The Midnight Countdown

[TRACK FADES OUT. FIRST BEAT OF NEXT TRACK ON CD HEARD BEFORE BEING SUDDENLY CUT-OFF.]

Steve: "Danny Thomas and Tomorrow on Hope City Radio 106.7 FM, before that we had Kirk Talley and Tomorrow...and it is almost tomorrow, isn't it Patrick?"

Patrick: "It is just about tomorrow, yeah!"

Steve: "Hey-hey! In fact, I'm just tryin' to, tryin' to ease my watch off here in the studio and see exactly how long we have left until tomorrow. It is one minute..."

[CLICK IN BACKGROUND]

"...and forty-one seconds, and there goes my tape running out, which is just as well 'cos we got a second tape in the studio recording us as we go out this evening."

Patrick: "Yeah, yeah."

Steve: "Do y'have any...any plans for the new year at all Patrick?"

Patrick: "Er well I plan to have this vision much further on the road, that's one thing, but let's put that one out of the road... I wanna be a lit-er much less dependent on the state, hopefully I can do it my way, rather than do it their way because, well, I think some cases they waste time, but anyway, so that's one thing I hope very much that I'm making a reasonable living without being luxurious."

Steve: "Hey hey hey! Well I think what you're doing here, if I may say, is absolutely fantastic 'cos the whole station - weh how long have you been on air now?"

Patrick: "We been on air for three years, but we started on 88.3 originally."

Steve: "Hey hey! Three years, and in the next ten seconds you're going to be on air for four years, 'cos you're gonna be on air in 2005 as well!"

Patrick: "Yeah."

Steve: "Four."

Patrick: "Yeah."

Steve: "Three."

Patrick: "Yes..."

Steve: "Two! One! Whey-hey!"

[STEVE CLAPS FIVE TIMES UNINTENTIONALLY QUIETLY, FOLLOWED BY SILENT STUDIO ATMOSPHERE FOR SIX SECONDS. TAPE HISS STARTS SUDDENLY. NEW BEGINNING BY SILVER WIND BEGINS FAR TOO LOUD, AND IS HASTILY FADED DOWN TO THE CORRECT LEVEL. EIGHT SECONDS OF MUSIC ARE SUCCESSFULLY PLAYED.]

"It's New Beginning from Silver Wind. Welcome to 2005."

(You can hear a slightly edited version here)

(post about the end of the show here)

Every Day With Jesus

Two months ago, on November 1st, I was at the Christian Resources Centre asking Bogdan a question. I wanted to try out a new daily Bible-study guide, but couldn't decide which one. One of the options Bogdan presented me with was the November/December edition of Selwyn Hughes' Every Day With Jesus, this edition entitled God's Path Through Pain. It looked relevant, it looked easy to read, and the daily passages began that very day, so I bought it.

2 months later, I'd like to sum up the book's conclusion:

"In order to stop walking according to the sinful nature and start walking in the Spirit of God we must listen to what our pain is telling us and let Him lead us along the path to life."

However I don't think God's life lessons are about learning a convenient bite-sized quote, but about developing a new general attitude to a subject. One could read the above quote every day for 2 months, but after the first week it would appear shallow and meaningless. Following a series of related daily Bible-readings for 2 months though, enables one to absorb the answer and to become it.

I think I prefer the gym analogy.

Throughout 2003 I regularly lifted weights, did aerobics, and stretched, despite the anguish it would cause me at the time.

As a result, today I can lift heavier objects. And run without losing my breath. And dance. And do all sorts of things better.

Today in my life, I am finding it very tough to trust God each day, which causes me a different sort of anguish. However I know that this is developing a stronger faith within me for God to use in the future.

What the book doesn't address of course, is that we don't have any record of Jesus going around inflicting pain on people to 'help' them. Neither do we have any record of Him allowing people to continue in their suffering - He was a healer.

And if God can do anything, then he certainly doesn't need pain to help him. Maybe pain is therefore a consequence of our choice to live imperfectly.


Selwyn Hughes is extremely easy to ready - I'd certainly recommend Every Day With Jesus. 8.5 out of 10.

