Wally's tales

We are now struggling to live with the aftermath of an earthquake. We are also congratulating ourselves that we were extremely lucky when it struck, and as well as 99% of our of our citizens who were safely tucked up in bed. Not wandering the streets of the City and making them selves prime targets for falling masonry, glass, and other material, that was being shaken, mainly from our ‘Heritage Buildings’. In fact the aftershocks have never stopped. We have now experienced some two or three hundred at least. However unless they are in excess of 4 on the Richter scale, they are being ignored. We all are getting very tired and exhausted. In fact we are all waiting for another ‘Big One’, and finding it difficult to get to sleep. My daily drive across town is something I have to do in order to see my wife who is ‘in care’ at Papanui. It is a most frustrating experience. The problem is you never know which road or street they are going to block off next. Constantly you are being redirected, what with our one way system, it all adds to the problem. You alway end up having a very long roundabout trip.

I’m constantly being reminded of a cartoon published during the War by Giles which has stuck in my memory. This was at a time when the UK populous was being terrorised by a German ‘Vengeance Weapon’ the flying ‘Buzz Bomb’. It showed a large crowd all looking skyward, they all had one very large ear. One was saying, ‘We are not bothered at all by Hitler’s latest weapon’. We are the same, all cracking hardy, but when each shake arrives we are all waiting for it to magnify into something large.

On my daily drive I come across some very incongruous sights. Like a church spire at Merivale, standing apparently undamaged along side the church in the parking area. Blocks of apartments where one wall had fallen away leaving the interior exposed and untouched, but a long fall if you jumped out of bed and wandered the wrong way. The companies who are doing well, are the ones who hire out red cones and portable fences.

The ferals have quickly adapted to the situation. One crowd who were discovered looting, were all decked out in Civil Defence Uniforms. Others have quickly reverted to type, when taken in after spinning a story of having no home that was habitable, they then quickly reverted to type and proceeded to burgle the good Samaritan’s home. Or just plain freeloading in the emergency centres. They are also very resourceful too, armed with a wheel barrow and disguise, it’s surprising what they can shift. The Mayor and the Police quickly put a spoke in their wheel by imposing a curfew from seven in the evening to seven in the morning. What’s more, they enforced it. The latest ploy that I have heard of is that they are now posing as Building Inspectors. The Borough workers have been wonderful. Water and power were quickly restored to most of the town. Anyone who neglected to store fresh water and some alterative form of heating/cooking deserve to stay unwashed and the eating cold meals.

Initially I didn’t think our current Mayor had a snowballs chance in hell of getting himself re-elected with the Local Body elections next month. Standing against Jim Anderton in a town that historically leans towards the left. Jim had declared that he would run both jobs. One as a leader of his Political party, a job he now has, as well, Mayor of Christchurch, ‘To save the Country the cost of an By Election’. Was his By Line. This statement has proved to be a very bad case of shooting himself in the foot. It took a large crisis in the form of a major earthquake to prove just how wrong this thinking was. He has changed his mind overnight, seeing how decisive the current Mayor has been. Some councillors are muttering, they would like meetings, something New Zealanders are very good at. But this was not a time for endless talk. When you have no water, electricity, sewerage, or phone, you want action and that’s what we got. I would now give Bob Parker better than even chances of getting himself re-elected. So in my thinking, Jim had better resign himself to another three years commuting to Wellington if he wants a cosy job.

If you are interested in finding out more about earthquakes their strength and origin, Mark has just given me this site.

http://www.geonet.org.nz/earthquake/quakes/recent_quakes.html

These days in Christchurch when you met up with a friend or family member there is only one topic of conversation, and that’s, the ‘Earthquake’!. To be woken up from a deep sleep, in the dark as we were on Saturday night, at four thirty am, just to experience an earthquake, it was truly alarming. The shaking just seemed to go on and on. I don’t know which was worse, the shaking which was very severe, or the roaring noise, and crashing of falling objects that accompanied it. Of course, the burglar alarm was blasting, as well as the Grandfather Clock in the hall it started to chime endlessly. I had screwed many heavy items in the home that looked ‘topheavy’ to the walls, this included the clock and liquor cabinet and it paid off. However it didn’t stop bottles from falling out and breaking. No good turning on the lights as the power supply was now off, as was the water supply for good measure, of course no phone. I have been told that main quake only lasted one minute but it seemed much longer than that. What a sight greeted me when I found a torch and ventured out into the rest of the house. Everything than could fall down had fallen down, and then proceed to migrate somewhere around each room. Broken glass was scattered everywhere but we were lucky as most of our damage was minor. One half hour later Mark and daughter Lynn were on my doorstep to inquire if I was OK. I think what contributed to our luck in that we suffered no major damage, was due more to the fact our house was sited on volcanic rock, than was the rest of the town, which was resting on saturated sand. This immediately reverted back to a bog, the state it had been for thousands of years until the early settlers had drained it, and turned it into a city. The sand with the motion had liquefied and this phenomena has caused much damage to roads, homes, and the infrastructure. Power poles can’t stand ‘upright’ in watery unstable ground. I went for a drive around the side of the Halswell stream when I visited my son, the road that follows the stream’s contours was slipping into it. The bridges had remained intact, but the road had slumped six to eight feet on each side of the bridges, there was no way you could cross the water. Large sections of the road and surrounding country had huge fissures, and some just went through houses if they were in the way

