Indelible Memories

There are some occasions that you know you will never forget - such as our evening last night at Auckland's Euro Bar and Restaurant. The synchronicity of great friends, amazing food and some pretty fine wines was enhanced by our position at the chef's table, where we were cooked for and waited on by our own personal staff. Their ability to interact when appropriate but allow us to totally enjoy ourselves, the food and the company, was most appreciated. Yes, we paid for it, but because it was such a special night, I am sure the pain in my wallet will fade long before the lingering memories on my palate, and the warmth in my heart.

You can take the girl out of the farm but...

... it would seem you can't take the farm out of the girl.

Warning - one of these photos may turn the stomach of non-farmish folk!


Yesterday, as part of my quest to capture photos for an MPS club competition, I took myself out to Ambury Regional Park to see if the afternoon light was any good on the west coast.
The park features a farm, and it's the time of year for lambing. Visitors are allowed to meander through the paddocks en route to the coastal walkway, so long as the mums and bubs are given a wide berth.
It was like being transported back 35 years, though the paddock was flat as opposed to very hilly, and I was on foot, not horseback. If I am correct, the sheep were perendales, just like ours were, and the lambs looked just like the hundreds I'd seen and handled growing up. I actually delighted in watching them feed (especially through my zoom lens) and comedically bounce on all fours as they do.

 

I noticed a ewe lying down some distance away and took a closer - but still distant - look to make sure she was OK. I suspected she was giving birth and I did not want to disturb that process.
However as I skirted around her I noticed a very still lamb and a distressed Mum.

As I knelt down to the lamb, my recollections of how my Dad would encourage life into a struggling newborn kicked in. Check for mucus over the mouth, some 'slaps' on the chest' etc... I stopped short of mouth to mouth (not that my Dad would have done this either!) as the body was almost cold and by then I know she'd already lost her struggle. Despite having seen this sort of thing so many times growing up, I was really, really sad... I could hear myself saying "Wake up, baby! Wake up, baby!"... but it didn't help.
Now, if I'd had my Dad's lambing belt, crook and a good turn of speed, maybe I'd have 'stolen' one of the only set of twins I spied, skinned the dead baby, made some slits for the legs and heads, and dressed the 'twin' in the newly fashioned jacket so he smelled like the grieving Mum's baby and she'd accept him as her own.
Instead on my return to the carpark, I hunted down a park ranger and told her the sad news instead.
The collateral damage of all this was, in my efforts to save a lambie life, I did disturb the birthing Mum. who ran off with her half delivered baby hanging out her bum - which is the photo I warned about. Also something I have seen several times before, and in mast cases, they do lie down again and deliver - though last seen this ewe was grazing!

 

Cooler Than Michael Jackson

Back in the early 1990s this was some accolade. Probably still rings true today!

As a teacher, you often receive lovely little notes from certain students in your class - they are always heartwarming and some touch you more than others, for a range of reasons. Mainly they attest to the fact that you are pretty special to that person, and getting a genuine one really does go a long way to make a teacher's day. Having not had a class to call my own for some years now due to my management role, the relationships formed that lead to these sorts of childish (in the nicest sense) appreciation, don't occur as easily. It's the aspect of classroom teaching I miss the most. (The relationships, not the notes!)

Which is why when I stumbled across this wee gem in one of my boxes of 'Memorabilia' some months ago, I took a snap of it with my phone. I found the photo again yesterday when I updated phones, and was going through and deleting pics.

It was written by a special student (yes, yes, they are all special) at the end of her Std 2 (Year 4) year, at a time when I was changing schools. So working back, it would have been 1993 to be specific.
If you can't quite make it out the writing, here's what it says...

Dear Miss Fothergill
It's so sad that you're moving but as Mum said "She's young and so that means she has to move around to get to know other people". I guess she's right. In my old school, my teacher Ms Honeyfield was teaching the same people the next year. I wish it was the same.
Any was (sic) thanks a whole heap for teaching me this year. It's been great! I have to go now, because Mum is telling me to come and have your dinner young girl!
Bye for now.
Lots of love and kisses
from ...

I shall keep the name anonymous, as this person and I have made a reconnect as grown-ups (good old Facebook), and I don't want to 'out' and embarrass her. But if she reads this, it may just be a reminder that the kids are special to us teachers too.