New Year, New Shoes

In anticipation of a late finish to presenting New Years Eve's Midnight Countdown on Hope City Radio tomorrow night, I went to http://www.rideline.co.nz to see if there was a Night Bus that I could get home. Here's what Rideline recommended:




Option 1 (Duration 2:22)
Walk 9531 metres
Depart approximately 12:15am
Arrive approximately 2:37am

Rex Matters

Met a drunken tramp called Rex. He was f'ing and blinding that he was going to die that night, because the local detox house wouldn't let him in. At the detox house, they told us Rex had to pass an entry test, but that he'd fail, because he was always f'ing and blinding. Rex F'ed and blinded a bit more, and then ran away from me. I never saw him again.

Gone Fish

Got up at 4am to return to the Coromandel, to go fishing with my Korean friends. There were about 20-30 of us. We were at it all day. How many fish do you think we caught? I'll give you a clue - it was a round number.


Have they caught something? Or has Steve fallen in again?


"We'll go and help them as soon as it starts to rain."

"Can't You People Police Yourselves?"

She was crying.

I had been on my way to meet Mr Hippy (the rough tough ice-cream man with a heart of gold), but dropped him to take her for a coffee, which she wound up paying for as I didn't have any money with me. I'm such a great friend.

In her broken English, she explained that a man had rung at her door and asked if he could make a phone call. She'd let him in to do so, and before leaving he'd stolen her mobile. He'd later rung her up on her landline demanding money for its return. She'd gone to the police, who'd picked him up. Later he'd rung her again with another demand. The police had done nothing. He knew where she lived.

She was quite adamant that she wasn't going back to the police again, as they had done nothing the first time. They just hadn't been interested in the blubberings of a non-fluent Chinese girl. I told her to let me take her back, to explain it to them myself, but there was one flaw in my plan.

Mobile theft is so common, the police had probably labelled her "just another stupid Chinese tourist." If I went in, they'd most likely label me "just another stupid English tourist." There was only one thing for it. I needed a kiwi for credibility. It was time to call in the services of Mr Hippy.

Mr Hippy had another plan. "Fergit the cops, I jes' wanna smesh this guy's face in!" Before I could present the "What Would Jesus Do" argument, Mr Hippy was planning out an intricate sting operation, involving setting my Chinese friend up in Burger King, where she would confront her enemy, at which point Mr Hippy (and, by implication, myself) would leap out all fists blazing.

It struck me there were now 5 characters in this sitcom - the ballsy thief, the helpless Chinese girl, the bumbling cop, the fist-happy ice-cream man, and me. Had Goble really become the voice of reason? This must have been a later episode, after the writers had got tired.

Somewhere along the line everyone managed to agree that my original plan was the best one, so we finished our drinks, thanked my Chinese friend for buying them, borrowed some money off of her* and headed back to the station.

(* This bit is not actually true - we stole it.)

As we crossed the road, I remember saying a quick prayer for her.

After the adverts we walked onto the police station set, looked at the Chinese policewoman behind the desk and my friend gasped "Do you speak Cantonese???"

Suddenly they were both off in their own little world babbling Cantonese, or Mandarin, or gibberish, or Welsh, or whatever it was. Little good that it did. We then went downstairs to meet 2 cops who were almost, but not quite, completely uninterested in her.

No, they wouldn't phone the guy, no they couldn't tape her phoning him, and no, they couldn't even listen-in to such a call on another extension because “we don't have the facilities.” After an uphill struggle against such reluctance to even try and help, we finally convinced them to look at a folder from that afternoon.

Discovering to their immense surprise that the guy actually had been charged that afternoon, and was due to appear in court the next week, they both just looked so...proud of themselves. Suddenly their bleary apathy transformed into such self-heroism. They had gone out and caught the bad guy. Well actually they'd opened a folder from that afternoon and read a piece of paper in it. Well actually we'd pretty much done even that for them, but they thought they'd done it, and they also thought that made them pretty good at their job.

Not wanting the paperwork was bad enough. Not wanting to talk to or help her was worse. Not caring about my friend's shattered feelings, just because her broken English was a little hard to understand, was so unjust it still makes me angry.

