Wellington Weekend (part 1 of 4): But Coach, It’s These Boots

I had one hour’s sleep last night.

I can never sleep before travelling, even if it’s just for a weekend.

I think it has to do with my general disorganisation and lateness at packing the night before.

Heck, I’d only got around to even booking my coach and train tickets down to Palmerston North and back because super-organised Nigel had come over and bought them over the internet with me.

Super-Nigel had also fixed up my accomodation for the first 2 nights, and found a cut-price return plane ticket for himself. Truly, as my supercheap Naked Bus pulled into Manukau to pick up more passengers for my lonely 8-hour coach journey this morning, there was absolutely no conceivable way that the next paragraph could possibly be about anything going wrong.

Sender:
Nigel
Sent:
13-April-2007
ARE YOU ON THE BUS?

Sender:
Steve Goble
Sent:
13-April-2007
YES!

I sent my reply for free, by simply handing Nigel my phone as he sheepishly got on and sat down next to me. The airline had issued him with a return ticket all right, but in the wrong direction.

We were heading down to Wellington region for Johnny B’s wedding, which Scottish Dave and Fionnuala were also flying across from Sydney for. As the five of us all know each other from the same social circle in London, this weekend promised to be a trip back in time to the nostalgic tennis / Bible-group filled days of 2003.

But it all began with Nigel and I on our day-long road-trip down to Palmerston North, while back in Auckland, flatmate Dave was beginning a similar trip. He too was bussing down to Palmy North today for a train convention so, excitable juveniles that we are, we spent most of our respective journeys commentating on our progress via the miracle of text-messaging.

Sender:
David
Sent:
13-April-2007
10:43:13
The race commentary commences, Banana’s breaking from the bunch, Chewing Gum’s sticking to the rail, and Davycrockpot just passed Botany Town Centre.

Straining to keep my eyes open was a good move, as Nigel and I began a whistle-stop tour of places that held fond memories from yesteryear...


... Hamilton, Rotorua, Lake Taupo…

You stretch your legs in these places and think “Hey - I remember buying an apricot fruit-drink in that Pak’N’Save!”

Ah yes, the kiwiana...

Sender:
David
Sent:
13-April-2007
Had to stop for grumbling stomachs, but it really doesn’t matter.(matter)

Sender:
David
Sent:
13-April-2007
17:11:43
A mens garment of positive temperament

Sender:
Steve Goble
Sent:
13-April-2007
At a field in Fielding.

Finally, after surviving the desert road, Nigel and I reached our destination, fell out of our Naked Bus and, after circuiting Palmerston North bus station, happened upon a small rental car containing the two big smiles of Scottish Dave and Fionnuala!

As Nigel headed home for an evening of unparalelled parental conversation with his dad, the three of us flatly rejected any notion of catching-up with each other to instead… go shopping for shoes.

And I’m afraid that this was my idea.

See, I only really have two pairs of shoes in this country. A smart pair that’s far too small, and a second hand pair that Yves found at the youth hostel and gave to me years ago.

Rummaging through Palmy North’s local K-Mart, I also found a very antipodean pair of socks…

Apart from the colloquial title, I sigh in despair at the picture, which follows the current footwear advertising conceit of not even featuring the product. (I’m looking at you Nine West)

Anyway after driving to Otaki and buying a bloody nice veggie-burger, we managed to rendezvous with Nigel and others at a retreat bach for catholic priests.

And bach truly was the word – walking in there was like walking into 1982. Even the VHF stereo music-tower was tuned to Solid Gold FM. I loved it. Scottish Dave hated it. But he perked up after beating me at 2 games of pool.

Day #2 of 4 here.
Day #3 of 4 here.
Day #4 of 4 here.