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Published: January 14th 2009
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Christmas seems to be well and truly over now. It does last longer here, as most people tack on their summer break to the Christmas holiday, and the city has had a kind of holiday feel to it, but they seem to have all drifted back to work now, including Matthew, who went back on Monday. The final act was the removal of the giant Santa Claus from the top of Whitcoull's bookshop. Presumably he has been put back in his box and packed off to Lapland for the duration.
Matthew just managed to get his birthday in before returning to work; it was his birthday on Saturday and we celebrated in style. I'm getting a bit worried about all the alcoholic stories on this blog, I don't want to give the wrong impression. I should really balance it out by telling you stories about all the cups of tea, coffee and water we have drunk in between all the booze, but you probably wouldn't believe them anyway.
Anyway, back to Saturday. We started in a Brazilian restaurant called Wildfire, with Phyl, Matthew, Becky and myself. What an unusual place! For a start there's no menu. On the table
Mission Bay
Pass me the soap! was a cylindrical thing, green at one end, red at the other. Totally useless to someone as colour-blind as me, but anyway, the idea was that while ever the green was showing, the waiters just kept coming with these huge skewers of meat. Pork, beef, lamb, sausages, you name it, they kept coming and coming and coming, with the odd plate of veggies ('cos that's what they call them here) in between. Eventually you have to cry for mercy and turn over the thing so that the red is showing. Only then do they leave you alone. Trouble was, Matthew kept turning it back over when no one was looking. Oh, and I forgot to mention the giant green-lipped mussels and the kalamari that came as a starter. These I think were Phyl's undoing, or it could have been the three pounds of meat she put away, but her notoriously funny tum let her down and she was feeling ill before we left the restaurant, though she had enjoyed her food immensely.
So after a drink in the nearby pub, amidst a huge downpour - this is Auckland remember, Phyl was still not well and decided she needed to
go home, and being a true gentleman I escorted her back to the apartment in the rain. Further evidence of my gentlemanliness was when I agreed to her request to go back to the pub and enjoy myself. So back to O'hagan's bar. We started to call it Snagaho's because when they closed the doors to keep the rain out, the name was engraved on the glass, so from the inside it was the wrong way round. So you can see what sort of night it was going to be! Another of the jokes I remember was "How do you know you're a pirate?" Answer "You just aaarrrrrrrrrrr!"Geddit?
It starts to get hazy after that, but we were joined by Mo (from Christmas Eve), and later on we ended up in a lively, noisy bar in Karangahape Road (K-Road). What they didn't tell me was that it was a gay bar, which should have been obvious from its location, but by then the brain cells were starting to shrivel. Not that it made any difference to me as a married man, but you have to be a bit careful who you go home with from there, as some of the
gorgeous females you see aren't quite what they seem, if you get my meaning!
Altogether a good night, and nice to be able to celebrate Matthew's birthday with him for the first time in 5 years.
So, since Monday, we've had a few days pottering around, doing things to prepare for our cruise, like making our third visit to immigration to make sure we can get back in to NZ when we return from Australia, and getting haircuts. Also a few more visits to shoe shops, and we finally found some that fitted! I had suggested we might try a blacksmith's and get some nailed on, but that didn't go down too well. So, anyone who works in a shoe shop in Australia, you can relax, I think you'll be safe!
The haircuts were quite a contrast. We have the misfortune to be staying near Toni & Guy's, who do cut and blow for a hundred dollars a time, so Phyl was in there before you could say "bankruptcy". I found an old-fashioned barber round the corner. having not had a proper haircut in a shop for about 20 years, I wasn't too sure what to do, so
I just stuck my head round the door, whipped off my cap and said "How much for a haircut?" He managed to stifle a snigger and said "In your case mate, about $15" I think they do it by weight. I'd forgotten what it was like at the barber's. This guy was one of the most skilful I'd come across. In the 5 minutes it took to cut my hair, he managed to extract every detail of my life history, the only thing he missed was my National Insurance Number. But the haircut was good so I didn't complain.
A couple of trips to the beach, a few walks round the docks drooling at the yachts and that's our week so far. Roy & Terry are coming round for dinner tonight, and I can smell something delicious, so that's me done writing for now. I'll try and add some pics later.
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