Wally's tales

My first cruise was across the Pacific was on a swept up cruise liner. It presented a perfect picture when I first saw it, fully decked out in it’s Companies livery, painted white and grey, but unfortunately for passengers on this voyage, this was War Time and only minimal services were being offered. This was a far cry from the what today’s passengers expect and get. I had just completed my elementary flying course only three days earlier, and was being sent to North America to complete the rest of my training, and to gain my ‘Wings’. This was the transport being offered.

Luxury Cabins had been gutted and fitted out with tiers of steel pipe bunks, but they didn’t stop there. Further tiers of steel bunks were fitted to the open decks, and by open, I mean open to all the elements, fine in the tropics in good weather, but not so good on bad days. Passengers on days when there was cold winds off the sea, just didn’t walk the decks, we had no choice because that’s where we lived. This was to be our home for the next few weeks. We did have a roof over our head, and one side gave a wonderful uninterrupted view of the sea, a little exposed. There were thousands of troops on board, all going somewhere. So there was a huge strain on all amenities, to the extent that all water taps were under armed guard. You could drink at the fountain, but not remove any water. One group that stood out was General Chennaught’s ‘Flying Tigers’. They all were wearing the distinctive jackets with a large patch covered in Chinese writing explaining who they were, should they get shot down.

Meals were restricted to two a day on twelve hour roster, served deep in the bowels of the ship. There was plenty of food, but serving it out would have been hard, and with these conditions, the crew employed there were far from happy with their conditions. That they were working under, when taking into account, the steamy hot and muggy atmosphere. This had turned the food handlers into a team of Malcontents who seemed to delight in making life for others as difficult as they could. Meals were served to us on pressed stainless steel plates/trays each with about six indentations designed to try and keep the dessert and stew apart This was also achieved by some dexterity and skill and skilful movements. Not helped at all by the catering staff who seemed to delight slapping down the sloppy food just anywhere, and more often than not, splashing you as well. As there was no way of washing your clothes, this action was not welcomed by us at all. They were politely requested to be a little more careful. Their reply to this, was to be even more aggressive and provocative in their doling out. This turned out to be a big mistake. It angered one young Airman who could handle himself in a fight, he had had enough after being splashed yet again. He flung his plate food and all at the offender then king hit him knocking him out, and sprawling amongst the food containers. That was a signal for everyone to join in and within five minutes the messy brigade had been taught a very short sharp lesson. Of course, there was no dinner that night, but as far as the authorities were concerned nothing had happened. It was very effective as I overheard next day when order had been established again, one of the kitchen staff sending a message along the line, look out! The New Zealanders have arrived.

We had another annoying problem on the trip, we had been put under control of an officer who had no connection with us, but was travelling in the same direction. He seemed to have access to a supply of liquor, and to show his authority when drunk, he used to call parades at 2-00am for a roll call. This was a very stupid thing to do, as the deck where we were allocated our sleeping area was very dark, as the ship was carrying no lights at all. One night when the group decided they had enough, someone yelled, ‘Lets toss this problem overboard’. After a struggle he escaped to where ever he was billeted, we never saw the man again. Our records he had been carrying, just appeared and from then on we were just the same as the ship, ‘unescorted’

It wasn’t a comfortable voyage, there was no where to sit and wow betide you should you be caught sitting on your life jacket which you carried everywhere. I often dreamt of ice cream or a cold beer being served up in a glass with the condensation running off it. I swore one day I would repeat this voyage complete with all the amenities, and it would be a voyage of pleasure. Hot and Cold fresh water showers, as and when required, certainly not cold salt water ones out in the open that made soap stick to your skin.

All voyages come to an end and this one did too. We had a glimpse of San Francisco but turned away and ran down the Californian Coast. ‘Skuttle butt’ reported that this was the result of a storm, some mines had broken loose, and the Port was closed. We didn’t mind as within hours of landing we were wandering the streets of Hollywood.

More to this journey later.

Fiji is in the news. They have just expelled our High Commissioner again! Naturally this move puts them out of step with our Government, and possibly a lot of the world’s too by staging their coup which was the cause of our dispute. Their problem is that the resident Indians now slightly outnumber the native Fijian. So any elected Fijian Government is going to have a slight bias towards the Indians. Are the Fiji internal problems solvable? I don’t think so under the present circumstances, and I wouldn’t want to come up with a solution, to keep all parties happy. It boils down to the aims and ambitions of two races, which are diverse as oil and water. Apart from the odd marriage, these people are alway going to remain separate entities, they have absolutely nothing in common, except they both want control of Fiji and their destiny. One way that might work, is to give the Indians 30% or 40% of the parliamentary seats in a separate vote. That would ensure that the Fijian always have the edge, but I wonder whether the outside world leaders would wear that. They should, as there many other examples today that are just as unfair, in fact some are down right unfair and not much has been said where in other Countries control over the years has been grabbed by the Military, kept in a tight fisted control with no promise to hold ‘Free Elections’ sometime in the future, yet we continue to have a relationship with them. In fact many of the various Governments we live in harmony with today, were not elected by a popular democratic vote. Various regimes have sized power either by coups, or a stealthy fiddle. Once in power they have no intention of relinquishing the slightest slither of any power sharing. Communistic countries make a great deal of fuss about their free elections, but more often than not, neglect to mention that there is only one candidate

