Some nice vistas (I hope)

What a crazy start to Wimbledon with Federer, Nadal, Sharapova and several other big names all out in the first round and a half. There have also been a record number of retirements (seven last night); the All England Club made a statement defending the preparation of their courts. Maybe the players, rather than the courts, are underprepared - the grass-court season is so short. In 2015 the gap between Roland-Garros and Wimbledon will be extended to three weeks (I've always thought the biggest thing that needs changing in world tennis is the calendar; that's a good start). I was reading an old Sports Illustrated article from 1975 advocating sweeping changes to the game. It could almost have been written today. I'm glad only a few of the suggested changes have actually come to fruition in the last 38 years. The sit-down at the end of a set (and not after the first game of a set) was definitely a positive change that came in around the turn of the century.

Now that Mum has some spare time, she watches a helluva lot of sport on telly, especially netball and basketball. Dad despairs at the amount of netball she watches - often back-to-back games - and I can see where he's coming from. I mean the game itself can be watchable but it's the competition that seems so contrived. So what if the Swing are thrashing the Sting. Dad wishes she made better use of her brain. When I was about eight she attended night classes in maths. She taught me some of what she learnt - for ages I thought "integer" rhymed with "beggar".

Dad has started getting bad headaches again. They're not quite the debilitating migraines he had for so long, but they're bad nonetheless. And they follow the same weekly cycle, starting on Wednesday, worsening on Thursday, peaking on Friday and tailing off over the weekend. If he starts getting full-blown migraines again, life could soon become intolerable for him, not just because of the pain but also Mum's total lack of sympathy. Many times Dad would be writhing around in bed in agony, and Mum would accuse him of "playing up" as if he were a disobedient child. She wouldn't pop in every now and then to see how he was. Nothing like that. And heaven help Dad if they were supposed to go out somewhere. All hell would break loose. I love Mum dearly but her attitude to Dad's headaches (or any other illness he might have) is something I can't forgive.

I helped Dad with his computer issues, or tried to (I'm no expert). Their PC is painfully slow. On several occasions Dad mentioned taking a hammer to it. Of course they've got bloody Vista, and as we all know, Vista means death.

Yesterday's flight from Timaru was a very pleasant one, although being on the sea side of the plane I missed what would have been a great view of the snow-covered mountains. As always the whole experience of flying from Timaru was almost totally stress-free.

A view of the mountains outside my parents' house in Geraldine yesterday. You could see the wind blowing the snow off.

This was on the way to the airport.

At Timaru airport yesterday. My brother's skydiving operation uses the same model of aircraft.

Shortly after take-off yesterday, from inside the 19-seater plane.

After a really nice time away (I needed the break) It was back to work for me today. I missed a lot of excitement with last Thursday night's storm: there was talk of windows blown out and screaming kids. The coast took a real battering.

Until I started talking to customers, I didn't realise how tight money is for so many people. For so many customers it's absolutely vital that we deduct premiums on the right day or else the money won't be there. We're often talking twenty or thirty dollars. Being paid fortnightly instead of monthly can make a huge difference. For me it wouldn't make a lot of difference whether I was paid quarterly or hourly. I don't earn much and I have a mortgage so why are things so different for me? The main reason is simply that I only have to provide for one person, not four or more. I did once earn considerably more (if not big bucks) and that has helped my financial position. I can also thank my parents who have always been careful with money; their attitude has rubbed off onto me. Plus, unlike most people, I rarely have the urge to spend. More stuff often means more hassle. Funnily enough, in my old job in Auckland, as my salary increased my discretionary spending went down. With each exam I passed and every step I took up the pay scale, I built another layer on top of my house of cards which could come crashing down at any time.

Mum turned 64 two weeks ago; Dad's 63rd birthday is tomorrow. To celebrate and to show appreciation for everything they've done for me (such as picking me up from Christchurch) I bought them six bottles of wine while I was down there. They didn't think I should spend money on them while I'm trying to pay off my mortgage on my current income. A few years ago I'd buy a case of twelve more expensive bottles and they wouldn't think I was being extravagant. They worry a lot about how much money my brother and I have (or not).

