It is 11.45pm on a sunday.
I sit here with a beer and a jar of green olives, swig of one, fork full of another. The taste dancing a minuet.
This morning Mike rang at 7.15. It was about an hour too early, and the cold I have been battling for the last few days was hanging heavy on me.
My kid gave it to me for Christmas. Last time I show her any parental affection...the tart.
I croak down the phone, our conversations at this time of the morning are nothing, if not brief.
"see you at 8" he says.
"croak" says I.
I shower,find my gear, load 2 water bottles, stuff one of those digusting gels into my pocket, cell, money...pump my back tyre, the front doesn't need it.
Then blow my nose, and it starts to bleed, and won't stop. 15 minutes later I'm at Mikes and he has gone. Still leaking blood I set off after him. After 7 miles of riding I see him at the top of Glen Massey hill when I am at the bottom, but by the time I reach the turnoff at 10 miles, despite doing 28m.p.h. he has gone, so I decide to carry on alone.
It is pleasant enough up through the valleys, but as the morning progresses it gets hot, and feels as if the residual snot in my head is starting to boil.
The hills come in waves, 5,10,15,20...I don't recover from the last before the next comes crashing over me.
I pull my zip up on the downhills so I don't get chilled, and down on the uphills so that I do.
After 40 miles the first of the three roads that head back off the hills comes up to tempt me. I ignore them all, which tests my resolve.
The Pukekawa school is half way up a hill, and 7 miles from lunch,I have one gulp of water left and I contemplate trying to make my destination with what I have left... I stop, seven miles is 21 minutes and I decide that that is too long.
Mercer is perched with its toes in the Waikato River, it is, and always has been, a posting stop, for horses, for trains and now for trucks. It is blessed by a shop called 'Pokeno Bacon' which for the smell alone is worth the 55 mile bike.
I chow down on Pepsi, tea, and Pokeno Bacon sammies.
30 minutes later I am back on the bike. They have just resealed the road, and for 15 miles I am rattling and dancing like a marionette on a washer board. The headwind is not brutal, but is a trial nevertheless, and it is a relief to cross back over the river onto the old smooth road with 20 miles to go.
A tick over 5 hours and I am back, just under 90 miles....and best of all I didn't need to eat the gel.
I feel pretty good, and will do it again on Wednesday.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
"I leaf free firty on a pus"
yesterday the phone rang, there was a Tongan on the other end. I could tell he was a Tongan cos he said...
"My name Apa, I need jop, I see you at free firty, I be on a pus".
I said to the new P.A. "I think we're interviewing someone for a job, he'll be here on the bus at three thirty,... meet the bus and get rid of him"
(Actually he said he would be on 'a pus at two firty', but 'free firty' sounded better.)
P.A phoned and said "you better come down here"
So there he was ramrod straight, and looking like someone had beaten his face with a track shoe, an obsequious little thing, obviously pregnant, was hovering nearby, as were three bags of luggage.
"He seems OK" she had said.
I searched, unsuccessfully, for signs of this.
Finally I threw him a hawk and float. "Show me " I said.
He handled them like a pianist.
"Start tomorrow" I said.
"They need somewhere to sleep" said P.A.
"Sheesh" I said.
As chance would have it, I had just evicted a psycho-feral low life from one of the apartments.
The tenant, and I use that term loosely, bless him, had redecorated his room with cans of red paint, that, before he had got hold of them, we had used for marking cattle.
It would seem that not taking your medication when the moon is full, will sometimes bring out the artistic nuances in some people.
So, Swastikas, and Nazi paraphenalia spray painted on the walls had not improved my already low opinion of him...and a small altercation had ensued...and here I give thanks to my late father for making me swim all those years, (and for, of course, the wrench) ...before he saw the error of his ways, and left.
"I'll take them down to show them" said P.A.
I rolled my eyes under my breath, and left them to it.
This morning, he greeted me with bleary red eyes.
