Wally's tales

In Queenstown we were surrounded by High Country Farms, run by a special breed of high country farmers. On my initial week of arrival I was given a welcome that shook me up. One prominent Farmer, and War Hero, called on me. He wandered into my Office, slumped into a seat and declared without prompting, ‘That he hated Bank Managers, lawyers, and Accountants with a passion’. I have always been able to think quick on my feet, I replied, ‘You have missed out one group from your list. ’High Country Farmers’, they are my pet hate. I went on, I was pleased that he had called, as it saved me the need of calling him in, as I wished to see him. I immediately pointed to five Eastlite files on the shelves, and said. ‘Three of those files concern you, and only you. They are full of nonsense, and broken promises. ‘What a merry dance you have lead previous managers’. I am now going to put these files where they rightly belong, and threw them all into the waste paper Basket. From now on things here are going to change’. A little theatrical I know, but I certainly got his attention. I went on, ‘I’m not going to spend my time here writing nonsense about you to Head Office’. ‘You are starting from right now, going to be responsible.’ ‘If you are not happy about this, go and find another Bank’. I knew with his record it would be most unlikely. No one would want him. But things change, and for him, unbelievably it did overnight. A wealthy American blew into town and over a very short time became a benefactor. Also, tourists were starting to arrive in ever increasing numbers, their business obviously was something to be exploited. This Station as well as many others was very isolated, and only possible to be accessed by water. One Boatman started bringing tourist ‘daytrippers’ to the Station Wharf. It didn’t take much to work out that they had boat loads of captive tourists just sitting on their doorstep. Why not take them to the Homestead and give them a Devonshire Tea? A step up from ‘Billy Tea’ on the ‘Lakeside’ that some were doing. The Station wife did a brilliant job of this, silver service and all. At $5-00 a head, equated to $4-75 painless profit. The tourists got a glimpse of Station life as well. The Farmer said to me one day. ‘I can’t believe this. Money is falling out of the sky straight from the Tourists pockets’. ‘I’m now making more money from them, than I do from sheep’. And, he added, ‘I don’t even have to crutch them’.

All things change, and this story certainly does. More later.

The share markets are in turmoil, since the last crash and melt down, I have given shares a very wide berth. However it’s nearly impossible to avoid getting burnt when the Share market runs amuck. Shares are a prime back up to pension schemes, unit trusts, Insurance Funds, and goodness knows what else. Some years earlier I had purchased some shares in a company called ‘Compass’. Impeccable credentials, Chairman of Auckland Stock Exchange on the Board. It would seem they had a position in Auckland Airport to move to lined up. Impossible to fail? Wrong, the manager of Compass set fire to the principal competitors business, after the smoke had cleared, blame apportioned. My share certificates were suddenly turned into very attractive Wall Paper. Another sad story, I bought into a very profitable boat business. Some entrepreneur swam by with a salmon company in tow, asset stripped the company I had shares in. Then I was the proud part owner of a small part of a failing Salmon Farm, with my shares now valued @ 3 cents each. More expensive Wall paper. I must say I have looked hard at the current price of Telecom Shares, Phones are such an important part of our lives. There was a time not so long ago, when we didn’t even own a phone. We managed then with Telegrams and public telephone ‘Call Boxes’. Once you moved away from Local Telephone calls, communication was horrendously expensive. $10 a minute was not unusual, so if I had to make a long distance call, I always wrote down all the points I wished to cover, long before I even picked up the phone. Today we own one copper wire phone, A Skype phone, which works through the computer, (Very advanced, as it also transmits a picture of the callers) the Skype phone are actually ‘Free’ world wide to other Skype callers. Skype charges to others are mainly E.017 euros per minute which is only a couple of pennies. It matters not, if your call is across the road, or across the world. As I keep ‘downloading’ their improvements, reception just gets better and better. Google has a similar system. Then on top of that we have two Cell Phones or Mobiles. Cell phones it would seem are part of today’s youth culture. The companies who make them are pandering to this love and affection of this new teenage toy. They now have built in, Cameras, clocks, games, TV, Email.