Mrs Benbow's Bootees

I don't actually remember meeting Mrs Benbow, but I have knitted her bootees several times. I cannot recall my mother's connection with her, but I do know that this is where the pattern for these bootees came from. (Hopefully Mum will comment and fill us in)
My mother has always loved this pattern, as have I, because the bootees are square-toed and 'boot-like'. I was fortunate that Mum shared it with me, as she kept it safely as her own special pattern for years. I wonder if Mrs Benbow was as protective of it!
I remember copying it long-hand from our 'Family Book' many moons ago, and am amazed that I still have it recorded on the same writing paper, held together with a sewing-up needle. I must type it up for posterity, and perhaps to share... but only with Mum's permission!
This time the bootees are for my hairdresser, who will colour and trim my locks for the final time tomorrow before taking time out to welcome a much wanted baby boy in a few weeks. Not only do these bootees provide a means of thanking her for trussing my locks so well, but also helps to tick another goal off my 50 List - Knit a garment for someone's child.
It is probably a good thing that hand-knitted jerseys are a fashion statement of the past as my shoulder tends to seize when I knit these days... So a garment for a little person was a sensible goal to encourage me to get the needles out again.
Hmmm, recalling the hand-knitted jerseys I can feel another blog post brewing... It could be ugly!
But not these bootees. They are just a bit cute.

Buried Treasures

I am, by nature, a hoarder of things that hold significant memories for me. Often they are small things that sit hidden away in a shoe box or similar, lying there for no other purpose than for me to discover them when I am looking for something else or, as happened most recently, when I am having a clean out. Each time I have a said clean out, the buried treasures are whittled down, yet there are some things that I simply cannot part with. Every time I see them they evoke such strong memories, and I like to revisit them.
One such treasure is a letter from Roald Dahl, the famous children's author who died in 1990. His book "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" was the first novel I ever read aloud to a class - my first class - Room 16/Standard 4, Otumoetai Primary, 1986. So began a love affair with his books for this class, which we all wrote to him about.
I remember feeling so special when we received a letter back from him! He had called me "Gorgeous Lynn", which certainly made the kids laugh. The mis-spelling of the school's name as "Otumaebi" has stuck in my vernacular, and from time to time I still refer to my first school as "Otumaebi".
But the poem itself gave me the biggest thrill, and while it is great to see it in print again, it's a poem I can recite at any time.

The letter is dated 3rd November 1986, and goes like this...


Hello gorgeous Lynn and all the clever children at Otumaebi Primary School. Thank you so much for sending me your lovely letters.

Dear children, far across the sea,

How good of you to write to me.

I love to read the things you say

When you are miles and miles away. 

Young people, and I think I'm right,

Are nicer when they're out of sight.

Well, didn't we all think we were just so special to receive a personalized poem from our favourite, famous author. It wasn't until some time later that another teacher friend told me her class had also written to Mr Dahl - and received the same poem back! My bubble was well and truly burst. Not sure if she was called gorgeous though...

Remembering and Reflecting

I break from my studies to remember that never-to-be-forgotten moment in New Zealand's history. 12.51p.m. 22 February 2011. They say we always remember where we were and what we were doing in times of such significance. I first heard that Another Big One had hit Christchurch from my Principal, whose husband always has his finger on the pulse, and with family in Christchurch, quickly found out about this unfolding disaster.
We were about to leave for a conference in Rotorua, and listened to the radio on the way down. That's when we found out there had been deaths. This was shocking to hear after we had all patted ourselves on the back about how lucky it had been that no one had died in the earlier September quake.
It was not until we arrived at our accommodation and could see on TV the impossible devastation that had landed on Christchurch, that reality set in. I must admit to bursting in to uncontrollable tears. If this was unbelievable for me, how could it possibly be for those in the thick of it?
Since that time most New Zealanders have done what they can to support the people of Christchurch. After all, they lost so much, not just in terms of lives, but livelihoods and normal life.
As I watched the memorial coverage on TV, I became aware of one aspect I had not considered before today. I did not know that statistically, almost half of the victims of the Christchurch Earthquake were non-New Zealanders.
So today I reflect on how life has changed for their families too, and hope they have been afforded the same support that has wrapped around all New Zealanders affected.
This screen shot comes from the New Zealand Herald today. If you click here you can find the graphic, where each picture links to a small bio to remember each person who lost their lives as a result of this disaster, New Zealanders and not.