It was wonderful how everyone rallied to assist. Something totally unexpected was a call from WINZ or an allied Government Department, They were checking up on every one living alone. Was I safe, and was there anything I needed? I thanked them for their concern, told them I was well supported by my family. Later I called the family out at the farm when the phone service was restored. I was surprised when my daughter in law, who is normally a strong character, burst into tears. I decided to make a visit if I could. Before I set out, I made a trip to the nearest supermarket to take out a food parcel. What a surprise that was. In the store, everyone and his uncle was there filling up their trolleys as if there was no tomorrow. I was able to pick up a cooked chicken, cooked ham, salad, fresh bread etc. I couldn’t have made a better gesture. Later, they had invited others in and had a meal on Grandfather. They called me at 9-00pm to thank me

This quake was the same strength as what had hit Haiti and Napier. Those quakes did massive damage too but had killed many hundred of thousands people, caused extensive property damage. It would seem that we owe a vote of thanks to the authorities, who over the years have forced us to conform to a very stringent building codes to protect us from seismic events. However we are saddled with many Historic Edifices, all of which all have protection orders on them, and what work on them you can carry out is restricted. It’s very nice to preserve the past, they give a city character, but these are an expensive indulgences. In another way, they can kill you. We were fortunate too that there was few people about, either at work, or walking the streets when we were struck at 4-39am.

Ever since the quake we have been getting reminders in the form of what is called ‘After Shocks’. These have amounted to some hundred or other. They could be described from a mild swaying to a very vicious shake. Someone said it was like the hand of God lifting your home and dropping it.

Years ago when we lived at Milton we actually witnessed an earthquake. We were eating lunch outside and suddenly my mother stood up and said she was having a bad turn and she clutched the table for support. Looking beyond her, and across the Milton plains, we saw to our amazement large ‘land waves’ coming from the North. These waves were made up from the paddocks, road, trees and the Tokoiti River. I have never been able to regard the Earth as something solid again.

You can’t but feel sorry for some people. Some have lost their all, and some come through completely unscathed. Beth gave me the best Father’s Day present ever, she spent the day cleaning the mess in the kitchen and pantry and lounge. Pickled walnuts, wine, porridge, make a real gooey mess. If it was made of glass it broke. After the last ‘after shock’ everything has fallen down again, but all the messy stuff was no longer around to compound the problem. I no longer take a glass of water to my bedside table. I now take a bottle of water with a screw top.

Our family from way back had been in the Movie Business. Not the production side, but in a small way as an independent exhibitor. Naturally as we grew up, we all contributed to film industry one way or another. We learnt I suppose by osmosis. How to work the projectors to give the best possible performance, sell tickets, usher, and control the front of house. There were a lot tricks to pick up, from how to bargain with the salesmen from MGM, Warner Brothers, and all the others that were constantly knocking at you door, all trying to sell you their product. The price or hire of a movie was one thing, but it was just as important to schedule your screening with someone else close by, as freight at times was equal to a hire cost. You never wanted to get stuck with a double freight, by having to pay freight both ways, or being stuck with the film at the end of the circuit, then have to return the film to the exchange which was in Wellington. The sales teams used many tricks, even to bundling not such good movies, with ‘Road Shows’ to shift product. The Big Chains of the City theatres had tricks of their own. If a money spinner they were screening was being held over for another week, and the movie you had booked hadn’t yet been to the City, it could just disappear in transit. Now who would do something mean like that?

My memory even goes back to the silent days when the ‘sceening’ only had sub titles. Mood music was then provided by a pianist. In the early days this was my mother, or Chris Pike. One thing that stands out was the noise and stamping of feet when the pianist walked down to where the piano was situated below the screen, the young fry then knew the movie was about to start.

The projectionist was licensed, and his job was under the control of the Government Department of Internal Affairs. You were required to sit exams for this vocation, as the film was considered very dangerous, being made of Nitrate. Later film stock was all Safety Film, and then the controls were relaxed. That was the reason that the film in the projectors or while in storage the containers were all called magazines, a name that came from explosive world. One thing, with the licensing system it ensured was that all projectionists were well trained, and capable of giving a excellent performance. Ticket prices compared to today’s was very reasonable. 1/6 for downstairs stalls plus 3’pence tax (Today’s money fifteen cents ) Upstairs 2/3 plus 3’ tax (that’s 25 cents). As an aside I went this week to a sceening of ‘Avatar’. Admittedly it was in 3D, but in my mind the $18 charged was prohibitive. The eight of us who watched the screening all enjoyed the performance. Perhaps the message would get through that it was overpriced. However for me there was a bad downside. I have suffered from vertigo ever since, and I am blaming the 3D projection. I won’t be going back.