I played badminton last night in Karori with the anxiety group. The organiser was intent on making a competition out of it all. She wrote the scores down and covered up the sheet after every game as if it was all a big secret. Someone on the sidelines scored each game but lost track so badly it seemed points were being given out randomly. Of course it doesn't matter but I find it hard to concentrate when someone shouts out "six-all" and you know you should be a handful of points up (or down, as the case may be). We had some very good rallies; it would be nice if this could be a regular thing.

I saw an interesting article on the Guardian website, provoking (so far) over 1700 comments. Apparently so-called Gen Y-ers (I'm right on the cusp of that age range) are supporting the Tories. The article starts off by saying, "If you want a good idea of where Britain might be headed, go to Peterborough." I had to laugh at one commenter who said, in that case heaven help us. I lived in Peterborough for eight months before moving to NZ. My flat wasn't much to write home about (and that's being kind) and my job was poorly paid but I have quite happy memories of my time there.

Glad to be heading home

I’m having a coffee at McDonald’s outside Christchurch Airport – my flight to Wellington is delayed by 70 minutes. I’m quite happy to be heading back. The high-stress Christmas wasn’t anybody’s fault – certainly not my brother’s – but I find even a normal Christmas (if there is such a thing) hard work. People are judged, analysed, scrutinised. Comparisons are made. When I was a trainee actuary, people wanted to know how many exams I’d passed since my last visit. Sometimes that figure was zero. Now I’ve got a menial job that only just pays the bills. After all the promise I showed as a kid, my relatives must wonder where everything went wrong. And of course I’m always single. “There must be something wrong with him.” As for my brother, all of his gossip has dispersed through the family like wildfire. No wonder he wants to jump on the next plane back to the UK. If only he could. Having Mum’s Australian friends over hasn’t been easy as we’ve all had to pretend everything is hunky-dory.

My brother and I went to Timaru for the New Year fireworks display. We parked outside the sailing club (to enable a quick exit after the fireworks) and while we were joined by a blue penguin we reminisced of a simpler time. In 1989 we often swam there. The water wouldn’t have been warm but at that age we didn’t care. Occasionally our older cousins took us out in a boat. A large family contingent would be there; we didn’t do much but that didn’t matter – everyone had more time then. For a town the size of Timaru, you couldn’t complain about the fireworks. Four or five times we said “this is it” but each time there was more. We had one unsuccessful attempt at the chocolate wheel and briefly watched the show at the bandstand. There were three female singers who looked like blokes dressed in drag. Almost inevitably they performed Gangnam Style.

Yesterday my brother and I hopped in the car. We drove as far as Methven (nothing much was happening there as you might expect in a town that functions mostly as a base for skiers). He was subdued and unusually for him he didn’t want me to stop anywhere on the way back. It was sad to see him like that. Last night we saw Mental, an Australian film, at the cinema in Geraldine. It didn’t do much for me. I’m not sure Aussie humour ever does. We did have a bit of chuckle when borderline personality disorder was mentioned. My brother’s ex-girlfriend (ridiculously) “diagnosed” him as having the condition.

The darts final took place this morning. After Phil Taylor’s bizarre antics following his semi-final victory, and general cockiness (I couldn’t imagine having POWER tattooed on my arm), I hoped van Gerwen would win. For a while it seemed he would, but he made one or two strange decisions towards the end (such as aiming for bull’s eye early in a leg) and couldn’t quite keep up what had been a very high standard of play. Mum has showed a surprising level of interest in the darts; I don’t know what her Aussie friends made of it. My guess is not a lot. My brother wondered whether the referees (one hundred and eighteeee!) still spoke like that when they got home. Could you pass me the keeeetchuuuup? Would you like a cup of teeeee? For some reason I found that utterly hilarious.

