Auckland calling ....

Yes, I am still here!  Where have the past few weeks gone?  I have felt at times as if I've been picked up like a twig and whirled around in the wind, blowing first up and then down, barely still, seemingly at the mercy of another's energy and purpose.  And yet my diary is ostensibly my own, and so I must share in the responsibility of the whirlwind of activity that has engulfed and at times almost overwhelmed me.

I see from my last blog that is has been nearly a month since I posted.  Since then the All Blacks have indeed emerged victorious from the World Cup and the nation has breathed an immense sigh of relief and straightened its shoulders a touch.  It was not an easy match.  Indeed for more than 20 minutes I could hardly breathe and my heart rate was alarmingly high.  Me and roughly 4.1 million others over here, and many more scattered throughout the rest of the world, I imagine!  The French did what they do so well - pull out of the bag the performance that is needed 'au moment critique'.  Quite how the All Blacks resisted the onslaught for so long only they know.  They truly earned their reward.

The feel-good factor lingers gently, though there remains the more general fatigue of small children (and some adults) who stayed up late and often.  But as the days lengthen and the skies retain more blue than grey there is a palpable sense that the long summer holidays are just around the corner, and cannot come too soon for many.............  How strange to be enjoying a second Spring and Summer.

So what keeps me so busy, you might ask?  Well, first we move house. We now live in a bijou 2-bed townhouse in St Heliers with a balcony view of Rangitoto and the sea:

[That's Rangitoto in the distance.  It's only 600 years old and was formed during the last major volcanic eruption in Auckland.]

The house is unfurnished so we source and often then 'build' various items of furniture, and in addition Roy establishes the internet connection, hangs various hooks, assembles the BBQ and puts up a crucial blind.  I'm in charge of beds and bedding - and the kitchen, of course.  It's fun creating a second home that's in a totally different style - wooden floors upstairs, stone below - but quite time-consuming.  All main living areas are upstairs open-plan, including the kitchen, and there are only doors on bedrooms and bathrooms.  It takes a bit of getting used to.  But it's 3 minutes to walk into the village, and 5 mins to church (all uphill), which is very handy.  And the kitchen is turquoise....  What's not to like?
Our sitting area:

                                                                
Our dining area, with balcony to the left:

The turquoise kitchen:

I preach my first sermon at St Philip's, and go on a 24-hour training session at the beautiful Vaughan Park up the coast in Long Bay, where I meet my new fellow curates, discuss 'Commitment', and watch 2 episodes of Rev on someone's laptop, squashed onto a sofa:

[How about that for a view from your diocesan retreat?  The building top right is the new chapel, small but simple and beautiful inside.]

We have our annual Parish Dinner (Scottish style, with a variety of kilts and tartans, 85 participants - a lot of washing up!) and a Light Party (St Philip's response to Hallowe'en: 78 register, we cater for 100, 112 come - a lot of noise/children/mess/fun).  Then there is the ordination of Auckland's Assistant Bishop in the Cathedral, where there are so many clergy that the last 6 of us are required to file round the back of the altar and seat ourselves with the Precentor, Archdeacons and Canons on the other side - something about the last being first.......

I attend my first parish wedding rehearsal, where I end up playing the bride's mother (Nyasha is the flower girl!).  Naturally we both feel we should then attend the real thing, though this time we demurely take our seats at the back.  The highlight (apart from the ceremony itself) is the groom's sister, Lauren Armishaw, an international soprano who comes back from Europe to sing Mozart's Laudate Dominum at her brother's wedding.  It is stunning.  Others might recall I had a stab at it in 1993 at Rebecca's wedding.  Seriously, not even on the same planet....

Then there's Zelma's funeral - both the planning visit and actual funeral.  Zelma was one feisty 87-year old woman, lover of BCP, whom I visited 3 times in hospital when I first arrived.  True to form we include a 1662 Eucharist as part of the service.  I trust Zelma is delighted.

In amongst church commitments and museum activities (notably the opening of the new Sir Ed Hillary exhibits) we see some old friends.  The Ferbraches, over from Guernsey to visit son and new grandson; the Franklins, old RN Kiwi colleagues from Roy's distant past; and the Notleys, over from Tollesbury, who get a whistle-stop tour of the museum for 40 minutes with Roy, and then accompany me out to St Heliers to see for themselves the church/village/house.  And simply lovely it is to see them!

[Clive and Hazel Notley, on our balcony.]

And the Potez', also RN friends from a former life, host us for a weekend in Blenheim, at their vineyard.  Yep, a weekend living in the middle of vines, surrounded by the Richmond Ridge and Wither Hills, with Oyster Bay and Marlborough Sound in the distance.  Wine-tasting de rigueur.  I didn't say it was all work, did I?

[The view from our bedroom window, Richmond Ridge in the distance.]

