Archive for March, 2012

GPS and a Stair Lift

Sunday, March 25th, 2012
Dear Peg and Friends,
Today I have had a ‘Stair Lift’ fitted into my home. What is a Stair Lift? I hear you say. It’s a chair that sits on a couple of rails, powered by a 12 volt battery, and the chair sitting on the rails either climbs or descends stairs. It’s fitted on top of, and to one side of existing stair way. I have been having trouble for some time negotiating the flight of stairs in my house. Climbing or descending stairs was something I avoided if I could, and many times resorted to tossing my door key out the window, asking my visitors to let themselves in. Regarding the Stair Lift, I remembered back to  advertisement I had seen in a magazine ‘People’s Fiend’ that Laura subscribed to for many years. They were selling stair lifts back then to people who had a need. So I did a search on the Internet looking for this item. I discovered that this very same company, actually had an office in Christchurch. Contact was quickly made, it was everything I wanted, so now I have a unit fitted. It was a  reasonable price too, which I could afford. This gadget if you can call it that, means now I won’t need to move out of my home.
Today I have been waiting the arrival of a service man. I phoned him to call and change the backup battery in my intruder alarm, as well adjust my alarm to give me back the control of my security system from upstairs. The key pad which controls it all, is downstairs which was OK when I had my full mobility. What I require now is a remote that controls all functions from both levels, as I have been having trouble negotiating my stairs at speed. Although I have no trouble walking on the flat, I do have trouble with the stairs. My problem is now, that I’m too slow to get downstairs to turn off the alarm within the allowed time. I have compounded to this problem by fitting a stair lift, which is also relatively slow.
When the service man arrived he was very red faced and clearly upset. He said my home was a very difficult place to find, and get to. The small van he was driving was only able to get up to our street after a real struggle. In fact he didn’t think he was going to make it. He also had trouble passing other motorists coming the other way on the very narrow road. His problem was, that his GPS showed the only route to here was a lane at the end of our street. But it’s not the only way, unfortunately for him it happens to be a very steep lane, and ‘One Way’ only. Certainly not the way the GPS had sent him. Without the aid of the GPS, you would come along the main road. I have had one other workman in the past who also got fooled by this glitch. This wonderful aid does get it wrong sometimes. I actually saw a picture in our morning paper, where some Japanese tourists also followed their GPS instructions slavishly. In fact followed a ‘paper road’. So quickly that they ended up being immersed in the harbour. Clutching a bill for $1500 that they were given to recover their vehicle, they have now returned to Japan a lot wiser. A cheap lesson that these units are not infallible. I too have a unit, but today I seldom use it our City. With all the road works and redirection’s going on, it’s next to useless. I delight too in disobeying the lady giving instructions.
Today it’s still difficult in getting around Christchurch even with the GPS. In fact it’s getting worse. The reason being, that buildings you have used in the past as ‘Markers’, have been pulled down. This is an on going situation and shows no sign of winding down. There are still many more buildings, yet to be pulled down. These it would seem are the large buildings. I have given up trying to get to one place in the centre of town, as it would seem it is where most of the current activity is taking place. The last earthquake has torn the heart of this city.
We have now put in all our claims into the Insurance Company for repairs to our home. It looks like we will sneak in under $100,000, so this makes us an Insurance claim, not EQC. All we have to do now is sit by patiently, and wait. At least we have a roof over our heads, and not paying $600 or $800 a week which some house owners are asking and getting for rental properties. When weekly rental gets that high, it becomes extortion, or that the Government is paying.
Love from Christchurch,
Wally
Today I have had a ‘Stair Lift’ fitted into my home. What is a Stair Lift? I hear you say. It’s a chair that sits on a couple of rails, powered by a 12 volt battery, and the chair sitting on the rails either climbs or descends stairs. It’s fitted on top of, and to one side of existing stair way. I have been having trouble for some time negotiating the flight of stairs in my house. Climbing or descending stairs was something I avoided if I could, and many times resorted to tossing my door key out the window, asking my visitors to let themselves in. Regarding the Stair Lift, I remembered back to  advertisement I had seen in a magazine ‘People’s Fiend’ that Laura subscribed to for many years. They were selling stair lifts back then to people who had a need. So I did a search on the Internet looking for this item. I discovered that this very same company, actually had an office in Christchurch. Contact was quickly made, it was everything I wanted, so now I have a unit fitted. It was a  reasonable price too, which I could afford. This gadget if you can call it that, means now I won’t need to move out of my home.
Today I have been waiting the arrival of a service man. I phoned him to call and change the backup battery in my intruder alarm, as well adjust my alarm to give me back the control of my security system from upstairs. The key pad which controls it all, is downstairs which was OK when I had my full mobility. What I require now is a remote that controls all functions from both levels, as I have been having trouble negotiating my stairs at speed. Although I have no trouble walking on the flat, I do have trouble with the stairs. My problem is now, that I’m too slow to get downstairs to turn off the alarm within the allowed time. I have compounded to this problem by fitting a stair lift, which is also relatively slow.
When the service man arrived he was very red faced and clearly upset. He said my home was a very difficult place to find, and get to. The small van he was driving was only able to get up to our street after a real struggle. In fact he didn’t think he was going to make it. He also had trouble passing other motorists coming the other way on the very narrow road. His problem was, that his GPS showed the only route to here was a lane at the end of our street. But it’s not the only way, unfortunately for him it happens to be a very steep lane, and ‘One Way’ only. Certainly not the way the GPS had sent him. Without the aid of the GPS, you would come along the main road. I have had one other workman in the past who also got fooled by this glitch. This wonderful aid does get it wrong sometimes. I actually saw a picture in our morning paper, where some Japanese tourists also followed their GPS instructions slavishly. In fact followed a ‘paper road’. So quickly that they ended up being immersed in the harbour. Clutching a bill for $1500 that they were given to recover their vehicle, they have now returned to Japan a lot wiser. A cheap lesson that these units are not infallible. I too have a unit, but today I seldom use it our City. With all the road works and redirection’s going on, it’s next to useless. I delight too in disobeying the lady giving instructions.
Today it’s still difficult in getting around Christchurch even with the GPS. In fact it’s getting worse. The reason being, that buildings you have used in the past as ‘Markers’, have been pulled down. This is an on going situation and shows no sign of winding down. There are still many more buildings, yet to be pulled down. These it would seem are the large buildings. I have given up trying to get to one place in the centre of town, as it would seem it is where most of the current activity is taking place. The last earthquake has torn the heart of this city.
We have now put in all our claims into the Insurance Company for repairs to our home. It looks like we will sneak in under $100,000, so this makes us an Insurance claim, not EQC. All we have to do now is sit by patiently, and wait. At least we have a roof over our heads, and not paying $600 or $800 a week which some house owners are asking and getting for rental properties. When weekly rental gets that high, it becomes extortion, or that the Government is paying.

