails, windows, matai flooring and very old tools (50-year-old hammer, 30 odd year old Black and Decker Skill Saw, a couple of very ancient Levels and two rusty handsaws). Not one thing in that outhouse was new (except my vigour)

Over Easter Weekend 1992, myself, my wife and my FiL, set about building a great edifice for future family use.  Basically, a long drop toilet can, a flash seat, storage for all Ron's bits and bobs (repairing the Bach) and room for the Flymo Mower. The thing was a work of art.

I have three favourite construction efforts.  This Outhouse, a 50-metre section fence (Cooks Landing) and two weeks renovating our family home at 266 Forrest Hill Road, doing the dining room, new kitchen, moving Water Heater, totally renovating the bathroom and (later) painting the girls' bedrooms.

My big Ups goes to JimPa. A man with a vision and a drive to do his own thing. Not Sure Nan thought the same, LOL.

In passing. The section at Muriwai (21 Berridge Road) was largely a flat section, and with a great view over Muriwai township and all the way up the beach to South Head.  You could also see Oaia Island just offshore from Muriwai. This section was a must buy for new owners (when it was sold late 90's.) On site was also an old caravan.  This was largely used by my children's Great Aunts up until both aunts were too old to enjoy it (in their late 80's yo).

The view from the bach.

For over ten years we as a family grew to love our time up there. A bit rough, a bit rickety but a joy living to the basics. And the view!!  To this day my mind wanders to those vistas.

By the by - also at Muriwai, my first construction attempt was a standalone shower.  Unfortunately, the Weta's made it home also, so ladies vied away from using it.

Pledziconianites and their arrival on Earth

5,272 years ago, in a little country in what would become known as The South Pacific and Aotearoa, life was trundling on as usual.  Birds fed, reptiles bathed, grass grew, and trees thrived. The terrain was awash with greenery, and peace.  In those days, more especially in the North Island, more widely known as Te Ika o Maui, Volcanoes on the BOP area and Volcanic Plateau did not exist.  Then one day all hell broke loose.

At approximately 1243hours Sunday 5th March,, a sudden entry through the atmosphere flew over Tauranga, then Rotorua and Taupo and crashed into what is now Lake Taupo.  The force was so great the following happened:

480 billion metric tonnes of soil and rock was displaced and forced into the atmosphere with Egyptian records saying that at the same time, a loud Boom was to be heard and the Earth went dark for a long time (maybe 180 days).

From Rotorua to Waiouru and points north the Earth's Crust was heavily fractured forcing the Magma below to the surface to rise in the shape of Volcanoes et al.

A 25m high Tsunami washed across the Pacific Ocean crashing with devastation into islands and mainland areas, killing many.  It is said amongst coastal Aborigine that the coast was utterly devastated.

So what was this "asteroid"?  From research, before the birth of the saviour, terrestrial events were common.  One just has to read Arthur C Clarkes books on the subject to understand. What I do know is these:

The Orb was 30 mile wide and 30 mile round, size almost indeterminate.

Of a metal construction whose element does not exist on our planet.

Weight determined to be around 480 million metric tonnes.

Inhabitants (read Aliens) were ethereal beings with no discernible shape.  Almost invisible to the human eye (as in the movie Predator).  They were not warriors but a peace-loving homily. They sent scouting parties out to map the terrain and source food.  As the terrain was largely free of suitable meat, they reboarded Tuwhenga (the ships name) and departed after 5 years 12 days, for who knows what and where.

In 1992 I was on a navy research vessel sailing from Vanuatu to The Solomon Islands and for something to do I manned the very deep echo sounder and mapped the trench that lies between both Island groups. That trench on the old charts has a deepest point of 7,500metres.  I managed to follow it to almost twice that depth (13,500metres.) But of note was a sense I had that a very, very large spacecraft was on the bottom of that trench.  Almost 5 times the size of Tuwhenga. 

Trench find Notes:

No known date for it's origin. Possibly billions of years old, perhaps 2,000 years old, perhaps 1883 (Krakatoa)

Earth's crust is weakened in that location with volcanoes on Papua New Guinea, Indonesia, Solomon Islands and Vanuatu (Ring of Fire around "crash site"). Rampant quakes evident regularly.

Over the past 7 years, every time I muse about something on my laptop (especially playing online games) I get a "voice" tell me this craft is associated with AI (call me mad, I am).  My thoughts are often directed to that location on our Planet. Should we be worried?  Let's see.