I'd go again like a shot were it not for the flights.  Return journey in something slightly larger than a balsa-wood toy airplane, seating 16, 8-a-side, each with aisle and window view, with the noise of chunks of ice breaking away and hitting the plane at 23000 feet....   Not really my thing.  Still, we somehow survive.

What else?  Tennis, of course.  Inter-club matches every Monday.  Three so far; 5 wins out of 6.  I get to rediscover the art of playing someone else's game rather than my own (!).  It's been 11 years since my last foray into competitive matches (if not competitive tennis...).  An interesting experience.

And occasional trips out with the lovely Julie - to Briscoe's (housewares); Harvey Norman (furniture); New World (food); Auckland Art Gallery (culture); and sundry coffees in and around St H (sanity!).  In addition we both attend Te Reo (Maori) classes for 2 hours on a Tuesday evening.  At the end of term we shall sing greetings to each other in Maori at a powhiri (formal welcome ceremony) at the marae.....

... On reflection that seems quite enough for 4 weeks.  Probably helps explain the days of the black dog last week (thankfully now back in his kennel).  I hear 'pace yourself' echoing in my head.  Not always easy when one is married to a superhero who somehow manages to fit 27 hours into each day and 8 days into each week, and to build Rome in a morning...........

Still, the adventure continues.  And I continue to thank God for the gift of modern communications that enables me to keep in touch with everyone so easily.

Next blog - more on all things Maori.

Rugby and All Black mania

It is quite something to be here in Auckland as the Rugby World Cup draws to a close and the host nation finds itself in with a chance to win for the first time since 1987.

The All Blacks are the best team in the world.  They hold the number 1 position.  Everyone knows they are the best.  And yet.....for some reason they find it really difficult to win the matches that underline their global position.  This is their first World Cup final in 16 long years.  So this is MASSIVE for New Zealand.  And it comes at the end of a 13-month period when the country has reeled from the initial earthquake in Christchurch (since when well in excess of 8600 further quakes, and still counting), the Pike River mining disaster (happening, as it did, only months after the Chilean miners were all successfully freed; 2 survivors, 29 fatalities...), and now the grounding of MV Rena near Tauranga in the Bay of Plenty, and all its environmental and economic fallout.  Might I be forgiven for hoping fervently that there will be an All Black victory next Sunday?

Auckland Museum is currently playing host to the Webb Ellis Cup until Sunday, so naturally we have to go and admire it...:

Roy decides it should be on display in the unromantically-named events space, an area normally reserved for corporate customers at specific functions (something Roy is working to change), and which affords commanding views of Auckland city in the round:

I chat to the guard who's assigned to watch the Cup for the next 8 days.  He's rostered on his own, a 10am-5pm duty, that allows for no food and drink to pass his lips, nor any 'bathroom breaks'.  Roy concludes that's not really a humane assignment and ensures that others are available to ensure constant vigilance.  The queues build.  Everyone wants to be pictured with the cup.  I fancy it could be me lifting it.....

Yeah right....
Later we wander down to the Cloud at Queen's Wharf, one of the key fanzones in the city where it's all happening.  The Cloud is a major new events centre in the city:

On the night of the opening fireworks it looked like a purple caterpillar.  It is known, however, more prosaically as 'the slug'.  Today it is full of people tasting different kinds of New Zealand food and wine, whilst outside the crowds (and visiting cruise ships alongside) enjoy the free music on offer:

(Those just happen to be chefs watching the action, not ice-cream suited officers!)
The atmosphere is buzzing in anticipation of the Wales/France match.  Many have come once again dressed to offer full sartorial support to their team:

It turns out to be a controversial game.  France scores more points.....  You know the rest.

Sunday.  The country holds its breath.  The All Blacks play their antipodean nemesis, the Wallabies.  The injury list has grown depressingly long.  After agonising discussion over the state of Dan Carter's (and later Colin Slade's) groin, the past week has been full of Richie McCaw's foot.  Will he, won't he?  Luckily he does.  And they do - win, that is.  Phew!

The nation breathes again.  After all, they have already beaten the French in the Pool.  So, game over.....
Except that the French have beaten them before 'au moment critique'.  Nothing is safe.  There is another week in which to discuss/agonise/recall.  All we know is that by 11 pm 23 October 2011 there will be a result.

For the sake of this small, friendly but feisty nation, our adopted home for now, I hope that they will emerge triumphant, able to hold their heads up again in the world of rugby; able to continue to deal with the ongoing trauma of Christchurch, where everyone has a friend or relative, and where there is no end in sight to the instability and fragility of the land and its occupiers; able to contemplate one of their stunning Bays being despoiled by oil from a ship that should not have been where it was and doing the speed it was doing.....