Many are baying, ‘Stop the aid’, but this has already been done by New Zealand and the USA, both of whom have suspended their aid contributions. The US Embassy in NZ said in a statement, “The United States Law prohibits use of foreign funds to provide direct assistance to any country whose duly elected head of Government is deposed by a Military Coup or Decree.” I don’t know what the official position of New Zealand is apart from ‘Black Listing’ the Coup leaders from visiting New Zealand, as well as their immediate families and suspending aid. The Australian Government it seems, is still dithering over the Aid question.

The British Government with their meddling in other Countries affairs in years gone by, have caused a lot of grief around the world. After they packed their bags and departed, with a sorry we have to go now. Just get on with your lives and clean up any mess. Leaving various Countries and People after the damage was done, to sort out any problems large and small. These were the same people who brought in the Indians in the first place, a cheap pool of labour to harvest the Fijian Sugar cane. Goodness, they had some incompetent, and stupid people wandering the world during their heydays, meddling in everything, busy setting up these time bombs, then leaving it all behind, to sort itself out. The British Government was responsible for kicking out Ian Smith’s Government in Zimbabwe. They then had the choice of replacing him with either a zealot or a crook. They backed the wrong horse, picked a zealot, and gave the country to Mugabe, who immediately set about enforcing his communistic ideals. Is there anywhere in this world where Communism has worked? As a result, they allowed this idiot to ruin a wonderful country and dole out misery right left and centre. The British left us a mess in this country as well, with a botched up Treaty that no one is happy with. The Maoris signed it, or well some of them did, but it is in two parts Maori and English, which don’t match one another, and this would never stand any test in a court of law. As well, it’s full of a lot of vague conditions that today a lot of people would like to change. In spite of the claims from the Maori that ‘We was robbed’ they have as a race, done very well out of the treaty, and will continue to do so long as we allow it.

Unfortunately in our early days a lot of those in control came from the establishment, and were not necessarily chosen for their brains, but more from where they fitted into their station in life, and what school they attended. We even tolerated a large dose of Home Grown ‘Class’ here earlier, but the Second World War seems to have put paid to that

Over the years smuggling has always taken place on our Wharfs and Sea Ports to a greater or lessor degree, depending on demand. Today it’s Drugs, Cigarettes, and liquor that are number one items that are smuggled as they carry the greatest duty, or availability. I’m not familiar with today’s impost on a bottle of whisky, but years ago when I lived in a Sea Port, a bottle of whisky was only 75 cents on board a ship, against One Pound seven shillings on shore, when duty was added. The 75 cents value was after all manufacturing profits and distribution costs had been met. The Duty Free shops at our Air Ports used to be an attraction, but today, now that duty and sales tax have been removed, there is very little incentive shop Duty Free, except to avoid GST. In my youth, drugs were never deemed to be much of a problem, most Drugs that are now causing our establishment so many problems, years ago were freely available from our Chemists in one form or another. Opiates were even added to cough medicines and goodness knows what else. Sure, some people not that long ago became addicted to certain remedies that contained a decent slug of the now forbidden drugs. I don’t know when laudanum was withdrawn as a cure all, but it wasn’t all that long ago. But I can remember in my time it was possible to purchase legally, Indian hemp or Marijuana cigarettes from your Chemists, as a cure all for respiratory problems. Marijuana seeds were available and possibly still are, to bird fanciers as a plumage enhancer The only drugs back a few years that I can think caused the Police and Authorities problems, was Opium and Alcohol. Opium went out of fashion when derivatives were refined from it. However, Alcohol has always been with us, when duty as a disincentive was heaped onto it, it was only natural that folk would try and distil their own. One former work mate Lew Maclean went into the distilling business in a big way, supplying several of Dunedin’s Hotels with cheap product. I was unaware of his illegal activity, but at the height of his activity was very puzzled by the fact I was under some very clumsy survalence. He was caught by the fact he was a very high user of electricity, and the problem of having to get rid of the mash after the distilling. When he was caught Mr Plod lost interest in me, and I had the answer to why I had been followed every where I went, over the past six months.