There were many films that were ‘Old’ available for a ‘Song’, and often the exchange was unaware of their pulling power. One was Margaret Mitchell’s, ‘Gone with the Wind’. We brought it back every year, and we knew it would always play to a Full House. But it would seem that Wellington didn’t a clue. Whenever we called it back, my father was like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, until it was safely back in it’s container, and off again back to Wellington. This print was a ‘Nitrate’ copy being so old, but it was still a money spinner and guaranteed full houses.

During a performance there were always unforseen incidents happening, just to keep us on our toes. One pregnant woman sitting upstairs decided half through a screening that her time was near, decided to depart immediately, she only got as far the stairs where she collapsed. As luck would have it my wife who was a maternity nurse, and she was called on. It took time to get her attention as we were screening ‘The Third Man’ and she was totally engrossed in the film.. We were lucky as we were able to bundle the new mother and my wife off to the Maternity Home and the audience were unaware of what was happening in real life. I don’t think Laura ever saw the end of this film, and what happened to Harry Lime Another time while cleaning up at close to midnight. (We always did this after every performance to discourage rodents) we discovered a six year old sound asleep in the front row. Even back then some parents were using us as a baby sitting service. Another time I remember well when selling tickets. A drunken seaman got in behind me armed with a knife. There wasn’t a lot of room in the ticket booth for the both of us and to the best of my ability I ignored him. My son Rod saw what was happening and he said ‘Are you in trouble Dad?’. I replied would you go and get Mr Plod? He ran into a policeman outside the theatre, this policeman was a quick witted thinker, he grabbed an Alsatian Dog from a passer by, and they both came into the vestibule. The dog did the trick and the man was led away. Something that escaped everyone’s attention was, with our polished floors the dog couldn’t keep it’s feet and kept falling over.

Another source of revenue was advertising still slides. these were screened before the performance and during intermission, advertising local and National material. I got to know the girl from Dunedin who looked after all slides for all cinema’s. I enjoyed a great relationship, while we were going out together, all our entertainment was free, as she had a purse full of theatre tickets.

After the war when living space was just unavailable, we set up a makeshift flat in the void under the upstairs area. Sure, the walls were only tar paper made use of this space. They even looked solid unless you touched them.

Politicians, like them or hate them, we need them. But what a strange breed they are. They all seem to have egos larger than anyone else on this earth. And don’t forget as a group, they are the law makers of our country. However it would seem that they have great difficulty themselves in obeying laws, or even determining what’s right from wrong. All have been issued with credit cards for use when on official business. However temptation always seems to get the better of them. Many too have yielded to temptation and have been caught using their cards for personal transactions. Why am I talking this way? Well in the last few months we have so many incidents of the worst behaviour of misfeasance which always in the past has just been brushed under the carpet with the remarks, ‘Perhaps the card holder became confused, by which card to use’. Maybe I’m a cynic, but I suspect that, from what has been exposed, and I’m sue it’s only the more blatant misuse of their cards. My opinion is, that it’s only the tip of the iceberg. It’s strange that they never seem to use their own card in any of these mix ups.

For years we have had to listen to the carping of how hard they are worked. How they have so little time to enjoy any private life. Further more, they can’t wait for the day to arrive to free them from this onerous lifestyle. But do they ever leave? Not on your Nellie. They do, but only when their fingers are prised off the controls, or they done something so bad that even their own party disowns them. Then you can hear the weeping and wailing from one end of the country to the other. They want back to enjoy all the perks politicians wallow in. For a long time they enjoyed free travel on Rail. The Government back then, actually owned the system. When they sold the Rail System, they then transferred their ‘free bee’s’ over to the Air Lines which they didn’t own. Not only for attending parliamentary sessions, but to include holiday junkets as well. Makes you wonder, when some of these misfits are actually in control and running our country. Now with the MMP system we now find that it’s extremely difficult to even rid ourselves of them, even when they fall out favour. Vote them off from a seat that they had come to regard as theirs for perpetuity, so help me, then they turn up again as an listed member. We had a case this week with a List Member issued and leaked to the Press, eighty two pages of various complaints against the conduct of her Party leader. Seeing that she belongs only to a minority party, and came into her position of power because the leader managed to get himself elected as a member of the ACT Party for Epsom. With his success, he trailed in some six or so ‘List Members’ into Parliament. In my opinion, someone unhappy as she seems with the management of her Party, especially so taking into account her tenuous position, she should just get up and go. They count for nothing when on their own. But to have the gall to leak their displeasured to the Press is unforgivable. Our Press thrives on dissent, in fact any dissent, they are also very good at blowing small incidents out of all proportion into something in their opinion they call ‘news’.

Recently too we have a member of the Labour Party who was also upset about his leader’s standing in the Polls. Worried that he was the wrong man to lead them back to the treasury benches again, so he too leaked a long note of his concern to the Press. Perhaps he was correct in his assumption, but chose the wrong method to express his concern. He was also more than a little piqued over a reprimand he had been given over his excessive travel, and decided at the same time, to show his displeasure at his censure. His travel on examination was over the top, and it seemed, he only returned to new Zealand to do his washing, before starting out again. The Labour Party have not performed well in opposition. They are of the opinion that smearing the ruling party on each and every occasion is the way ahead, but any student of Political Science could tell them it’s not the way to win. Also an ex National Party member who worked for an outside Charitable agencies. He double dipped by picking up his ‘free bee’ travel perks and charged the charitable agency as well. Very naughty.

