November 11th 1982

posted in: Innocents Abroad | 0
Haruru Falls

Remembrance Day, as was.  My own sentiments veer wildly pro and anti such a festival, mainly because I can’t decide whether I’m pro or anti war.  However, this is irrelevant to our current life in New Zealand.  I still can’t really grasp that fact – us being in New Zealand, I mean.  But we are, so physical certainty will have to weigh over philosophical speculation.

My physical occupation this morning was cleaning out the cobwebs from the ablutions block, ie the bogs + kitchen.  Far less physically harrowing than yesterday’s exercise had been, but awkward enough.  I used to enjoy my cleaning job at Sunblest back in student days, + could do so again.  Curiously, I don’t find the task of cleaning sinks + toilets demeaning.  While I did cleaning AD’s flat.  And vacuuming the floor of the Alma.  The job took all morning tho’, but I had the satisfaction of feeling quite satisfied with what I’d accomplished.

In the afternoon, there  was an unexpected bonus.  We were sitting down by the pool in the sunshine, when Sue asked us to look after the camp for an hour while she + Wayne went shopping.  We were more than willing to agree, since we are busy taking every opportunity to make ourselves indispensable.  They were in fact away for 2 hours, but insisted on paying us for it (one of us, anyway) + we really hadn’t done anything: just answered the phone, + spoke to a couple of people who’d driven in.  For the rest of the time, we’d swum + played ??? tennis – I don’t know it’s real name.

At the Cascade in the evening, I was kept pretty busy for the first time, with 2 tour parties in.  The time went by far quicker.  The only bad thing was that as both groups had a barbecue, there was no food for me.  I had to console myself with bread + butter + cocoa, when we returned home.

Couple of notes of explanation – Sunblest was a huge bakery, churning out packed, sliced bread of the pappiest variety, for whom I worked as a cleaner one summer. As a team, we woud work hard all morning, go the the pub at lunchtime for a couple of pints, and theh be instructed to hide in the afternoon.

And AD is Adam Darius, a mine artist. I attended his Mime School in the 70s, and was awarded a “scholarship”, a reduction in fees in exchange doe cleaning his flat. Weird bloke, weird flat, weird arrangement.

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