After that, who knows?  What happens when the rugby fever leaves?  What takes its place?  Watch this space.

Human frailty and nature's power

How curious to be walking across a brick-built open space and to see splutters of boiling water and steam emerging from between the cracks....
Yes, we've been to Rotorua where the earth's crust is said to be at its thinnest.  Clouds of sulphorous steam rise incongruously from all kinds of places, amidst ordinary habitation.  Locals seem unperturbed.  I feel less sanguine, but accept it all soon enough - along with the smell.

The area has long been home to the Te Arawa tribe of Maori.  Their marae and meeting house sit at the edge of the lake, right amongst all the geothermal activity, and share land with St Faith's Anglican church, where Maori and Pakeha (white people) share worship together every Sunday. As do we on Sunday, singing our hymns in Maori along with everyone else, and appreciating the Maori influence on internal decoration.

In the foreground you are looking at surface white graves; you cannot bury someone underground where the earth boils 2" beneath the surface!  Behind the church is Lake Rotorua, which means Lake Two, it being the second lake the Maori found after landing in the Bay of Plenty.

A trip to see the world-famous Wai-O-Tapu (Sacred Water) geothermal area a few miles away.  There are other geysers around - they pronounce it as 'guysers' rather than 'geezers'; you get used to it!  But ours comes with the Lady Knox guyser.  She needs daily encouragement to erupt at a time suitable for the trippers.  Soap is administered, then off she goes:

Not sure if that's worked - meant to be a video of the geyser erupting.  Ah well...

There you go - that's what she looks like.
Walking on the carefully designated paths through the other geothermal activity is crucial.  Notices abound showing the temperature is 100 degrees.  The colours are wonderful, thanks to the various minerals.
My favourite is Champagne Pool, an impressively large steaming bubbling lake:

Devil's Pool is bright yellow.  There are lots of 'devils' and 'hells', not surprising given the landscape and the danger.  We walk a centimetre above boiling sinters.  How can they know it'll remain safe?

Back in 1886, when the world was learning about tourism and had discovered the local Pink and White Terraces in nearby Te Wairoa, one night hotel visitors and local residents were awoken by the earth shaking severely.  Within a few hours Mount Tarawera had erupted, destroying the beautiful Terraces for ever as well as several local villages.  We visit what is known as The Buried Village, now a beautiful green area full of magnificent trees.  130 years ago it looked rather different.....

The outer wood may have been renewed but the original inside remains, half buried with muddy ash and debris from the volcanic fallout.  I am again reminded of the fragility of human life and the living, changing nature of the earth on which we rather precariously perch.

More prosaically we also visit the Rotorua Museum, now housed in what was once an Elizabethan-style (more Germanic in my opinion) bathhouse.  Croquet, bowls and petanque are being played as we stroll past; a bit of old England in the midst of palm trees and sulphorous steam vents.

The new Maori galleries, opened (with Roy in attendance) only 2 months ago, are wonderful.  They tell the history of the Te Arawa coming to settle the area and how they lived, and the contribution that Maori people continue to make to the area today in many different fields of activity.  Good stuff.  We creep into the old-style film space, sitting on hard wooden benches reminiscent of old trains, to watch an 18-minute film about the night Mount Tarawera blew.  It's a gripping narrative.  Suddenly the benches come to life, shaking wildly, imitating the actual earthquake.  A small shriek then I have myself under control. They have made their point..............

The whole of the lake and its surrounding area sits inside the basin of an age-old volcano.  Others nearby have more recently been active.  We return through undulating lands of volcanic humps where herds of dairy cattle graze in tightly controlled sections of fields.  Cows have replaced sheep in much of New Zealand as an agrarian safe bet.  Not much demand for wool today, it seems.  Cows, and forestry.  The slopes are covered with serried ranks of pine, up and down, sometimes close sometimes far away.  It's not pretty, but it's a vital part of the economy.

All too soon we're back in the city, energised by our days away, having celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary in a place we'll never forget.  What a mixture of sights and smells.  I am grateful for life in all its complexities,beauty and fragility, and for all who have gone before.

Inexperienced blogging!

Still getting the hang of this blogging malarkey.  Yesterday's blog should have been edited but I had to go out halfway through, and when I got back I found I was unable to access it to change anything.  So, there you have it.  Blogging unplugged, or something.....

I was going to mention the rugby in greater detail.  How last Saturday I wandered through the streets down at Viaduct Harbour, where the French had been given an area to advertise their culture - with can-can dancers, crepes, buskers and classic cars (noteably Citroen) - see above. The sun was shining and the atmosphere was jolly and infectious .  It was no good, though - they were roundly beaten by the All Blacks later.

Yesterday, same place, pretty much same time.  This time lots of kilts, occasional bagpipes (one even being played by a man dressed in a black T-shirt and black jeans, with not an ounce of tartan to be seen!) and some eccentric costumes and face paints.