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Mademoiselle

Tuesday, March 20th, 2012

 

　

Just above where I’m currently working, hangs a picture of Mademoiselle. This was our families pride and joy, a yacht we owned for several years. We had christened her ‘Mademoiselle’ and she was well named. She was of Fibre Glass construction, fabricated or moulded, by Aquarius of Auckland. ‘Second Hand’ when we bought her, but was in tip top condition. She was one of the new breed, made from fibre glass, conceived in a ‘mould’ where the same mould could be used to produce any number boats. Twenty two feet long but very wide at the beam, as the manufacturers were trying to get the best of both worlds, sailing and cruising. We also had a set of storm sails, ideal too as we sailed in all weathers. I also learnt that you never let anyone go forward of the mast to attend to the spinnaker especially under stormy conditions, as this quickly upset the balance of the boat, and you would be all be tipped into the Lake so fast, well before you could even say Jack Robinson.

 

All this was part of our learning curve. We also had an auxiliary 5hp Johnson out board motor, that we used very reluctantly. I just loved this boat, and wished that we could have afforded it earlier in our lives, I know Laura shared my feelings as well.

 

Buying the boat was the catalyst to the making of some wonderful friends, Sugar and Sue Robinson, Jim and Leslie Jeffery, Ray and Shirley Butel, to name a few. Many of these had had just purchased new boats as well. Sailing was one sport that the whole family could take part in and enjoy. Another factor was that gasoline suddenly had got very expensive, so sailing was the way to go. Mademoiselle was a designed as a Trailer Sailer although we didn’t tour all that much, as we had enough water with in Lake Wakatipu at least 80 kilometres long. She was fitted out with four bunks. It had a small cooker, but I preferred to do any cooking ashore. I considered Gas and Boats a bad mix. Wakatipu didn’t have many shelving beaches, so in most places you could moor and just step ashore.

 

Up until recently, all trailer yachts were much smaller, and of wooden construction, home built from plans supplied by Hartley. They were all small because of the expense, as well as the degree of skill required to construct same. Our boat had been completely renovated before we took delivery, and the squabs recovered or replaced. The gel coat was immaculate as was the interior. We travelled to Auckland to see it and purchased it on the spot. Then pulled it home with our valiant. On passing through Bombay I stopped and filled the cockpit with sacks of produce. Onions, of cauliflower, cabbage, carrots all at 2/6 a sack. People in our street back home, couldn’t believe their good fortune,

 

What we now needed, was how to competitively sail our new purchase. So next stop was the library and we read up on every book ever printed on sailing, and boat handling. I can remember one time sailing across to Walter Peak, we had on board, a young German. He proceeded to put me under a very close cross examination. Did I have a Captains ticket? No. Had I been to a sailing school to learn how to sail the boat? No. But I had read all about it in a book. Did I even have a permit to buy the boat? No. You would need too do all these things if you lived in Germany.