From time to time there is an article that is in short supply, possibly exacerbated by import restrictions, or perhaps something even new to our market. A case in point, was the initial introduction of small battery powered transistor radio. You couldn’t buy one in retailer’s shop for love nor money, but you could pick up half a dozen in any pub in the area. These were being sold quite openly for ten dollars each. At the heart of these radios was the new transistors which made the reduction in size possible. The transistor may have had a humble beginning, but in this form it was our first taste what the transistor was capable off, and we liked it. Further, there was an insatiable demand for this kind of product. And what an industry it has turned out to be, and look at what it’s been responsible for. In fact today, we couldn’t run our business, or even our country without computers of which the transistor, again is the main component.

Long ago I was a smoker, and I had developed a taste for American cigarettes. During the War and in the Services I was able to buy cheaply the Brands I liked, and in unlimited supply. After the War it was an entirely a different situation. The only cigarettes on sale were rationed, so I was always on the look out for a supply of American Cigarettes, especially from the ships that were calling here on a regular basis. On one visit to a Norwegian Vessel to sell them some milk, I casually inquired from the Purser while carrying out the transaction, Did he have any American Cigarettes he could sell me. The response I got was unbelievable, he immediately started screaming at me. ‘Do you want me to lose my job. Don’t you see the custom officers over there?’ pointing to three Custom men ten metres away who were leaning over the rail of the ship, who were having a good giggle over my discomfort as this ships officer verbally waded into me. The nerve of this fellow and under our noses too. The Watersiders were also having a good laugh at my inept attempt to get my hands on some cigarettes. The Officer walked me down to my truck still carrying on about how inappropriate my request was with three crew members following obediently behind carrying the milk churns. When we got to the truck he said, ‘That performance will cost you five pounds’. One of the cans was jammed packed full with cartons of American cigarettes. Sometimes what you see and hear, is exactly what you are meant to see and hear.

We arrived to visit Vanuatu shortly after they were granted their independence. Very soon some very magnificent four or five star Hotels were built. The impact of these made a real contrast in this developing Nation, you could walk only a few hundred yards from your comfortable Hotel, leaving behind all modern day aids, all of your creature comforts, then stumble over some stone age tribesmen, dressed and behaving as they had been doing for the past thousand years. Their women folk cooking over an open fire. All armed to the teeth with spears and machetes. Naturally, with their new found independence, the smarter ones quickly grabbed all the top jobs, that the new opportunities had opened up. Freedom didn’t matter much to the average guy, or even who was in charge. As far as they were concerned, they just carried on living their lives as they had done before.

Father Walter Lini, an Anglican priest, and in my opinion an avowed Communist, immediately made some sweeping changes. He nationalised all property, suddenly you were renting your own home or business. This is not as unusual as it sounds, the Indigenous Natives already had a land policy, long before the white fellow turned up. Nobody in their eyes actually owned their land, but you could sell, or rent, the use of land for up to sixty years or so. They also had a problem with language. Through out their Islands, they had some hundred distinct languages. With the arrival of the missionaries they had another two, French and English. In fact until independence they had two of every thing. Two sets of schools, English French. Two sets of police, (Gendarme and Bobby). On top of all this they had their day to day local language Bislama, this had been cobbled together by the early traders who were inventive fellows, the necessity to communicate demanded something simple. Bislama was a amalgamation of many languages, but mainly English, as well some French, German, or anything else, if they found a word that fitted. I remember reading a notice giving information of how to call up the ferry to cross a lagoon.’ Supposum u fellow wantum ferry. Takum stick and killum a gong’ The gong was an old World War 2 shell casing. Killum, was to beat it. However it worked, as a translation wasn’t necessary, we did as instructed, and we were able to call up a punt, and go out for dinner. The most used words seemed to be Long, (big) and Blong (belong), when you think about it, not much different to today’s TXT language. I have below a few of the more colourful examples.

Helicopter     Mixmaster blong Jesus Christ

Seagull            Pigeon blong sel water

Saw                  Pulem I kam, Pushem I go, Wood I fall down

The staff in the Hotel didn’t entirely trust us, or it seemed that way, they checked on the hour, and every hour our Mini Bar Fridge. The fact the several of the bottled beverages contained in it were broken by a too cold a setting, where the glass bottles had even fallen away leaving only the frozen contents standing. This didn’t seem to bother them as these frozen drinks were counted, as all present and correct.