You can't say people aren't entering into the spirit of things!

England won, in the 79th minute as it happened.  Whew!  And today the All Blacks survived without Dan Carter.  Also whew!  Although we missed him.  Thank goodness Zac Guildford lit up the stadium.  Great way to spend a wet, windy and cold Sunday afternoon.... (watching it on TV, I hasten to add).

New addition to the house.  A slow cooker.  Well, if I can't have my Aga here then it's the only other way of cooking something and then 'going out'.  Which is what I did yesterday.  Roy went racing for the first time in a gazillion years in something called an Elliott 7 - a fast 21' open racing boat with no back end.  Why, you might ask?  Search me, but he seemed to enjoy it.  He managed to lose the Yacht Squadron Commodore (his host) overboard whilst he was helming; got him back, thankfully, minus his expensive sunglasses.  The Commodore didn't seem to hold it against him ...  Not  sure Roy will be doing it again in a hurry, though.  Just waiting for our own Kahu to arrive late November for some more leisurely (and, I hope, dry) sailing.

And so another week has slipped by.  I've played some tennis, and been invited to play for the club team.  Should be a good way to visit other parts of Auckland city.  And I did manage to find a hairdresser, in St Heliers, too.  Japanese Tommy seems to have done a pretty good job, so that's OK.

To close I thought I'd add some random photos taken over the past few weeks...

And say that apart from comms with family and friends, old and new, and hospitality from lots of Kiwis, I am particularly thankful for:

• BBC Radio 4 - Desert Island Discs, Afternoon Plays, etc
• the changing colours of the sea
• and trim flat whites, my favourite way of having excellent Kiwi coffee

Wonder what this week will bring.....?

PS  And no, sadly my stoles have not yet re-appeared : (

Today I've been here 4 weeks.  Something of a mini-milestone.  Such a lot seems to have happened in that short space of time - the time I might have set aside to write an assignment any time during the past 3 years (thankfully no more of that, for the time being anyway).  But whilst I've been busy since I last blogged, there has also been a sub-text of what you might describe as mild homesickness.  It hits you after about 3 weeks that actually this is not a holiday, this is now 'it', and familiar patterns and routines and relationships are not going to be resumed shortly.....  Not unexpected, I guess.  Once the adrenalin stops coursing through the body at mach 15 there's a bit of a dip in the whole endorphin business.

Not helped by the curious disappearance of two of my stoles from St Philip's vestry, including my rather special and treasured ordination stole. Can my stoles really have been stolen?  And why would anyone take them?  The fact is they were there and now they are not.  No-one can explain it.  But it didn't help the way I was feeling, that's for sure.  My other beautiful green stole, made for me with such love by Rose, is now locked away in the safe!  I'm so thankful that one was in its custom-made pouch and less obvious.

Lucky for me, then, that there have been distractions. Roy and I have started Te Reo lessons with Haare Williams. That means that we're learning Maori language along with some traditions and culture.  I can now tell you my name - Ko Hera taku ingoa; where I now live - Kei Kohimarama taku kainga inaianei; where the home of my heart is - Kei Tollesbury taku kainga tuturu; and what my 'tribe' is - Ko nati ingarihi taku iwi!  How about that?  You can learn alongside me!!  Haare went at a breakneck speed leaving us rather reeling, and I found myself waking up in the middle of the night murmuring words and phrases as they surfaced and submerged during my sleep.  The course is to last 8 weeks.  I wonder if we will?

We also had our first experience of the APO - the Auckland Philharmonic Orchestra - who hit on the clever idea of inviting guests and subscribers to a taster evening, where the programme for 2012 was outlined, thematically, and the orchestra got to strut their stuff in several different genres.  They had FIVE percussionists on duty.  Great stuff. Now we just need to identify some evenings to go to the real thing.

On the church front Nyasha and I teamed up to run the show last Sunday as Michael enjoyed the rugby. That was so much fun we're doing it again this Sunday!  I get to be liturgist, Deacon and do the prayers. I've done some more home visiting (people are really hospitable with the home baking - not so good for the waist line), assisted at two communions at rest homes (one of which was a typical setting; the other, however, was like walking into a Hilton hotel!  very strange) and attended funeral planning with a husband and wife in their 80s who are both still alive and well.....

And then there's been the rugby.  It's become very obvious that if the All Blacks don't win the World Cup the nation will go into a major depression!  They are passionate about rugby.  Many say it is their religion. They certainly seem keener on worshipping the All Blacks than God. It's a bit like the football in the UK - except here there are the All Blacks and the Warriors, and they're world-class and don't keep falling over and pretending to be hurt....

Lemons and Kingfishers...

Sometimes it feels as if I've lived here for ages.  Even the new things somehow feel familiar.