Fact:

1.  I am certified Nuts.

2.  I tell a ripping yarn

3. Do you believe?

.

 

Humans are Mammals or Animals

 Just some thoughts.  What do Humans have Animals don't?

Humans have some (or all) of the below:-

Alzheimer's

Bipolar Disorder

Heart Disease

Epilepsy

Weight Issues

PTSD

Leukaemia

Dementia

Cancer 

Diabetes

Knee Problems

Alopecia

COVID

Polio

Chicken Pox

Measles

So:-

Lions, Elephants, Hyena's, Seals, Penguins, Humpback Whales, Grizzly Bears, Crocodiles, Pythons, Buzzards, Fantails, Bumble bees, Tuatara, Gnats and Ants (to name a scant few) all have no recorded history of Human ailments.

Are they lucky or are we humans a special species??

Getting rid of MMP - a tally that tells.

United Kingdom.

Population 66,000,000 and represented by 650 MP's - each MP representing 101,539 people.

Australia.

Population 26,000,000 and represented by 151 MP's - each MP representing 172,865 people.

Aotearoa NZ.

Population 5,120,000 and represented by 120 MP's each MP representing only 41,667 people.

If we were to match both Aussie and British population to MP ratio, we'd need only 50 MP's.

Marnie of the E Street Shelter

 Her hair is the disheveled label of manic misadventure,

her grey coat splattered with the drool of depression
her shoes, each different and each well-worn, schizophrenic.

She shuffles from doorway to doorway smiling,
her eyes deep dark orbs that have seen discrimination in all forms,
her lips tight shut and stern, afraid to speak her mind.

She welcomes intrusion as a safety net from a crazy world,
the taste of liquor the only medication that made her happy,
her wrists and forearms scarred with the doctors promise.

Now she passes like a will o the wisp, shameless and without guilt,
her mind swimming in her dressing state, tomorrow a string bikini
in a Wellington wind bent on sending everyone to hell and back.

Tonight she will dine in the bins outside Maccas and BK,
tonight she will drink from half fill bottles,
tonight she won’t dare dream about the kids she left behind.

2003 - an Apocalyptic Year

 On the 28th of February 2003 I played my last ever cricket game.  A switch was flicked.  On 3rd March 2003 I lost my mind for the 3rd time since November 23rd 2000.  My epiphany started. 

I was beset with voices, ghosts, visual and auditory hallucinations and errant spirits. At the time I didn't know why?  That would become apparent in 2005 and 2015. Not sure of the date, maybe 3rd to 5th March I drove out of Foxton in my waka.  As I passed the Foxton Cemetary my mind and memory went blank. 30 minutes later I "came to" entering Woodville, some 40 odd kilometres from Foxton. 

In Woodville I took State Highway 2 towards Pahiatua.  I was still not totally cognisant of my surroundings and found myself on a country road heading back to Foxton.  Unfortunately, things took a turn for the worst. I came around a tight left-hand turn, lost control and crashed into a barrier protecting a deep culvert. Thanks to my course whilst in our Navy being the Skid Control Course, I managed to stop before going in and certain death.  I was still in my mind slip.  But survival stepped in. The voices etc were not evident, so I had my sleeping bag in the car and went to sleep in  the deep grass on the side of the road.

Next morning I walked down the road and found a farmhouse, and a farmer, but I got freaked and walked back to the car, throwing my car and house keys into a paddock. Soon after, the Pahiatua policeman arrived and I asked him to take me to Ward 21 Palmerston North Hospital, the Mental Health ward. For some reason, I was in the passenger seat, not the rear seats.  Anyway, we headed back to Palmy, in silence.  Arriving in Palmy we were headed down Summerhill Drive and at the bottom of the hill the road had a bridge that had the Massey Turitea road under it. As we hit the bridge, I quickly undid my seatbelt at the same time opening the door, did a barrel roll on the road, leapt up, and jumped off the bridge, 9 metres to the road below.  I knew it wasn't a suicide attempt as I landed on my feet, not my head.

Now this is where things become totally insane. Whilst I was "flying" through the air, I had a vision to my right side.  Remember the Green Waterfall displays on the computers featured in The Matrix?  I saw a red wall, only briefly. At the same time, a Red Mazda 626 on the lane where I was headed, suddenly swerved to the left affording me a safe landing. Well not safe.  According to a voice, I had fractured my right Tibia, right Fibular, smashed most of the bones in my right foot (again) and smashed both ankles. I was in and out of consciousness but remember no pain, no blood et al. And my "friendly" cop was parked 30 metres away stopping traffic.