As was to be expected, a dozen or so local tribesmen were conscripted to come into the dinning room and entertain the diners with several of their traditional dances. To me all dances seemed to be the same, much grunting and loud foot stomping. Of course this was carried out in native costume. This meant appearing completely starkers. A bunch of ‘Arse Grass’ over their rear end, their penis hidden in a bamboo tube, a few feathers, a spear and they were dressed to kill. I had heard it said that Europeans have a distinctive odour, this could be true, possibly from the amount of milk products we consume. One time on my return from New Caledonia, I still stunk of garlic after a period of three weeks or so. My daughter told me after she caught me coming out of a shower, she declared the bathroom still stunk of garlic. Well with these guys, when they worked up a sweat, they had a body odour that would have killed an ox at ten paces. They just ponged. However the most interesting part of the display was the antics of a party of American Women who pushed their way forward to the ringside to touching distance. Their eagerness to examine these warriors close up was not in the least put off by their stink which was being exuded. It was akin to something that had been dead for a long time. Come hell or high water they were going to get as close as they could to these feral warriors.

We had a delightful meal at a small restaurant a short distance from Port Vila. Baked fish or Crayfish, a home grown salad, and Manioc. When you thought about it, these folk had everything growing, or it was available from the nearby reef. So there was no need to spend any money buying supplies. I really liked the local people and their friendliness.

In an earlier posting I spoke of our early days how we managed to keep in touch by the local call box phones and telegrams. Islanders have taken communications to a further dimension. They broadcast their telegrams over the public radio stations at fixed times, it beholds anyone listening to pass their messages on.

In these troubled financial times, a radical fix has been offered by the American Federal Bank as a solution, they propose to transfer and pay some Trillions of dollars over to American Trading Banks poised on the threshold of bankruptcy. I’m not sure that throwing so much money at the problem will solve anything, and in my opinion, probably make a bad situation worse in other areas. The American Motor manufacturers big three, Ford, General Motors, and Chrysler, have also lined up too, hoping against hope, that they too can get a similar handout. They are busy also using a form of ‘Black Mail’ by threatening massive job cuts. But one has to question just where do these mind boggling sums of money come from, and where exactly have they been hiding these enormous sums of ready money? Was it in the Countries secret ‘piggy bank’? Or money just waiting for a rainy day and such a National Emergency. Maybe it’s a question no one wants to ask or probe too deeply. I suspect that it’s just another crank of the money machine, instant credit. If this is true it’s a very dangerous fix, this can quickly lead to inflation. An early case of this problem was rampant in Germany before World War two, something everyone now seems to have forgotten. Then, you required a wheel barrow of currency to obtain even a loaf of bread.

If that wasn’t enough, we have today another object lesson of just how bad it can get, with the current situation in Zimbabwe. The political move to kick out Ian Smith and his regime, replace them with the black African Mugabe, set in train a political experiment that has now resulted in genocide. No one yet is prepared to make a move to correct this appalling situation, and help their starving populous. Like it or like it not inflation is always on the back burner simmering away, it’s a genie that is always pushing, and waiting to escape from the lamp. Zimbabwe’s inflation rate is now in the Millions per cent. I’m also sure, all Governments have been guilty to some degree of creating a little credit. As an aside, we met Ian Smith on one of our overseas trips, and later corresponded with his partner Maggie Lawton. Circumstances haven’t treated him kindly of late. Recently he broke a leg, then required assistance from his son to farm his property which was under threat of from the land grabbing regime in Zimbabwe. Before any of this could happen, the son died of a heart attack, and his daughter consigned Ian into a Nursing Home in South Africa. It would seem at the same time she despatched his partner. Ian died shortly after.

In a more personal note, New Zealand around the end of the World War Two. Five pounds (or ten dollars) a week was a normal wage. The simmering inflation which I said is always around, made a joke out of my initial efforts to provide for my retirement. I had taken out life policies that should have given me a debt free home in 40 years. Long before these policies matured, their combined value disappeared almost completely in a puff of smoke caused by Governments fiddling with our monetary system. I could see I was going to be lucky even to buy a small ‘Chicken House’ with what their current surrender values would realise. So clearly and quickly I had to buy into something that was inflation proofed, and do it soon. I went against all my instincts and training, grabbed the tail of inflation, all on borrowed money, and jumped into land and property. No matter what happened, I figured my personal situation couldn’t get any worse. Did I feel guilty of making a very large sum of money out of ‘Nothing’? No I don’t. Who said that life has to be fair?

I have noticed over the years that their are alway plenty of punters who are prepared to take enormous risks with your money. Many of the Housing loans in America as I saw it, were set up to fail. ‘Interest only loans’, together with no deposit, given to all and sundry, meant should the property market take a ‘dive’, and it did, you are in big trouble. It’s nonsense to claim it’s a sign of the times, it is just stupid and bad lending. I feel very sorry for all those thousands locked in to bad loans, all now in danger of loosing their homes. The perpetrators of this mess were possibly well educated and will all hold degrees in higher education and Banking. But in spite of these advantages it would seem they all lacked fundamental common sense. They never read, or took on board the basic rules of good lending that their Granny could have told them.