It's so simple to just stop and listen to someone. If they've said something one doesn't understand, then one is almost there. Why give up when one is so close? How on Earth did apathy ever become more attractive than helping someone?

Christmas Day

After breakfast, Frank and Melva dropped me back at the backpackers, where Auckland Central was as deserted as a Godzilla movie. With half an hour to go until my morning shift began, I took the opportunity the photograph this, and, to my mind, the real reason why...


...Santazilla!

Despite the festive season, people were still coming and going from the hostel, although granted at a significantly reduced rate.


Yves, Mary, Sue (back), Miriam and Tiger.

There was a more high-spirited atmosphere amongst the staff this morning, and Yves and I spent quite a bit of time wasting time. Never has a disabled lift been the cause of so much merriment.


Christmas Yves.


Afterwards I kept my promise to Mickala, and chopped carrots with her in preparation for the hostel's big expensive Christmas meal that evening.

Following that I headed out to find the Auckland City Mission, who had informed me that in order to volunteer to help with lunch, I really only needed to show up. They were closed. It later transpired that their big Christmas dinner had actually happened over at Auckland Town Hall. This was a shame. I had really wanted to spend my Christmas Day giving something.

Instead I enjoyed lunch with my Korean friends at the Salvation Army, before heading down to Myers Park to read my Bible and pray. It was hot. It was sunny. Two Americans called Brett and Danielle were throwing a frisby back and forth, so I joined them for half an hour.

After that it was back to the backpackers again. Now let's see, God had given me free breakfast at Frank and Melva's, and a free lunch with the Koreans. Would he also bless me with a free evening Dinner to boot?

I went to the nightclub where the hostel's big expensive Christmas meal was to happen and spoke to the guy on the door. He asked me (as these people like to) "Is your name on the list?"

"No, but I work here, I just sort of assumed that I could come in."

"What's your name?"

"Steve."

I smiled. He grinned back. "I'm Steve too!"

So I ate yet again, and I got seconds!


On my right is an Irish guy called Denis, who deeply disagreed with various violations of human rights, such as having one's hand stamped.

Afterwards Mr Hippy rang and wished me a happy Christmas. We discussed Romans 14:13-23 (he's a vegetarian) and agreed to meet-up tomorrow.

It was an interesting Christmas Day, although one which still lacked what I really wanted to do, which was to serve in some way. Still, I couldn't complain. Having eaten out for nothing three times today, tomorrow I would be blessed in this way twice more, and then again on Monday.

I should have named this entry Christmas Stuffing.

Chess

I suppose Christmas Day really began at about 1am.

In Frank's living-room I idly let slip that I'd played a bit of chess in my time. Frank's eyes lit up.

"You play chess??? Do you fancy a game now?"

Effortlessly he reached to one side and produced a chess set. I viewed it with some trepidation. His excitement at this revelation was like, well, like watching a kid on Christmas Day.

"Errr...okay," I ventured with some reluctance, "but I haven't played it for years. I'm really no good at it. I just don't have the patience for chess. I always wind-up just letting my pieces get taken so that something actually happens."

"Ohhh, don't worry about that," smoothed Frank, his face suddenly losing all expression, and his eyebrows raising in innocence. "I never play chess. I haven't played it for years either. I just wondered if you wanted a game, that's all."

So, feeling as though I had just challenged Death to a staring match, I asked Frank if he was usually black or white. He said he really didn't mind. Clearly this game of strategy had already begun.

***THOSE OF YOU WHO ARE BORED SENSELESS BY CHESS MAY WISH TO SCROLL DOWN TO THE NEXT SET OF ASTERISKS***

I chose to open with what I like to call "The Goble Maneuver." Ever since junior school I've opened with these moves, and lost. The reason I keep using The Goble Maneuver is 2-fold:

1: When I played British child chess champion Demitrios Agnos at Scout camp once, he'd repeatedly told people (after beating me) that I had a very strong opening.

2: If I'm going to lose the game quickly, I may as well get my only good move in.

Basically I move my knight's pawn forward 1, bring out my bishop next to it, and then castle.

Frank's eyes narrowed. I tried to look tired already. Slowly Frank began his attack.