In case you were wondering that the above has taken place over several years. No, all of the above bad behaviour has taken place recently, it’s just a vignette of the past two months of misfeasance that has been uncovered. The past which would contain much more, I suppose it’s now dead and buried. I would imagine too that it will remain so, forgotten.

Now that I’m old and I have time to reflect on what might have been. I’m Pleased on many occasions that I took a wise saying to my heart. ‘It’s better to have loved and lost, than never loved at all.’ I know, and I always knew that I was no Prince Charming, and should the young maiden I was chatting up be looking for a tall dark hansom stranger. Well, I was disqualified right at the start, I’m short and of a slight build. Certainly not gifted physically in anyway. So like it or like it not, mostly it was the case of Love and lost. I also knew, that it a fact that a girl had to kiss a lot of frogs before she found her Prince Charming. I could have been on occasions been by regarded by many as belonging to the frog group.

Of course even a frog has to know what he is looking for in his search for a partner. It was also said, ‘If you want to know what your girl friend will look like in fifty years time, have a hard look at her mother’. The world is not short of other parables, ’An apple never falls far from the tree.’

During the war there was a joke, and a song directed to our serviceman overseas. ‘Dear John.’ I’m returning your photo, as I have married your brother.’ For many it was only too true and very hurtful. Many broken hearts as a result of receiving such a letter, especially when you were on the other side of the world, and unable to do anything about the situation. The War went on for five years which is a long time to be parted from a loved one. Even I suffered this rejection. Thank goodness I wasn’t engaged, married, or had a young family to take into consideration. At least the young lady had good manners to advise that she had found and married another. The fact that she mentioned that she was now pregnant was beside the point. However this story has an ironic twist as thirty years later I became good friends with her son not knowing then who his mother was. I never told him of my earlier alliance.

On reading the above you could come to believe that I was a total looser. Not so, there was still an army of young women out there who made their intentions loud and clear. And they too wanted a mate, and they wanted one now! As anyone with any sense would want to know what they were getting into and hold back. I suppose too everyone had a check list. Personal Grooming and personal hygiene. Diet, how do they eat? Do they live on a diet of nuts and raw food. Perhaps even a Vegan? Are they control freaks? I Once had a beautiful girl friend and I was appalled by the way she treated her family. It wasn’t hard to extrapolate five years on, and then it would be you on the receiving end of her bad temper. Well this list could go on and on, but really you are only looking for a balanced person, common sense will help you to find the perfect partner who is prepared to love you. However regardless of all of the above, you still need a very large dollop of Good Luck.

My life has taken many twists and turns. It would seem more often than not, what I was endeavouring to achieve was not the outcome that I finally ended up with. Thinking back to the time of my schooling, I only have odd flashes of memory. However one that stands out was on my first day, when I hit Archie Carey on the nose after being wrongly advised to do so by a visiting Uncle. I can also remember being terrorised by a female teacher, as well was everyone else in my Standard Three class. She had the whole class shivering in their shoes, wondering who was going to be the next victim of her terrible bad temper. There must have been something medically wrong with her. I can remember one time, in a fit of rage she actually shook a girl right out her dress.

This was during the time of the depression and our family’s business was not doing well. My father had built a new theatre to screen films. It turned out with hindsight to be the wrong time, with the downturn we were experiencing and was getting worse every day. We were barely meeting payments on a small mortgage as the depression deepened. Then the ‘Talkies’ technology came onto the scene. This meant my father had to buy extra expensive new sound equipment, such as amplifiers and speakers even to remain in business, and no prospect of recouping the expenditure when the existing mortgage payments were taken into account.

At this time he was giving away hundreds of free tickets for each screening. As not many at this time could afford to attend as paying patrons. The unemployment benefit which most were receiving at the time, was barely sufficient even to buy their food. Unfortunately our Company went into receivership owing $1,000, a paltry sum you say, but when you haven’t got it, you are in much the same position as ‘Dickens’ Macawber found himself in. The firm controlling the enterprise didn’t wind the business up. They quickly paid off the original Bond Holders, then ran the enterprise for their own benefit. I can remember looking at a balance sheet once. I saw that they made a stated Profit for that year of only $2. So in 500 years they could have paid off our Bond, but clearly they had no intention of ever giving control of the theatre back. Well not in our lifetimes .

I didn’t shine at primary school partly because I took the family fortunes and shame to heart. I actually nearly failed my standard six exam, and was given only a competency certificate. However at the same time The Otago university were conducting I/Q tests, as a result I was visited at home by the examiners to see how a boy who couldn’t pass his proficiency test, had come near the top of their tests.