In dealing with Foreign people over time you come across many customs that are an important part of their culture. The French for instant, put great store on seating when dining, not only their formal dining, but day to day meals as well. You can tell immediately just where you figure in their pecking order by where you are placed at their table. There is never any time or situation when random selection is the order of the day, when it involves seating arrangements by a French Hostess. In our life I knew placement for dining was something we only did for say, special occasions such as a Wedding Breakfast, or a Birthday Celebration. But for the French Hostess, every occasion is always a matter of extreme importance.

There was one exception to seating, and that was when we were flying. If there was only one pilot, I was automatically granted the co-pilots seat. This had nothing to do with being held in high regard, or any other rules of placement, but more just a basic insurance while flying in a French Aircraft. Island Flying with the French in the Islands, at times is a very marginal experience, and very close to what’s known as ‘Bush Flying’.

A few years back I became involved with the French in a timber milling operation on a small Island in the Vanuatu Group. A very undeveloped place, no roads, only tracks between settlements with wild cattle and chooks wandering everywhere. No enterprise of any kind was practiced on this Island. This Island did have virgin stands of Pacific Kauri, as well as some Mahogany, or Acajou as the French called it. The French had obtained a concession to harvest some, and to take advantage of this opportunity, we initially went around Auckland looking at various Timber Mills, and later to the Centre of the North Island of New Zealand where a lot of Mills were Located. We initially looked at a Mill in Auckland operated by Henderson and Pollard, but it was huge, it would have been capable of milling a forest in Brazil. Completely automated with a laser, and a built in computer. Not for us, where we were going we even had to generate even our own electricity. What we did buy in Auckland was several caravans and these were shipped out to make an instant camp, as there was no accommodation on the Island either. This had a sequel as later, the Post Office sent me a reminder to re-register the caravans, when I said I wasn’t going to bother, they asked me to return the Number Plates. I said, ‘Not really’, but I could tell them where they are if they wished to go and collect them. Finally we settled for a purpose built saw mill driven by a diesel engine. Next job was to make a road to the sea, this was accomplished by a large Cat Bulldozer we also took along and driven by an expert Tahitian. No one to ask, or any need for permits. No Resource Consents either. No Civil Engineers either. The Tahitian, ‘took off’, and just followed the paths cattle had made over the years on their way to the sea looking for salt. I suppose this was the way things were done here in New Zealand years ago too. No fences either, creeks formed natural boundaries. You could buy a beast on the hoof for $7, but if it wandered over a boundary before you killed it, you had to renegotiate with the new owner.

If I ever wondered about the expenditure of all the thousand of dollars the Air Force spent in training me as a Pilot, and if it was of any use. Well, it was soon all to be tested. On a return journey from Eromanga I noticed we were on and maintaining a heading of 270 degrees, after some 15 minutes, I inquired from the pilot where exactly were we headed. Perhaps, there was a beam over to the West. I remembered at one field during the War Russian Pilots were flying Bell Aerocobras to Russia. They were always drifting off their beam after a couple of hundred miles. Landing at our field and inquiring. ‘Where was their Beam?’ We would always tell them, but it made our Chief Flying Instructor furious. He would without fail, make them file a flight plan. I wondered if any of the Aircraft actually reached Russia. Anyway, I suggested to our Pilot that Port Vila was to the North, shouldn’t we be headed that way. This conversation started off normal, but quickly escalated to an out of control situation. Laura suggested that the Pilot knew best, and I replied that’s correct, if you wish to go to Brisbane. I didn’t know if the Pilot had lost all his marbles, or was taking us for a tour to prolong the Aircraft’s Charter. Anyway, finally he went completely berserk, took his hands off the controls and said, ‘Seeing you know so much’, ‘You can fly the Aircraft.’ He had no idea I had received flight training. In all my life have never been in such a situation before. I was immediately filled with self doubts, but I grabbed the controls and headed North on a course that according to my dead reckoning would take us to Vila. The ocean beneath us was empty and remained so until an hour later we flew up the harbour of Port Vila. I had seen many Islands on the trip North, but allways, they were just shadows beneath the clouds. The pilot sat in sullen silence and when we landed said I suppose you think that you have saved all our lives. I replied I don’t know what to think. You are either a thief, or just plain barmy. No good complaining to anyone on this outpost as they were just emerging into self Government and not doing very well. I had the last laugh as we were leaving, he said the next day he had to take some Coco Cola executives to Fiji. I pointed to the East and said, ‘For your information it’s over there’.

