There was a clunk and then … nothing

It could have been a line from a crime novel. But it’s wasn’t. It was the sound I heard just before my 550 Spyder rolled slowly to a halt. The engine was running and the gears were changing but somehow the power wasn’t getting to the wheels. Somewhere in the mechanical marvel right behind my head, something had said enough. Thankfully, for a car with no roof, this happened close to home and on a fine day.

I’d just washed the car for the first time, in the process figuring out how to do that without filling the cockpit with water (the trick, it turns out, is to be really careful) and on the drive back to the storage garage I experienced the aforementioned clunk. It was followed by cursing, grunting and swearing as the car was pushed the final 50 metres to the storage garage by myself and my lovely wife.

A few days later the 550 was dragged unceremonially on to the back of a car transporter and taken to the wizards at the Powerhaus. I have to admit as it was driven away my only thought was that even on the back of a flat deck transporter, the car looked good!

Footnote: I got a call later that day to say that the patient was sick but could be cured easily and quickly without the need for any form of open heart surgery. Apparently a nut and bolt holding the drive shaft had come away which, for a modest sum, could be replaced and the car will be as good as new.

Now all I need is a fine day to drive it home.

Farewell Tony Scott

Today film director Tony Scott – brother of Ridley Scott – died after jumping from a Los Angeles bridge. Among his films that I would classify as “ripping yarns” were Top Gun, Crimson Tide, Days of Thunder and his final movie Unstoppable . His passing is a great loss.

One year ago today

This time last year we had taken a break from the hectic pace of Tuscany, packed up the trusty Peugeot and headed north to France – the Cote d’Azur to be precise.

We had arranged to swap cars in Nice returning a slightly beat up Peugeot 308SW and picking up a brand new shiny Renault Megane Estate. Jean’s sister, brother-in-law and their baby James had been staying in Nice for a week relaxing so we met them and then moved about 10 minutes along the coast to the small seaside village of Villefranche sur Mer.

With bustling Nice on one side and glamorous Cap Ferrat on the other it always amazes me that this seaside village retains an air of calm and relaxation. There is nothing better than a quiet morning cafe at the hotel followed by a wander through the local markets and lunch on the Quai de l’Amiral Courbet with the sea lapping at your feet.

The panorama shot (made up of 6 individual photos covering 180 degrees) is taken from our balcony at Hotel Welcome, an institution in the village and a place we’ve stayed every time we’ve visited – which must be half a dozen times in the last decade. The Hotel has a wonderful manager who speaks excellent english, has a wonderfully dry sense of humour, and is a keen rugby follower. Even in August last year he was picking a France versus All Blacks Rugby World Cup final and an All Black victory. An easy one was his pick.

A view of Villefranche sur Mer with Cap Ferrat in the background

I’m not the only one worrying about Wellington

The post about the sign Wellington Airport recently installed on the hills beside the final approach (There are times I worry about Wellington) has certainly got my wonderful readers thinking. And they’re coming up with new and creative suggestions for the sign.

To show you what I mean, I’ve mocked up a couple of the suggestions. Keep them coming.

Two in a basket

Two in a basket beside the desk

Yes gentle reader, another gratuitous dog shot makes it’s way into the blog.

Our old girl Daisy (on the right) has now reached the unlikely age of 15 years and 6 months. Despite her heart condition, her deafness and her bad eyesight, she continues to battle on. In recent weeks she decided that all the old foods she used to eat and enjoy are boring and unappetising and she effectively stopped eating. Now she will only eat all the things that are bad for her. If it’s high in salt and low in vitamins and minerals, she’s into it.

That means McDonalds McNuggets, Cherrios (cocktail sausages to all non-kiwis), store bought meat pies, pretty much everything that we would have been horrified feeding her before. But after talking this through with our lovely vet Linda the general feeling was – if she’ll eat it, then that’s good. Because if she stops eating, well, that’s very bad.

Having said that, tonight, along with Jean and I, Daisy enjoyed fillet steak – medium rare – cooked in garlic butter.

Daisy spends most of her time sleeping these days, in her basket, next to my desk in the study. It’s a safe, warm place and a friendly pat is never far away.

Yesterday I came into the study to find Daisy at one end of her basket – and our other girl Poppie curled up at the other. Poppie has been watching the extra attention being lavished on Daisy and maybe this is her way to remind us not to forget her.

Mental note – fillet steak for 4 tomorrow night.

There are times I worry about Wellington

Last week a sign was erected on the hills above Evans Bay. It has been the result of 2 years of local debate and controversy and has involved everything from a petition from the public through to the involvement of some of Wellington’s finest business and political minds. All to develop a sign to welcome those arriving by plane at Wellington airport.

The sign says – wait for it – Wellington.

This story began when Wellington Airport – which owned the site – decided to pay homage to Wellington’s fabulous film industry – you know, Peter Jackson, The Lord of the Rings, Weta Digital, Stone Street Studios and now the two, sorry, three Hobbit movies – by erecting a copy of the famous “Hollywood” sign on the hill overlooking the harbour which would say “Wellywood”. I’m not sure where this piece of creative genius came from but it’s fair to say everyone, except the airport company,  thought it was naff, silly and, lets be honest, a bit “try hard”.

The airport company stuck to their guns, the sign was going up, end of story. But after protests, hours of angry talk-back calls, comment from many distinguished Wellingtonians, and the aforementioned petition, they backed down. A committee of prominent locals was set up to oversee a contest. Anyone who wanted to, could submit a design and the best one would be selected to go up.

It turned out that the best was a “Wellington” sign being blown away. An idea that came from an Auckland advertising agency. Yikes.

That sign with the airport to the right

A South Island road trip

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This gallery contains 27 photos.

Last week I had the chance to head south. To leave Wellington for a couple of days, fly to Christchurch and take a road trip from Christchurch driving west over Porters and Arthur’s Pass to the West Coast. A work … Continue reading

Out and about in Wellington

Loyal readers may remember the almost trouble free starting of my various cars a few weeks ago.

Well I now have the 911 certified and registered and on the road. This wasn’t without some drama however. Despite going very well after 15 months sitting still, it didn’t stop very well – or even at all, really.

Driving it to the Powerhaus across Wellington to be certified was an adventure. Every set of traffic lights required a lot of pre-warning and frantic brake pressing as the car slowly, slowly, slowly came to a stop. Usually just inches behind the car in front.

The brakes are all fixed now and we are back in action – and I have to say, the lads did a great job tuning the car. It hasn’t run better in the last 5 years.

“Well the weather outside is frightful …”

And yesterday the song lyrics were pretty much right. We had strong winds and rain, and the view from our front window was less than idyllic. But it was Sunday, a chance to hunker down and to do nothing much in particular. It was a challenge we were happy to take up.

One year ago today

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This gallery contains 4 photos.

July 12 2011 – we were staying in the lovely Villa Greta in Positano on the Amalfi Coast. It was a scorching hot day with the temperature hovering in the low 30’s (celsius) with hardly a breath of wind. The … Continue reading

A taste of Italy

Every time Jean and I feel homesick for Italy we make the pilgrimage to MariLuca Ristoro. It is owned and run by a friend, Guiseppie, and stepping through the door feels like stepping back to Italy. It’s all warmth and friendliness and excellent Italian food, all in the heart of Wellington.

Bellisssimo.

Note: photos are courtesy of MariLuca Ristoro