Labouring

Labouring

In endeavours to obtain a Code Compliance Certificate for my house, men spent time in January under my deck reshaping the ground and applying hard fill to comply with the requirements of the Building Consent. It was a  week of those 28 degree days, full sun, and not a lot of breeze. All I could do was supply them with water and a few Coke Zeros, although they looked like a hit of sugar might not have been a bad thing with the heat and exertion.

I felt slightly guilty asking that the soil removed was placed some distance away near my burn pile. But I was paying by the hour I told myself as I supplied more fluids!

During that same week I had some students via Student Job Search (SJS), clearing grass and weeds and further developing my small bush walk. When I purchased the site where I recently built I hadn’t realised that an area of bush, north of what appeared to be the boundary fence, was in fact part of the property. It was overgrown with bramble, but on investigation I could see that it contained a number of choice natives – flax, cabbage, Nikau, Totara, along with Manuka and Coprosma. 

I had an extended break over summer – refresh leave which was once called a sabbatical – most of which I spent at my rural property. A notebook I keep of activity on the property lists 25 mini projects under the heading “Summer 23-24 – SJS Tasks” including estimated and actual time involved. Learning: most things took two to three times as long as estimated. For example “1. Clear around Septic Tank” the estimate was two people for 2 hours. Actual time two people, 8 hours.  I got stuck in too, both before the students started, during, and after. The during bit was the best. Energetic young men, mostly half my age, who seemed to be able to just keep on going forever, making progress that I could only dream of on my own. Keeping time records of projects was very instructive for future maintenance. It also brought home some home truths. How did I take six hours to lay five railway sleepers to create a small path?! Amateur with a spirit level.

Back in 2020 when I had portion of my right quadricep cut out I was told I wouldn’t ever walk up the local Maunga without assistance. That was proven to be incorrect, but I haven’t felt the same strength – nothing in particular – just not as strong as I once was.

Labouring helped a lot. It hurt, but it hurt less as the days and weeks went on and after a while I realised I was feeling stronger again. More confident to lift, move, dig. With that brings freedom of choice and confidence that a larger rural property is manageable without having to pay for everything to be done.

Building and retaining muscle is incredibly important as we get older and in world where mental resilience and fitness is emphasised it’s been a big learning for me. A true sabbatical and if you need a tree planted, I could be your guy!

The reward of having my own native walk has been big. I find myself in there all the time – transplanting baby Totara, weeding by hand, clipping to keep the path clear and just really enjoying my very own forest walk.

It’s a year ago today that a state of emergency was declared for Cyclone Gabrielle. I wasn’t unscathed but relatively speaking got off lightly. As I type I can see a large Manuka tree in my bush, that was cut off at about the 8 metre mark in the storms.

Get Strong.

Stephen

Notes:

  • There are over 90 species of Coprosma with over 50 found in New Zealand. 
  • I lost some big Manuka trees in Cyclone Gabrielle which finally got removed and converted into firewood, and a batch of several dozen self-seeded baby trees have taken their place.
  • The walk is part of a planned work around my 4ha and my big plan is to extend the walk to neighbouring properties if I can
  • The 25 projects aren’t all done yet, but there’s others too, some I have managed on my own
  • I’ve got more to say about the students another day too – they were amazing

A year in the country (sort of)

A year in the country (sort of)

A year ago last week “Practical Completion” of my new build allowed me to insure my new home in the country and move in. It was the day of Mum and Dad’s 70th wedding anniversary so a big day all around. Quite a few things didn’t work – automation is a great thing until it’s not – but it was (and still is) sparkly and the views are really quite special. Lots of green, some sea, more green, farms, some livestock, and green. Oh, and gorgeous sunsets.

There seems to be two types of people in the country where I am – locals, who wave like I’m their best friend – and everyone wants to help – they really do – but most of the people waving are strangers who wave when I’m out walking. Then there’s those passing through to the beach, generally in a big rush to get there very quickly and then relax quickly I assume.

I didn’t really realise but building on the top of hill with a valley below has features in the country you might not necessarily think of. Or maybe I was a bit naive. Everyone can see you! Well not me personally or close up (I hope), but the house, what I’m doing on the land, and whether I have visitors. Walking and looking back up at my house it sticks out a lot more than when I’m looking out. And it’s not a massive house by any measure, but noticable.

“They’re watching what you’re doing Stephen” my local friend and farming advisor Philip tells me. “Watching what?“, “Well they like what you’re doing, making that land something, the planting, the silage and that sort of thing“. I hope they like it! Being a silage farmer isn’t exactly the sort of earning you might give up your day job for. More like getting paid (eventually) an amount that is similar to what you might pay to mow the grass.

As best as I can tell the last building to inhabit my site was a school in the 1940s, so I guess it’s something new. Building a home and making it just right seems to be a forever thing. Firstly, getting beyond “Practical Completion” to the elusive Code of Compliance Certificate is a topic for another day otherwise this blog might turn into something slightly less friendly! In the country on a little bit of land – yes everyone told me – it’s never done. Not like a satisfying few hours in a city house where the garden can be brought into shape, with time to wash the car and hose the driveway for good measure on a Sunday afternoon. Nope, it’s a journey.

And I’ve had to get my head around not every corner is always as I want it – in fact no corner is really. But I’ve got a massive list of mini and major projects and I just get at them when I can – one step at a time, and I can see a difference. I remember attending a session at Cornwall Park on their 100 year plan once and the vision that the designers have is awesome. I’m not that grand by any means but having a master plan has meant progress is actually not too bad, and helps me to relax about the bits that still need attention, or won’t get done until 2025 say.