 

Next the best thing I did, was to join the local Yachting Club, and later on, race the boat in their Club races. There were some very good sailers in our club, and they were only too pleased to give lessons and impart some of their knowledge to the novices. Of course we made every mistake that it was possible to make, but Mademoiselle was very forgiving, and didn’t drown us during this probationary period.

 

You only had to broach once, when running before the wind with more sail on than was prudent. That situation could turn a yacht in the matter of seconds, into an out of control monster. This also was the first purchase that we had ever made, by taking out a loan from a Finance company. I had been saving to be in a position to pay cash, but at this time, inflation in New Zealand was out of control. If we didn’t grab the boat when we did, we would have never caught up, so our caravan was sold to get the deposit.

 

After a days sailing we always returned home dog tired. We never folded our sails just draped them around our lounge to dry. No need to wash them as we were sailing on fresh water. We just fell into out beds and folded everything up next morning. Laura took over as the purser, and made sure we always had an ample supply of food and hot drinks on board. We quickly learned to ‘read’ the Lake. Dust in the air twenty miles away at Glenorchy meant a front, or line squall was passing through the flats at the ‘Routeburn’, and in an hour conditions where we were would be very unpleasant. Winds on the Lake mostly blew up the Lake or down.

 

Our time sailing was one of the most enjoyable and it was a sad day when we sold Mademoiselle.

 