It didn't work.

To my amazement, I was actually holding my own against this guy.

This went on for a while. I've never been able to project all those strategic scenarios that great chess-players do, but here I was successfully winging it, until about 45 minutes had passed. Then something quite unexpected happened.

Frank was on the attack. I moved my knight forward. There was a pause. Frank broke the silence. "That was a good move."

I looked, as expressionlessly as I could. My goodness - he was right! That actually was a good move!

Suddenly Frank was on the run, and for the first time I actually started to believe that I could win this game!

Time went on. Frank regrouped. I advanced a bit. Then I made a stupid mistake.

It wasn't quite as stupid as moving my queen to diagonally in front of one of his pawns, but, well all right, it probably was that stupid. It was at this moment that the game jumped the shark anyway.

I couldn't be bothered anymore. Frank took piece after piece until, as is so often the way, I was left just moving the poor King one square at a time until there was nowhere left to go.

Checkmate.

***WELCOME BACK***

I'd lost.

If it were any consolation, the post-match post-mortem solidified in both our minds what a truly great game this had been. Now that there was no secrecy, we could discuss our strategies openly, and come clean about our what our various plans had been.

"That's what I love about chess!" Frank was enthusing, the light back in his eyes, and the excitement flowing in his voice. "You think you've got everything figured out, and then suddenly a move can just come out of nowhere and change everything!"

"Mmmmm," I acknowledged, before voicing what I had concluded a good hour ago now. "It was all baloney wasn't it? The way your eyes lit up when I first mentioned chess, the way you just happened to have a chessboard within arm's reach, on the floor, even though you claimed that you hadn't played it for years? You play this game regularly, don't you Frank?"

Frank admitted everything, before adding "Of course, you could have worked it out from all the chess books behind me."

Cession: Impossible

Usually on Christmas Eve I race around Richmond and London doing all my last-minute Christmas shopping. I always bump into various people I know/knew years ago, who are in the same boat as me. I'll hurriedly catch-up with some of them, before each excusing ourselves with "Well I have to dash now, as I have to go and buy so-and-so a digital-Ninja-Pokemon-Rubik's-Weakest Link-mobile Atari watchphone before W H Smith closes."

Then, when the shops shut at 5:30, I sit down for a few quiet moments and just watch.

The shops change their hoardings to advertise their Boxing Day sales. People wait on benches for the rest of their families. They meet-up, get in cars, and drive home to enjoy Christmas. Somehow, all the lights seem to start twinkling and, for me, the presence of God feels very real.

For me, this is the actual end of the year. Everyone's plans have finished. Everyone's lives have closed for the year. There is nothing else left to do now, no reports to finish, no meetings, no plans involving other people. All that is left outstanding is to go home to one's family. It's always such a peaceful half-an-hour. For me it's always an opportunity to reflect and thank God for his many blessings this year.

This Christmas Eve, someone was missing. Heck no, this Christmas Eve everyone was missing. I did no Christmas shopping this year, I had no friends to bump into, and certainly no old friends to hurriedly catch-up with.

But, to my immense surprise, the feeling of peace was still there.

My life however, was still one big last-minute rollercoaster.

After recording some liners at Life fm, I headed back to ACB, set my laundry running, and raced off to Hope City FM to present Goble On Christmas Eve. (which I later learnt had been picked up by Mr Hippy in his ice-cream van!) I then raced back to ACB to finish my laundry, just in time to rendezvous with Frank back at Life fm again.

Frank and his wife had kindly invited me over to spend what was left of Christmas Eve with them so, discussing the many entertaining differences between British and Kiwi culture, the three of us cruised on over to their home church, called Cession, for the midnight service.

This was quite engaging. Brett spoke quite enlighteningly about The Parable Of The Great Feast (Luke 14:15-24), and each part of the service seemed, to me, to be just the right length. At the end of the service though, something quite unexpected happened.

Frank turned to me, offered his hand, and said "Happy Christmas Steve."

Whu...??? No, no, no, it's hardly Christmas Frank, I mean I'm on the other side of the world, aren't I? It can't be Christmas because I'm away, and I only do that through the year, don't I?

