Wally's tales

One day I wandered down to the beach to watch a yacht race that was in progress. It was thrilling to see these twenty odd foot boats perform in the very stiff breeze. As they came in close to the beach to round a buoy, you were able to see all the action taking place, and hear the screams of excitement. I thought, ‘This is for me’. ‘And it’s a sport that all the family can participate in.’ At this stage we didn’t know about getting ice cold water sloshed over us from time to time, or all the other bad things that can happen to you while learning to sail a small boat well. I went home discussed it with the family, immediately we all visited the library, scanning Auckland papers, studying closely the ‘Boats for Sale’ columns. We were looking for a Fibre Glass Trailer Sailer. We finally found an 22 foot boat that suited us, manufactured by Aquarius, second hand, but completely refurbished. So off to Auckland we went, to trailer it back home to Queenstown. Beth came with me, and we did the whole operation over a long weekend, but the trip was not without incident. On our return, about Mid North Island in the dark we came to an overpass, which was concealed from our view, only to find four or five men in white suits all running around painting yellow and white lines on the road. I was going far too fast to stop, also there was the big truck rig that was closely following us. I knew I could possibly ‘jack knife’ our trailer if I made any sudden move. So hand on horn, I just I just ploughed on, right through their wet paint job. Scattering, series of orange cones, workmen and notices and all. Beth said, ‘Are you going to stop Dad’? I replied ‘No way’, ‘We have no friends back there.’ The valiant still had traces of yellow and white paint in the engine compartment when I sold it twenty years later. Ian Faulks said to me on relating the incident, that he did much the same thing just out of Invercargill. But he ended up with a traffic cop on his tail, but after inquiring what charge? The cop couldn’t think of one that fitted the deed and dropped the matter.

The next incident came at the Wellington Wharf where there was an employee, who all from Queenstown yachte’s had named ‘God’. He just didn’t like ‘Queenstowners’ or their sail boats, and on the wharf he wielded immense power. Admittedly there had been a procession of boaties from Queenstown as the sport gained in popularity. All Yacht club members, it would seem had experienced difficulties with this man. One of his purposes in life, it would seem was to make life troublesome for us. On our arrival he immediately declared we didn’t have a booking. We did. Anyway, we wouldn’t have allowed for the mast overhang. We had. Let’s then go to the Office and sort the matter out. It’s shut. He then parked us in splendid isolation at the head of a adjoining lane. As I sat in the dark and rain, I plotted my revenge. As the parking area filled I took a torch and went down the long line of unsupervised cars. I rapped on all their driver’s windows, shone the torch into their eyes and told them in an authoritative manner, parking arrangements have been changed. Please turn your vehicle around and park behind the Valiant and yacht. It took about five to ten minutes for the message to sink in, but slowly the whole park turned around, after much confusion and manoeuvring, they all formed a line behind us. If God was surprised when he returned from his cubby hole, he didn’t show it. At sailing time flagged us onto the Ferry first. We arrived home without further incident, unloaded all the cabbages, cauliflowers, onions, and other vegetables from the cockpit that we had purchased very cheaply at Pukekohe, around our neighbourhood, and went to bed. Our boating adventures were about to begin.

This posting is going to have a Medical theme. Laura as you know has been admitted to Christchurch Public with a stroke. Initially it was thought to be the result of a fall which she experienced, we even have a letter from he ACC pledging their help. Ha Ha! However, I dislike visiting Hospitals, unfortunately at this stage she is able to say very little, and mostly she is communicating by hand written signs and hand clenching, but recently she has been able to utter a few words, but we will have to join the medical team and do what they are doing waiting until her body heals itself. I truly hate to see her in this condition, but I’m being reassured that she is not the worst they have admitted with this complaint, and most in her condition make a recovery. The Hospital block where she is a patient is not old, but it’s obvious even to me, that what it’s doing now, is not what it was initially designed for. Where ever there is a wide corridor, two or three lines of chairs have been placed, which has turned some of these corridors into very narrow waiting rooms. Naturally they are difficult to navigate, past with people all sprawled out and waiting. Take it from me, there is a lot of waiting going on in Hospitals. Another feature of this Hospital is that it’s a complex made comprised of several stand alone buildings, each of them can only be accessed from the ground floor. Once you understand this fundamental law, you can find your way around with ease.