Food seems to have formed a leitmotif throughout this week, mainly thanks to the number of lunches I've shared with others.  Not special food, just special people.  It begins with Nyasha, my fellow curate - seems a good way to get to know each other, so after a joint session of Mainly Music we grab an omelette at La Vista in 'the village' (as everyone calls St Heliers).  Next up, lunch with the lovely Julie at Julie's bedsit at the top of a hideously steep road, which I fail miserably to climb even with the benefit of Betsy, my black beast of a bike.  It involves lots of laughter and American chocolate chip cookies, which Julie is making for the US carnival the village is holding at the weekend.

A trip out to Waiau Pa (about an hour south of Auckland), country home of the McKinnons - Roy's  caretaker predecessor at AWWM - follows our very wet celebration of the annual Battle of Britain on Sunday at the Cenotaph, sited outside the Museum.  71 years since the B of B, 70 years since the NZ Air Training Corps was formed. I'm reminded of both Dartmouth and Royal Hospital School. Lots of young cadets get steadily, stoically soaked: Roy, recipient of the deluge from two umbrellas, gets drenched.  A trip to the dry cleaners becomes essential. Lunch includes lamb shanks, good conversation and a beautiful view of Manukau Harbour, as well as (blessedly for me) both fields and cattle, at last.

A toasted panini with my new Bishop and Roy next, a snatched 45 minutes at the museum cafe in the midst of busy diaries.  No ceremony, just relaxed chat in mufti.  Nice.  And today a scratch lunch with Julie after Women's Fellowship (talk on Sustainable Living), at my place this time en route to the local cinema at Mission Bay.  It's called the Berkeley, is up above some shops and is the sweetest (and cleanest) cinema imaginable.  We watch 'The Help'.  Excellent, pretty faithful to the book, and very moving.....

Should I mention dinner?  Just the one, with the McDowells (what's with all the Mc business?), Kohi residents who were hospitable to Roy in my earlier absence, at Mama Rosa's.  Not only really good food but also BYO at only $3 corkage a bottle (about £1.50).  And we can walk to it!  What's more Kohi does the best fish and chips I've had anywhere.  Should allow me a night off cooking once in a while.

On Thursday I finally get to see where we're going to be living from late October.  Roy holds his breath as I wander round sizing up and gauging space and light.  He's done well.  And yes, we can see Rangitoto (our nearest island neighbour) and the sea from the balcony.  Phew!  He can breathe again - and so can I.  We will make this 'home' for a while.  Good location, too, on the flat (a must for me), next to the tennis club, 400 yds from the beach, and near St Philip's.  Ready to move now....

We take delivery of Charlie on Saturday.  Definitely champagne.  Roy visits the boat show and orders an outboard.  Car - check.  Engine - check.  Berth - check.  Now all we need is the boat!

Church on Sunday and I'm both liturgist and Deacon at the 8 am.  That means 7 am at the church to set up and prepare, memorise the choreography and learn my way round the New Zealand liturgy.  No mishaps, thankfully.  Faces becoming familiar.  I've visited Colin and Eleanor midweek (or Ellen and Colinor, as Michael styled them accidentally en route).  Colin allows me to cut 2 lemons from his small lemon tree outside in the garden, then presents me with a camellia....  The McDowells bring us lemon curd and lemon liqueur, from lemons grown at their bach (pronounced 'batch', meaning beach 'hut' - anything from a small wooden dwelling to a 7-bedroom glass and marble mansion!) up country.  Palm trees.  Lemons.  Something distinctly tropical.

Two visits to the Auckland city hospital to visit parishioners, and I begin to suss floor plans and etiquette.  There's the new wing, wide corridors and low windowsills; then there's the older wing, neither, catering for recuperating 'older' people. Plus 'Starship', children's wing, as yet unvisited (by me). Zelma likes BCP (Book of Common Prayer), not that 'crazy modern' NZPB (New Zealand Prayer Book), so Michael obliges and I find myself making familiar ingrained responses whilst he concentrates on unfamiliar wording.

I thank God, daily, for his providence - for new friends and warm welcomes, beautiful scenery and constantly changing weather......and for modern communications, for skype, facebook and email that help us keep in touch with family and friends at home.

An old tussle with dehydration rears its ugly head. Strange feelings within the body.  The acquisition of a (retro china) water jug resolves the issue.  I gulp constantly until the body feels re-balanced.  Shades of Crete 1979, without the temperature.....

And so to the kingfishers.  I've seen sparrows, starlings and blackbirds here.  But how often do you see a kingfisher in the UK?  In my childhood I saw them occasionally, treasured sightings, flashes of blue in secluded watery places inland.  But kingfishers by the sea?  Here in Kohi/St Heliers I've now seen 4 - maybe the same one 4 times...  But definitely kingfishers.  They are known here as Sacred Kingfishers, protected, common (apparently), populating coastal waters where they eat small crabs and fish.  What a delight to watch them sitting guard on the lava flows that form the shoreline at low water.