One day we were all seated at the table listening to the radio. We were all enthralled by a News Broadcast. War had just been declared, and my mother repeated an often quoted statement, ‘Well’, ‘It’s all going to be over by Christmas’. ‘Thank goodness you boys won’t be involved’. I was sixteen then. And who ever made that statement got it very wrong. Both boys, as well as my father, were all involved in the services before the War ended. Anyway, as soon as I was eighteen I was ‘Called Up’ or conscripted into the Army, within days I ended up as a private in the ‘Second Scottish Regiment’, which was quickly being brought up to strength from a territorial unit to repel the Japanese, who had by now taken over most of the Pacific. They also it would seem had their eyes on New Zealand. Initially we were poorly equipped, World War One rifles, and Lewis machine Guns. These were prone to stoppages. Little in the way of heavy guns. But we did have mortars which were basic engineered and being manufactured at the Railway workshops. The reason our Government was scraping the bottom of the manpower barrel was, all NZ men of eligible age, were already ‘off shore’ up to divisional strength, fighting the Germans in the Middle East who were desperate to cut off our trade routes and give them access to Middle East Oil.

We were never called on to see if we could have repelled any Japanese landings on our shore. As I saw it the only thing in our favour was that their lines of supply and communications were now getting stretched, as well we were now receiving shiploads of new equipment from the Americans. They too were now using our country as a staging base. After the Battle of The Coral Sea which was the turning point in the Pacific War, the Government decided to stand down the eighteen year olds, and revert to the normal practice of calling up the twenty ones and over. Before my Army ‘call up’ I had commenced an apprenticeship as a fitter with the Railways. I had no desire to return to that occupation. I also had no wish to remain in the Army either, many who were in control of the Home Protection units in my mind were not very bright, which was proved correct, as after the War, many found it difficult to find employment. I wanted to join the Air Force, but my father wouldn’t sign my ‘under age’ papers as my guardian. He finally relented and it was back to school as the Air Force insisted every applicant pass their ‘Pre Entry Exam’ regardless of their education level. So I ended up guarding aerodromes at night and attending school during day. All Air Crew were volunteers.

I should have mentioned that while waiting for a place in the Air Force I fronted up at the Man Power Office in Ashburton Looking to escape the boredom of the Army which was now being stood down. While in the Manpower Office I struck up an conversation with another job seeker. He advised me to say I was a Header Harvester driver, they were looking for these as they were in short supply. I was hired on the spot, but didn’t mention that I had never even seen a ‘Header’ and wouldn’t have recognised one if it had been in the room. The Farmer who hired me said he really wanted a ‘Tin Mill’ driver and he would soon show me the fundamentals which wouldn’t be a problem seeing I had been a header Driver. Initially I bluffed my way through which was hard, as I discovered the Driver is the Boss of the whole operation. The ‘Case Tin Mill’ did have an a instruction manual which I devoured. I thrashed wheat, oats, Brewing Barley, and Cocksfoot grass. By the time the short season was over, considered myself an authority. Then thank goodness the long awaited letter arrived for me to report to the Ashburton AirPort.

I passed all their exams and medicals and was chosen for Pilot training. I did some fifty hours in Tiger Moths at Taieri Airport and was then selected with half of my course to train in single engine aircraft which was to take place in Canada. The half our course that remained behind in NZ had carried out two tours of active duty flying ‘Corsair Fighters’, while we were still being educated in the snow, waiting for a place in the Empire Training Scheme to start our training. It did happen, after waiting six months. I finally gained my ‘Wings’ passing my Service Flying Tests. However I was thankful for the education, and the fact that no one was shooting at me while I was in Canada.

After the War I returned to the Railway but I knew that this was not for me as half of the Work Force seemed to be involved in dodging work as they were overstaffed, and endeavouring all the time to look busy was not for me. As well the working conditions were filthy, and no facilities were available to keep yourself clean. An opportunity at this time presented itself to buy a milk business in Port Chalmers which involved deliveries and freighting milk from surrounding farms to Dunedin. My brother and I took on the enterprise and as a result obtained a good financial base.

We both realised we couldn’t grow old in this occupation so we sold up. Brother David bought an Orchard in Alexandra. He knew nothing about orchard word but he soon picked it up. I applied for a position in a Bank as they were short of my age group as they hasn’t recruited during the War years and now found they had a staff shortage. I knew nothing about Banking but once you had a grasp of the fundamentals, the rest seemed to be a matter of common sense.

I soon was promoted to an Accountant, and then a Branch Manager. I retired at 60 year of age and this letter covers briefly my life to that point. The subsequent years and occupations will be the basis of another letter.

This ‘Post’ is all about our extended families, holiday house. Grandfather Mckenzie had it built while he was the publican of the Provincial Hotel Port Chalmers. It was situated on a remote quarter acre section at ‘Murdering Beach’, close to the shore and the high tide mark, but tucked under a sheltered Hill on the Northern end of the Beach. I am not sure exactly how it got it grizzly name, but the story handed down by word of mouth within our family was, it was the scene of a revenge killing of some Maori residents by a sealing party. The area had certainly been extensively occupied by the Maori. There are today still many visible signs of their occupancy. Many Middens with the remains of fish and shell. As well there are areas where greenstone has been worked extensively, as evidenced by the large number of greenstone chips in sheltered places. The beach is Situated on an latitude of 45 degrees, so the living by the early inhabitants in their caves or shelters that they were able to erect, it must have been in winter, a most bleak existence. In our time only one other crib was on the Beach, so we holidayed in complete privacy.