The other factor that I must comment on are the areas out side, where the ground is blanketed with cigarette butts. I don’t know how many patients die of pneumonia being driven out into the elements, but the Hospital is relentless in their campaign to stop smoking. To see these pathetic little groups of people in their PJ’s and night attire standing out in the cold, in my mind is taking the issue a little too far. You would think as far as geriatrics are concerned, that they have been addicted too long, and Hospital should be showing a little compassion seeing they are captives of nicotine. It begs the question ‘Who built the Damn Hospital in the first place?’ Possibly to a large extent, it would have be the smokers of this world. They have paid squillions into the Government coffers by the way of exorbitant taxes. They accepted these imposts all the time being driven by their addiction to continue smoking. To see these folk standing outside in all weathers, without shelter, makes you wonder just how far these masochistic people in charge will go to achieve their campaign to stop smoking. They would all be better to have an addiction to an ‘A Class’ drug. Should they be addicted to say Opium, Heroin, they would be rushed off to some comfortable quarters and inducted into some official programme, as well given regular top ups of methadone to satisfy their craving. On walking to our car I regularly see one elderly man with whom we always have a short conversation while passing. He stands out, for him to make a visit outside it’s necessary to trail along his trolley containing his bottle of oxygen. Truly, we elect some awful unfeeling people to positions of power, giving them the authority to rule over us. It so happens I know one of these people. This lady is very serious in her campaign to stop smoking. When I first met her she was a woman looking for a cause, and she found it in Queenstown when her child got knocked over in a traffic incident. Some how she has switched over to cigarettes, and she has been relentless in carrying the anti smoking banner. I wish she could see these pathetic groups of patients standing out in the elements, wet, fine, and cold, just to get their fix.

Driving into town and on our route, we pass three or four car yards. These it would seem are prime indicators of the business health in our community. Under normal trading conditions I suppose they act like the canaries in the coal mine. Up until recently they have been chock full of highly polished, gleaming vehicles, all giving out an air of prosperity. With well dressed salesmen strutting around. These lots are festooned with flags, and other gimmicks to attract your attention, possibly even lure you in. But seldom does their Stock (Cars) actually belong to the dealer. The owner in most cases is a finance Company, the trader pays only an daily interest to ‘own’ all the vehicles on display. Whenever there is a down turn, and people can’t meet their obligations, this business it would seem, is one of the first to go. Everything can vanish in the bat of an eye. It has happened recently in too many cases. I noticed yesterday, one very prominent and large yard was cleaned out overnight. Right down to the last piece of promotion material. Just like a School playground during the school holidays. Another one was full of cars one day, the very next day it was a ‘drive thru’ Coffee bar. In fact it looked as though it had always been a fixture there. Coffee bars are the ‘In Thing’ these days. There was a small Dairy, come Superette close to Princes Margaret Hospital. This one existed I suppose only by it’s proximity to the Hospital. Overnight they too became a Coffee Bar, and it’s proven to be very popular by the attendance of the café culture. We have noticed that every time we drive past, even late at night, it’s always packed with people. Aided and abetted I suppose by the Hospital Canteen which has gone ‘Healthy’. Healthy means that you just don’t get much choice, only what is deemed healthy food, there are no other choice. Some are finding out about this attitude too in schools, where it is being enforced by an Ministry edict. The pupils too are exercising their options, any nearby Diary is now enjoying a sudden unexpected boom in business, sadly some school canteens are having to close through lack of patronage.