We noticed recently in downtown Singapore, everyone had a cell phone, they were all, it seemed, busy talking to one another. No one in town seemed to be over 40 years of age. I wondered where were all their old folk, or did they practice euthanasia once they reached 40 years of age? Then one afternoon we went into a tea house in the Suburbs, it was full of elderly all playing cards, socialising, and drinking tea. Maybe they were just filling in time until the Schools finished their family duties kicked in.

One point I should mention that when phones became more common in New Zealand, we still had to share the same line with perhaps up to eight other users. So that you knew it was your call, you were each given a Morse Code letter which the operator rang. Our ‘Party Line’ phone number was 772K. Once I tried to explain the ‘K’ part to an operator when overseas. I may as well saved my breath, alright it was rather primitive, but it did work. However it was open to eavesdropping, some inquisitive people thought it was a gift from heaven, and couldn’t resist the temptation to listen in.

Just out from Singapore in the nearby Straits, it’s not one of the safest places in this world. You are also likely to bump into Pirates, as they are very active there. There is a site I look at from time to time, that gives an ‘up to date’ on the latest Pirate’s activities.

http://www.icc-ccs.org/prc/piracyreport.php

Today’s paper carried a story that David Benson Pope, may now stand as an Independent for the St Kilda ‘Safe’ Labour seat. He was seriously upset when he was edged out of the candidate. Should this rumour come to be true, he has such a huge following he could split the vote, and allow the National Party to slide in. This is going to be a very interesting election. I know most of the world’s eyes will be on the American election which is only a day or two apart. I’m not sure what effect their Financial Meltdown will have, but it was something that was inevitable, I’m amazed that so many clever Bankers could be so stupid. Once they had lent 100% loans on thousands of suburban homes, as well an ‘interest only loan’. They immediately exposed themselves to loss, if and when there was a recession. Once owners saw that their home was worth a hundred thousand less than they paid for it, and they were still committed to paying the original capital and plus interest. Many just walked away, and posted in their keys back to the holder of their mortgage. This is what is known as ‘Jingle Mail’. I will make a forecast for New Zealand, loans in the housing market for the future will become exceedingly difficult to obtain. Maybe we may even see the return of the old methods we had in the good old days. Remember Building Societies with their monthly ballots and loans? Remember the Lodges as lenders?

The news media and bulletins today are full of stories about the thousands of Children in China who have been poisoned by consuming contaminated milk power or infant formulas. Melamine is the culprit but no where did anyone bother to say exactly what it was. I have never come across it so I searched ‘Google’ and have listed below their answer.

What is melamine and why was it added to raw milk?

A. Melamine is a chemical that can be derived from coal and is about 66 percent nitrogen. It is combined with other chemicals to produce plastics. It is found in fertiliser, flame retardant clothing, countertops, dyes, glues and many other household items. When added to milk, it gives the appearance of higher protein levels, even though it contains no nutrients. Most protein tests take nitrogen levels, so melamine’s chemical structure is able to fool the instruments. Some dairies water down their milk, and melamine boosts protein ‘readouts’ to mask the result.

You know we are nearing an Election when Politicians start to talk about doing something about the perpetual blot on our landscape, ‘Gangs’. Yes, everyone knows that they manufacture, import, and grow drugs. Of course they are also heavily involved in the selling of drugs, in wholesale lots, and right down to the street level. And what do we do as a Country about their existence in our midst, and the antics they get up to? Very little. We do keep on building bigger and better jails to accommodate them. A guesstimate at any given time, half of their membership would be the reluctant guests of Her Majesties Prison Service. The Maori Party who could be a very strong and helpful force in this area, as 99% of Gangs are made up from the Polynesian and Maori community, do little but talk and don’t seem to want to rock the boat. They could be votes. The Police to a large degree, are handicapped by laws that are currently in force, layer upon layer. All put there by Liberal Lawyers, who over the years have successfully lobbied for them. Their ‘catch cry’ is always the same. ‘We have to be fair’, and ‘Everyone has their rights’. One can’t help but wonder how much of this legalese that they continually champion, is Liberal thinking, and how much is for keeping the Status Quo, which if you are in the legal defence business can quickly lead to a financial gain. There is only one fact in which we should take comfort. It could be ten times worse. I heard another Labour Politician talking on the Radio this morning. He trotted an old, tried and true Policy. How they will deal with the Gang Problem. Again.