I took one look at him and could feel my rising cynicism bubbling away gaily.
When I looked inside the apartment, however, it was spotless clean and freshly painted...he had worked all night.
"Better give him a weeks free rent" said P.A.
"Better give him two" said I.
The Phone rang.
"G'day Hep" said I.
"I'm 10 minutes away, got time for a cuppa?" said Hep.
"Always" said I.
So10 mins later we were slurping hot tea at the local cafe....well I was, he was slurping hot 'flat white'
Now, I've known Hep for about 5 years, and he's a bloody good bloke, and also a customer. I'm not sure what he does for a living, and I'm not sure that he does either...but he's damn good at it.
"I'm gunna do Ironman" I said, knowing that he was part of the organising team.
"Yeh, Ant told me" he said.
"So, I'll flick you the entry cheque this week" said I.
"Don't worry, it's all taken care of" said he.
"Bloody hell, thanks mate" was the best I could muster.
(An Ironman entry fee is $750).
"Jarmen" I said, as the phone ran again.
"Is the moon full"? she asked.
"As a matter of fact it is" I had noticed it sitting fat and heavy on the gabled roof of the pub last night.
I told her once that it was more than hormonally coincidental that the only time she ever rang was when the moon was full...she didn't believe me...so now every time she rings, she asks.
"We're going shopping" she says.
"I'm in the cafe, so stop for tea" I say
"Three green teas" she says, and hangs up.
"You're in for a treat" I say to Hep.
She breezes in, all chiffon, designer jeans and bling and waving diamonds that would choke a horse. Heps jaw bounces off his knees. I hadn't told him that she has the best boobs that her ex husbands money could buy, and for which the chiffon was fighting a losing battle to contain.
Last time I saw her, (two full moons ago) she was dragging her arse and covered in paint, and was trying to get rid of a couple of houses and the mortgages that went with them...she looked dreadful. The transformation was astonishing.
She invited herself out to dinner with me on Saturday night...and while Hep was trying manfully to regain his composure....she finished her green tea and wafted out again, followed closely by her two friends, and a dazed Heps frazzled libido.
"My name Apa, I need jop, I see you at free firty, I be on a pus".
I said to the new P.A. "I think we're interviewing someone for a job, he'll be here on the bus at three thirty,... meet the bus and get rid of him"
(Actually he said he would be on 'a pus at two firty', but 'free firty' sounded better.)
P.A phoned and said "you better come down here"
So there he was ramrod straight, and looking like someone had beaten his face with a track shoe, an obsequious little thing, obviously pregnant, was hovering nearby, as were three bags of luggage.
"He seems OK" she had said.
I searched, unsuccessfully, for signs of this.
Finally I threw him a hawk and float. "Show me " I said.
He handled them like a pianist.
"Start tomorrow" I said.
"They need somewhere to sleep" said P.A.
"Sheesh" I said.
As chance would have it, I had just evicted a psycho-feral low life from one of the apartments.
The tenant, and I use that term loosely, bless him, had redecorated his room with cans of red paint, that, before he had got hold of them, we had used for marking cattle.
It would seem that not taking your medication when the moon is full, will sometimes bring out the artistic nuances in some people.
So, Swastikas, and Nazi paraphenalia spray painted on the walls had not improved my already low opinion of him...and a small altercation had ensued...and here I give thanks to my late father for making me swim all those years, (and for, of course, the wrench) ...before he saw the error of his ways, and left.
"I'll take them down to show them" said P.A.
I rolled my eyes under my breath, and left them to it.
This morning, he greeted me with bleary red eyes.
I took one look at him and could feel my rising cynicism bubbling away gaily.
When I looked inside the apartment, however, it was spotless clean and freshly painted...he had worked all night.
"Better give him a weeks free rent" said P.A.
"Better give him two" said I.
The Phone rang.
"G'day Hep" said I.
"I'm 10 minutes away, got time for a cuppa?" said Hep.