That was enough excitement for one day,

Once we spent a holiday in Fiji. When Trans Hotel management in New Zealand found out where we were going, they made us an offer to give us discounted accommodation for assistance I had given them over the years. They then supplied us with brochures of their ‘Man Friday’ hotel which showed a shop filled to overflowing with fresh fruit. A swimming pool in the shape of a native’s foot, plus a letter instructing the manager to look after us and ensure we obtained the discount. The accommodation was in the form of individual ‘Bures’ so we could cook for ourselves if we so desired. The swimming pool was a figment of their imagination, it didn’t exist. The lagoon when the tide went out, didn’t exist either. I inquired from the manager, ‘Where was the fruit shown in their brochures?’ I was told, ‘ Sorry, it’s out of season’. So we journeyed into Sigatoka and went to the market where there was plenty of fruit. I could see from the looks the merchants were giving me, I was about to be skinned alive. We had already been mauled several times over by the taxi drivers. So I thought I would try a new technique. I approached an old depressed and sad lady seated outside the market and said, ‘I will give you $10 to bargain for me a selection of fruits, plus all the ingredients for a curry’. You can keep any change. What a transformation came over her. She became a screaming harridan and very soon had obtained more fruit and vegetables for us than we could carry. She seemed extremely happy with the deal, and so were we.

I couldn’t get over how little some people lived on, I wandered through a village one day and stopped at their store. I could have purchased all their stock with my loose change that I had in my pocket. I saw some clothes pegs, and said to the girl in charge, I would buy the whole card, about two dozen. The girl said ,So many? Nobody, just nobody in this world, needs two dozen pegs. When we returned to our Hotel, fruit was in Season again. The shop was packed to overflowing with fresh fruit.

I’m not a fan of haggling for goods. But I did buy a Seiko Automatic Watch which I’m still wearing and did haggle for. On departure we were met at the entrance of the Air Port by an old frail Fijian. He had an equally old trolley and offered to carry our bags. I thought of what normally happens to money left over from a foreign visit. It is put into a plastic bag for our next visit, which never happens. So I said to the old chap. ‘For you, Christmas this year, comes early.’ I then emptied my pockets of all my money and gave it to him. We ran into the Ticketing Hall behind our baggage. The Fijian ignored all the queues and took us to a reception marked ‘Closed’ He jumped the counter and spoke to the clerk busy ticketing. He immediately reached up and marked his work area ‘Closed’ and came down to attend to us, and give us our boarding passes. Waiting passengers immediately switched queues and formed up behind us, only to be shunted off by our new found guardian, we were allowed to stand as VIP’s alone. Laura kept asking me how much did you give this fellow? I replied I didn’t know, but it’s great service, enjoy it. It so happened that there was some Port Chalmers people who we knew very well observing this carry on. After they managed to cope with their trauma of ticketing, they came over to inquire what was going on. How did we get such special service? I said I would tell them but there was an embargo on the information, and they were not allowed to talk about it. I had just been appointed High Commissioner of Fiji. It seemed a shame not to exploit the situation. Anyway it had a sequel a year later, when the same people came to Queenstown for a Yacht Race. Later when entering a Restaurant, I could see they were talking about me. When I came up to greet them, they all stood up and bowed.

Looking back over the years I have enjoyed many changes of occupation, as well as places where we lived. Some occupations were thrust onto me, others I applied for and was and given a chance.

I was born at Port Chalmers 29^th June 1923 and enjoyed a very happy childhood with a younger brother and sister. Port Chalmers then was a small, but busy shipping Port. With a couple of large engineering works, a ferrous and non ferrous moulding shop, pattern makers. All employing a couple of hundred or so. A large fishing industry was active both in and off shore. This was the situation until the depression arrived. And it did so with a vengeance, this in reality spelt doom for the Port. It ended the town’s helicon years. All support services one after another were lost or slowly closed down. The Union Company who also had one of their NZ Bases and repair workshops in the Port, also wound down their chandlery and shipping activities. I can remember a huge fleet of Union Company vessels, all laid up, rafted together in the harbour off Carey’s Bay. A couple of docks, and all their infrastructure that went with them, were leveled and filled in, to make available new wharf marshalling areas that a sea port of the future required. The three railway stations, Post Office, Banks, over time were all closed as well.