The Crib itself was not large, about 40 feet x 40 feet and internally dividend into four equal areas, It was constructed about 100 years ago, and even today is still habitable, It had a timber frame and sheathed by a cement board that has stood the test of time. The roof was tiled and required very little attention. The front half was Dining room/lounge with the only interior door leading into a bunk room with four bunks. The dining room had two day beds which also doubled as seating for the large table. This furniture took up most of the space. The other half of the interior area was kitchen and another bunk room but no doors. There was a wood stove at the far end, and a bench and sink against the wall. We gathered our fuel from the surrounding hills. Mainly logs left over from when the forest was cleared and burnt to allow the area to be farmed. We had no title to the land, but remained there at the pleasure of the various land owners and farmers, who in fact even wrote a clause into their bill of sale when they moved on, or sold out. It could be said now, that our legal arrangements and title was ‘slack’. Why bother, where the land was located, it was of no commercial value and very difficult to get to. In other words, remote and worthless. Earlier all the building materials had been sledged onto the site by the local farmer, and by the same method, our heavy supplies and stores were also sledged in once a year.

Water was alway precious and collected from the roof into a 400 gallon tank. This tank had started out as a steel container which had been used for shipping expensive china from England, Naturally they were quickly recycled into water tanks. We also had a smaller tank but this was not piped into the Crib. We did have access to a spring up the hill where in times of drought we could walk up to and then dip out water from a former large limejuice barrel that had come off a ship. This was sunk into the ground. Some said they could still taste the limes, but I never could. All water whether for washing or food preparation was saved and recycled for the garden. In addition to the wood fuel we could also fossick for coal. This came via the dredge that worked in The Otago Harbour where ships had bunkered for many years, while doing so some had dropped overboard. The spoil from the dredge after deepening the harbour was taken out to sea and unloaded off our beach. Coal included in the spoil over the years then found it’s way onto the nearby point, waiting for someone to come by and harvest it over again.

Naturally we didn’t have electricity, so all our light came from candles and Lamps. Every morning there was a ritual which involved the lamps. Then the wicks were trimmed, glasses cleaned, and lamps filled. We also had several ‘Storm Lanterns’ which I still see for sale even today.

Access to the beach was difficult until recently when the sledge track was made into a road. This opened up the area to the general public. This access I suppose was great for most people, but it also gave access to the feral people who don’t respect property or rights of anyone. For ninety years we never had a problem, but once the road was formed, nothing but problems, such as regular breakins, as well, the garden was plundered. We had two ways of getting to the crib. You could take a taxi to the top of the hill and walk the last two kilometres, carrying all your food. The fare for this at one time, was a pound which was exorbitant. The other way was to catch the train, travel to Mihiwaka, then it was a long walk to Long Beach, cross Long Beach to the point, then climb up and over to Murdering Beach. Of course this meant carrying all your food and clothing and any extras you might wish to take along.

There was plenty of shell fish available at low tide, and fishing off the two points. But being a sandy coast with little rocky reefs in the area, fishing was difficult. The was a lagoon that contained eels, and mushrooms were available by the basketful in season, as the local farmers hadn’t yet started to ‘Top Dress’ their paddocks. Rabbits were plentiful and a welcome supplement to our diet. Gooseberries were also plentiful in the patches of bush that were still standing being spread by birds. You could have as much jam as you liked on your bread, providing it was gooseberry. Fresh milk and eggs were available from the Farmers at the top of the hill. Another long walk, traipsing crosscountry through the long grass. We must have liked it, as everyone was involved in these expeditions. In season we fossicked for potatoes that were growing wild every where, small but tasty.

There was no bathroom. Bathing was carried out for the kids in a large bathtub. This was carried out weekly, or whenever it was raining and the Tank was overflowing. I seem to remember there was a protocol to our bathing. The same water did many kids, it went without saying, Girls First, as they were deemed to be the cleanest. The adults obversely couldn’t fit into the tub, they performed what was known as a sponge bath.

I should mention the Toilet, it was situated about 20 metres from the crib and covered completely with a creeper. The girls who were loath to use it at night and demanded an escort who had to remain ten steps away. We also had several pots under the beds which you could use if you didn’t want to make a visit outside in the dark and rain.

I can foresee soon that money as we know it, (That’s our currency, coin and notes), it will go the way of the dinosaur. Even now, I have some small change in my pocket, this same money has been there rattling around for weeks, untouched. I just don’t have the requirement or any way to spend it. Slowly but Surely the need to have and carry ‘cash’ is being turned into an obsolete exercise. It’s role is being taken over by electronic systems. I still have a ‘Cheque Book’ containing 240 forms. It’s about 10 years old, and there are still a quarter of it’s forms left. Today, nearly all our regular transactions from our account are made by an automatic transfer, with only another electronics advice telling me what transaction has taken place. I also have no need even to visit my Bank. I regularly I post in any deposits. Then weekly when at the Super Market, I pay for my groceries with my EF/POS Card. If I require extra money the ‘Check Out’ operator gives me some bank notes, just to pay for incidental expenses just for those folk who have refused to make the change.