"Always" said I.
So10 mins later we were slurping hot tea at the local cafe....well I was, he was slurping hot 'flat white'
Now, I've known Hep for about 5 years, and he's a bloody good bloke, and also a customer. I'm not sure what he does for a living, and I'm not sure that he does either...but he's damn good at it.
"I'm gunna do Ironman" I said, knowing that he was part of the organising team.
"Yeh, Ant told me" he said.
"So, I'll flick you the entry cheque this week" said I.
"Don't worry, it's all taken care of" said he.
"Bloody hell, thanks mate" was the best I could muster.
(An Ironman entry fee is $750).
"Jarmen" I said, as the phone ran again.
"Is the moon full"? she asked.
"As a matter of fact it is" I had noticed it sitting fat and heavy on the gabled roof of the pub last night.
I told her once that it was more than hormonally coincidental that the only time she ever rang was when the moon was full...she didn't believe me...so now every time she rings, she asks.
"We're going shopping" she says.
"I'm in the cafe, so stop for tea" I say
"Three green teas" she says, and hangs up.
"You're in for a treat" I say to Hep.
She breezes in, all chiffon, designer jeans and bling and waving diamonds that would choke a horse. Heps jaw bounces off his knees. I hadn't told him that she has the best boobs that her ex husbands money could buy, and for which the chiffon was fighting a losing battle to contain.
Last time I saw her, (two full moons ago) she was dragging her arse and covered in paint, and was trying to get rid of a couple of houses and the mortgages that went with them...she looked dreadful. The transformation was astonishing.
She invited herself out to dinner with me on Saturday night...and while Hep was trying manfully to regain his composure....she finished her green tea and wafted out again, followed closely by her two friends, and a dazed Heps frazzled libido.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
The Ironman
It's 7.30 a.m on a Sunday, there is still a residual chill in the air, but the three of us are sweating. Me more than them, but they aren't going anywhere.
We are toiling up the flank of the Mile Bush, a two mile hill leading up to Glen Massey.
Firewood creek gurgles over rock to our left and overhanging bush where glowworms light up in the damp undergrowth at night, to our right. Now they drip patches of early morning damp onto the road, and will stay that way until the sun heats up the valley later on in the morning.
When the kids were young I used to bring them up here to show them the spectacle of the fairy lights in the bush, they would stand there in the pitch black winter cold transfixed at the sparkle of it..
For the first time this year Ant isn't going away from me, and I can tell that it's irritating him, because like it or not, he knows that my margin for improvement is greater than his, and the carbon fibre in his bike is creaking with the effort he is putting into trying to crack me open. We look across at each other and we grin.
60 miles later we are still at it, although now back where we started. "Doesn't seem like three hours since we were here last does it" He says, I snort with derision, because that is the only sound I can make.
We carry on for another 10 miles before we go our respective ways and I make the decision to enter the Ironman in March.
We are toiling up the flank of the Mile Bush, a two mile hill leading up to Glen Massey.
Firewood creek gurgles over rock to our left and overhanging bush where glowworms light up in the damp undergrowth at night, to our right. Now they drip patches of early morning damp onto the road, and will stay that way until the sun heats up the valley later on in the morning.
When the kids were young I used to bring them up here to show them the spectacle of the fairy lights in the bush, they would stand there in the pitch black winter cold transfixed at the sparkle of it..
For the first time this year Ant isn't going away from me, and I can tell that it's irritating him, because like it or not, he knows that my margin for improvement is greater than his, and the carbon fibre in his bike is creaking with the effort he is putting into trying to crack me open. We look across at each other and we grin.
60 miles later we are still at it, although now back where we started. "Doesn't seem like three hours since we were here last does it" He says, I snort with derision, because that is the only sound I can make.
We carry on for another 10 miles before we go our respective ways and I make the decision to enter the Ironman in March.
Monday, December 8, 2008
and stop calling me Shirley
It was a day held tight and kissed by opportunity.
