Old friends and trouser-less men

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After filling up with water and rinsing down our read window, we hit the road for New Plymouth. We were headed to visit my old Anglican vicar from Alexandria, Rodney. I still have many fond memories of Rodney's sermons in particular one including many balloons on a table being able to support the weight of a table. The fact that I recall both the sermon and it's message over twelve years on just shows how fantastic his sermons are.

It was wonderful to see Rodney again, and we were treated to macaroni cheese fur lunch before a tour of the town. Rodney now make s model houses including a butchers and ironmongers, much to the delight of local WIs and church groups. He is a keen gardener with a lovely garden complete with a model windmill and a dovecote.

We enjoyed a good catch up before a stroll dish the promenade taking in the wind wand a modern art installment by artist Len Lye which blows rather ominously in the wind. n after a blustery and rather freezing walk, we were introduced to Rodney's son and his family. Unfortunately the children were off school poorly but both put on smiley faces while we compared memories of Rodney's sermons.

We were invited for dinner which we really accepted with me making up for the hospitality by making a cheese sauce to go with our silverside.
After another long catch up we bid our farewells and hit the road.
On arriving at our beach campsite we decided to try and find the owner and pay. It was then that we experienced a real Top Gear moment. As Andrew was reversing down a track parallel with the beach, I having been looking forwards shouted “watch!” as the van was reversing into a rather large rut. When Andrew stopped the van, we were at about a 45 degree angle to the ground. The van was not going forwards or backwards on its own. I jumped from the passenger seat to go and find what help was available.

Unfortunately for me there was a high wall between me and the houses so I had to venture in the dark and in the torrential rain up one of the back staircases to one of the large sea view houses. On reaching the only house with its lights on, I knocked on their glass front door. I was greeted by a rather grumpy looking women who did not seem best pleased at being disturbed. On hearing my explanation she did however grab her coat, and her husband who appeared trouser-less from the living room. “So you’re stuck then?” he said pulling on a pair of yellow waterproofs and heavy willies. “Yes we reversed into a rut and I’m rather worried about the angle we are stuck at.”

The pair of them came to inspect the car and upon stating “You may need a tractor, but I’ll have a go,” attached a tow rope to our front bumper and the rear bumper of his pickup and mercifully pulled us out. We gave them the bottle of wine we had been saving as a well deserved thank you, and then I went about drying my soaked feet and hair.



We learnt two important lessons – don’t drive down any partially lit roads in the dark even if you get stuck and trouser-less men are far happier to help you out than their wives.

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