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A Long Time Ago

Thursday, March 15th, 2012
Dear Peg and Family
I received an early lesson in my life of how to live frugally. I don’t know what had happened to our family in the past, but from what I was able to glean, it now seems the grandparents were cheated out of the proceeds from the sale of their Hotel which they had sold. I know two of my Aunts were very bitter about something that happened. We the young fry were not included in their conversations. Now we are older, it could be explained to us, but unfortunately our older generation have now moved on. We could and did listen in, and tried to piece together what actually had happened. What I do know, was that in their sunset years, grandparents ended up living out of town in their Beach House. This was situated miles from any road. This was only a Batch, basic in every respect. Tank water, no drainage, and a long drop toilet, situated twenty yards from the house.
No electricity, so for cooking firewood was the fuel which we gathered from the surrounding Hills. There still logs that had been too big to be consumed by fire, when the forest that covered the land was cleared. These were left baking in the sun, a hundred years later on. We attacked these with a cross cut saws, wedges and axes. Once we had cut these into manageable lengths, we dragged them home because, it was all down hill. Then they were cut into suitable lengths for feeding into the stove. I should have mentioned there with no electricity. We relied on Kerosene lamps, and Candles for all our interior light,  storm lanterns if we needed to move outside.
There was another source of fuel, and that was drift wood or ‘dunnage’ which had been tossed overboard by ships when they were leaving Port. This was washed up onto the beach from time to time. It wasn’t regarded as good fuel, as salt impregnated dunnage, was a bit rough on the stove. The salt accelerated the rusting out of it’s panels, and the stove itself had to be replaced every ten years or so. This dunnage came in regular sizes 6×1 inches 3×3″ or 2×2″ and many sheds and out houses were constructed from this free material.
The one thing at this time that was short, and that was money. But we were never hungry, and looked forward to spending as much time every chance we got out at the Beach with the grandparents. Our parents worked nights at their Picture Theatre, so were grateful to have somewhere we were looked after, and our maternal Grandparents who were happy to take us off their hands. We all had large gardens, and of course there was the sea. There was more sea food than we knew what to do with. Our neighbouring farmers had a huge garden alongside their Cow Byre. Not silly, as now it was the most fertile place in the valley. They always had too much produce, and were very generous to us. But you had to eat in season. Potatoes, Silver Beet Parsnip and Carrots were always on the table.
It was about a two mile walk cross country to the nearest farm which was run by the Drivers Family. They were close to being a subsistence unit, and this was from where we purchased our milk and eggs and butter. The Drivers milked by hand about thirty cows, with all the family pitching in. They too had no connection to any electrical supply either. They then separated the milk by a hand separator, and took the cream to the nearest pick up point by a sledge, about another kilometre or so. The resulting skim milk left over, was then fed to pigs. These were sold off from time to time, as they grew into porkers. On walking up to the Farm we followed a creek, and cross country route clambering over styles which were provided to negotiate the fences. On arrival home, the milk was immediately scalded, we certainly didn’t have refrigeration back then only a safe on the cool side of the ‘Batch’ this was primarily just to increase it’s keeping ability. Back then we didn’t know about pasteurisation.
The Drivers also churned and made their own butter. I did have a ‘taste’ possibly because the cream it was made from was sour, or on the turn. I remember one time they had a young guest who wouldn’t eat farm butter. So he had his own, store bought supply. But only the wrapper that was real, and store bought. The Alternative to butter was drippings from the roast.
At harvest time we were all called in to assist our farmer neighbour, as were some of the next door folk. All work then was carried out by a couple of horses or manpower. One thing sticks in my mind was a 10 gallon churn of cold water in which a pound or two of oat meal had been added as a thirst quencher. Difficult today, as you can no longer, even buy Oat Meal. We were all invited to partake and share in a huge mid day Picnic meal.
Time may have moved on but my memories have never faded and the lessons learnt back then have stayed with me till today.
Love from Christchurch,
Wally
I received an early lesson in my life of how to live frugally. I don’t know what had happened to our family in the past, but from what I was able to glean, it now seems the grandparents were cheated out of the proceeds from the sale of their Hotel which they had sold. I know two of my Aunts were very bitter about something that happened. We the young fry were not included in their conversations. Now we are older, it could be explained to us, but unfortunately our older generation have now moved on. We could and did listen in, and tried to piece together what actually had happened. What I do know, was that in their sunset years, grandparents ended up living out of town in their Beach House. This was situated miles from any road. This was only a Batch, basic in every respect. Tank water, no drainage, and a long drop toilet, situated twenty yards from the house.
No electricity, so for cooking firewood was the fuel which we gathered from the surrounding Hills. There still logs that had been too big to be consumed by fire, when the forest that covered the land was cleared. These were left baking in the sun, a hundred years later on. We attacked these with a cross cut saws, wedges and axes. Once we had cut these into manageable lengths, we dragged them home because, it was all down hill. Then they were cut into suitable lengths for feeding into the stove. I should have mentioned there with no electricity. We relied on Kerosene lamps, and Candles for all our interior light,  storm lanterns if we needed to move outside.
There was another source of fuel, and that was drift wood or ‘dunnage’ which had been tossed overboard by ships when they were leaving Port. This was washed up onto the beach from time to time. It wasn’t regarded as good fuel, as salt impregnated dunnage, was a bit rough on the stove. The salt accelerated the rusting out of it’s panels, and the stove itself had to be replaced every ten years or so. This dunnage came in regular sizes 6×1 inches 3×3″ or 2×2″ and many sheds and out houses were constructed from this free material.
The one thing at this time that was short, and that was money. But we were never hungry, and looked forward to spending as much time every chance we got out at the Beach with the grandparents. Our parents worked nights at their Picture Theatre, so were grateful to have somewhere we were looked after, and our maternal Grandparents who were happy to take us off their hands. We all had large gardens, and of course there was the sea. There was more sea food than we knew what to do with. Our neighbouring farmers had a huge garden alongside their Cow Byre. Not silly, as now it was the most fertile place in the valley. They always had too much produce, and were very generous to us. But you had to eat in season. Potatoes, Silver Beet Parsnip and Carrots were always on the table.
It was about a two mile walk cross country to the nearest farm which was run by the Drivers Family. They were close to being a subsistence unit, and this was from where we purchased our milk and eggs and butter. The Drivers milked by hand about thirty cows, with all the family pitching in. They too had no connection to any electrical supply either. They then separated the milk by a hand separator, and took the cream to the nearest pick up point by a sledge, about another kilometre or so. The resulting skim milk left over, was then fed to pigs. These were sold off from time to time, as they grew into porkers. On walking up to the Farm we followed a creek, and cross country route clambering over styles which were provided to negotiate the fences. On arrival home, the milk was immediately scalded, we certainly didn’t have refrigeration back then only a safe on the cool side of the ‘Batch’ this was primarily just to increase it’s keeping ability. Back then we didn’t know about pasteurisation.
The Drivers also churned and made their own butter. I did have a ‘taste’ possibly because the cream it was made from was sour, or on the turn. I remember one time they had a young guest who wouldn’t eat farm butter. So he had his own, store bought supply. But only the wrapper that was real, and store bought. The Alternative to butter was drippings from the roast.
At harvest time we were all called in to assist our farmer neighbour, as were some of the next door folk. All work then was carried out by a couple of horses or manpower. One thing sticks in my mind was a 10 gallon churn of cold water in which a pound or two of oat meal had been added as a thirst quencher. Difficult today, as you can no longer, even buy Oat Meal. We were all invited to partake and share in a huge mid day Picnic meal.
Time may have moved on but my memories have never faded and the lessons learnt back then have stayed with me till today.