The rain finally abates, and so today does the wind.  I visit the optician, only for him to confirm that it is as I suspect - I am getting older.  The glasses I have are no longer strong enough for reading and I can no longer watch TV (not that I have since we've been here, other than the rugby) and still see people's faces. I have the option of using 3 different strengths to cover all bases, or pay $900 for a pair of 'progressives'.  Three strengths it is, then.

Now to find a hairdresser...........

Lemons and Kingfishers...

Sometimes it feels as if I've lived here for ages.  Even the new things somehow feel familiar.

Food seems to have formed a leitmotif throughout this week, mainly thanks to the number of lunches I've shared with others.  Not special food, just special people.  It begins with Nyasha, my fellow curate - seems a good way to get to know each other, so after a joint session of Mainly Music we grab an omelette at La Vista in 'the village' (as everyone calls St Heliers).  Next up, lunch with the lovely Julie at Julie's bedsit at the top of a hideously steep road, which I fail miserably to climb even with the benefit of Betsy, my black beast of a bike.  It involves lots of laughter and American chocolate chip cookies, which Julie is making for the US carnival the village is holding at the weekend.

A trip out to Waiau Pa (about an hour south of Auckland), country home of the McKinnons - Roy's  caretaker predecessor at AWWM - follows our very wet celebration of the annual Battle of Britain on Sunday at the Cenotaph, sited outside the Museum.  71 years since the B of B, 70 years since the NZ Air Training Corps was formed. I'm reminded of both Dartmouth and Royal Hospital School. Lots of young cadets get steadily, stoically soaked: Roy, recipient of the deluge from two umbrellas, gets drenched.  A trip to the dry cleaners becomes essential. Lunch includes lamb shanks, good conversation and a beautiful view of Manukau Harbour, as well as (blessedly for me) both fields and cattle, at last.

A toasted panini with my new Bishop and Roy next, a snatched 45 minutes at the museum cafe in the midst of busy diaries.  No ceremony, just relaxed chat in mufti.  Nice.  And today a scratch lunch with Julie after Women's Fellowship (talk on Sustainable Living), at my place this time en route to the local cinema at Mission Bay.  It's called the Berkeley, is up above some shops and is the sweetest (and cleanest) cinema imaginable.  We watch 'The Help'.  Excellent, pretty faithful to the book, and very moving.....

Should I mention dinner?  Just the one, with the McDowells (what's with all the Mc business?), Kohi residents who were hospitable to Roy in my earlier absence, at Mama Rosa's.  Not only really good food but also BYO at only $3 corkage a bottle (about £1.50).  And we can walk to it!  What's more Kohi does the best fish and chips I've had anywhere.  Should allow me a night off cooking once in a while.

On Thursday I finally get to see where we're going to be living from late October.  Roy holds his breath as I wander round sizing up and gauging space and light.  He's done well.  And yes, we can see Rangitoto (our nearest island neighbour) and the sea from the balcony.  Phew!  He can breathe again - and so can I.  We will make this 'home' for a while.  Good location, too, on the flat (a must for me), next to the tennis club, 400 yds from the beach, and near St Philip's.  Ready to move now....

We take delivery of Charlie on Saturday.  Definitely champagne.  Roy visits the boat show and orders an outboard.  Car - check.  Engine - check.  Berth - check.  Now all we need is the boat!

Church on Sunday and I'm both liturgist and Deacon at the 8 am.  That means 7 am at the church to set up and prepare, memorise the choreography and learn my way round the New Zealand liturgy.  No mishaps, thankfully.  Faces becoming familiar.  I've visited Colin and Eleanor midweek (or Ellen and Colinor, as Michael styled them accidentally en route).  Colin allows me to cut 2 lemons from his small lemon tree outside in the garden, then presents me with a camellia....  The McDowells bring us lemon curd and lemon liqueur, from lemons grown at their bach (pronounced 'batch', meaning beach 'hut' - anything from a small wooden dwelling to a 7-bedroom glass and marble mansion!) up country.  Palm trees.  Lemons.  Something distinctly tropical.

Two visits to the Auckland city hospital to visit parishioners, and I begin to suss floor plans and etiquette.  There's the new wing, wide corridors and low windowsills; then there's the older wing, neither, catering for recuperating 'older' people. Plus 'Starship', children's wing, as yet unvisited (by me). Zelma likes BCP (Book of Common Prayer), not that 'crazy modern' NZPB (New Zealand Prayer Book), so Michael obliges and I find myself making familiar ingrained responses whilst he concentrates on unfamiliar wording.

