Only My Own Total Incompetence Can Mess This Up Now

A few weeks ago at church, Jack (not his real name) decided he needed me. To work for him.

He'd taken on a contract to move a 20-year-old pile of earth from one side of a capsicum farm in Helensville, over to the other side, but he had a problem. Drivers. He just hadn't been able to find anyone to drive the vehicle for him. Until now.

I explained that I still needed a few more lessons, and that my NZ Learners Licence wouldn’t allow me to drive alone. Jack answered that it would be dead simple, and as I would be driving purely on private property, I wouldn't therefore need a licence. This was handy after all the red tape that the AA had already gift-wrapped me in over this. Jack even tried to apply for a work permit so that he could pay me, but eventually decided that would take too long.

So, as I turned-down yet another illegal cash-in-hand offer, we agreed that he'd pay for me to take a few more lessons and get my licence, and also accomodate me at his home in Big Manley (together with his wife and their 12-year-old daughter) for the month-long duration of the job.

Having spent the last 9 months+ sleeping in a small windowless 7th-floor cupboard with 3 rapidly-changing roommates and an air-conditioning unit that, quite literally, sucked all the oxygen out of the room, I wondered just what sort of new accomodation I could look forward to. A pig-sty maybe? Would Anna-Lisa's suggestion that I might have to sleep in a corrugated iron box finally come to pass?

They gave me a floor.

No, not a floor to sleep on, an entire floor of the building. It had umpteen rooms, its own toilet, basin, shower and washing-machine. And there’s a park outside. And a beach. And lights that I can turn on and off at all hours of the day whenever I feel like it! They even have a cat.

Her name is Princess Leia, and she has 2 ears that (vaguely) resemble hair-bunches. And she’s a real cat. Not like Seven and Pompey back home in the UK, who are only really interested in themselves, and not like their predecessor Phantom who would have lacerated you whilst you were trying to feed him, oh no.


Princess Leia will follow you all around the house and play with you. She'll purr and everything. She'll even jump up on your lap and climb all over you while you're trying to drink a cup of Milo. Honestly, she's starting to sound like a really great Kenner toy.

After I wrote in this blog on April 28th that I was not buying toothpaste because God would supply me with some, my new hosts have even, without my asking, got me a tube.

So I sat on my new bed in my new room on my new floor, admired the wardrobe, and the cupboards, and the funky psychedelic lampshade, and gave thanks aloud. "Well God, I have really landed on my feet here."


Tomorrow's post here.