But he was right. It was Christmas, here at any rate. And I was nearly 30 hours at a lucky push away from where all my previous Christmases told me that I should be.

If I'd raced to the airport and jumped on a direct flight to Heathrow, thanks to the time-difference, I could just about have made it home in time for Christmas Day in the evening. Just in time to begin sleeping-off the 3-weeks of jet-lag that journey always leaves me with. But no, as my life wound its ever-increasingly-bizarre course away from my childhood to God-actually-did-only-know-where, this was where I had been deposited for this Christmas. So far from home that I wouldn't even be staying in my regular cupboard at the hostel tonight.

It felt strange, but it was right.

Lionel Scare

Yesterday Lionel, the hostel's 70-something-year-old-resident bionic man, told me that last March, shortly after arriving in New Zealand, he'd almost died from having blood on his lungs.

This morning I dreamt that he was chronically ill again, so I was doing everything I could to get his helpless self on a plane back to England again.

Which just goes to prove that you can't really help someone, even if they've already got better.

Wah-ha-ha NARF!!

Word For Tomorrow

Unloaded hundreds of boxes of The Word For Today (Bible study notes) from a lorry at Rhema this afternoon. It was twice the normal amount, as half of them are free copies to be given out at the Parachute 05 music festival next month.

It was almost like being back down the gym again.

Tour Of Destiny

Last February I almost toured the Coromandel - that expanse of land that juts-out the top-right of North Island.


And almost 10 months later - this weekend - I actually did!

At 8:15am on Saturday morning, Jamie picked-me up with the news that the other 2 people who we'd been expecting to travel with couldn't make it. Whilst we were initially disappointed, it did of course mean that we both had alot more room in the car.

So girls, here's what you missed...

First stop was a couple of hours in the hot pool at Miranda. Then we had pizza for lunch at a place in Thames. Then it was to the Pak'n Save to buy ingredients for dinner.

I had reservations about this. At the backpackers I've fallen into a pattern of trusting God to provide me with food. However, when I'm away from there my faith in Him wavers. It's like I trust in the hostel a bit more than I trust in Him. Also, I couldn't really expect Jamie to take steps to starve with me. So I relented, and we bought a heap of ingredients.

When we arrived at the backpackers we would be staying the night at, we'd barely begun to cook when the group in front told us they'd made too big a BBQ, and gave us all the hot ready-cooked food we could eat.

The highlight of that first day though was Hot Water Beach. There's a hot spring underneath the sand, so one can dig one's own bath in it. Of course, we had to wait until about 9pm for the tide to go out, so while the water was scalding, the rest of the beach was as cold as space. No idea which direction this bathwater would have spiralled down the drain though - with these extremes in temperature it was like both hemispheres rolled into one.


Back at the backpackers Jaws was on TV.

Of course, all present sagely rubbished it. Then they all fell silent. Then they all gasped in sudden shock. Spielberg comes in for alot of undeserved flack, but I think he's brilliant.

I checked the time. 22:30 had been and gone, taking with it the plane that I had, until last week, been planning to return to the UK on. No changing my mind about where to spend Christmas now.

On Sunday morning we left our new-found friend Christos and drove to Whangarei for a very long coffee. It was one of those 'life, the universe and everything' discussions, although now I can only remember 3 things from it:

1. My telling Jamie something like 'Christianity is so full of promises like God's got great things planned for you just around the corner, but if I'd had great things just around the corner when they'd told me that in my teens, then I shouldn't still be waiting for them at 33. At least one great blessing should have happened by now.'

2. On the subject of my not getting to the Coromandel (and indeed Hot Water Beach) last February, but instead getting there yesterday, was this God's way of rescuing His plan to show me it? I got my Good News Bible out of my pocket and quoted 2 Kings 19:23-25...

You sent your messengers to boast to me that with all your chariots you had conquered the highest mountains of Lebanon. You boasted that there you cut down the tallest cedars and the finest cypress-trees and that you reached the deepest parts of the forests. You boasted that you dug wells and drunk water in foreign lands and that the feet of your soldiers tramped the River Nile dry.