Progress

I am trying to make inroads into my 50 list. Some I already see are not going to happen. I am contemplating surreptitiously replacing these with things more achievable - I am sure no one but me will notice!
Today I made progress towards a photographic goal - doubling the number of photos on my Hall Wall. I began this project a year ago, not knowing how far I would go with it. This morning there were 18 photos up, tonight, 28. The photos are there purely for my own pleasure, and I reflect on the photos I have chosen quite often. There are certainly some I would choose not to put up there were I starting from scratch now, but they are all a reminder of my journey as an amateur photographer and I am grateful for that.



It has taken time some to get the most recent up, mainly because I had some printing issues... my advice is not to go to places like Harvey Norman when they have an offer on... I went back for 3 reprints as my prints were definitely 'green' in hue. Not what I wanted for my Hall Wall. One of the most affected photos is STILL not on the wall - I should always remember that I munt the first one I try to put on a block... this time it was my favourite pic of Miss Karissa - so that has to get done AGAIN!

Some of the new blocks before they went up

Speaking of having to go back for a 3rd time reminds me of another thing I am progressing towards on my 50 List - being more house-proud. This is not easy to achieve when the house you live in was built on the cheap, and you have 3 long haired inside dogs. Keeping the already grotty carpet clean is a perpetual battle.
I thought I had hit on a solution to avoiding vacuuming every day, when I decided to purchase an old-timey carpet sweeper. We had an orange one when we were kids, and I recall it being quite efficient for those in between times. So in January I got myself one. I loved it - perfect for brushing up the dog hair as many times a day as I liked. Until one of the small rollers fell out when I was cleaning it. So, I got it replaced. Replacement's central roller fell out on the first use! So today I have replaced it again.
A third item I am progressing towards is my reading goal. To 'make it' I must read a book per month. Having succeeded with "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo", I am now on to "The girl who Played with Fire". Part of succeeding here is banishing myself from playing games on the iPhone when in bed. Have to change habits to make progress sometimes!

Charming Chocolat

An unintentional second piece very familiar to yesterday's... partly because I had told myself I did not have to blog daily this year yet I am having withdrawal symptoms, and partly because if I wrote about yesterday's old movie friend, how could I not write about today's?
In a sea of emptiness that is summer TV, Vibe is coming through like a lifebuoy to rescue me from drowning in television boredom these holidays. As well as Four Weddings, Glee marathons provided background company throughout the weekend as I pottered about.
And tonight, another eternal favourite movie - Chocolat - appeared. I love the whimsy of the story, the characters, and especially Juliette Binoche's portrayal of Vianne. Not a movie I can necessarily quote from, but it is all so wonderfully familiar that even after many, many views I have to watch it till the South wind blows Johnny Depp back at the end...

A Perennial Favourite

A rainy New Year's Eve Day yesterday saw me planted in front of the TV, channel surfing. I don't often watch movies at home, despite having SKY movies, but there are some old favourites that, regardless of how often they are on, how old they are and how cheesy they now seem, I just have to watch.
Four Weddings and a Funeral is one such movie for me, and there it was on Vibe. The first of Hugh Grant's 'foppish' roles (I must admit to semi-watching Notting Hill straight afterwards, and it seemed like the same character had transitioned from Four Weddings straight into this movie), and before his indiscretion with Ms Divine Brown...

But I digress. The movie itself is pretty shallow, but full of classic scenes which are so familiar and make me giggle every time... like the What's bonking? scene... (RIP Scarlett - actress Charlotte Coleman died in the early 2000s of an asthma attack - she was my favourite!)
Similary there are others that make me cringe  (cringiest line at 1:01 on this clip!) every time I hear them.
There is also that one incredibly poignant moment which makes you forget you are actually watching a comedy. (Love the spelling mistake in this clip's title!)

Also this movie, like many movies and much music, reminds me of a 'time' in life. The end of an era really. It's release, and that of the theme song which is also an eternal favourite, coincided with the departure of two very good friends for their OEs that year. I stayed behind. A little older than them both (past the magic 28)  and without any UK citizenship claims, I probably put it in the too hard basket, still very much attached to my comfort zone. I think my active social life started to wane from that time on! Could have had something to do with turning 30 about that time as well... I think that not travelling at time in my life may be one thing I truly regret. Oh well, there's always the future!

