Wally's tales

Alcohol when coupled with excessive consumption and becomes ‘Alcoholism’ has been a huge problem for many people. It also seriously effects the victim’s family and their employment. Society has tried several solutions to assist and correct the situation, from gentle persuasion, to even the outright forbidding sale of alcohol. But nothing seems to work. I was lucky in that I was born into a family where no one was addicted to alcohol, or where it was a problem. However my life and work since has since brought me close to many people who were addicted. I was able by chance, to witness first hand the misery that it wrought onto some families. The people so effected will lie, cheat, and generally make anyone’s life that is close to them a misery. Nothing matters so long as they get their regular fix of alcohol. They keep on making promises too that they have no intention of keeping. However the other side of the coin is, when not drinking, they are the nicest of people or friends.

I came into contact with liquor at an early age, when inducted into the services. I was turned overnight from a student under tight parental control, into what was deemed a man. This brought with it all the freedoms that go with being an adult. I should have known too, all of the responsibilities as well that were involved and come with this status. At eighteen years of age, I was now free to wander into any Hotel Bar, order anything off the top shelf if I so wanted. However without the assistance of a War, I would have had to wait another three years for this privilege.

I was never cut out to be a drinker. I never liked losing control, and I thought a ‘hang over’ was too big a price to pay for a night out. I also have a private theory that people who over indulge in regular ‘Binge Drinking’ sessions, don’t suffer any after effects. Liquor is also a social drug, another danger is pier pressure which is also part of the problem. Today’s youth have a culture where adolescents are keen to demonstrate how they can ‘hold’ their liquor, but instead for some, it is a terminal situation, and they are ending up on a slab in the morgue.

The above brings us to another aspect of drinking, and that’s driving while drunk, over and above what society deems to be the legal limit. Something has to be done in this area. We have had several cases recently of people being charged up to sixteen times for this offence. With our soft judiciary trying in vain to rehabilitate offenders, already they have in most cases already lost their licence to drive. Short of locking them up there is not much they can do. But they are not addressing the problem. Statistics has shown that the soft approach doesn’t work. I’m of the opinion that the Scandinavia scheme does. After one offence, lock them up, but only for the weekends for a year or so. There is no need to rush out and build new jails. It doesn’t even have to be in a secure complex. An unused military camp will do. However should any decide to take French Leave, keep them in chains or restraints. Something has to be done, as they are putting all other road users lives at risk by their cavalier attitude.

It would seem today we have a large section of our community who respect no one. Parents, Police, or anyone who is in authority. ‘Nobody is going to tell me what to do’, is their constant cry. But somehow we have to get the message through to these people, and get them off the road before they kill any more innocent victims.

Do I think anything constructive will be done? No not really, not until a member of a VIP’s family is the victim. Then perhaps our thinking may change.

 I’m watching with Interest the latest antics of the Aussie Acting and Film Union that’s holding the Sir Peter Jackson to ransom over the production of the Hobbit Film. This Union like most, sooner or later is destined to fall into the hands of power crazy people. Over the years we have had dozen examples of just how bad they can be. They seem to forget their prime function of looking after their members and welfare, without hurting other workers. More often than not, it becomes a personal ego trip. Not so long ago we never took a Holiday without the worry that the Cooks and stewards of the Maritime Unions yet again would be holding the country to ransom and tying up the Strait shipping. They didn’t care one jot about the disruption they caused to their fellow workers, and that’s what most of us are. In the case of the watersiders they were as bad, and one time held out so long in a strike, that the Government stepped in, and most lost their jobs. On this occasion the Union was deregistered as this time their leaders seemed to have lost all sense of reason. I was about to say that I have never had much to do with Unions, but on reflection that would have been a lie. At one time I was actually the National Banks Southern Guild representative. I didn’t ask or campaign for the job, but was given it by the management, who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Back then we had both a Union and Guild looking after the Bank Staff’s interests. When I went to Wellington to bargain for better conditions, the Union business took all of one minute to transact. All other business was then conducted by the guild, which wasn’t a militant organisation. I soon discovered that you could get what you wanted by a softly, softly approach. Much later the position was reversed and the Union became all powerful, and a pain in the butt. They seemed to prefer the confrontation approach, and one day they called a strike. I was a manager at the time, they had phoned my staff at the end of the day, to tell them that they were on strike immediately. However I was horrified next morning to hear a radio interview with the Union Secretary, that they holding a meeting with the city staff that morning to decide what action they were to take, and whether to strike or not. Yet they had my staff already out and sitting in the sun. I quickly reversed the situation and recalled the staff to put them back on side, until the Union had decided their next move. They did call a strike and my staff as it turned out were the only ones in the country still working. The media were quick to point this out to the union, and within a minute I had a Union Representative, chocking with rage on the phone advising me that he would see me sacked. He also called me several other undesirable names. I stopped him in mid stride and suggested that he address me from now on as ‘Brother’ as I was still a member of his Union. Something I hadn’t got around to resigning from. Before he could recover, I also demanded an apology, or I would also call a press conference and tell that they had decided to strike before any meeting was called. So the staff of all the Banks were actually being led along by the nose. The proof was that they had called out all of the outlying Branches a day early. He hung his phone up at this point as he found out he had met someone he couldn’t bully. I’m listening to the radio this morning and the main feature is concerning IHC and their staffing of their houses. It’s not so long ago the system of housing handicapped people was in large institutions was discontinued. These had all facilities for a sheltered life. However this system was superseded for what was called a more normal lifestyle, buying homes in residential areas. I don’t know who dreamt up their rules of conduct and their protocol, as they were turfed out of the homes at 10-00am in the morning, and not allowed to return until 4-00pm in the afternoon. I only found out about this from my Sister who came across a bunch huddled in an open Bus Shelter sheltering from the rain. This was at Port Chalmers where there is no where to go and while away their day, until they can return again to the comfort of their home. This was carried out in the name of progress. Here in the City I often come across a group or two, but they have many warm refuges, in the Malls or the Public Libraries. I’m glad none of our family have been lured into the bright lights of the Acting or Film Industry. Here in New Zealand we are too small, and I suppose it wouldn’t much different elsewhere. It’s either boom or Bust. I have watched those involved during he time a film is being shot. They all seemed to be paid large sums of money which they spend as fast as they receive it. Best flat in town, a BMW parked outside, fine dining every night. Then after a few months, or perhaps a year it’s all over. Contract terminated, car returned, flat vacated, and it’s back to the Dole or Mum, until the next contract.