It’s back to work tomorrow. I don’t mind that, especially because it’ll be pretty quiet. My plane has been delayed by another hour. Bugger Jetstar. At least I’m travelling pretty light so I should avoid another $70 fee.

The sun sets on another year

Another year is almost over. It hasn't been an easy one. My grandmother sadly passed away in January. The next month my job went rapidly south, as did the state of my mental health, almost as I moved into my flat. Moving out of my role in to a less stressful one was the best thing I did this year, even if it meant a severe cut in pay.

On Boxing Day I saw the Hobbit with my parents at the cinema in Geraldine. It's always a novelty to see a film there, even though I've done so a few times now. You get sofas to sit on, a mirror ball and an interval. I was really tired but it was a worthwhile watch. My only criticism was that Bilbo (Martin Freeman) seemed too human. I'm thinking of seeing A Life of Pi but the book was so damn good that I'd be worried that the film might spoil it.

I recently finished reading Cormac McCarthy's The Road. It was grim stuff, but certainly a captivating grim. I was puzzled a bit by the author's stylistic punctuation, or rather the lack of it. Apostrophes were removed from all contractions ending in -n't, e.g. cant or doesnt, and a lot of two-word phrases were fused together as a single word. The world had been reduced to its bare bones, so perhaps he was trying to replicate that barrenness on the page.

Mum has two female friends over from Australia. Their arrival (earlier today) has come at an inopportune time; Mum's stress levels have been off the scale.

Some top-class darts again this morning's semi-finals. Michael van Gerwen, who survived two match darts and a tie-break in his quarter-final, hit a nine-darter and had a dart for another perfect leg immediately afterwards. When I used to follow the game in my teens, nine-darters were so rare as to be almost mythical.

I'm about to go into Timaru with my brother to see in 2013 on Caroline Bay. The highlight of this holiday for me has undoubtedly been all the time I've spent with my brother. We get on really well.

Being a numbers geek, I note that the coming year will be the first for 26 years to consist of four different digits.

Wish I could dart back up to Wellington

I was looking forward to Christmas as a chance to unwind, but instead the tension here has ratcheted up to the max. The situation between my brother and (let's face it) his ex-partner has gone from bad to worse. Something happened the night before last which I can't write about here. It meant I spent most of yesterday away from my family - a welcome break for me.

Yesterday I met Phil in Timaru. We played mini-golf again. I lost again, this time by five shots (60 to 65). In 1989 it cost $2.50 a round. Last year it was $3. Now it's $5. Everything else at the carnival has also gone up this year, including the darts game which doesn't seem to have increased its cash prizes to compensate, so I didn't play.

Talking of darts, the World Championships are taking place in London and I've been watching some of the games on my parents' Sky. Whether you think it's a sport that requires pinpoint accuracy and steely determination, or a game played by 21-stone beer-swilling halfwits sporting tattoos and blinging jewellery, you can't deny that it works well on TV. I'd prefer it if they cut out the American-style cheerleaders and breaks after every set (they managed without such gimmicks in the nineties) but the game does produce its fair share of characters and dramatic matches. The requirement to "check out" each leg with a double (one of the thin slivers on the outer edge of the board), or the bull's eye, certainly helps in the drama stakes, as does the format of sets and legs which can result in an engrossing tennis-style tie-break. And the game does require the use of brain cells occasionally. Take a check-out of 126. Logic would suggest that to finish on a even number you should aim for even numbers, but your best bet is to go down for 19s. Of course, for us mere mortals, finishing 126 in three darts would be such a monumental task that you'd just try to make a decent score and reduce the target to something manageable. When I used to play (some time ago) both of us would often be left desperately hammering away at double one.

Phil talked about the difficulties in buying property in Auckland. "I can't believe how racist I've become," he said when bemoaning the influx of Asian investors who keep driving up prices. From that point of view, my move to Wellington was a positive one, even allowing for all the earthquake stuff. I'd quite like to fly to Wellington right now, but I've looked on the Jetstar site and flights at such short notice at this time of year are pricey as you'd expect, so I'll tough it out here for another four days.