Have you never heard that I planned all this long ago? And now I have carried it out. I gave you the power to turn fortified cities into piles of rubble.

So did God really plan for those soldiers' feet to tramp the River Nile dry? Yes? So... did he really intend for there to be an army? With killing and stuff?

The theory I was following was that His original plan may have been for those people to tramp the River Nile dry on, say, maybe a nice church weekend away. You know, maybe He planned for each of those individual people to have those experiences, but in a far better, more peaceful way. When we come along and impose our own sinful ideas, starting wars and forming armies etc., God still sticks to His original plan, and we do too, unknowingly.

So... when I didn't visit Hot Water Beach, or indeed the entire Coromandel, last February, did God still fulfil his original plan by showing it to me in December instead? A bit like my visiting the Family Television Network last October (instead of my intention to in March) too. That's just the theory that I was exploring. As usual, no conclusion reached.

3. Hard to forget, this. Jamie recklessly agreeing not to buy any more food this weekend, following my diffident assertion that God would somehow provide.


All the way to Coromandel Town I kept wondering whether God would decide to pike out now that I had verbally declared my faith in Him to provide.

Arriving at Coromandel Town, (as I glanced anxiously everywhere for free food), we checked into another backpackers and played a round of Mini Golf, or Crazy Golf as it is more correctly known in the UK. A few holes before the end, Jamie suggested a wager.

Whoever wins buys dinner.

Now I never gamble, but whilst in New Zealand I am determined to try new things out, so I rather rashly agreed. Then I remembered that I was already a point down.


Of course Jamie won, which proves that his faith in God came through and provided dinner for him.

After last night's 10-bed dorm, we had turned-down a quite hippy-ish looking place in favour of what turned-out to be the nicest backpackers on the planet.

Pat's Place was run by a lovely mum who was really only renting-out a spare room in her garage. "It's twenty bucks each!" she declared as though she was just making the figure up off the top of her head. Not only did I get to sleep in a deep (non-bunk!) bed with a window in the room and everything, but Jamie and I even found ourselves provided with free ice-creams to eat as we watched Big Fat Liar with her kid. It was a million (well, a couple of hundred) miles away from that 530-bed skyscraper back in Auckland.

Next morning her son took us out down the stream to feed eels, which was only the second time I've done this in New Zealand this year. The last time was in Waitomo, all my photographs of which got processed by Kodak without any green dye in them. Today was therefore my chance to retake this shot.


Back to Sennacherib's soldiers experiencing the River Nile again.

Pat also had a sideline in making novelty cakes, and showed us through an album of them.


Waving goodbye, we drove up to Fletcher's Bay, on whose deserted shoreline I sat and read my Bible a bit.


This was as far north as we could go without improvising some severe modifications to Jamie's car, but our return journey was enriched by picking-up 2 hitchhikers. Quite what they made of all the Weird Al polka numbers we had playing on the cassette (such as Bohemian Polka, which is everything its name suggests) I will probably never know. They remained silent but, as a Brit, I still like to think that it was a polite unenquiring silence.

On the way back we drove past a sign. On the south-facing side it read ABORTION - THE WORST FORM OF CHILD ABUSE. On the north-facing side it had ADOPT DON'T ABORT.

I remembered first seeing this sign on February 28th. For just a moment, it felt as though we could turn around and drive back into that week.

Although of course we had sort of just done that.

What Do You Think, Power Man™?

Last August, the pastor at Edge Church, Greg, invited me for a coffee. Yesterday, we finally made it.

I had several things that I wanted to discuss with him, most of which we never quite got onto. We did of course discuss my impending decision about whether to spend Christmas here or back in the UK.

As we left the coffee shop, Greg kept repeating to me "So if I see you at church on Sunday, then I'll know that you stayed."

As in October, this was a tough one to call.

I've been here for 5 months, but in retrospect I don't think this will sound like much of an achievement. Things seem to be just working out regarding proper Christian employment prospects, so to return home now could be giving up on God's apparent path for me.

On the plus side of course, I'd get to see my family and friends. But after a few days, I'd be philosophically back where I started - out of work and wishing to be back in New Zealand.