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David Bain Guilty or Not Guilty

Tuesday, March 13th, 2012
Dear Peg and Family,
For the last couple of weeks the Press, there has been a spate of interviews, articles regarding David Bain’s Trials. These are being pushed by David and his champion Joe Karam, as he has just put in a claim for compensation, and repayment for wrongful imprisonment. I may as well state my position too, up front. I consider that he is guilty. No amount of talk by Joe Karam or David, will convince me otherwise. But then again, I have also been the beneficiary of a lot of local ‘in put’ and have read full reports of the trial. As well ‘hearsay’ background from his family, many of whom live in Central Otago. As well I have worked with some of his extended family. True the family was dysfunctional to the extreme. And the mother Margaret seemed to have a religious mania, clearly she needed help or treatment.
David’s mother also was a Alexandra girl, and as mentioned, David has many family members living here in Otago. Another strange twist, was Robin Bain comes from the same area as Mark and he knows that side of the family well.
First things first. How do his family feel about the trial. Do they too, share the Courts verdicts for the horrific crimes? Further, initially did he get a fair trial? Well, for a start it is obvious the family don’t agree. Not one of his relatives turned up to support him in Court. In fact, the family were very upset that David’s defence were busy trying expand their scenario of what happened, that it was Robin, the father who carried out the crimes.
The defence said Robin, David’s father was a weak character, dirty, and drinking on the job, and in danger of losing his job as the Headmaster of Taieri Mouth School. If I had accepted this on face value, it could have coloured my thinking. However, I found out later that this was a straight out smear, as Wib Maxwell’s daughter, was on the Taieri School Committee. She said, ‘The committee was very happy with him as the headmaster’, all the innuendo and the defence statements were a complete fabrication’. Also background of David’s earlier life, showed that he was a nasty piece of work, evidence that would have helped to convicted him, was suppressed by the Judge. This trial was meant to be about Justice, and to get that, all should have been revealed. Some time back he had also plotted to carry out a rape, and was prepared to juggle the timing when he was on his News Paper Delivery. In doing this, it would have meant it was impossible to commit the rape. Time was a factor in this crime as well, and he had some twenty five minutes to rearrange evidence. Some years back ,there was also an incidence out at Hinton’s Orchard. The family were asked to remove David at the request of his employer, when he lost his temper and chased another employee with a knife.
They talk about Justice, and what I would like to know is. ‘How can David say that he is innocent of these crimes’, and not appear on the stand to explain his position. Without subjecting himself to a cross exanimation. He never uttered one word in his defence, in all of the weeks of the trial. Relying on his lawyers and Joe Karam to present his case. I don’t want to hear Joe Karam’s version of what happened, and how the father could have committed all the crimes. David sat impassive and silent for some weeks while all the evidence was minutely examined. The defence had an answer for everything, the blood stained clothing and socks. Oh, he changed those before he committed suicide.
One thing, small but pertinent, and that’s if Robin is a normal human being. His autopsy showed that when examined, his bladder was full. So you also want me to believe that if he is guilty of this crime, that he came into the house from the Caravan where he lived, and before anything else calmly went about the shooting every member of his family, before visiting the toilet. I think a visit to the toilet would have been one of the first of his actions. I know it would have been  for me.
There is a photo in the paper this morning of David and Joe Karam in each other’s arms both crying. Is this what they mean when they talk about crocodile tears? If they want me to believe David is innocent, then first, they had better get another candidate for the murders, other than Robin.
Love from Christchurch,
Wally
For the last couple of weeks the Press, there has been a spate of interviews, articles regarding David Bain’s Trials. These are being pushed by David and his champion Joe Karam, as he has just put in a claim for compensation, and repayment for wrongful imprisonment. I may as well state my position too, up front. I personally consider that he is guilty. No amount of talk by Joe Karam or David, will convince me otherwise. But then again, I have also been the beneficiary of a lot of local ‘in put’ and have read full reports of the trial. As well ‘hearsay’ background from his family, many of whom live in Central Otago. As well I have worked with some of his extended family. True the family seems to be dysfunctional to the extreme. And the mother Margaret  was controlled by a religious mania, she clearly she needed help or treatment.
David’s mother also was a Alexandra girl, and as mentioned, David has many family members living here in Otago. Another strange twist, was Robin Bain comes from the same area as Mark, and he knows that side of the family well. They were well thought of in the District.
First things first. How do his family feel about the trial. Do they too, share the Courts verdicts for the horrific crimes? Further, initially did he get a fair trial? Well, for a start it is obvious the family don’t agree. Not one of his relatives that I could see turned up to support him in Court. In fact, the family were very upset that David’s defence were busy trying expand their scenario of what happened, that it was Robin, the father who carried out the crimes.
The defense said Robin, David’s father was a weak character, dirty, and drinking on the job, and in danger of losing his job as the Headmaster of Taieri Mouth School. If I had accepted this on face value, it could have coloured my thinking. However, I found out later that this was a straight out smear, as Wib Maxwell’s daughter, was on the Taieri School Committee. She said, ‘The committee was very happy with him as the headmaster’, all the innuendo and the defence statements were a complete fabrication’. Also background of David’s earlier life, showed that he was a nasty piece of work, evidence that would have helped to convicted him, was suppressed by the Judge. This trial was meant to be about Justice, and to get that, all should have been revealed. Some time back he had also plotted to carry out a rape, and was prepared to juggle the timing when he was on his News Paper Delivery. In doing this, it would have meant it was impossible to commit the rape. Time was a factor in this crime as well, and he had some twenty five minutes to rearrange evidence. Some years back ,there was also an incidence out at Hinton’s Orchard. The family were asked to remove David at the request of his employer, when he lost his temper and chased another employee with a knife.
They talk about Justice, and what I would like to know is. ‘How can David say that he is innocent of these crimes’, and not appear on the stand to explain his position. Without subjecting himself to a cross exanimation. He never uttered one word in his defence, in all of the weeks of the trial. Relying on his lawyers and Joe Karam to present his case. I don’t want to hear Joe Karam’s version of what happened, and how the father could have committed all the crimes. David sat impassive and silent for some weeks while all the evidence was minutely examined. The defence had an answer for everything, the blood stained clothing and socks. Oh, he changed those before he committed suicide.
One thing, small but pertinent, and that’s if Robin is a normal human being. His autopsy showed that when examined, his bladder was full. So now you want me to believe that if he is guilty of this crime, that he came into the house from the Caravan where he lived,  calmly went about the shooting every member of his family, before visiting the toilet. I think a visit to the toilet would have been one of the first of his actions. I know it would have been  for me.
There is a photo in the paper this morning of David and Joe Karam in each other’s arms both crying. Is this what they mean when they talk about crocodile tears? If they want me to believe David is innocent, then first, they had better get another candidate for the murders, other than Robin.

