Rambles from World's End

A man died today, he was not famous, influential or rich, he did not win any “Nobel” prizes or leave his mark in the history books, but he sure made an impact on the lives of those who knew him. He was a father, a grandfather, a husband, an ex husband, a son, a brother, a cousin and an old family friend. He laughed with enthusiasm, reminisced with a smile and told the nastiest jokes he could think of. He was the inspiration behind the old adages: “He drinks like a fish and smokes like a chimney!” I am sure he has nursed thousands of hangovers. He was unashamedly racist and didn’t care that what he said was offensive to some, me included. In fact, I believe he said some things precisely because they were offensive. He was most certainly not a religious man, though he was by no means “Godless,” he was a hooligan, not a heathen. He enjoyed the company of not just his generation but also that of a younger generation, a generation that enjoyed his company immensely. I am sure there are man

My lifelong friend packed her bags and headed back to South Africa for a visit yesterday. My immediate reaction to the news that she was going was how lucky she was to be going home for a visit so soon after moving to the end of the world. The reality is she has dipped into their savings and gone without her family for the express purpose of visiting her ailing father. He had a rather bad reaction to a hip operation and as he has to undergo more major surgery she has headed home to spend time with him, just in case. The Mauritian has just recovered from an anxious few month after hearing that my grumpy father-in-law was involved in a rather serious motor bike accident. It seems that there were a lot of complications brought on by the accident and he was in and out of hospital since January. The Mauritian is by nature a worrywart and in these past months he has almost driven both of us into insanity. We had to make an arrangement to pay off our large phone bill because the poor Maurit

I was talking to my very talented mum this morning via that marvellous invention called “SKYPE” and telling her about the antics of my rather entertaining Butterfly and it occurred to me how much more time I spend laughing at her antics then I do scowling. Every fortnight we all bundle into our trusty $200 Nissan and head off to do a grocery shop. Every fortnight I arrive home with not only groceries but also a Butterfly story or two. The Butterfly refuses point blank to sit in the chair part of the shopping cart and as shops here do not allow you to put a child in the main part of the cart, Butterfly gets to stroll around on foot. Come to think of it though, I doubt I would ever have put the Butterfly in the cart anyway as I am sure she would have tried to eat just about everything we put in the cart, packaging and all. The Mauritian stresses uncontrollably when our Butterfly behave instinctively like a child and runs off down the shopping aisle and I find it extremely irritating tryi

Recently we packed up our $200 Nissan and headed through the pouring rain to Auckland for some rest, relaxation and good company. We were graciously given some floor space to rest our heads at friends who are so busy with three daughters ranging in age from eight years to one and running their own business. Where they find the time to entertain and help people like they do is far beyond a mystery to me. They have been a huge support for the Mauritian and I from the moment we expressed our decision to change the location of our home. They have freely given their advise, support and time and spent many hours on the phone with us listening to our fears or concerns over and over without complaint. In fact they were even responsible for the acquisition of our trusty form of transport before our arrival at the end of the world. Before our little vacation in the north I was thrown into a panic by a doctor's rather off handed comments that our Butterfly had a heart murmur and we should hav

It’s Sunday and dutifully we headed off to church and were pleasantly surprised that it was a children’s mass. The liturgy, prayers and hymns were all arranged by the students at the local catholic school. It was a wonderfully uplifting service filled with colour, smiles and joy right in the middle of lent, what a pleasure it all was. I was taken back to the many masses celebrated at the catholic school where I attended high school. They were always so joyful, busy and often inspired. Of course these masses also signified both the beginning and end of a school term, the first mass of the year always fresh and full of positive energy and promise, the last mass always nostalgic and excited. The choir belted out the folk songs accompanied by guitars, recorders and percussion, we all enjoyed it but nobody admitted it. There was the unacknowledged competition between classes to have the most memorable theme, yet I am sure not many are remembered any more. I can only remember one with any ce