I was also cognisant when the ambo's turned up and immediately put me on Oxygen.  I would have no memory for most of the next 2 months.  What I do remember is sketchy at best.  Thats my human side.  My spirit-self remembered, everything which would become apparent in 2018.  I do remember being moved around regularly from wards 24, 25 and 27.  Don't ask me why?  I also remember my left foot throbbing a lot and causing me vomiting black bile, later discerned as rejection of limbs (not mine)

I had regular visits from my "surgeon", Doctor Love (yeah right lol) and Doctor Starr (Yeah right lol) my psychiatrist.  One time Doctor Love showed me my Xray's of both feet/legs.  As soon as he did, I  knew something was amiss.  According to the Xrays, both feet/ankles had several screws in them.  The right Fibular had a titanium plate halfway up my shin, and still a clean break on the Tibia, which is still broken. I have no idea why Doctor Starr was visiting as I was mostly non complis mentis.

Later, maybe early April, I was moved back to Ward 25 and had caregivers taking turns sitting with me.  These folks worked for Lavendar Blue, a health care provider here in Palmy.  My voices came back, but this time I was in control with them. Basically, this is when my fightback commenced. Undercover as you were.

This entered the phase on my return home.  Precipitated by having two casts on my lower legs.  I was wheeled down (in my bed) to the place casts were fitted.  In my mind I thought "Hell's Kitchen".  The lady who fits them put a calf length cast on my left leg, Fluorescent Orange, and on my right leg, Fluorescent Green.  A fucking Traffic Light. I spent two weeks "walking" from  my flat to the Street Phone around the corner.

Oh yeah those keys??  They were never found. When my car was delivered (by my brother) there was no sign  of a break in as I had locked the car.  And my sisters ransacked my flat which was odd as the house key was on my car's keyring. Ok - maybe they were found and my siblings did things for my greater good.

Consequences of a Loveless World 2024

 Consequences of a Loveless World.

The Sniper sits patiently in his hiding place, his backside itchy from hours of waiting. He shifts his position noiselessly. The target, 250 metres away, stands with his back to him, puffing on his Russian cigarette, oblivious to his plight.

With his eyes on the target, the sniper reaches into his pocket and pulls out the smooth warm 7.62 mm round, thumbs it into the open breach of his high powered sniper rifle and quietly pushes the breach closed, forcing the round into it's chamber, ready for discharge.

The target turns suddenly, his hands dropping to the child standing in front of him. He nervously looks in the direction of the tree, which holds his death sentence, but pans past it, missing the dark green shape sitting high in its position. He bends down to the child and whispers in her ear, then points towards the barrier arm. He stands tall, takes one last look over his shoulder, and prompts the child to move. His Serbian features are taut, stretched from long hours of sleeplessness and the pain of the loss of his wife and older son and daughter. But his urgency still shows through the weathered features. He starts to run, pushing the child in front of him.

The sniper, ready for the dash, raises his rifle to his shoulder, carefully so as not to contact the surrounding limbs and branches, giving away his hiding place. His Croatian uniform, once stiff, now clings to his sweat stained body in easy comfort. The forefinger of his right hand closes round the trigger guard, looping over the trigger. He commences his breathing routine to steady his nerves. One bullet, one shot, one victim. He closes his eyes briefly to calm the light shimmer, and opens them again. The man has stopped, but the child runs on. The Serb removes his jacket, stretching his arms high to clear it off his massive shoulders, exposing a broad muscular back as his T-shirt rides up with the jacket.

The sniper thinks gleefully, a naked shot! The target is clear and unimpeded. His finger closes gently on the trigger, careful not to jerk the shot. The round sits patiently in the barrel, awaiting its moment of glory. But the action is stopped. The sniper stares in disbelief at the target. In the motion of removing his jacket, two medals are loosed from his T-shirt, golden in texture and as big as large biscuits. They dangle from two cloth strips and dance an invitation to a memory the sniper holds dear. They are Olympic medals! The same as the two he carries round his neck, under his tunic. His target is an athlete! Then the dawn of realisation hits him. He knows that man. Of course, the shoulders. His mind slips back to days less complicated.