In my last Post I mentioned limited showers and that is as bad as it gets. Not quite, the ‘Greens’ have another whammy up their sleeves. They would now like New Zealanders to limit the size of their families. One to reduce our footprint, and to make room for Islanders who will be forced to relocate and leave their islands when they are flooded. This is going to go down like a lead balloon with the Catholic Church. A pity who ever thought this one up didn’t think to mention it to the Pope. I can write their reply without waiting to hear the answer from the Vatican. Heaven forbid them ever getting into a position of power, maybe they have other surprises up their sleeves that we don’t know about.

I’m very puzzled over Carbon credits and the trading of same. I’m willing to bet that there are a lot of people out there, that are confused as I am. It bothers me to see, one of the trading exchanges is going to be located in Chicago. Is this exchange going to run by the same clowns that have nearly destroyed our monetary system? I imagine so, as a lot of them now will be unemployed. The Banking system in America has been run, or mainly based on the creation of Debt, aided it would seem by some very creative accounting. It’s a pity that the people in charge didn’t have a little common sense as well. But there had to be a day of reckoning with this kind of lending, which is dangerous, and poised to fail. It would seem that day has arrived. Like it or like it not, everyone is going to effected to some degree by this financial meltdown.

We have three or four developing countries in which the burning of fossilised fuel and pollution is so bad, that they can no longer see the sun. Where do they fit into this world of buying and selling of carbon credits? And who is going to ask them to pay exorbitant sums into this trading scheme, and take care of their carbon footprint? I don’t think they will even want to listen. We in New Zealand have a very small footprint, whatever way you look at it. Most of our South Island is undeveloped forest, and we are not exactly standing on one another’s shoulders. So we should be producing a neutral image according to my calculations. However we seem to be under the thumb of zealots, who rightly or wrongly are going to save us, and the world. But we haven’t even yet got all of the world’s Scientists in accord, or lined up all the ducks. Some are of the opinion, that we are in a situation that unless we take immediate steps, the earth warming will continue, life as we know it will end, or it will be changed dramatically for the worse.

Others however, are saying. ‘Yes, there is a change taking place’. ‘But it’s all part of a natural phenomena that’s been an ongoing cycle for millions of years’. Nothing that’s happening now, has anything much to do with Man’s presence on earth. In the past, Nature has released many thousand times more carbon into the atmosphere by volcanic activity, the sky blanked out for years by asteroid strikes. The earth remarkably, has recovered from this, all on it’s own. I suppose to know our fate we will just have to await the results of the pending election. If we elect a significant number of ‘Greens’ we won’t have to await their projected uncomfortable future, they with their policies will inflict it on us immediately.

Politicians, especially the breed we keep on electing, are a weird bunch. They are now at the task of passing more legislation, this time restricting us to a two minute showers with reduced pressure. Not joking, this is true. I’m not really an extreme political animal, but I am being changed into one, and a very annoyed one as well. If they keep on bringing out these stupid laws that effect even the smallest pleasures we have in our life. Especially when we have an abundance of water in this country, plain stupid. You would think we lived in the Sahara desert. In fact, we even allow water to cascade and run off our roofs, down storm drains, whereupon the local Councils charge yet again, to pipe away this resource into the sea. In fact in the good old days, many large families lived entirely from collected ‘Tank’ water which they harvested and conserved without the need of any reticulation. Many joke about the ‘Nanny State’, but it’s true with their social laws recently passed, and others continuing to impact on our daily living. For instant, Just because we have a segment of our population that beat their kids to death, we now have laws that are so draconian that parents are no longer able to give their children a corrective slap. Does the anti-smacking law stop the beating kids to an inch of their lives? No, but what we are now stuck with, is a generation of out of control youth. Gradual introduction of policies that forbid any penalty on the young have resulted in. Uncontrollable kids at school. Uncontrollable youth roaming our streets at night, making a visit to a restaurant or theatre at night, one fraught with danger. And what does the State do about this situation? Why, they go after anyone who has the courage to strike back, when you are attacked by an knife wielding assailant. You can defend yourself but only using what is now deemed, ‘Reasonable force’. And what the hell is that, and how do you work that out in the heat of the moment when the ‘flight or fight’ adrenaline rush kicks in, triggered by looking at the wrong end of a knife. It seems to me the feral element of this country which we have created, is a protected species