The country – you can see further, and you need to think further too.

Stephen

Flying

Flying

The first flight I recall going on was Christchurch to Auckland, visiting Grandma with Mum when I was about 4. I’m not sure why I got to go but I did, and it wasn’t the only time I flew to Auckland just with Mum. I remember there being a Viscount aeroplane and based on Wikipedia it must have been a Vickers Viscount 807, with 32 seats, although it felt quite large to me! Later it was the Boeing 737 on that route and then the Airbus A320 and occasionally A321. Grandma had a clock that I’ve recently had restored and written about again (I am sure my psychotherapist will have a field day with all of this). Anyway, back to flying.

I went for a period of anxiety with flying and really didn’t enjoy it at all, but out the other side some years ago it’s that easy flow feeling at the airport, on the plane and all bits in-between. Just don’t be late and don’t stress on delays or other first world inconveniences.

A Vickers Viscount 807 in Wellington 1971 – photo courtesy of Wikipedia

We’re very fortunate in this country with air services from one end to the other and for me nothing more that two hours flying for where I need to be. Of course, there’s more time involved – don’t be late for security because odds are it will be busy, be prepared for a delay every few flights – we live in a country of wild weather and anything can happen. But I try and be prepared – chargers, headphones, and the absolute least luggage possible. Ideally, only a carry on smallest type of bag if at all possible. And last but not least – I’m writing this to convince myself – leave the food and drinks. It’s awful how much you can consume between meals during the flying routine. If I feel I need to eat then I try and follow the nutrition advice to try and eat up to 30 different plant types a week – hard to do that with stew, rice and sandwiches on tap at the lounge, but easy with salad and fruit. I try anyway!

If you have something you want to do, that gives you a level of contentment – like for me writing a blog on here, but don’t have time, headspace or the energy after a long day – the flying journey can be ideal. If I eat and tinker with my phone it’s ok, just, but doing something meaningful in amongst the haze of the flying ritual is enormously beneficial. Looking around the airport lounge in Christchurch right now, the majority of people are on phones or screens (like me!), but some are reading books, catching up with calls to friends. Bringing meaning to a moment on the move.

Waiting to board the A320 at Auckland Domestic

I recently watched the new David Attenborough-narrated TV series Our Planet II. It’s got the usual lion hunting wildebeest (who knew it wasn’t spelt “beast?”), but the main theme is about movement. Sharks who swim thousands of kilometres to feed on Albatros chicks who crash land on their first flight. The Albatros that do make it don’t come back to land for five years. And Wildebeest that form the largest herd in the world and move thousands of kilometres through Africa in a constant search for food and water. Closer to home not far from my Auckland house there’s the Muriwai Gannet colony where chicks are hatched before migrating 2000 kilometres to Australia returning two to six years later to lay their eggs.

My flying seems more mundane and somewhat less existential than for the animals in the wild. But humans have always embraced movement, which I find a little addictive, and somehow energy and purpose giving if I follow my own guidance on the routines.

Stephen

Grandma’s Clock (Part 3) (or Give Yourself Time!)

Grandma’s Clock (Part 3) (or Give Yourself Time!)

Back in the day while staying at Grandma’s the clock was ever present, chiming every fifteen minutes and the announcing the hour with chimes on the hour. It seemed like Grandma never heard it – she slept through it all night while we seemed to be restless and eventually settled when Dad shoved a handkerchief in the mechanics to disrupt the timing mechanism.

I don’t remember exactly how I came to be the guardian of the clock, but it was put under the house in Kingsland in 1990 after Grandma died. It wasn’t working. It took ten years until I had the mechanism overhauled and assumed a pride of place in several houses. It stopped working again after several years and the verdict was “a complete overhaul” which I had completed.

When I recently moved, I forgot to take the weight out that you must do when moving a clock like this and it stopped working. So it was out to a watch and clock repairer in New Lynn for an overhaul. They agreed to also restore the wooden casing and the gold lettering and face. “Could be three months” I was warned. No problem I said. It was a year actually – the watchmaker who was to do the work sadly died – “quite inconvenient” I was told – but when I collected it recently it was an unexpected moment of joy. My very own “The Repair Shop” moment!

The watchmaker was as proud as I was satisfied

It’s got pride of place in the landing at my home and keeps almost perfect time. Living in a new modernist style home the chimes transport me to another place and time. A place of warmth, care, holiday excitement and the anticipation of what each day might hold – sometimes the amazing and quite new St Lukes Mall with its beads of water cascading down invisible plastic threads from ceiling to ground, Waiwera Hot Pools, Stanmore Bay for swimming, and the Auckland Zoo.

The original instruction booklet

I don’t really enjoy the burden of physical objects that might fit the category of “take if the house is burning down”, but I definitely have one now. Well two actually, but that’s for another day. For now, finally, it’s back to its former glory, functional, and permanently home. A contented feeling.

Stephen

The style of the Clock is known as a Striking Mantel Clock. It is “The Enfield Full Quarter Westminster Chime” and the instructions which I still have record “Give yourself Time!“. It appears to have been popular in the 1940s and 1950s when it is thought that Grandma and Grandad purchased the unit. You can purchase a good second-hand one for $600 in New Zealand, but if you want to restore one be prepared for a multiple of that figure! I am hopeful that one of my sons will one day take guardianship of it for another generation of memories. The Westminster Chimes come from Big Ben’s chimes in London.