Catching up

It wasn't a bad week at work. We even had a 9km run (or walk as it was for me) on Tuesday afternoon as part of a fundraising event.

Wellington is bathed in sunshine right now. That's a bummer for me as I'm about a hop on a 19-seater plane to Timaru, although a quick glance at the weather map tells me it's much the same down there. Things are forecast to turn pear-shaped tomorrow.

It'll be good to catch up with my family again, in particular my brother who I last saw in May 2011, and to meet his fiancée for the first time. I'll be down there until Wednesday when I'll be catching a very early flight.

Phil

For the last few months I've been meaning to post some handy money-saving tips. Christmas - well, one Christmas present in particular, served to remind me of this. But in this post I'd like to write about my catch-up with Phil before it all slips from my mind. My next post will be on the subject of money-saving I promise.

Mum and Dad came into Timaru with me on Wednesday as I met up with Phil for lunch at a place called Zest. I'd much rather have gone on my own. He's back in Auckland, in his old job with the navy in Devonport after spells in Denmark and Dunedin. He'd like to move back to Dunedin. He studied at Otago and likes the Wellington-style bohemianism that exists in the city. At forty he'd quite like to buy a property but thinks he'd be throwing money away in Auckland even though he could put down a large chunk of the purchase price. He asked me for advice on real estate, as if I somehow had a clue. It made a nice change to talk about something other than job applications even if we're both far from thrilled about our current jobs. The story on the mini golf course also took a different twist this year. Instead of losing by a semi-respectable six shots, I was thrashed by fifteen.

When I'd said goodbye to Phil I got a text from Mum asking to meet in the Loop Road. This didn't make any sense to me - they can't be in a road - so I texted her back asking her to be more specific. I did eventually find my parents, and my aunt and uncle who they had since met up with, and they had a good laugh at my expense. "You know, in the car park, inside the Loop Road. Do you not know where the Loop Road is?" Oh I see. I guess the car park is technically in the road, but that's not how my brain works, and if you'd just let me go into town by myself you could have saved me all that hassle.

Yesterday we went south to Moeraki. Dad took a few photos of views to paint - his stock of paintings is depleted following his successful exhibition. Until yesterday I didn't know that a cormorant and a shag were the same thing. In Stephen Fry's book he recounts his time as a yound schoolmaster at an English boarding school where the dormitories were all named after seabirds. A particularly troublesome dorm was called Cormorant. It's just as well they didn't call it Shag.

Turbulent times at Timaru airport

I'm back in Wellington now after recharging my batteries on the South Island. Yesterday when I arrived at Timaru airport, it was all rather confusing. I couldn't even find the international terminal and it wasn't at all clear which zone to check in at. My flight was due to take off in half an hour; would I make it? I searched for a long snaking check-in queue, which would inevitably be for my flight, but I couldn't find one. I did however see what looked like a check-in desk and tried to attract someone's attention. Eventually a bloke came out and took my piece of paper while I dumped my bag on a set of glorified bathroom scales. He then handed me my boarding pass: I would be seated in 1F. Wow. The front row! Is that business class? No, the very front row is first class, surely. That must be what the F stands for. I saw a few other planes take off and land, mostly with no passengers, then I fancied a coffee. There was a coffee machine but no information as to how I was supposed to pay for my beverage. Credit card or cash? Which currencies did they accept? Maybe if I put one of the paper cups under the nozzle and press the flat white button, something will flash up on the screen. Would you believe it? Free coffee came out!

It was soon time to board the plane. As it turned out, the F didn't stand for first class, and it wasn't even business class. What's worse (on a sunny day like yesterday), I didn't even get a window. But boy what a stress-free way of flying it was. If only all airports could be like that.