One of the more delightful aspects of working and living in Queenstown where we spent thirty five years of our lives was that we met and became friends with many foreigners. They had a huge impact on our lives, as well they introduced us to many new cooking styles, even down to the foods we ate. Some were clients, and many seemed to have the same problem. They didn’t wish to have any correspondence with the Bank, once they returned home. I complied with their request, many statements of accounts were tagged with a local address, together with a note, they were to be picked up only when the client called. Of course, at this time a lot of Countries had strict currency controls, which I assumed was why they didn’t wish to broadcast the fact that they were Banking ‘Off shore’. What it did do, was set a lot of very ingenious minds to work. How can they circumvent these regulations? In one Country, New Caledonia, I observed that enterprising merchants, imported valuable ‘Objets d’art’ which they then ‘on sold’. In turn these were taken and sold again in the country where they wanted their funds. An astute citizen sometimes could get a much better return than with a Bank transfer. Another method was to go for the Hard Currency that the tourists paid with. I know about this move personally, for on one visit I was offered by the manager of the Hotel we were staying at a large suitcase full of money to take home with me. It was ‘choc a block’ full of travellers cheques and currency notes. Seeing I had no desire to extend my vacation by languishing in a French prison, I turned the task down. I must confess later, that I too was guilty of a similar scheme that was prevalent here. I badly wanted a new car, or for that matter, any car. But with the tight financial controls here in NZ I had a snow ball chance in hell of ever getting one. However then, if you had sterling funds you could import your own. So I purchased shares in an English Bank, sold them, and very soon I was the proud owner of a new Austin A70. All legal too.

I discovered One facet of Japanese cooking that was completely new to me while dining out recently . It was the cooking of small crabs. We have never been into the eating something as small as these. Our ‘cut off’ point would be Fresh Water crayfish, or their bigger brothers from the sea. In my youth there was only a small market for crayfish in New Zealand. They were always very cheap, or even ‘give away’ items if you went down to where fishing boats unloaded their catch. I loved them, while my mother hated them. She said she couldn’t get the smell out of the house for days. While bathing I had often caught paddle crabs in the surf, but decided after fighting for tasty morsels of crab meat with a pick, it wasn’t worth the effort, so I just gave them up as a gourmet food source. However last week I was surprised when very small crabs, about six centimetres across, turned up in a platter of Japanese food. They had only been cut diagonally in two, together with their carapace, legs, and included all the hard to get at flesh. They had been deep fried into a very tasty crisp morsel. A Japanese woman saw me looking at it while I was puzzling and thinking, ‘Why didn’t I think of that?’ She remarked, “This is a good source of calcium, isn’t it”. I think where we fall down in the kitchen when dealing with Oriental Cooking is, we just don’t have a big enough heat source.

Another Japanese ‘like’ of mine is their commercial Mayonnaise. I can now buy it at the Oriental food Supermarket. I had spotted a chef using something that looked like Mayo while sitting at the table/hot plate while having a meal cooked for us. I inquired to what it was and got the reply, ‘Secret’ ingredient. Later I spotted it in the market and quickly smelt it. (I never buy our commercial Mayonnaise, they always seem to smell of cheap oil which to me is unpleasant and off putting) Surprise, the Japanese item had a neutral odour and not even expensive. I build on that, with a little vinegar, blue cheese, sugar and wasabi. It makes a pleasant change from vinaigrette.