One of my more time consuming jobs in the Bank where no credit was given, was the looking after VIP’s when they passed through, or were taking a vacation in our town. Many were not problem but a pleasure. Others proved to be the most difficult, and irascible people, that God ever put breath into. One stood out, and he would head the list of the most ornery people I had ever met and tried to assist. While preparing for his visit, I must have spent three months writing to his Secretary, putting together an itinerary for his vacation. I met him at the Airport, and after gathering all his personal effects that he had left on the plane, I drove him to his Hotel. It was obvious he had been drinking to excess, but no one from Head Office had given me any inkling that this VIP who had close connections to the Royal Family, was a practicing alcoholic. After showing him into his Hotel Suite, he took out my itinerary and declared. ‘I would now like to make a few last minute changes to this’. and with a flourish proceeded to alter nearly everything listed with a red pen. I quickly responded, ‘Look I’m very sorry to say this, but that can’t be done’. ‘These proposed visits to the back country that you are changing, are all personal friends of mine’. ‘They are taking time off from their busy schedules, as a favour to you and me’. ‘I’m unable to shift around the timing of the various visits as these people all live in very isolated places, I’m unable contact them at such short notice. But please feel free to cancel anything and everything that’s not your wish, but you can’t change any advised visit. He then proceeded to alter the times on scheduled trips, on things like the Shotover Jet, which ran on the hour and every hour.

I had taken along a generous supply of liquor to give to the Station owner when we visited Mt Nicholas’s. I had trained with this owner, when we were both young pilots in the Air Force, and I was taking advantage of this. He and my VIP got on very well, and I was pleased to find out that he had a very good knowledge of beef breeding programs being carried out in the UK. However he imbibed too freely on our visit, and on our return we put the VIP to bed with the ‘Flu’. I was very relieved when I finally put him onto his plane again and passed on my obligation to someone else. Later I was talking to the Dunedin manager who confessed that he was close to a nervous breakdown with the antics of our visitor. I said I would have joined him in the breakdown department had I allowed him do what he proposed. With this entertainment I never got any idea of a definitive budget, in what I was expected to spend on these people. When I inquired from the General Manager, could he give me some idea of what I could spend. He replied. ‘Have you ever been turned down when you submitted your expenses’? ‘No’? ‘Well then you must be doing it right’. I remember another visit by a General Manager from an Australian Bank. He had expressed an interest to go Gold Mining, seeing that I had received a message, ‘Look after this guest well. He is very Special to us’. So before we went mining and fossicking, to help things along, I bought an ounce of gold from a local miner. He quickly got very excited with his skill in panning. It was clear too he was enjoying his day in the outback. It was dark before he would quit. He said he couldn’t understand why I was still working in the Bank, when it was so easy to dig up gold. I explained, while it was true that there were still odd places in our rivers that had been missed by the early miners, it looked as though he had been lucky and stumbled onto one. I remember too that one day I took out the Montagnat Family who were miners from New Caledonia. I knew in this case I would have to be a little more subtle, to see that they had successful day out. I received permission through my ‘brother in law’ to take them onto an actual Gold Mine. Their father Georges watched me like a hawk, to prevent I imagine to prevent any ‘salting’. He proceeded to quarter out the ‘ground’, and sampled the whole area. When he proved what I already knew there was gold for the digging. They set about mining in earnest, and they all recovered a small amount of gold. A brother set about mining in a different manner. He had obtained several rubbish bags which he filled with about half a ton of ‘pay dirt’ which he then processed at home for the rest of his holiday in New Zealand.