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Old Age

Thursday, March 8th, 2012
Dear Peg and Family,
Old age, what a problem it is, day by day I find it’s getting worse. Over time I have learnt too that to keep myself happy I need to avoid medical assistance whenever I can. More often than not, after a visit to the surgery, I consider myself lucky, if I don’t get a referral. You never know where these can lead to. The medical folk have this habit of keeping you under their thumb, and passing you on, and down the chain. More often than not, I stumble out of the surgery clutching some pieces of paper for more blood work, and a script for rearranged drugs.
The taking, or is it giving blood, which for me is a painful, degrading exercise. ‘Roll your sleeve up and clench your fist’. ‘Other arm please’. ‘You haven’t got very good veins, have you’? ‘Do other people in the medical world have trouble with you? when they are occupied taking blood’?
I don’t answer, I don’t wish to enter into any dialogue with this vampire who is now starting to hurt me with her constant probing. Yes, I know my veins are deep seated. I was born this way. But occasionally I do strike someone skilled in this area. I can remember back when many long years ago, there was a lady at the Blood Bank in Invercargill, she made it a pleasure to give a donation.
My problem, which I’m well aware of, is that my kidney’s performance is now marginal. If the drugs dosage is increased, to keep my well being  normal. My medical folk have to be very careful, and to correct any aberration of dosage. Even a minor alteration to my drug regime, means my heart is effected as well. And then again, if he Heart is treated, that medication immediately effects the kidneys. Some battles you can’t win. So when the doctors to treat my body, it’s necessary to treat the body in it’s entirety. I make sure, I also stick to exactly what has been prescribed.
I suffered a heart attack when in my forties. Entirely self inflicted, caused directly by the habit of smoking which I had picked up during the War. It could have been worse. and I could have taken advantage of all the cheap booze available, and became an alcoholic as well. There was not much treatment back then for heart problems, but I gave up smoking immediately, and was OK until my Sixties when I had another attack. This time there was Angioplasty available which was a technique where a small Balloon is expanded in the coronary heart artery. This expands the artery that had a partial blockage, and you are reborn. Then when I was eighty, a Angioplasty signalled that I required yet another procedure. I considered that I was now too old, but my Insurance Company had plenty of money, so the surgeon went ahead and put a ‘stent’ or two into the coronary artery. This procedure is carried out by passing a small probe through the femoral artery, up into the heart. It’s progress is tracked through to the heart by X-Rays. No pain killers are used, and you are wide awake through the whole procedure.
I rang the Medical Centre yesterday inquiring for a flu shot, which are still coming. I have been taking these since 1960. I have never suffered a flu attack. I can only assume it’s because every year since then, I have taken a flu shot. In the past my employer the Bank, provided these for free. Now the State have taken over this roll, so it’s my own fault should I go down with flu.
Love to all from Christchurch,
Wally

Old age, what a problem it is, day by day I find it’s getting worse. Over time I have learnt too that to keep myself happy I need to avoid medical assistance whenever I can. More often than not, after a visit to the surgery, I consider myself lucky, if I don’t get a referral. You never know where these can lead to. The medical folk have this habit of keeping you under their thumb, and passing you on, and down the chain. More often than not, I stumble out of the surgery clutching some pieces of paper for more blood work, and a script for rearranged drugs.