I won’t bore you any more with Japanese cuisine meantime. Someone has just called to take us out to a traditional Korean

One day while at Oamaru sitting in my office with not a care in the world, a letter came for me from Head Office. ‘Please proceed to Kurow immediately, and manage the Branch up there for a month’. The letter went on to add, that in view of my relative inexperience, the remoteness of the posting, I should remember that help should I require it, was only a phone call away. In due course I arrived at the small country town and booked into the local Hotel and was delighted to discover that the Hotel owner was Fred Smith, an old School mate. He told me full board was twenty four dollars a week but I could invoice him for whatever, and he would give me a receipt. Said I didn’t work that way, I had no need to pad my expense account. However Kurow had been pitched poled out of it’s sleepy existence by the fact it was now the centre of an immense Public Works Scheme. Engaged in the construction of three large Hydro Dams and Canals. Plus the fact, it was the only Bank in any given direction for a 100 kilometres. It also serviced two new nearby purpose built towns. The main worry was the accumulation of sufficient money to cash the Pay Roll Cheque. No exaggeration, it was a very large cheque. The day arrived to cash the cheque, three MOW employees took the cash into a back room of the Bank to put the money into pay envelopes. Early afternoon a staff member knocked on the door of my office to inquire could he have my key to the strong room. The MOW employees were now leaving, they would call again in the morning to pick up the money again. The money was now in tidy rows of envelopes, arranged in long boxes which would no longer fit back into our safes inside the strong room. The practice was, they told me, was just to leave the money on the floor of the Strong Room. I could see with alarm that the Strong Room was constructed of only Oamaru Stone, or lime stone, a very soft material. My very pleasant relationship with the MOW employees quickly evaporated, and they threatened me with all kinds of penalties. Then swiftly called on help from their powerful hierarchy, which put me under fire from even the Minister of the Crown. Clearly it was the time to make that phone call and ask for help, I may as well not bothered, each time I explained my predicament to H/O executives, they just melted away, referring me onto someone else. I finally blurted out, Is there anyone in that establishment that’s capable of making a decision? It was the General Manager who answered, by this time I had reached the top. He said, ’What ever you do is your play, but I will back you 100%’. ‘Call me in the Morning’. My prime worry was Insurance, so decided not to close the Bank, and spoke to the male staff. I told them of my predicament and my decision. To compensation them I would pay each $30 to ‘while’ away the night. They could bring in their sleeping bags, and a couple of dozen beer. In the morning the GM rang again, I told him what I had done. When he stopped laughing, he said, ‘I will send down an Architect immediately to build you a real Strong Room, I agree fully with your actions, and in the meantime double the payment to the staff’. When the girls heard this, they too demanded to be included in the scheme, I replied Why not.

There are no secrets in a Town the size of Kurow. I could put up with their snide remarks, and tittering behind my back, but I think they all missed the point. Had thieves stolen the money while I was sleeping in Fred’s Pub up the street, I would no longer be working for the National bank. Somebody would have to take the blame, and as I saw it, I was the one who was in the Hot Seat.

While Managing a Bank in a Holiday Resort Town, skilled staff were always a problem and difficult to locate. Often when a prospective worker presented themselves for a job, by the time an application was forwarded to our Head Office Staff Department (Yes in those days we hadn’t got around to naming it the ‘Human Resources Department’) and returned, the candidate had been snapped by someone else. One day an ex-employee of the Union Bank of Switzerland who had followed a Swiss Maid out to New Zealand, called looking for employment. He could speak German, Italian, and French, but not English. I sent off an application recommending we hire him, praising his linguistic proficiency, but I never mentioned his lack of English, knowing full well that Head Office would assume that he was also proficient in our language. I had managed to communicate with him in French, but working with him had some amusing consequences. One girl went home and told her parents that I had employed someone who never talked, but just pointed to where the mistake that everyone was looking for was located. Her mother inquired from my wife, what was going on at the Bank? Once everyone understood, they all pitched in giving English lessons. Some of the girls of course were keen to teach him English that was never used in polite society. As far as I knew Head Office never found out, and the man turned out to be a treasure. His only and constant complaint was, we didn’t pay the same salary as his former Swiss Employers. After a couple of months he was becoming fluent in English, I suspected that he had had some basic English lessons while at school back in Switzerland. He never really came to grips with our ‘Books Of Instructions’. These were the books that governed all our day to day conduct in the Bank. He would ask questions like, ’What do they mean when they say? ‘Penultimate Paragraph’. I said, ‘It’s just someone showing off’. ‘It’s the one before the last’. There are not many instances like this in the books. Just ask if you don’t understand.