Our monetary system wasn’t always this way. Even a small Bank not so long ago would be sitting on very large sums of cash, and especially at holiday time. This would be released as a huge pulse come Christmas and other holidays. The money would be out in the real ‘World’ for about three weeks, then it would come flooding back to the Bank, only to be packaged up and returned to the Reserve Bank as fast as possible. Cash as far as any Bank is concerned is an non earning debit.

Some folk have strange ideas regarding their cash. even back only thirty or forty years ago. I recall one wealthy lady who regarded me as her personal custodian of her family’s fortune. From time to time she called at the Bank, demanded to physically see her money. I would then approach our Head Teller, who would load up a trolley with a couple hundred thousand Dollars, wheel it over to her where she was waiting in an office. She would then ask, ‘Is this my money?’. ‘All of it?’ I would reply .’Yes’, ‘Do you wish to take it home?’ ‘No’, ‘I just wished to see it’.

When credit cards first arrived on our scene they weren’t widely accepted. The Bank of New Zealand did a cold drop. That is, that they sent out cards to each and everyone of their clients. Many then and even today, were people who should never have a card. They are just poor managers of money. They will never change, their spending patterns are always the same, I want it now. They are easy to spot. They can’t wait for some windfall large or small to arrive, they are at the Bank begging to borrow against it’s arrival.

Because we never went away at Christmas I was always an easy ‘Mark’ for every sad story that befell people on holiday. I can recall on one occasion when the thousand dollars I had taken home to cover any such contingency was gone. An hungry family then descended on us. All their cash had been spent on car repairs, and now they required cash for food and gasoline, so they could return home. It’s hard to refuse a car load of hungry crying kids. My youngest daughter Beth came to their rescue. On this occasion she opened her large ‘Pink Pig’ Money Box. We were able to extracted some $20 in 50 cent coins, and send them on their way. In all these occasions of helping lame dogs over styles, no one ever let me down. All the cheques I had taken for cash were good.

I remember one day while attending a manager’s conference in Wellington. I had just finished lunch, consumed a couple of beers, sitting in the sun I was struggling to stay awake as the business of the conference droned on. Then one bright ‘apple polishing manager’ asked the General Manger, ‘Could he could tell us exactly how we should go about cashing a cheque for a customer of another Branch’. The GM said, ‘Well there is one manager here who lives in a Holiday Resort. He cashes more cheques than this roomful of people put together. I’m sure he doesn’t have any trouble, so I will ask him’. I was wide awake in a flash when the spot light pointed at me. I said, ‘I now know why you are our GM’. ‘There is no perfect system. Most people are honest, and their mode of dress counts for nothing. I once knew a Multi millionaire who dressed appallingly, and even tied up his pants with binder twine’. ‘All I required was some identification, and them it actually comes down to personal judgement’.

We moved many times during our married life because of the demands of my employment, this has meant our living in cities, as well as small country towns. We have been lucky too with our neighbours, many of these were never born in New Zealand. These people over the years became firm friends, and they introduced us to their various cultures. How our life was changed and enriched because of these contacts.

My wife and I were both brought up in a small Seaport and Fishing Town. There we lived with a mixture of many ethnic groups, mainly because over the years seamen had jumped their visiting ship, married a local girl and settled down in our area. They were soon completely assimilated to our way of living, and only their names gave them away as new arrivals from outside the normal pool of immigrants.

We also had many Germans living in New Zealand, but during the World War One, they were quick to deflect any connection with anything Germanic. Most if they hadn’t ready done so, quickly ‘Anglicised’ their names. But in a small town you needed a little more than that to go underground. Braun became Brown, Smit became Smith. In a wave of patriotic fever at this time they didn’t stop at family names, even food such as German Sausage became Belgium Sausage, this item remains the same today. It wasn’t even our only locals who were busy making a change. The Royal family were also busy as well, they were too were involved as well in this renaming exercise. Changing from Sax-Coburg to Windsor, for the Queen’s family. Her husband Prince Philip, his family as well changed their names from Battenburg to Mountbatten.

Our initial close contact with a foreign family was with the Chinese. They have been here as long as many of our early arrivals. They stubbornly clung to their traditional way of life and culture, and were only interested in their work and bettering life for their family. My father was a mentor for one local Chinese family who called on his help when they were faced with a situation they couldn’t understand. Their totally different methods of food preparation and cooking slowly rubbed off onto us over time. We were always eager to try new methods of food preparation and presentation. How lucky we were to meet other Chinese later who were just as helpful in teaching us how to cook and eat in the Oriental fashion.