The taking, or is it giving blood, which for me is a painful, degrading exercise. ‘Roll your sleeve up and clench your fist’. ‘Other arm please’. ‘You haven’t got very good veins, have you’? ‘Do other people in the medical world have trouble with you? when they are occupied taking blood’?

I don’t answer, I don’t wish to enter into any dialogue with this vampire who is now starting to hurt me with her constant probing. Yes, I know my veins are deep seated. I was born this way. But occasionally I do strike someone skilled in this area. I can remember back when many long years ago, there was a lady at the Blood Bank in Invercargill, she made it a pleasure to give a donation.

My problem, which I’m well aware of, is that my kidney’s performance is now marginal. If the drugs dosage is increased, to keep my well being  normal. My medical folk have to be very careful, and to correct any aberration of dosage. Even a minor alteration to my drug regime, means my heart is effected as well. And then again, if he Heart is treated, that medication immediately effects the kidneys. Some battles you can’t win. So when the doctors to treat my body, it’s necessary to treat the body in it’s entirety. I make sure, I also stick to exactly what has been prescribed.

I suffered a heart attack when in my forties. Entirely self inflicted, caused directly by the habit of smoking which I had picked up during the War. It could have been worse. and I could have taken advantage of all the cheap booze available, and became an alcoholic as well. There was not much treatment back then for heart problems, but I gave up smoking immediately, and was OK until my Sixties when I had another attack. This time there was Angioplasty available which was a technique where a small Balloon is expanded in the coronary heart artery. This expands the artery that had a partial blockage, and you are reborn. Then when I was eighty, a Angioplasty signalled that I required yet another procedure. I considered that I was now too old, but my Insurance Company had plenty of money, so the surgeon went ahead and put a ‘stent’ or two into the coronary artery. This procedure is carried out by passing a small probe through the femoral artery, up into the heart. It’s progress is tracked through to the heart by X-Rays. No pain killers are used, and you are wide awake through the whole procedure.

I rang the Medical Centre yesterday inquiring for a flu shot, which are still coming. I have been taking these since 1960. I have never suffered a flu attack. I can only assume it’s because every year since then, I have taken a flu shot. In the past my employer the Bank, provided these for free. Now the State have taken over this roll, so it’s my own fault should I go down with flu.