***************************************************************************

Los Angeles, 1984. The middleweight weightlifting competition. Georg Vacelich, Yugoslav Croatian, and Ivan Serepov, Romanian Serb, are waiting in the preparation area behind the stage. The competition had been tense, with just the two of them left to fight out the gold metal lifts. They have been competitors and friends for years, brought together through college and university in competition between their two countries. Now they faced each other in the heat of international glory, yet still remained firm friends.

After Ivan wins his two golds, and Georg his two silvers, they escape the confines of their respective compounds, their political commissars, and their mentors, and disappear into the hubbub of L.A.'s many bars and cafes, celebrating their respective triumphs as if both of them had won the gold together, as two true friends would. Six months after the games, Ivan and his family emigrate to the Bosnian province in Yugoslavia, so he can be closer to his friend, for work, and to settle in his ancestral homeland with the descendants of his forebears.

***************************************************************************

Georg brushes the memory aside. His finger, still delicately poised on the trigger, relaxes a little. His friend, Ivan, pulls the T-shirt down and tucks it into his torn pants, his movement indicating a hastening of pace as he heads off after his girl-child. Georg decides that his friend is of no concern to his cause. He is beaten in spirit and body and will probably die soon anyway, as he, Georg, was dying. The performance enhancing cocktails fed to them as children had taken their toll. However, he thinks to himself, I am a Croatian warrior still and the future must be assured for my descendants. He swings the rifle gently around to the right, tracking the sight ahead of the now running man, and brings the cross hairs of the laser scope to bear on the child's back, pulling the trigger gently, as if making love to it, and forcing the firing pin mechanism forward to impact on the waiting round.

***************************************************************************

The bullet, glorifying in its freedom, streaks through the air. At terminal velocity it punctures the air, destroying nitrogen, oxygen and carbon dioxide particles with the heat of the friction generated as it spins clockwise about itself. The hardened tip begins to heat up with the friction, burning micro-organisms floating about in the cool afternoon air. On its determined flight to the target, it is killing a little of the planets careful balance, tilting the scales of nature relentlessly towards destruction. No amount of love or hope can repair the damage caused. It is a calamitous certainty of death. After it has travelled a full two miles, and destroyed countless millions of life cells on it's journey, the velocity diminishes to a complete stop and the bullet arcs gracefully to the ground, it's death trip expended, it's mission completed.

***************************************************************************

The child stands still, the whistle of air as the round passes her right ear sending a terrifying fear through her body. As she turns in the direction of her father, she senses then sees him diving headlong at her, and is caught off-balance as he tackles her to the ground and forces all his body over her diminutive frame. She manages, in her terrifying fear to glance under his armpit and see a man fall from a tree back at the edge of the forest. He hits the ground with a thump and lays motionless. The scream starts to build in her throat, but the years of terror have taught her to stifle her fear. A scream would mean certain death for her and her father. She then hears a mighty thud, as does her father, forcing both to flinch from the next moment of death. However, there is no accompanying whistle of bullet or thwack of target attained, just the sound coming from the tree the man fell from. The thud again, and as she and her father look in the direction of the man, a dark gleaming object and a wooden stock fall to the ground, separately. Realising their fate had been altered, the father raised himself off the ground and in one athletic motion, grabbed his daughter up in his arms, and raced with all the strength he had towards the border post. The UN guards stationed there were waiting in absolute awe of the situation which had unfolded before their eyes.

***************************************************************************

Georg could feel the fall, the light nothingness of his descent indicating the sensation. But how? He had been sitting on the branch a micro millisecond ago. The sharp pain in both his shoulders suggesting some great force had inflicted his precipitation from the tree. Before he could think anymore on his demise, the ground appeared in his vision, breaking his lovely nose, parts of his arms, and seven ribs. The sensation was electric. The silver medals hanging round his neck were forced into his collarbone by the rock under him, breaking the collarbone and rupturing flesh and blood vessels in the impact area. Jesus he hurt.

The pain, forcing his eyelids shut, abated for a second, allowing him to open his eyes in bewilderment. His vision fixed firmly on the two objects raising themselves from the ground in front of him and dashing towards the border. He knew he had got the round off, dead centre of the girls back. Why wasn't she dead? How could he have not hit the future of Serbia at that range? The pain forced its way back requiring his senses immediate attention. Just then he heard the encroaching sound of air being forced apart as if an object were passing through it, and the soft thud of a great object landing adjacent his head. He forced the pain from his conscience, opened his eyes, and managed to swivel his broken neck a little towards the shadowy beast standing over him. What on earth was a monkey doing here, he thought?