Security in the Bank fifty, sixty years ago in one respect was a joke. Sure we were armed, but no attention was given to the condition of the revolvers our principal arm. Generally they were in poor condition, dirty, and in one case I found the revolver fully loaded, with a live round under the hammer. Not a good idea, as the cartridge had been deeply etched with a dent on the primer where the firing pin had been resting. I knew from my Service experience that this was not safe a practice. One friend during the War threw his webbing onto the back of a truck and as a result of this, his .38 fired, hitting him in the mouth and exited on the side of his spine missing all of his vital body parts on it’s travel. However it blew him out of the War and the sky, as his flying days were now over. He carried a constant reminder with his missing upper teeth and part of the roof of his mouth. One problem in the Bank was when we went out to Agencies we were not supervised. The young male staff couldn’t leave the pistols alone, they were always practicing ‘Fast Draws’ and other cowboy tricks. It had to happen, and one young Junior accidentally loosed of a round which ricocheted around the Bank missing all other employees.

I replaced the spent round, and seeing it had missed everyone in the Agency, considered it more prudent just to forget the whole incident, and not start a witch hunt.

We at this time we shipped very large sums of money all via the normal Postal Service. The parcels were registered, and insured, but only wrapped in brown paper, or a locked canvas sack. At one time they were sewn into calico, but this practice fell by the wayside, and was soon forgotten. Currency parcels would contain up to $50,000 which would be in today’s value, ten times that. Coin was generally shipped by Rail or Bus, in lots of five $100 canvas bags, all contained in a recycled ammunition containers. No special care was given to these boxes. I can remember one day I sent a couple of bright lads down to the Reserve Bank Depot for a very large coin order. On their return I said ‘You are one bag short.’ ‘Go and search the taxi again’. No joy there. They then returned to the Depot, lying in the street in plain sight was their missing money with the passing public stepping over it. What an honest bunch we all were in those days.

One day a young man called to my Office and slumped into a chair. You can tell a lot from Body language and this looked right at the start that it could be a bad interview. He said, ‘I’ve just called in to say goodbye’, and as far as I’m concerned, you can whistle for your money, which was an unsecured loan. He was a member of a good family but he was a bit of a scallywag. I replied, ’I’m sorry to hear that, but as a matter of interest where are you going?’ He replied, ‘Why I’m off to New Caledonia. I have a very good job in their Nickel Mines.’ I may have mentioned earlier we held accounts, for everybody who was anybody in that Country, and many too, were personal friends. Some even held high positions in the Judiciary. I said, I have a little free advice for you, when your plane arrives at Tontouta don’t bother to get out, as you will not be allowed entry in New Caledonia. When you leave here I am immediately going to send a Telex to New Caledonia that you are on your way, saying that you are a most undesirable character, it would be in their best interests to send you back. ‘He said you wouldn’t do that, would you’? I replied ‘Try me’. He called two hours later and paid off his debt, and all was quiet until about 8-00pm the next day. The phone rang with our friend again almost incoherent, screaming, ‘You promised, you promised, I have just been taken off the Aircraft in Auckland. I replied, that this was nothing to do with me I kept to my promise, not that I intended to take any action. He surely must have stood on someone’s toes elsewhere. But I’m sure they will soon be in touch with you. I thought, much more of this, and I could be in line for an Honary Degree in psychology

We have just returned from our dinner at the Korean restaurant. Very enjoyable and traditional meal, all cooked at your table in a built in charcoal brazier. We have had similar meals to this, but everyone had a small gas cooker, complete with a hot plate on the table top. Anyway, our last one was more to what you would be given in Korea. The small charcoal device produced an intense heat when the blower was turned on, fanning the coals white hot by the time the food arrived. Their menu had also provided pictures of what food was on offer, accompanied by numbers. Just as well, as everything else was in Korean. Again, were the only Europeans present. The food however was certainly different, we all enjoyed ourselves. Our Japanese woman companion took over the cooking duties. Her dexterity with chops sticks meant our food found it’s way from the charcoal to plate, without incident.