Last night I was about to go to bed when I spotted that the stairwell door was open. Inside I found Mickala and Tara, having a drink and a girlish laugh. Of course they urged me to stay. Mickala was quite definite: "You'll chop carrots with me, won't you? On Christmas morning, you and me, we'll chop carrots together for the special Christmas dinner." But the truth was, friends as they are, it really didn't make alot of difference to either of them.

After my show on Hope City FM tonight, I returned to ACB and rang up Air New Zealand. I spoke to a girl called Ala, and moved my flight back again to next year.

Christmas, for the first time, would be without my family.

After all, if I could stay away for Christmas, then I really would have left home.

We Built Hope City On Chopped Meat Rolls

Today we had a barbeque at Rhema, where I successfully convinced someone to listen to my show on Hope City FM tonight.

Does that make me a better announcer or a worse one?

Pillow Patrol

Sometimes the General of Housekeeping assigns me Special Duties. Sometimes it's cleaning out dustbins, at others it can be cleaning out toilets.

Lately I have been given the task of installing the hostel's new artillery of pillows. All 490 of them.

They come in packs of 10. For each one I have to do the following:

Remove the outer plastic from the pack of 10 pillows.

Remove the plastic from the individual pillow.

Remove the outer plastic from the pack of 10 pillow-protectors.

Unfold the pillow-protector.

Place the pillow inside the pillow-protector and zip it up.

Unfold a pillow-case.

Place the pillow (inside the pillow-protector) inside the pillow-case.

Swap the whole thing with the pillow on a bed.

Repeat 490 times.

Take all 490 old pillows upstairs to a place that increasingly resembles a kids' playroom.

Recycle all plastic-bags.

I've been doing this project, on and off, for over 3 weeks now.

I really ought to be feeling tired.

Yes, I know you are.

Spot Me In The Rodney Times!

Chop-Chop Peachy-Weachy Work-Work Bang-Bang

Tonight, one of my Korean friends had invited me over to meet his family for dinner.

Having no inkling why, and rather on autopilot, I headed over and was introduced to each one of them in turn. Oh dear, I'm not very good with names, even English ones.

Later, after a lovely dinner and conversation, Mr Korea spoke to me about London.

Mr Korea: "Arvrything in London is verrry peachy."

I thought for a second. Did he just say...?

Me: "I'm sorry?"

Mr Korea: "London. All the people there are verrry peachy.."

Me: "Errr, yes. I suppose they are. Well actually no, they're all very unhappy."

Mr Korea wasn't letting up.

Mr Korea: "They are so peachy. On the train, in the city. Everyone is peachy all the time."

Now things were getting surreal. I'd only been away for 5 months. Could things in London really have changed that much, or was Mr Korea actually talking about London in some alternate-dimension where everything was the exact opposite of our one? I asked him one more time.

Mr Korea: "Peachy! Peachy! Everyone is very peachy! It is pig peachiness to be in London."

I thought. Then it hit me. "Yes!" I gasped in realisation. "Yes, in London everyone is very... peachy."

Christmas In The Park 2004

With the Sky Tower lighting-up green like a Christmas Tree, I headed off to Auckland's Domain this evening for Christmas In The Park. It's a huge (10,000 people or something) summer-concert that they've been advertising over Queen Street recently.

While trying to find my way there, I happened upon another similarly lost soul who had left her buddies to go back to her flat for some shoes, I think. So Ginger and I explored our way towards the park, where we were greeted by the sound of one of the same bands who I'd seen at the recording of Dominic Bowden's TV2 Christmas Special at St Matthew's In The City church three days ago. I think it was Golden Horse.

Anyway, although we completely failed to locate any of Ginger's aforementioned pals, what we did see and hear of the concert was great, particularly the closing fireworks and I'm A Believer.

Nice to have unexpectedly made a friend for the evening too.

Is It All Coming Together At Last?

Yes, I'm still in NZ, and, thanks to God's providence, still getting all my accommodation, food, phone calls and internet access for nothing!