My 2024 New Year Wish List.

2023 was a tough year but we made it to 2024.  My 10 Wish List items for 2024 and on.

1. No media coverage of conflicts and wars on Mainstream TV.

2. No mentions of violence acts in Aotearoa on Mainstream media.

3. All social drugs will dissolve into thin air..

4 We shall turn Wine into Water and revisit 3 Waters.

5. All Gun Metal pieces (firearms, tanks, ships) will dissolve into Thin Air.

6. No need for any more medical institutions.

7. The Justice system will disappear.

8. Couples will marry for life (giving children hope)

9. I shall be selfless and selfish. My prerogative.

10. I, like many, will try and eradicate Pandemics.

Happy New Year. 

The World Wide Refugee Conundrum.

 Going to expose a few home truths here.  Three myths.

1.  North African Refugee influx to Europe.

A large number of refugees from Africa have travelled thousands of miles to reach Tunisia and Libya to get into boats and make the dash across the Mediterranean Sea to land at southern Europe and become a nuisance.  Two little known facts.  To get to both Libya and Tunisia they would have walked across the Sahara Desert. Secondly, where are these very large rubber rafts coming from?  See synopsis below.

2.  Mexican and US Border.

A majority of those folks reaching the border from central and south America have had to tackle severe jungle and very dry plateaus. 

3.  New Zealand Border Threat. In the past 10 years the sudden influx of many folks from the Indian Sub-continent has become evident.  I have a trick. I ask these folks I come into contact with where they are from.  There is always a marked display of hesitancy. Same happened when I questioned Fijian Indians - hesitancy.

In all above, the term "Illegal Aliens" is the catchcry.  They (Chinese/Indian) just "appear" and some with great forged documents once on arrival. As for the Med issue, return them to North Africa. 

1. Mediterranean issue.  Cementing facts.  The rubber boats do NOT resemble normal rubber boats produced in this world. The people in them are largely wearing western clothing.

2.  Mexico/USA. Almost all folks pictured by the Media on the Mexico side are plumpish and well dressed.  They do not resemble folks who have marched thousands of miles to seek a life in the USA.  Long may the Wall live.

3.  New Zealand.  Get tougher with immigration.  Find the Portal??

Lake Manawatu, a dam.

 

 The catch cry of the days is renewable energy throughout the land.  With the closing of the Manawatu Gorge (road not rail) it would be opportune to build a dam at the western end of The Gorge with a hydro plant in it's belly.

I propose that the dam be 30 metres high.  Power would be directed into the National Grid for the Whanganui, Manawatu, Hawkes Bay, Wairarapa and Horowhenua areas.

What is not known, how far back into the Woodville areas would the resultant lake reach? 

Thoughts?? 

Stanley Kubricks Filmography.

 Famous film maker Stanley Kubrick was born in 1928 and passed away in 1999.  Unlike many other directors he was not prolific but what is known, all his 13 movies from 1952 to 1999 were all very good movies.

Which is your favourite?  You can pick as many as you like.

Year	Title	Director	Writer	Producer	Notes

952	Fear and Desire	Yes	No	Yes	Also editor and cinematographer	[7][40]
1955	Killer's Kiss	Yes	Story	Yes	Also editor and cinematographer	[41]
1956	The Killing	Yes	Yes	No	Co-written with Jim Thompson	[10]
1957	Paths of Glory	Yes	Yes	Yes	Co-written with Calder Willingham and Jim Thompson	[42][43]
1960	Spartacus	Yes	No	No		[44]
1962	Lolita	Yes	Uncredited	No		[45][46]
1964	Dr. Strangelove	Yes	Yes	Yes	Co-written with Terry Southern and Peter George	[47]
1968	2001: A Space Odyssey	Yes	Yes	Yes	Co-written with Arthur C. Clarke Also director and designer of special photographic effects	[19][48] [49][50]
1971	A Clockwork Orange	Yes	Yes	Yes		[21][51]
1975	Barry Lyndon	Yes	Yes	Yes		[52][53]
1977	The Spy Who Loved Me	No	No	No	Uncredited lighting design	[54]
1980	The Shining	Yes	Yes	Yes	Co-written with Diane Johnson	[55]
1987	Full Metal Jacket	Yes	Yes	Yes	Co-written with Michael Herr and Gustav Hasford	[30]
1999	Eyes Wide Shut	Yes	Yes	Yes	Co-written with Frederic Raphael Released posthumously