Later after the war and when I had returned from overseas where I experienced many diverse cultures, I had the good fortune then to meet up with a French Family. They didn’t speak any English, and my French was limited to ‘Bon Jour’. However, with the aid of a ‘dictionnair bilingue’ we got by, but to conduct commercial arrangements I required much more. I mentioned this to my wife, she went out and purchased for me a set of French language instruction cassettes. I then took a thirty minute lesson every morning while I performed my daily ablutions. Later when we made a visit to New Caledonia, we were introduced to every other culture that had been, or still was part of the French Colonial Empire. That was Marocain, IndoChina, Algeria, and many others. The common link was their language, but all of their cuisines were different. There I was introduced to Chillies, Wow! what a difference they made to my diet. I once had a Japanese student living with our family for some six months and he too was fond of this hot spice. I was preparing his lunch one morning, busy making sandwiches onto which I was adding generous cold cuts of lamb, with large slithers of hot chilli on top. I inquired as a matter of interest, ‘Has anyone ever stolen your lunch Tetsu?’ Knowing what a surprise awaited anyone not used to eating a chilli when they bit into it. He replied with one word that said it all. ‘Once’.

I can recall one word that spurred me on to learn more about the French language and that was ‘Calihou’. I was on a boat speeding through a reef on the east Coast of New Caledonia where a crew member was pointing and calling out this word from time to time. I inquired what was he saying, and was told ‘rock’. At this time we were about twenty kilometres off shore. While staying at a small village we had been passed around various families of different ethic backgrounds which introduced us to many exciting eating experiences. It was like taking a trip around the world without leaving home.

How things change, I now live in Christchurch and you can now take the same culture trip without leaving Colombo Street. Every block has a different foreign eating establishment, it seems that all our recent immigrants, either open a restaurant or drive a taxi.

We New Zealand folk during year have several Feast and Holidays that we celebrate, the clear favourite for our family is Christmas. We are still clinging to many of these traditions brought by our forbearers from the other side of the world. Yes, we know the seasons are all back to front, but no matter, we have kept up a pretence that it’s Winter time, we reinforce this belief with artificial snow, (A white frosting sold in spray cans). Even the Holly with red berries are plastic, and we consume the wrong food for the season. But the best, by popular vote is the ‘Plum Puddings’. These were made, and fussed over in their preparation some months prior to Christmas. Their production heralded that Christmas would soon be upon us. This celebration item starts off with the search for some unbleached calico, which seems to become harder to locate every year. This is the material the Plum Puddings are cooked in, it is then washed thoroughly, and sterilised. Further, in spite of it’s name there are no plums in this pudding, possibly there were at one time, but this fruit content has now been replaced by mixed dried fruit and a citrus peel. When the ingredients mixed with flour and spices the mixture is bound in the calico, tied tightly, then boiled for hours, with fresh water being added during the process as required. It was a good idea to make yourself absent during the process as it seemed to be a female process only. I forgot to mention that several small silver tokens or coins were always added to the mixture. Some extra were also kept on hand, these were added during carving of the duff, just to ensure that the young folk’s serving was a ‘winner’. Otherwise, boys especially, would keep on eating seconds until they were rewarded by a ‘discovery’. This traditional treat was served hot with a brandy sauce and whipped cream. Left overs were eaten cold with ice cream. Once the Duff had gone through the cooking process it could then be hung in a cool dry place for weeks. Alas today we no longer use silver coins and we are loath to add the cupro-nickel substitutes of today.

The meat served for the main course of the Christmas feast was never turkey, as it is these days. Turkeys just weren’t available in my youth. A goose or leg of lamb was more the norm. Anyway many found the goose too strong and gamely to their taste, but now I know a little more, it had more to do with the age of the bird than any other reason. Some roasted a large fowl, which at the time was a rare treat. Unless you kept chickens for their eggs it was a different story. When a bird went off the lay the unfortunate bird was consigned to the pot then the dinner table. Some who had this access to a regular ‘chicken’ meal, had another problem to deal with. Many times the younger members wouldn’t eat chicken, especially if the family had made pets of the chooks, all were given names. There was no way you were going to encourage the children to eat Mabel, Sarah, or Greta.

This was the time of the year that we also purchased Pork Hams, which was eaten cold after the first day and saw the family through the holiday break including the New Year when salads and cold cuts were the norm. Back then it was very different the way lettuce salads were prepared. Lettuce was sliced very fine, and topped with sliced tomatoes, spring onions, and hard boiled eggs. This mode of presentation never changed. Vinaigrette was unheard off, ‘Foreign Muck’ could often be heard. The lettuce salad however was dressed with a homemade mayonnaise. This was mainly Nestles condensed milk and vinegar, all copied from the recipe on the can of milk.

We loved our Pickles too, these to assist in the enjoyment of our ham. I discovered early that I couldn’t buy the kind of Pickle or Chutney I really liked, hot and savoury, so made my own. I was astounded to discover that both my father and grandfather actually did the same. I have collected recipes over the years to make these condiments, and was looking over the Family note book containing all these recipes of former neighbours and friends, of how to make same. Tom Erickson’s Plum sauce. Mrs Kee’s apricot sauce, both stand out as winners, delicious, much better than anything you can buy.