For example, before I began typing this I exchanged a free drinks voucher for an orange juice in the bar downstairs. Since I have been typing this, someone has come up to me and wordlessly replaced it with 2 free drinks vouchers! That may sound a trivial example, but I really can't remember the last time I paid for food or drink, and I know I'm putting on weight.

Today I sat in on another radio programme, just to watch. I had been going to have a practice on some of their equipment, but their computers were going down. Interestingly, no-one there much liked the idea of having to go over to playing music from CD without the computer, whereas this is the only way I have ever made programmes!

This evening I was in the audience of the TV2 Christmas Special, recorded at St Matthew's-In-The-City Church. Presenter du jour Dominic Bowden was recording a special Christmas music show, featuring various well-known kiwi bands – such as Goldenhorse, Jamoa Jam, Adeaze, Amber Clare and Ben Lummis - performing carols in a church. It seemed alot like Later With Jools Holland. It'll be broadcast on Christmas Eve.

At the moment I may well miss it as I'm due to return to the UK on 19th December, but I might stay longer.

Finally got a meeting with a radio Programme Director

There was little talk of psychographics and formatics, but he did say he liked listening to the helicopter sketch on my demo tape. I'm glad this one recognised that it was indeed a sketch, although I'm disappointed that he didn't hand me the keys to the station's chopper. That could have brought his station a lot of publicity. (*choke*)

Afterwards I visited the New Zealand Film Archive, where there are loads of Kiwi films one can watch for nothing on VHS. I watched a claymation short from 1964 about cigarette trees growing on the moon, followed by most of Worzel Gummidge Down Under. All they seem to have done is spliced four of the TV episodes together and called it a movie, like they used to with the old Spider-Man films.

Confusingly, nearly all the actors used seem to be English, including the local Crowman.

Nativity Sax

After my regular church, I shot off across town to return to competitors CLC, where I was expecting another service, but instead found a nativity/pantomime!

And it was barking. The story was set after Jesus birth, and based around Herod's extermination of all the children aged under two around Bethlehem. A harrowing subject, yet handled with Benny Hill music and clumsy Roman guards chasing Mary and Joseph as they toss Jesus back and forth like a rugby ball! The rest of the audience didn't seem to mind the slightly uncomfortable juxtaposition of multiple-infanticide with slapstick, so I figured I'd better not mind either. What was my adopting the opposite attitude going to do for anyone?

The Saturday Bonanza

Every Saturday night Patrick presents his show on Hope City FM - The Saturday Bonanza - but tonight he was out at a Chuck Girard concert, so he asked me to guest-host his show for him.

Ignoring the temptation to BillOddiefy the title, I had a great three hours, and even set up my camera at one stage to take this photo whilst talking live on air:


For the full virtual experience, download the audio clip by clicking here.

The Camera Never Dies

My camera broke recently.

It was on the kids' literacy camp last month. I was taking my third roll of still (print) film, when I think the film somehow became crumpled in the camera when the batteries ran out. So I put some new batteries in, but I think that confused the poor thing's programming even more. I think it wouldn't let me take pictures because when I changed the batteries it forgot that I had loaded a film. However at the same time it wouldn't let me open the back because it knew that there was film in there.

So I couldn't roll the film forwards or backwards, or even remove it.

For a while it looked as though I might have to get the sales receipt posted over to me from the UK so that I could get it sent away and fixed under the guarantee here.

Then last Wednesday, while recording some Hope City adverts and voice-overs with Ges, I borrowed a tiny screwdriver and a portable darkroom (a black bag) off him. Having opened the camera's innards up, I still couldn't open the door at the back of the film compartment to get the film out though.

So I went into one of the camera shops across the road on Queen Street and opened the back of a similar model to get a good look at its locking mechanism.

As a result tonight I found myself sitting in the hostel's reception area, where I was at last able to open the film-compartment's catch from inside using my fingernail!

Having reloaded, of course I had to take a few 'test' shots while sitting there...


The reception desk.

Then I turned to my right, and saw...


... that's Lionel.

And later:


Tara and Lukas at the internet café!

This evening I went to Ges' house at Green Bay to record some adverts and jingles for Hope City FM. And got fed again!

Clip here!

On Schedule

Today I posted John Brownlee's Christmas card.