At my father’s suggestion learn a trade. ‘You will always have that to fall back on’, So I took up an apprenticeship with the NZ Railways as a fitter. I also returned to night school, and liked the engineering theory that it required. This stood me in good stead later when studying Navigation, as Trigonometry was the one subject that they were both based on. I didn’t last very long in my chosen trade. As soon as I turned eighteen, I was conscripted into the Army, the ‘Second Scottish Regiment’ as a private. We at the time were all that stood between the Japanese Military expansive ambitions, and our current way of life. A very thin line indeed. Our regular army of a couple of Divisions were busy fighting the Germans and Italians in the Western Desert. With Ralph Maxwell who I met on my first day in the Army, taught all of the Head Quarters Company how to drive heavy trucks, as we both held ‘Heavy Traffic Licences’ we both ended up driving Light Tanks, or Bren Carriers. I had been driving a milk truck around the Port village delivering milk, (Unpaid) for about three years just to get some driving practice and skill while the owner, Bondie Thompson chatted up the cook in a local Hotel. When I turned fifteen, the legal age in New Zealand to drive, I immediately applied for a licence. Jim McElwee testing officer, said when I applied. ‘Just give me five shillings, and you can have your licence’ I have watched you driving around here for years.’

After a year, the Japanese expansion had been halted by the Americans at Midway. I could now change military services if I desired, or ask for a discharge from the Army. I managed to get my parents permission to join the Air Force and was accepted as an Air Crew candidate. I passed my entrance exams and did my preliminary flying at Taieri Airport on Tiger Moths. After 50 hours of flight training I was selected to move onto Service Flying in Canada on Harvards. There I graduated in Air Combat, Dive Bombing, strafing, and finally gained my wings. Now, I was a menace to the enemy, and for that matter anyone near me as well. I was posted to England and got as far as Halifax, when my travel plans were suddenly switched back to the pacific. Took this in my stride, as half of the group I had initially belonged with had remained in New Zealand and had already completed two tours in the pacific in Corsair fighters, while we were still waiting to commence our training. The one thing that annoyed me was that we got no recognition for our Army service, yet the Government was prepared to sacrifice us in a futile effort to halt the Japanese. A simple ‘Thanks’ would have done.

The Japanese Air Force through constant fighting and attrition, had been reduced to Kamakazi status, this was the only way their Pilots could be effectively employed, which took tremendous amount of courage, and a death wish to carry out. They were no longer the superb fighting force that they had started out with. At this time New Zealand now had a well trained Air Force capability, possibly actually greater than England’s at the start of the Battle of Britain.

After the War and demobbed, I didn’t wish to return to Engineering. It was too dirty, and not well paid, so with my brother we bought a milk round connected with a carrying business. We made good money, but it was very hard work. At the same time I worked as a projectionist at the Family movie theatre. After a few years we sold up our milk business, my brother had enough money to pursue his dreams, and bought an orchard at Earnscleugh. I didn’t know what I wanted to do, but applied for and got a job with the National Bank as a ‘Pressure Cooker’ Bank Officer. One day I looked up to see a guy in a pin stripped suit standing over me. Turned out to be the General Manager. He inquired how was it that I had as much in Merit Rises as in salary. Would I take promotion, if it was offered to me? I said Yes, but didn’t wish to lose the merit chunk of my salary which I would if I became an executive. Being told I would soon make it up, I suddenly had my foot on the first rung on the promotion ladder. Department Head, Second officer, Accountant and finally a Manager.

I stayed with the Bank until I retired for the first time, as really enjoyed country banking. Once retired I commenced the second stage of my career. Then, I only did what I deemed ‘Interesting things’ which shall relate to later.

An interesting part of our of our time in Queenstown was the effect on our social and business activities by the mixing and assisting the many Foreign Families who visited our Country regularly. But more often than not, it was the French who took their annual vacations with us. In the main they were wealthy, and came to escape the high humidity and heat of their Summers. Over time they purchased considerable real estate properties in the Area. My French at the time was limited to ‘Bon Jour’ and Re’pondez s’il vous plait. Their English was on a par with my French. To correct my ineptitude, Laura bought me a lingaphone and cassettes. (English/French) I then spent an half hour every morning while showering and shaving, listening to, and endeavouring to speak another language.