I thank God, daily, for his providence - for new friends and warm welcomes, beautiful scenery and constantly changing weather......and for modern communications, for skype, facebook and email that help us keep in touch with family and friends at home.

An old tussle with dehydration rears its ugly head. Strange feelings within the body.  The acquisition of a (retro china) water jug resolves the issue.  I gulp constantly until the body feels re-balanced.  Shades of Crete 1979, without the temperature.....

And so to the kingfishers.  I've seen sparrows, starlings and blackbirds here.  But how often do you see a kingfisher in the UK?  In my childhood I saw them occasionally, treasured sightings, flashes of blue in secluded watery places inland.  But kingfishers by the sea?  Here in Kohi/St Heliers I've now seen 4 - maybe the same one 4 times...  But definitely kingfishers.  They are known here as Sacred Kingfishers, protected, common (apparently), populating coastal waters where they eat small crabs and fish.  What a delight to watch them sitting guard on the lava flows that form the shoreline at low water.

The rain finally abates, and so today does the wind.  I visit the optician, only for him to confirm that it is as I suspect - I am getting older.  The glasses I have are no longer strong enough for reading and I can no longer watch TV (not that I have since we've been here, other than the rugby) and still see people's faces. I have the option of using 3 different strengths to cover all bases, or pay $900 for a pair of 'progressives'.  Three strengths it is, then.

Now to find a hairdresser...........

From hongi to 'happy and you know it'.....

It was optimistic of me to think I was over the jetlag after only 4 days.  Jetlag is like childbirth - you keep thinking you've recovered, then one day you just realise you have!

It's been a week of great contrasts.  Last Wednesday evening was my first event at the museum - the opening of the new (small) Maori gallery celebrating the Maori contribution to international rugby over the last century, which is considerable.  Just in time for the World Cup.  Famous names and faces (to those in the know, not me) from Maori rugby history were lined up in the front row of guest seats opposite those of us on the museum side.  There were speeches - in Maori, no translation.  There were songs - in Maori, no songsheets.  And then there was the 'hongi'....the traditional Maori greeting where two people incline their heads and touch foreheads and noses simultaneously. Man to man that's all that happens: man to woman there's usually a kiss to the right cheek.  Sometimes there's no hongi, just the kiss.  It's a wait-and-see moment.  I hongi-ed Buck Shelford amongst others - he was Captain of the last All Blacks side that won the World Cup back in 1987 (though I was later told that he didn't actually Captain the side during the final game...).  My claim to fame for the night, anyway, and I'm sticking to it.  A jolly occasion and my first real introduction to the biculturalism of New Zealand.  Roy made a very good speech, too, with a Maori top-and-tailing.

The following morning found me up at St Philip's, on the floor, patting my head and shoulders (and various other parts of my body) and showing how happy I was, in two consecutive sessions of Mainly Music - getting down with the 0-4 yrs of St Heliers parish, eyeballing both children and parents.  They come to Mainly Music every week, so many of them that there have to be two identical sessions......but mostly they don't come to church on Sunday - yet!

Then a whistlestop introduction to 'how to Deacon during Sunday services', lots of choreography of movement and action.  Somehow it stayed in my brain enough for me to recall it all 3 days later.

Friday - who can forget the World Cup opening ceremony?  Well, we didn't see any of that bit, not live anyway.  But we did see the fireworks, from a 35' yacht anchored in the harbour.  Up close and personal.  Just the 7 of us, some bubbly, nibbles and chicken salad - and dozens of other maritime spectators, warmly wrapped up to experience the pyrotechnics from close quarters.  I'd made Anzac biscuits that morning - main ingredients coconut and rolled oats; apparently quite authentic.  Worth the culinary compromises, then.

Saturday, and a 40-minute trip up to Albany, North Shore, to test drive a Toyota Rav4.  Diesel models hard to come by but they tow 2000kg, 500kg more than the petrol versions - which is important when it comes to hills and boat/trailers.  Metallic beige, it said on the sheet.  Beige? I said. Surely not. More of a champagne colour, he quickly amended.  I can live with that.  We pick up 'Charlie' this Saturday.....

I think I'll gloss over the rugby.  I fell asleep...... England won.

Sunday, and my licensing to St Philip's.  Blue skies and crisp visibility replaced by scudding grey, gales and heavy rain.  Just in time for me to transfer my robes to the church.  A text from Jessa (Roy's EA) reads: 'it rains on auspicious occasions'.  Phew!  Amongst the 80-strong congregation are Haare Williams (Maori broadcaster and elder) and the Revd Iritana Hankins (President of the Mothers' Union) who, thanks to Roy, have come to offer me a Maori welcome to the church. Not sure St Philip's has experienced anything quite like it.  Very special.  More hongi followed by the more traditional Anglican peace.  I am now officially Deacon Assistant at St Philip's.