One day a German Film Crew came into the Bank talking loudly in German, what we didn’t know was that they were referring to the Bank Staff as Dumkoffs, Bumpkins, and laughing at their own jokes uproariously, making fun of our small country bank. Martin, our Swiss employee attended to their exchange of Travellers Cheques transaction in English. Then as they reached for their money, he grabbed the money then switched to German and gave them a five minute dressing down that was just wonderful to see and hear. They were Ambassadors of their Country, and were expected to behave as such. They were a disgrace to the German Race. This behaviour while abroad was not what was expected from Germans. They just getting over from being the most unpopular people in the world and they were doing nothing to help to restore them in the popularity stakes. Weren’t they aware we all spoke German at this Branch, what’s more we were all shocked by their disgraceful oafish behaviour, and undecided what to do about it. Five very red faced Germans stumbled from the Bank muttering profuse apologies, wondering just what the hell had happened. Where did this outpost of German Culture spring from. How could they have been so stupid?

Most days with out fail, tourists would leave behind all kinds of valuables. When they returned to retrieve same they were grateful. But, I noticed there was a penalty with Cameras that wasn’t immediately apparent, I discovered with some surprise the staff taking a photo of themselves as a little reminder for the tourist when they returned and developed the film.

On Sunday Mark took me and Kohe San, an ex-Japanese Pilot down to Ashburton to visit the Air Force Museum. For a small town they had a surprising large collection of memorabilia. One exhibit was a Harrier Jet which actually was flown and distinguished itself in the Falkland War. Ashburton strangely was the Air Field where I was inducted into the Royal New Zealand Air Force. My rank was lowest rank they had, AC2. (Aircraftsman Second Class) I was a real ‘Dogs Body’, even the Cooks held a higher rank. Everyone without exception, who had any ambition of joining the Air force as Air Crew, first had to pass a Pre-Entry examination which would be the equivalent of the Matrix, but with a heavy emphasis on flying matters and navigation. My deal, over which I had no control anyway, was that I guarded the Air Field for some hours at night, while I attended classes during the day. One night at a dance I met a Hospital Nurse who I had known at school down South, and after a couple of ‘Dates’ we agreed to correspond when I left for Over Seas, which was my fervent hope. I was confident that I would pass their exams, and move on to Pilot training. However our relationship was never given a chance to blossom. I did get my overseas posting to train in Fighter Aircraft in Canada. But while away, I received a ‘Dear John’ letter, advising me nicely, to get lost, as I’m pregnant and I am marrying my child’s father. Life has many strange twists, as later I was to meet and become good friends with her son. I was astounded when I discovered his relationship to the former love of my life. The town where we both met held no connection for me apart from the Air Force.

As you grow older and you have been lucky in ‘Life’s Lottery’, or perhaps you were born with good genes, perhaps not born with these, but have other claims on the ticket of ‘Long Life’. In that you have managed to avoid, and survived, all the other nasty sicknesses, plagues, military service, and accidents, that are dropped onto you indiscriminately. All of which are out there just to make damn sure you don’t really enjoy long life. Did I mention ‘Lucky’, sometimes I wonder? Now I’m finding it kind of lonely now as I look around. Most if not all, of my best close friends that I once knew, loved, competed with, drank with, and enjoyed their company have one by one shuffled on. I have witnessed their departures with sadness, as their fingers, were prised from life itself. I know I must sound morbid but it’s been a cold miserable winter and we have had two and a half months of wet weather which has kept us indoors and house bound. Maybe that’s what’s making me so maudlin. Maybe it’s because I have been listening to Lloyd Geering, a leading theologian relating his life’s story, daily on the National Programme at 10-45am. So if you think by listening to him you are going to get some of the answers to what life is all about, you are sadly mistaken, I find that he is as puzzled about life as I am.