Raining cats and... frogs?

Any of my Auckland readers will identify with this post; it has been raining pretty much for a week here, and the persistence is becoming wearisome.
But even amidst it all, I was gleefully surprised to spot this green friend sidling his way up the outside of my ranch-slider door last night. I cannot recall when last I saw a frog!
As a child I would spend hour upon hour in the swampy marsh behind our house, stalking and catching frogs. This was not an easy thing to do, and there was quite an art to it. Frogs are very good at spotting you coming, and seeing as I did my catching by hand as opposed to net, I had to be crafty and quick.
I don't remember exactly what I did with them after  had caught them, bit I do recall getting about 4 in a day was a good result.
We wold also often find them (actually, usually tadpoles not frogs) in the water troughs around the farm. Tadpoles were commonplace in classrooms, (for me as a student and as a teacher) as we watched the metamorphosis then tried to catch and transfer the frogs back to a safe environment once they became 'frogs'.
I have no idea where this dude would have come from, as in where his natural habitat is here in Wattle Downs - no freshwater swamps or water troughs here. Maybe someone has a pond he escaped from. But as far as getting into my fully fenced property, maybe instead of raining cats and dogs it has been raining pretty green frogs. He was nowhere to be seen this morning though.

PS My dogs were interested, though not perhaps as transfixed as I would have imagined.

Graduation

Three of our staff celebrated their graduation as fully-fledged teachers tonight - the 4th in the photo having achieved her full registration earlier on this year. It's a proud moment not only for them, but also for those of us who have had a hand in their journeys, as tutor teachers.

Many moons have passed since I achieved what was then called my 'certification'. The bouquet here in the photo I recall being roses from my Mum's garden - before she had a gazillion roses even. I have never had the heart to throw out that lilac jumper, which still lurks in the back of a drawer somewhere...

And in this photo below is my first ever beginning teacher for whom I was tutor teacher. She'll probably want to kill me a little bit. These days she is my boss. :)

Ahhhhh Nostalgia #3

The T Coll Halls of Residence, D Block.

What to I recall about living in the Halls....?
A lot of innocent fun, as the following list describes:

• The Dining Hall - cockroaches (recurring theme?), daily custard (green custard the St Pats day that someone added food colouring to the breakfast milk...), food fights
• April Fools' Day  - gladwrap on the toilet bowls and the doorknobs tied together from the outside.
• April Fools' Day - Jamie Barr's Bambina physically lifted to the middle of the field outside this block, completely wrapped in loo paper
• Rooms getting 'done-over' - for me this was returning home to find everything upside down.
• A beer fridge called Alex. Once we hid all of Alex's owner's undies in the little freezer bit... he did not find them for days.
• A resident called Wayne King. We thought that was hilarious. Actually I think it was Ann King.
• The first ever 'video game' I ever saw - space invaders - in the TV room. 20c a go.
• An infamous room. D4. I was D44. I did  not appreciate suggestions that the same antics went on on my room. I was a good girl. 
• Watching 'Roots' the mini series on Rona's little TV. Mini series were a new phenomenon.
• Mean girls (not me) wafting incense sticks under the door of a poor girl who suffered from B.O.
• Being one of the first 'bays' to get an automatic washing machine - as opposed to a wringer! And it was 1982.... we'd had an auto one for eons at home.

Good times. So long ago but feels like not-so-long-ago (not quite yesterday tho!)

Ahhhh, Nostalgia... #2

As we often do when we re-visit places of our past, I did some drive-bys of my old student flats when I was in Hamilton yesterday.
I smiled as I drove past each street sign, the names of each bringing some sort of recognition and frequently, vivid recollections.

First a jaunt down to 6 Coates St. The photo is not much - I did not get our of the car. The 1983 version is much better, and the garden was much tidier back then too...

1983

2011

My memories of this place include...