By Sunday afternoon it's as if I've been run over by a truck.  That night I finally sleep for 12 hours.  Monday dawns with more squally showers and strong winds.   Time for some theological reflection (though the journal still hasn't been written - perhaps this afternoon?).  A blustery walk midday yields much-needed oxygen, and a chance encounter in Eden Market Foodstore in St Heliers yields a new friend, a Californian from Sacramento named Julie, who's also just moved here and whose face and eyes shine with life and joy.  We're having lunch together this Friday.

The new bike arrives Monday evening.  Power-assisted, black, shiny, workmanlike.  It has its first outing on Tuesday morning in the wind and the rain when I battle my way to St Philip's for my first full day as curate.  Did I mention the hill?  It's steep.  Very, very steep.  Something to do with volcanoes.  Need all the bike's power and arrive head and heart pounding for morning prayer and staff meeting.  Later I meet the new (female) Archdeacon and the newish (female) head of what is still called 'Potty Training' here.  [Fellow Deacons will recognise the term. POT - Post Ordination Training.  In Chelmsford diocese it's now known as CME - Continuing Ministerial Education, and IME 4-7.  You'll have to ask someone else what the last bit means.]  She's also called Sarah.  A lot of us about, apparently.  All very positive.  I'm now signed up for the next training session in October.  It seems we meet 3 times a year, for 24 hours.  No essays, thankfully.  Enough of that, already.

On the way home we visit 94 year old Eileen, who's currently stuck at home with her foot in a boot.  It means she can't drive herself anywhere, including to church, something she chafes against.  Doesn't stop her making tea and bringing it to us on a tray, though.  Originally she came from Ilford.  Maybe that explains it.

Last night (still Tuesday) our first concert at the museum.  The fabulous nztrio, piano, cello and violin, playing a mixture of old and new.  Such energy and pizzazz (is that how you spell it?).  Julie joins us and we give her a lift back to St Heliers.

Today it's Wednesday.  I've just had coffee in the fashionable Cafe Kohi (just round the corner from the flat) with Val Gilbert, sister of the lovely Gill Crayston who forms part of a great tennis four back in UK. Great fun, with promise of more to come.   Drat - forgot to ask her about tennis...........

And still the wind blows.

The benefits of a good sleep

Isn't it amazing how different you feel after a good night's sleep?  Travelling 12000 miles to the other side of the world and ending up 11 hours ahead of where you started does strange things to your body clock.  It means that  you spend the first few days in a trance-like state where you seem quite normal on the outside but your insides are all woolly.

Having landed in Auckland, New Zealand, early last Saturday (and by early I mean 0530 local time) I am now technically at the start of Day 5. Auckland seems to have been saving up its finest weather to greet me - brilliant blue skies, the very best lighting background for photos of sea, beaches, general environs.  Temps ranging from 7-17, not bad for early Spring.

Our starter flat is homely and welcoming with a beautiful palm tree right outside the sliding front door leading to the terrace.  Last night I cooked my first New Zealand meal - chicken paprika from the Edmonds Cookery Book I was advised to buy.  'Part of New Zealand's Heritage Since 1879', it says proudly on the cover.  Anzac biscuits are a must, I'm told.  Perhaps I'll bake some to take to our hosts for Friday's boat trip to view the opening fireworks at the Rugby World Cup ceremony.....

The first four days have passed swiftly, filled with new experiences and faces:  I've explored New World (our local supermarket) and winced at the prices.  Didn't think it possible for anywhere to be more expensive than Britain....  Walked and jogged along Tamaki Drive, which connects Auckland City Centre (currently named CBD, but apparently there are plans to rename it ... The City Centre!) to the eastern suburb peninsula where we are currently living, in Kohimamara, but in 6 weeks we'll be in St Heliers, where I'm to be the new assistant Deacon.  Worshipped at the cathedral, and marvelled at 12 choir voices filling a huge space with glorious singing.  Met up with stepbrother John and his wife Norma, and enjoyed lunch at the Black Sugar grill in Kohi (who have adopted Japan for the World Cup, at the request of Auckland City Council: St Heliers has been asked to adopt the USA and have taken the task to heart, with decorative bunting flying outside all the shops).  Spent a day at Auckland Musuem, meeting the people now working with Roy, and absorbing the atmosphere in this most imposing of buildings.  And had my first official meeting with my new training incumbent, Michael, to discuss my new role in St Philip's church.  He's young, can-do, brisk and friendly - and determined to get me doing things solo at the earliest opportunity, apparently.  Suits me!

And all this in a state of gentle jetlag.

But today's the day I feel human again, I think.  Must get to grips with rugby order of play so I don't seem a complete dunderhead in forthcoming conversations.....
More anon.