I can’t pass without some comment about Winston Peters. He is I’m sure, suffering from the Manic Depressive Syndrome. I know I’m not a medical person, but I’ve had more than a little experience with suffers of this complaint. They as a group over a long period, have caused me endless sleepless nights. That was until I really understood their sickness, with the aid and an explanation by our local doctor. One sufferer actually resided next door for a time. As a neighbour he was not a problem, but he really lived in a different world. He did things in our eyes that were clearly self destructive, but perfectly normal to him. As Bank clients I had my share too. Their behaviour was something that effected us all from time to time. They would set about to destroying a profitable business when on a ‘High’, with seemingly stupid decisions. I would like a peek in Peter’s medical cabinet, just to see if there were any Lithium tablets in there that he wasn’t taking.

I read in the New Zealand Herald this week a ‘Roll of Dishonour’ relating to Labour’s Failed Political Ministerial appointees. Why so many? I wouldn’t know but possibly they didn’t have enough of the ‘right’ Material available from the pool that was available. Anyway, it is a very sad list, but some since their fall from grace, have been recycled.

None of the above it would appear read the Minister’s hand book on expected conduct before taking office.

We have yet another problem in our Public Hospital here. Somebody has been getting into the tightly controlled pain killing drugs, straight out stealing same, or just diluting the base stock with distilled water. The discrepancies it would seem cover stocks held at three Wards. Whether it’s to feed a drug habit, or financial profit from their sale is unknown but it’s the patients who are suffering. It’s been on going for some time as the Pharmacy became aware a year ago that some plastic phials were being broached. So where they could, they immediately reverted to buying only the drugs that were sealed in glass. The thought that they could let people suffer by getting injections of distilled water is beyond belief. I would think that rather than pussy footing around those who have access, it would be a good idea to wade in and demand that they all give urine and blood tests, looking for residues. That should smoke out he culprits if they are feeding a drug addition. Hospitals today because they are closely associated with Government and their PC attitude to all facets of care. Because of this they are over whelmed with signage in two or more languages. Bulletin boards are groaning with messages that date back years. Posted somewhere I’m sure there will be a message saying, ‘It’s naughty to steal pain killing drugs’.

I mentioned earlier we are in the middle of a dreary Winter, but we are not missing out from Summer fruits sourced from around the world. We can buy and enjoy wonderful Nectarines, Peaches, plums, all from California selling between $3 or $4 a kilo. Pineapples around $1-60. Table Grapes from South America $4 a kilo. Bananas at $1-60, Paw Paws at $3 from the Philippines or South America. I never stop wondering how the growers can grow harvest and ship their produce across the world and still turn a profit. However our local ‘out of season’ fruit and Vegetables are not cheap. Tomatoes $9 a kilo. Bell peppers about the same price. Only Kiwi Fruit are cheap, but I suspect that they are export rejects. I must wind this letter up and sign off.

Driving into town the other day you couldn’t help but notice along the route we followed, that our progress was being marked every few metres by trees in full blossom. Plum, Cherry trees, and all of the other flowering varieties. It was simply stunning. No wonder the Japanese revere the flowering cherry. I have no idea how Mother Nature does it, as the weather here hasn’t warmed up yet. So it must have to do with the length of Winter. The Newspaper yesterday quoted that we have moved into ‘Spring’. But this is not quite correct according to the equinox, which this year falls on the 22^nd September. Equinox means that this day the sun will spend an equal time above the Horizon daily. So that’s when Spring commences. There is also an ‘Old Folks Tale’ related directly to the equinox. That is on the 22^nd of September, it’s also possible to balance an egg on it’s end. Take my word, it’s true. But then of course, it’s possible to stand an egg upright any other day as well. All you need to do is to exercise just a little patience, so don’t get suckered in with this nonsense.