An old friend who I have been bumping heads with of late, called by, and over a couple of pots of tea we mended ourselves.
She said that she had a client who had 40 acres to lease, and that the first person she had thought of was me...she blessed me with so simple a thing as a thought.
While we were talking another old mate called, I'm not sure of his pedigree but he looks as swarthy and belicose as a Lebanese and he continually peppers his expletives with snatches of conversation.
He has pitch black fingernails ingrained with the grease of years of mechanical labour...and is a genious when it comes to fixing things...he was saying that he was lonely so he bought half shares in a strip club (see..he's a genious) He makes me snort tea with unexpected laughter...as he realigns the universe according to how it should be.
Years ago in our 20's we combined our 'Dutch courage' and talked each other into buying our first houses. Now he owns streets full of them.
I had a new P.A start today, and by lunchtime I knew that I had made the right decision...she had taken away the treacle of life and had refocused me.
Tonight my 12 year old daughter and I went swimming.
Five testosterone riddled rugby brutes took over her lane and swamped her. She was close to tears when she popped up in front of me.
"Dad will you time me over a length?" she asked.
"Sure" I said.
So when two of them took off their next timed lap, so did she....all 70lbs of ribs and elbows, 4'8" tall, and flapping like a guppy.
The gorillas came second and third.
"17 seconds" I said, making sure they all heard.
"Surely you didn't beat those big guys" said one...
"Well, yes I did" she said..."and stop calling me shirley"
An old friend who I have been bumping heads with of late, called by, and over a couple of pots of tea we mended ourselves.
She said that she had a client who had 40 acres to lease, and that the first person she had thought of was me...she blessed me with so simple a thing as a thought.
While we were talking another old mate called, I'm not sure of his pedigree but he looks as swarthy and belicose as a Lebanese and he continually peppers his expletives with snatches of conversation.
He has pitch black fingernails ingrained with the grease of years of mechanical labour...and is a genious when it comes to fixing things...he was saying that he was lonely so he bought half shares in a strip club (see..he's a genious) He makes me snort tea with unexpected laughter...as he realigns the universe according to how it should be.
Years ago in our 20's we combined our 'Dutch courage' and talked each other into buying our first houses. Now he owns streets full of them.
I had a new P.A start today, and by lunchtime I knew that I had made the right decision...she had taken away the treacle of life and had refocused me.
Tonight my 12 year old daughter and I went swimming.
Five testosterone riddled rugby brutes took over her lane and swamped her. She was close to tears when she popped up in front of me.
"Dad will you time me over a length?" she asked.
"Sure" I said.
So when two of them took off their next timed lap, so did she....all 70lbs of ribs and elbows, 4'8" tall, and flapping like a guppy.
The gorillas came second and third.
"17 seconds" I said, making sure they all heard.
"Surely you didn't beat those big guys" said one...
"Well, yes I did" she said..."and stop calling me shirley"
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Running like a fish
There were two men, unknown to each other, sitting, as part of a group, having dinner in a downtown restaurant in Calgary.
One said to the other, "I just noticed your accent, where are you from?"
"New Zealand" Said the other.
"Oh", said the Canadian, "I have a sister who lives in New Zealand, in a tiny village called Ngaruawahia, do you know of it?"
"Why yes", said the New Zealander, "I have a very good mate who lives in Ngaruawahia."
"Good lord" Said the Canadian, when told the friends name. "He used to be married to my sister."
...and that good people is what is called synchronicity.
One said to the other, "I just noticed your accent, where are you from?"
"New Zealand" Said the other.
"Oh", said the Canadian, "I have a sister who lives in New Zealand, in a tiny village called Ngaruawahia, do you know of it?"
"Why yes", said the New Zealander, "I have a very good mate who lives in Ngaruawahia."
"Good lord" Said the Canadian, when told the friends name. "He used to be married to my sister."
...and that good people is what is called synchronicity.
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