Views from the South

I'm back in Auckland now; I flew up on Tuesday. My flight was hassle-free, as was the bus to the ferry terminal which got me there just in time for the 10:30 ferry. Except there was no 10:30 ferry, or any ferry at all for that matter. It never occurred to me that it was a public holiday, and anyway I thought the 10:30 ferry ran every day, public holiday or not. At least that's what my timetable says, but since when could you trust those? I was lucky enough to find a bus to Takapuna, but then I had no choice but to blow $20 on a taxi.

Nothing happened on New Year's Eve - I thought we'd go to the Caroline Bay carnival but we did that on Sunday instead. We watched the concert - the star attraction was Suzanne Prentice, supposedly some world-famous-in-New Zealand country and western singer. She didn't do it for me. The concert was hardly Gorillaz material, but hey it was free. From the concert we had a few goes on the chocolate wheel, paying for the dream of winning a box of chocolate, for we never looked like actually doing so. For some reason, out of all the games and side shows, people tend to gravitate to the chocolate wheel - it's the Texas hold 'em of the carnival. I also tried my hand at the darts game - I did hit one of the potential money-spinning black stars, only to reveal a "sorry mate, you haven't won" ticket. I like the carnival though. This was the 100th edition of it; they continue to make good use of the money people lose chasing chocolate-coated dreams.

On Monday I played nine holes of golf with Mum - this was her first hit-out since her back started giving her trouble. The pain had subsided so she risked a half-round and thankfully the pain didn't come back. Golf differs from most other sports in that (as far as I can see) tactics don't play a huge part. That's not to say I don't think mental strength is important (in fact I think it's vitally important), but it's rare that you say, hmmm, which way should I aim it this time? It seems that all players are trying to do the same thing with the ball, just that some execute it much better than others. I'd also say that natural talent plays a bigger part in golf than it does in, say, tennis. I've had a lot of wins over more naturally gifted opponents in tennis just by chasing down balls and staying in points. Such a concept doesn't exist in golf. Talking of natural talent in that game, I don't think I've got the necessary amount of it. I hit some nice drives and made five semi-respectable double bogeys, but I also ran up a nine on a par-four, not to mention one hole where I got mired in a bunker and gave up.

On the way to the airport on Tuesday we popped in to see one of my cousins (probably my favourite cousin) who lives in Christchurch with her husband and 11-month-old daughter (whom I'd only previously seen in photos). Then I hopped on the plane and it was back up here again to begin the Long Job Search. It was good to see Mum and Dad, and I was sad to leave them behind at the airport. It was also good to see some of my extended family again, even if conversation became hard (or impossible) at times. Much of the conversation was simply gossip about people in the local area, and Dad and I, who haven't lived there since childhood, were automatically excluded. At least I don't live there all the time. Dad, who does, feels understandably left out. In fact he feels totally marooned in Geraldine - he's too far away from everything and has little in common with the people there. I would say in 2005 and '06 this put him on the verge of depression; more recently he's come to (dare I say) accept his fate. With the current economy he's struggling to sell paintings, and although my parents are comfortably off I feel sorry for Dad.

I don't know when I'll be down there next. Hopefully it won't be too long until I am. My brother plans to come over at Easter, so if and when he gets his A into G and books a ticket (you never know with him) I'll grab a seat to Christchurch.

Happy Boxing Day

I'm happy to report a stress-free Christmas. Five of us (my aunt and uncle, Mum, Dad and I) spent the afternoon down the Orari Gorge. Perfect day for it - not too hot. If I'd had my togs I would have swum in the water. We all ate too much but didn't drink much, and were back by about six. Mum is suffering from quite bad lower back pain - she's always been so fit and healthy; I'm unused to seeing her like that.

I met up with Phil in Timaru today. He's staying with his mother in Waimate but now lives in Dunedin (he studied there for ten years and got a PhD so it's like a second home to him). Just like last year we had coffee at the Purple Lizard café (opposite the Mascot Finance building, now just a shell); just like last year we talked about finding jobs; just like last year we played mini golf; just like last year he beat me by six shots. From our chat, perhaps I should be looking at jobs outside Auckland, but I really don't want to lose my friends.