As well as the French, we had many American friends who were mainly connected with Airlines. They were one section of the public who could fly around the world cheaply with discounted fares. Most of our friendships with foreigners was spread over a forty year period, so over time they became very firm friends. One American family even gave me my first computer. A ‘Commodore 64’, what a treasure it was! I became addicted to computing from that day onward. Computers at this time were issued without a screen, as they were meant to be hooked up through your conventual TV. Our TV system in New Zealand at the time was PAL, but to make it work I now required a set compatible with the American system NTSC. I solved this problem by asking my son to post a note on the American Deep Freeze bulletin Board in Christchurch. Someone would have been bound to have brought an American set over from the States, not being aware our TV system was a different format. But the biggest area of change to our lives as a result of our various friendships was enjoying the various cuisines they brought with them. What a change we experienced in our eating habits. I would like to record, that we too had effected some changes in them as well. Earlier, we had been introduced to a new cuisines to some degree, by our friendship with the Chinese Community. They acquainted us with their wonderful Cantonese cuisine. Our cooking must have been really boring, until we met up with these various ethnic groups. The French also came not only with their own regional recipes, but with many dishes from their former Colonial Territories such as Algerian, Morocco, Vietnam and some other North African countries who they had been associated with for a couple of hundred years or so. Many descendants of these cultures were still closely affiliated with the French, and working alongside them in New Caledonia. New Caledonia was an interesting ‘Pot Pouri’ of many other cultures, every country seemed to be represented there, Javanese, Malaysia, Italian, Japanese. So with their assistance and I suppose by osmosis, we were quickly introduced to Garlic, Chilli Peppers, Soya sauce, and many other spices we had never heard off. To think I was being paid to work amongst these interesting people. At this time nobody in New Zealand, just nobody, used garlic, Cous Cous, chilli peppers, and the endless list of all the other flavours in the world. Another area the French introduced us was the appreciation of wine. Our wine earlier was commonly regarded as plain ‘Plonk’ by all and sundry. Some of it was just that. In addition New Zealand had the most archaic set of liquor laws imaginable. Drinking in the evenings had to cease at 6:00pm unless you were having a meal. No wonder binge drinking was considered a normal activity. But if you looked for it, there were wines to be found here that were equal to any in the world.

At one time I was offered a job to work with the French, but I turned it down preferring to work on a ‘ad hoc’ friendship basis, when required from time to time. What it did mean over the years, we enjoyed many winter holidays in the tropics. I really liked the total immersion of the French culture and their language. It wasn’t all that difficult to take French citizens along to the Dentist, Doctor, or Medical Specialist, or to assist them with their financial or property problems, especially when they didn’t have a good command of English.

I also had to come to grips with some of their more pleasant social habits, such as kissing the women when first greeting them, or saying goodbye. My Staff soon got used to this, and after time accepted it and stopped their sniggering.

Over the years I have formed a very jaundiced view of Auctions and Auctioneers. This attitude was initially brought about while courting a girl in Auckland. When she went off daily to her work and to fill in my day I accompanied her mother into the City. Once there, she introduced me into her hobby and passion, attending all and any of Public Auctions. With her introduction I soon became very well known to the Auction fraternity. We haunted the Auction Rooms and at the end of any day I would be the proud owner of at least half a dozen lounge suites, many boxes of ’Bric-a-Brac’, enough furniture to fill several homes, and goodness knows what else. The Auctioneers knocked items down to me a passive, but, ‘in the know’ bystander. Whenever he considered that the bidding was slow, or he thought maybe he could do better tomorrow. The goods on sale were always being sold to ‘That young man over there’. I soon realised that the system operating, was one of never giving the suckers an even break. If you are serious about buying at an auction, you never want to be intimidated by an Auctioneer, or for that matter their legal representatives, or any connected to the Auction industry. Don’t ever be afraid to challenge, or ask questions. I didn’t need to be reminded of this when buying a home in Queenstown. The legal fellow was reading out the ‘Conditions of sale’. When he came to Clause 23, “In that all items under Hire Purchase shall be the responsibility of the purchaser”. All told, the reading took about 20 minutes, and put half the room to sleep as he droned on, and on. Any questions he intoned? He obviously didn’t expect any, until I popped up and inquired, ‘What exactly are the Hire Purchase items you mentioned?’. At first he denied saying anything about H/P. Then switched to saying ’We always put that clause in’. I was not satisfied and wouldn’t let go. Why do you always put that clause in? A hasty huddle of lawyers was convened on the stage, after 10 minutes they declared they didn’t know what amount of money was involved, at this stage, either by accident or design I had effectively got rid of half of the potential bidders, and put the rest in some serious doubt, including myself. I did a quick mental calculation, and reckoned that $10,000 should be the max to be allowed for that item in my bid to cover the ‘contingent liability’ of the Hire Purchase. The Auction was all over in a couple of minutes, as there were no other bidders apart from me. And for the record, there was no Hire Purchase sum outstanding either.

My old friend Mannerswood from Yacht Club days turned up again. Would I go to the Auction sale of the Homestead of Coronet Station and bid an his behalf? He was prepared to buy the homestead if it went for at a price up to $169,000, top. Doug Stewart was the auctioneer, an additional clause was added to his usual preamble. He would only accept bids of $10,000. I saw immediately, once the auction got under way that I was on the wrong foot, and would have to stop the $10,000 bids when the bidding reached $160,000 as the next bid would jump over my limit. So I called out $161,000, this earned me a immediate public censure and reprimand. Did I not understand his terms? Was I stupid? We will start again. Any advance on $160k. I called out $161k again, and before the auctioneer could respond, someone else called out $162. I quickly responded with $163k, then auctioneer lost his cool and control. The Homestead was Mannerswood’s at $169k