• Gatecrashing my brother's stag party. He lived at number 7. I'll bet he was impressed - not. He did move out shortly afterwards. (He got married...)
• An 'interesting' housewarming present, which disappeared that same night - someone must have needed it more than we did
• Sharing a bedroom with Johanne
• The bright red kitchen. BRIGHT. RED. 
• The house being sold when we had only been in it a couple of months, a muck up with the notice, and us all going to live with the real-estate agent's mother for 3 weeks lol

I then rounded the corner to 41 Cook St, where I had lived for 3 years. And ... egads, it was no longer there! Instead, it had morphed into a ruddy great apartment block!

Once was 41 Cook St

But I will always remember....

• Frequent calls to the police for prowlers. Easy pickings - the curtains had been cut down in my bedroom!
• My 19th? 20th? birthday party... live band... stolen amp... going to court (as a witness!)
• Watching the Young Ones
• Artwork from teaching sections over all the walls
• Re-enacting the opening scene from Flashdance in the rain
• Having the residents from my workplace next door (red roof far left in the photo) -  a rest home for alzheimers patients - over for cups of tea
• Parties like this one - Lords and Ladies...

Next stop - the first home away from home I ever had... the T Coll Halls of Residence... but will save that one for tomorrow!

I wonder if they still do the Chunder Mile?

This is the first of three posts I will make about the trip back to my old student stomping ground when I returned today to suss out my Masters enrolment and supervision.

Campus.
The trees have grown. They have cafes. The lake looks cleaner.
These were the three most obvious differences I noticed .
It all looked very civilized. But it is November. I wonder, come March, if they'll be doing the Chunder Mile... (eat a cold pie, scull a jug, run a lap of the lake, eat a cold pie, scull a jug, run a lap of the lake... repeat until a 'mile' has been run. Stop to chunder as necessary - the ducks always seemed to like it...)

Photo courtesy of iPhone, Post-processing - Camera+

The view from Centre Stage

Today I spent the day slightly down country and slightly rural, at Waiuku Primary. Though it is considerably bigger and considerably more urban than the school in which I spent my primary school days, there was something about it that evoked memories of my childhood.
It was the ability to see beyond. Most city schools look out on more buildings, but if you stand 'Centre Stage' at Waiuku Primary, you look out across the land to the hills beyond. I wonder if the pupils appreciate this expansive outlook.

I for one spent my all my primary school years at a small four teacher school, Otamarakau School. It wasn't until I returned for a reunion as an adult that I realised that I had been educated in a slice of paradise; the two main classrooms and front field looked out over grassland to where the Pacific Ocean meets the shores of the Bay of Plenty. The view was stunning, and these days the pupils are obviously made to be cognizant of that as their 'motto' is 'A country school with a view to the future'.
Just a general reminder to myself and others not to take for granted the amazing things that are often seen on a daily basis.

A Bit of Drama

It was a slice of old style traditional small theatre goodness tonight, watching the Mairangi Players interpretation of the Wind in the Willows.
Of course my motivation for being there was to support and celebrate the performance of my nine year old niece Megan as the 'portly otter'; somewhat of an oxymoron considering there's not much to her.
Some would say that there's a trend within some of the Fothergills which draws them to seek the limelight, or to portray an alter-ego. There have certainly been a few of us who have taken the opportunity to tread the boards over time.
While it's been quite a wee while since I have taken to the stage, it was somewhat reminiscent for me to watch this play. I do recall putting it on at Teacher's College, though it was titled "Toad of Toad Hall". I had a small, and I thought pivotal role; that of the Washerwoman who gives up her clothes to help Toad escape from prison.
Turns out the role was not so pivotal... whilst Toad did escape masquerading as a washerwoman, (see picture two) the Washerwoman herself was not portrayed in this version...
Still it as great to relive the memories, and to see Megan making new ones for herself and us. May there be many Fothergill performances to come.

What's my favourite programme?

Well the question that actually prompted this photo was 'Who's your favourite Musical Character?' I was trying to find some inspiration for choosing someone to dress up as for my niece's 21st this coming weekend.
The upside to being a hoarder is the walk down memory lane. I have almost all the programmes from shows, exhibitions, sports events etc that I have attended and love the occasional revisit. Today I sat in the spare room upstairs and sifted through them for half an hour before deciding to make them the topic of today's photo and post.
Anyway, anyone who knows me well will know I am not a big fan of dressing up - unless it is able to be flattering... not a great chance of that at the moment...
I have a couple of ideas, but will definitely need help from a costume hire place. Watch this space...