Some years ago when we moved to a small town because of my job. The Town Folk were well aware of the coming and goings of Bank Staff and Public Servants, and they were quick to exploit it. On my arrival in Milton, my first posting, once there I found out even before I had unpacked my bag that I not only was I a member, but also the treasurer of the local Returned Soldiers Assn. These civic jobs were always the unpaid duties of the unsuspecting new arrivals. Part of my obligation to this office, was to assist fellow Soldiers, down on their luck, maybe passing through town or just seeking work. Almost immediately, I was confronted by a ‘traveller’ looking for assistance. To assist me with this task I was given little or no budget to carry out this chore. Quickly I established a rapport with George Potae a Maori Shearing contractor who owned a large house on the edge of the town. George had a heart of gold, and would never turn anyone away. He supplied basic accommodation for free. (A mattress and a couple of army blankets) which was standard accommodation with George, and much better than sleeping under the stars. A quick call to the local priest, and minister to stop double dipping. Another call to the Woollen Mill, the town’s largest employer. Yes, they even had a job available. Kindly report at the main Office at 7-45am on the morrow. Another call to the local restaurant for a dinner. I would call in later and pick up the tab. I was deaf to all the pleading, ‘Just give me the money, and I will look after the arrangements for you’. In the morning after a breakfast from George, without fail they just moved on. Working it seems was not exactly part of their plan. While we were being kind and helpful, it was not what they were looking for. So, from these small beginnings we now have an industry that beggars belief. The City Mission, Salvation Army, and several Churches are all into suppling food and help, probably dispensing a dollop of religion too. To support this industry, they now have whole warehouses, ‘chock a block’ full of food. It’s unbelievable that people today require this kind of assistance. Even with all this support, today’s providers would still be wrestling with the same problem I had. How do you separate the wheat from the chaff? I have the feeling too that it’s a two way street, in that the people doing the handing out get a real buzz from their ‘do gooding’ actions, as well as being benefactors, freely giving out largess, right left and centre.

Anyway part of the problem being of hungry, is a real lack of cooking skills, and the inability to budget by some of the young housewives of today. One young ‘Blond Dolly Bird’ neighbour, said to me one day. ‘I just love your soups, what kind of packet do they come in’? We had been helping out with meals, while she grappled with a new arrival. Another time she rang up to inquire ‘How do you cook Corned Beef? My mother has brought me down a slab, and neither of us have the slightest idea what to do with it. We have never cooked this kind of meat before’. Where we might exchange recipes, some of these families swop addresses of the nearest ‘Takeaways’. I have always said, ‘If you can read, you can cook.’

We have just been invited out to a Japanese Restaurant for lunch Saturday noon. We are so lucky here, as just about every culture in the world is reflected in our ethnic Restaurants. Goodness, you can travel and eat your way through most of the worlds’ cuisines here in only a couple of blocks. Some however, still need to make some concessions to accommodate us. The Turkish mode of sitting on cushions on the floor, is not our idea of comfort. Then there is always the problem of getting back onto your feet. But you never know who you are likely to meet with our new immigrants, as they rarely seem to work at the occupation that they trained for. I ate at a restaurant in Childers Queensland, which was owned, and run by an Vietnamese Micro Biologist. His English was terrible, but we could managed a conversation in French. I didn’t think there would be many openings for a Micro Biologists in Childers. But his wife had turned out to be an exceptional cook, and he was an excellent waiter and raconteur. Then a taxi driver in Sydney to our astonishment turned out to be a Chinese Doctor. Maybe he could find his way around Beijing, and for that matter the human body, but he still had a lot to learn about Sydney. Lucky that we knew where we were going, and how to get there.

Whether anyone will take the time to read this letter I will just have to wait and see. I know that now my letters find their way into some very strange places.

My Internet Address is

http://www.wally-hutton.com/wordpress

Love from Christchurch,