The one thing that really stuck in my mind was their salad dressing. It was simply exquisite. I have looked at my Asian cook books again, but there was nothing mentioned regarding Korean salad dressings. But I know that there are Korean girls working in the Riccarton Branch of the Bank. On my next visit, I will inquire from them if they know what is so different special about their dressings. All cultures have things and recipes that excite each another, even to a simple batch of scones. Raspberry jam, and whipped cream on top is special, Wow! This was something even our kids can easily make, but it completely blew away the Japanese. I know as far as food is concerned the Japanese are watching us as closely as we are watching them. But I find that it’s the simple things we discover about each other that are the best.

On the way home we called in at the supermarket and discovered Asparagus had at last dropped in price down from $49-99 a kilo only two weeks ago, down to $2=99 a bunch (About four bunches to a Kilo). This would be my number one vegetable, I know it’s not the most popular dish for everyone, and long may it remain so, as we would like to keep for ourslves as far as possible. I can remember during the War that sometimes we were sent treats to remind us of home. Tinned Asparagus back then in my opinion reminded me that we were missing nothing. In the same group was tinned whitebait, it was nothing like the real thing.

Current events often trigger off memories. Especially with the current American meltdown. One such episode took place immediately after a property boom and bust in New Zealand that we experienced some years ago. Working in the Bank we were often asked for advice or to help out with problems clients were involved in, not in any way related to banking. Sometimes it was just a call for help, from a friend who trusted you, and they had no one else to turn to. A near neighbour had a ‘run down’ home in a most desirable area of the town. A million dollar Lake view, but really sub standard accommodation. It was located on very small section, which the house covered completely. Sections or Tent/Camp sites were a hang over from the Gold Rush days. A developer spotted this home and after a many approaches talked the Widow owner into a grandiose scheme that he proposed for her. Couldn’t fail he cried. He would develop the property with a commercial base, for him, a luxury flat on top for her. All her dreams were about to come true, she would exchange her existing in the ‘Tin Shed’ as she called it, for a penthouse. I didn’t come into her picture until the boom had turned into bust. All her hopes for the ‘Step Up’ to a dream home had suddenly crumbled, and turned into dust. She was now left with thoughts of only what might have been. Plus a huge debt for all the development and architects costs, as she was still the owner. And where was the developer who arranged all this? Well you may ask, over the hills and far away. Her tranquil life quickly turned into one of misery. She was constantly being dunned with bills she couldn’t possible pay, as well being bombarded with threats that if didn’t sell up and pay what she now owed, she would be taken to court, legal action would be then taken to recover the debt and maybe even lose the Tin Shed. It was at this stage she called in for advice all the time clutching her Court Summons. I said, ‘I can help a little’. ‘Firstly, I would suggest you get rid of your necklace meantime. This necklace was made up from many large gold nuggets her husband had discovered while fossicking in local creeks. Your two gold nugget bracelets they will have to be removed as well. The only other suggestion I can give you, is when the people who are causing you all this grief, come on too strong, Play your ‘Poor Widow Card’ breakdown and cry. This will make them feel guilty, and they certainly won’t want a weeping, blubbering widow, on their hands, so that the whole world knows what they are up to. They know you are being hung out to dry, and most of what has happened, was not on your instructions. Keep asking, ‘Why aren’t they pursing the Developer’ ‘Why isn’t he in the hot seat’. They probably feel guilty already about putting you in a position where you could lose your home, while the real perpetrator is free to go, possibly dreaming up another scheme.

Anyway, she called in after the hearing to give me a hug and kiss. She said, ‘I cried the whole way through the proceedings, I was given a box of tissues, a comfortable chair, and as far as the Judge was concerned, it was the other party who should have been in the dock. Now I have only to pay $700 which I can afford. Sometimes the little people have a win.