This letter is about my hobbies. All my life I have been keen on hunting, in fact I was allowed out with a .22 rifle (Single shot) when I was only 7 years of age. This was strictly a solo operation, but at the time it was a necessary one to feed the extended families, two dogs as there was one else to carry out this task. I know that today the police and everyone else would say that this action was irresponsible, but in this case the family said it was OK as it was filling a real need. I know too that today there are many people around who really never grow up. So in my mind, age had little to do with responsibility. These people just look old.

At this time I was staying with my Grandparents in a remote area. Grandfather was old and could no longer tramp the hills. I could have trapped my main prey, rabbits, with the steel Gin traps, but even then, I regarded them as a cruel device. There were other alternatives, set snares, or just wait on a stoat to bail up a rabbit, (The signal for this was a terrible squealing of the of the rodent). At this point, the rabbit was paralysed from it’s mid point, and unable to flee. I had no problem in taking the rabbit, instead of leaving it to be eaten alive. All of these various ways of hunting were a poor second to shooting. The local farmer was very happy to have me roaming free on his property. I was an extra pair of eyes, caring for his sheep that could be caught up in bush lawyer, or cast. Another plus, for every four rabbits I shot, he could now carry one extra stock unit.

I was also keen on fishing which was a natural adjunct to hunting, there was very little I didn’t keep for the table. With plenty of species around, many people became very fussy in what they took. Crayfish was Ho Hum, smelt out the kitchen while cooking, skate wings avoided too, didn’t look right, octopus, not on your Nellie. However I wasn’t keen on kowhai, I found for me it’s taste was too strong. I have since been told that’s it’s OK if it’s bled immediately after capture. I’m sure too that a lot of these particular fish have found their way into fish fingers, they too seem to have the same strong taste. Flounders were my favourite, I hunted these in the estuaries at wading on foot on an incoming tide with a light at night. In daylight in deeper water a different technic, to give you clearer vision, you required a light box, and a boat. Red cod were plentiful, but too many seemed to be infested with a red worm parasite in their flesh.

As mentioned earlier at eighteen years of age, along came the Army, immediately I was issued with a .303 rife a couple of ammunition bandoliers a No 1 uniform, fatigues, two pair of woollen underpants which I never worn as they scratched and itched the hell out of me. Woollen singlets and shirts, also made from course wool. A greatcoat, ground sheet, and a glengarry cap.

As soon as I was able, I transferred across to the Air Force and was accepted for Air Crew training. The Air Force treat an Air Craft as a Gun or an Ordinance Platform. Sure it’s a wonderful machine to gaze on, but it’s prime function is a weapon. There too, I was introduced to the 12 Gauge Shotgun. The principal is much the same as shooting from an Air Craft, as you are now shooting at a moving target, whether you are shooting clay pigeons at a gun club, or piloting an Aircraft. It’s all the matter of the correct lead. Or how far in front of a target you have to aim to hit it. I have been active in Gun Clubs ever since, and even went as far as studying ballistics and loading my own ammunition.

I found shooting was a selfish sport, and it didn’t involve my family. However I had plans for another activity lurking in the background, ‘Sailing’ and this sport would involve the family. They could take part if they wished. A huge increase in fuel costs, had suddenly made this sport very popular, as well as fibre glass construction methods made the purchase of a hull affordable and superior to wood. So we sold our caravan, and became the proud owners of an Aquarius 22 foot ‘Trailer Sailer’, which we named ‘Mademoiselle’. Experience ‘Nil’, but the Libraries were full of sailing books, as were the book shops. So we joined the local Yacht Club, and set out on a steep learning curve. With the wife and daughter, all full of book knowledge, we were going to win races. Or at least learn how to control this beast of a Sail Boat. Initially we were just plain awful, as we endeavoured to translate what was written in the books, into practical application. After a few years of tailing the field we learnt enough to be a contender.

I was also a member of the Dunedin Photography Society for many years, and after learning the basics of composition they taught me how to take a good photograph. From there it was only a hop step and jump to buy canvases brushes and oil paints. I was never much good at producing original works, but neither are a lot of contemporary painters. Their work being produced today, and lauded by the Art World, to me is a complete enigma and a puzzle.

Other hobbies have come and gone, but I have listed the ones that made the biggest impact on my life and my family.