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Timetables

Friday, March 2nd, 2012
Dear Peg and family,
All my early life was governed by ‘time tables’, or the opening and closing hours, for just about everything. We lived in a small town about 10 miles from Dunedin, (Port Chalmers) and we were well served by Rail for all of our dealings with the City. This meant our secondary schooling, and in many cases our employment. You carried in your head a time table for when all the trains arrived and departed whether it was for entertainment or work. When we arrived in Dunedin we clambered onto a tram outside the Rail Station, or walked up to the exchange which was the hub where all  trams passed through, apart from the Cable cars. The tram system was cheap and convenient.
In addition we had three Cable Car systems similar to what San Francisco has. These served the Hill Suburbs. Had we retained them, they would have been equally a prize tourist attraction today. As the systems in San Francisco are today. We have destroyed most of our early modes of transport, as we continued our march forward, all the time taking advantage of any technical advances that came along. Buses and Trolley Buses pushed out Trams. And as the roads improved, and more people now owned a car. It had an effect on all Public Transport. Rail was rapidly becoming obsolete, as patronage dropped off. It was now only being used for peak periods.
I mentioned opening and closing hours. This was an archaic system which was imposed on us by the Church and Unions. All shops were locked up tight on Sundays and Holidays. The same power group also controlled the opening, and closing hours of most Shops. Banks opened for only a half day on Saturdays. But where these control people exercised the most  restraint was in the Liquor industry. In fact in many area laws had been passed where whole Districts were ‘Dry’, and no liquor was sold. In time when the pressure for change came. Trusts were formed to sell Beer and whisky, but under strict control and conditions. Trustees were elected at the same time as local body elections. Although some control has been eased. Many areas in the South are still operating under this system. No Hotels have been authorised to sell liquor in competition since it’s inception. It’s mainly Districts of Invercargill, Gore, and Oamaru that have embraced this trading mode. While this pantomime was going on, liquor could still be shipped in. That was providing it was purchased in a wholesale lot (Twelve Bottles). I can recall seeing a goods train on a Friday nights calling in at Milton. The whole length of the platform was taken up with orders of booze for the local inhabitants. Each had their name written in chalk on the whole length . What a stupid system. In fact on Mondays and as well during the week. The Mayor was gainfully employed calling at each household soliciting, and taking orders for ‘Malings’ a Christchurch liquor wholesaler. To be delivered by Rail Friday nights. More alcohol was drunk under this system, when compared to places where Hotels and Taverns were allowed to operate freely. In fact I could take it a step further and say, that there were more Alcoholics in these ‘Dry’ areas than any place that had Hotels. Hotels that were trading as normal, if you could call it normal. Their hours were from 11-00am till 6PM. Well they closed at 6-00PM but reopened again till what ever time the Police allowed them. I did notice that the police left the drinkers alone, providing they didn’t get any complaints. They made token raids from time to time but mostly when the Police arrived, they were confronted by a empty smoke filled Bar, half filled glasses on the counter, but the patrons had fled.
In my early days, some parts of the town were just switching over to motorised transport. But our Butcher, Baker, Grocer, and as well many of the Councils and local contractors were all still dependant on horse drawn vehicles. Someone remarked that the streets at this time should be covered by a layer of Horse dung. Not so, as soon as the horse dropped it’s bundle, ever watchful housewife or kids,  would quickly pounce on it, with a bucket and small shovel, where it quickly ended up in the garden.
Love from Christchurch,
Wally
All my early life was governed by ‘time tables’, or the opening and closing hours, for just about everything. We lived in a small town about 10 miles from Dunedin, (Port Chalmers) and we were well served by Rail for all of our dealings with the City. This meant our secondary schooling, and in many cases our employment. You carried in your head a time table for when all the trains arrived and departed whether it was for entertainment or work. When we arrived in Dunedin we clambered onto a tram outside the Rail Station, or walked up to the exchange which was the hub where all  trams passed through, apart from the Cable cars. The tram system was cheap and convenient.
In addition we had three Cable Car systems similar to what San Francisco has. These served the Hill Suburbs. Had we retained them, they would have been equally a prize tourist attraction today. As the systems in San Francisco are today. We have destroyed most of our early modes of transport, as we continued our march forward, all the time taking advantage of any technical advances that came along. Buses and Trolley Buses pushed out Trams. And as the roads improved, and more people now owned a car. It had an effect on all Public Transport. Rail was rapidly becoming obsolete, as patronage dropped off. It was now only being used for peak periods.
I mentioned opening and closing hours. This was an archaic system which was imposed on us by the Church and Unions. All shops were locked up tight on Sundays and Holidays. The same power group also controlled the opening, and closing hours of most Shops. Banks opened for only a half day on Saturdays. But where these control people exercised the most  restraint was in the Liquor industry. In fact in many area laws had been passed where whole Districts were ‘Dry’, and no liquor was sold. In time when the pressure for change came. Trusts were formed to sell Beer and whisky, but under strict control and conditions. Trustees were elected at the same time as local body elections. Although some control has been eased. Many areas in the South are still operating under this system. No Hotels have been authorised to sell liquor in competition since it’s inception. It’s mainly Districts of Invercargill, Gore, and Oamaru that have embraced this trading mode. While this pantomime was going on, liquor could still be shipped in. That was providing it was purchased in a wholesale lot (Twelve Bottles). I can recall seeing a goods train on a Friday nights calling in at Milton. The whole length of the platform was taken up with orders of booze for the local inhabitants. Each had their name written in chalk on the whole length . What a stupid system. In fact on Mondays and as well during the week. The Mayor was gainfully employed calling at each household soliciting, and taking orders for ‘Malings’ a Christchurch liquor wholesaler. To be delivered by Rail Friday nights. More alcohol was drunk under this system, when compared to places where Hotels and Taverns were allowed to operate freely. In fact I could take it a step further and say, that there were more Alcoholics in these ‘Dry’ areas than any place that had Hotels. Hotels that were trading as normal, if you could call it normal. Their hours were from 11-00am till 6PM. Well they closed at 6-00PM but reopened again till what ever time the Police allowed them. I did notice that the police left the drinkers alone, providing they didn’t get any complaints. They made token raids from time to time but mostly when the Police arrived, they were confronted by a empty smoke filled Bar, half filled glasses on the counter, but the patrons had fled.
In my early days, some parts of the town were just switching over to motorised transport. But our Butcher, Baker, Grocer, and as well many of the Councils and local contractors were all still dependant on horse drawn vehicles. Someone remarked that the streets at this time should be covered by a layer of Horse dung. Not so, as soon as the horse dropped it’s bundle, ever watchful housewife or kids,  would quickly pounce on it, with a bucket and small shovel, where it quickly ended up in the garden.

Posted in Uncategorized | Comments Off on Timetables