An in-tents end to 2010

I've just been camping for the first time in a very long time. Mum and Dad took their caravan to Lake Camp, which is next to Lake Clearwater and not very far from Mt Somers. My aunt and uncle parked their bus next to my parents' caravan, while I slept in a tent. We spent two nights there. Caravans seem like a lot of hassle - there's the fag of hooking and unhooking them to the car (and you really need a bigger car than my parents' two-litre Honda CRV) as well as everything that can go wrong with power and water. And then there's the loo. Your business goes into what is known as a cassette. Cassette? I'd dread to think what happens when you push fast forward. Campervans and buses seem more convenient than caravans, especially if you're touring the country, but they're expensive options.

As for camping, well I enjoyed that as a kid. When we were tucked up in bed we used to tell stories; my brother would inevitably change the subject to tortoises or crocodiles. This time, in my one-man tent, there were no stories although I did have some unusually vivid dreams the first night. Yesterday a whole raft of kids half my age turned up, intent on shouting, swearing and getting hammered. My family didn't enjoy this sudden influx of Generation Who-Gives-A-Shit, and neither did I to be honest. The second night, unsurprisingly, I didn't sleep so well. If we'd stayed there tonight (New Year's Eve) it would have been horrendous I'm sure.

Yesterday we went for a walk around Mt Potts and Erewhon stations and saw Mt Sunday, on which a castle was built to great effect in the Lord of the Rings movies.

I've thought about getting my own tent and maybe going on a camping trip with some friends. It could be a lot of fun, but the problem with any holiday (unless you go alone) is that you're in each other's pockets, and camping only makes that worse. I'll have to think about it a bit more.

I watched a fair bit of the Boxing Day test match from Melbourne (Mum and Dad have Sky) and enjoyed seeing England give the Aussies a good hiding. Cricket is perhaps unique among modern sports in that winning isn't quite everything. There are all kinds of subplots and mini-contests going on - sometimes they can even take centre stage. England have already retained the Ashes, but there's still a lot resting on the fifth match in Sydney.

Just a few hours of 2010 remain. It's been an up-and-down kind of year with some happy times as well as some very sad ones, the loss of Emma being the saddest of all. However I am more positive about the future than I was a year ago, and guess what, I haven't been depressed for months. I'm not naive enough to think that my depression won't return, but for now I'm changing my blog title.

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.

Gorillaz

On Tuesday night I saw Gorillaz with Richard and two others from the Asperger's group. It took a bit of logistical jiggery-pokery for the four of us to actually meet up, but when we did so, the gig was well worth waiting for. We caught the tail end of De La Soul, a hip-hop act who had been around for some time and were pretty famous by all accounts - not really my cup of tea I suppose, but they did a great job of getting the audience in the mood for the main event.

And the main event was brilliant. There was just so much music. I wasn't expecting a full-blown orchestra (or anything like it) but we had a brass section at the front which included one of those crazy tuba things that fits around your body (I've just Googled it - it's called a sousaphone), a string ensemble at the back and of course guitars, drums and a keyboard. In the middle of the show we were greeted with an Arabic orchestra which was a delight to listen to. In the middle of all those instruments was Damon Albarn bouncing around manically. I guess all of this was possible because most of the line-up were guest performers. There was so much going on, including all the cartoon animation on the big screen, that at times I didn't know where to look.

There seemed to be a few underlying political messages - the tour was called Plastic Beach after all, a title that conjures up images of the BP oil spill disaster. There was a song called Super Fast Jelly Fish, or something along those lines, with pictures of greasy all-you-can-eat fast food joints and lyrics that went "you can't see it but you still want to eat it". The Auckland show was their last on a three-month tour, and unfortunately quite possibly their last ever. So I was very grateful to get the chance to see them.

I had an earlyish flight yesterday so I had a nap when I got to Geraldine; the temperature was very conducive to falling asleep. It looks like I'll be in for a hot Christmas.

Can't stop Christmas

Christmas. It's coming and there's nothing I can do to stop it. Apparently it's a whole year since it was last here, although I find that hard to believe. This year, however, I'm going to try very hard not to get stressed by Christmas and perhaps even enjoy it. I'll be heading down to Geraldine this time tomorrow (the first time I'll have been down there for almost a year). Christmas should be relatively quiet stress-free this year - on the day itself there will only be a handful of us.

While I'm in the South Island, Richard will be hosting a Christmas dinner here in Auckland for anyone from the Asperger's group who wishes to attend. I think that's a wonderful gesture - for many people, Christmas can be a very lonely time. If I was staying up here I would definitely have gone. Last Saturday the Asperger's group had its Christmas party. It was great to see such a big turnout - there must have been nearly forty people there - even if it got rather noisy and echoey (is that a real word?).

We've had shocking weather - about four days of non-stop rain. It's also been very humid, with overnight lows (!) of around 20 degrees. Drying clothes has proven nearly impossible so I've been forced to wear my emergency undies. If it's any consolation (and it is considerable consolation), I'd much rather have our weather than what the UK are going through. I don't envy all those poor Kiwis stuck at Heathrow trying to get home for Christmas.

Last week I had a look at Onehunga. I can see its attractions (it would be an inexpensive suburb for one) but I have reservations about living there: it's just a bit too far from everything and I'd be a bit worried about its crime rate. It looked a bit down-at-heel and reminded me of some parts of Birmingham (not that there's anything wrong with that - I liked living in Brum). It had a very good fruit and vege shop, an interesting second-hand bookshop and perhaps best of all the Dress Smart mall. I try and avoid malls if I can, but I do need to buy clothes occasionally, and for some reason you could buy the same clothes a lot more cheaply than elsewhere. So I'll certainly want to spend some more time in Onehunga but that doesn't mean I'll want to live there. I spoke to Richard and he pretty much agreed with me.

Last Monday I played interclub for the last time in 2010. I played with Superman in the doubles (again) and we lost (again), 6-3 6-4. I think we would both do better if we split up (well he certainly would; I'm so bad at the net that it might not matter who I play with). My singles was a different story - I knew my older opponent and thought I should beat him, but never expected to do so 6-1 6-1. I played well but he came to the net too often and I was able to pass him. He also got frustrated, and at times I felt I was the older player waiting for my 18-year-old opponent (he was actually fifty-something) to blast the ball out. We actually had a lot of good rallies though, and the score flattered me somewhat. Superman won his singles 6-2 6-2, reinforcing our need for a divorce from doubles.

My mental health service produces a quarterly newsletter. I'm part of the production team (apparently, although to be honest I'm not all that up with the play). I did however submit a cryptic crossword that I created; I'll be interested to see how that is received. I might even post the crossword on here in the next couple of days.

There will be no rest for me before I go away. My flat is still a complete mess, I've got all my packing to do and I'm taking my car in for a warrant this afternoon. Then tonight I'm seeing Gorillaz at the Vector Arena with Richard and two other people from the Asperger's group. I haven't seen too many live bands (unfortunately) and I've never seen a live virtual band before, but if it's got Damon Albarn in it, it must be good.

Jobless again

I played tennis on Tuesday night in what they call a Business House competition. Because one of the earlier weeks was rained off, we played six mini-matches instead of four. By the end of the evening I'd reached the "sod it" stage. If I hadn't known in advance we'd be playing so many games (and many people didn't) I don't know how I would have coped. From memory I won the first match I played, drew the last, and lost all the rest. I've got interclub tonight and another Business House tennis-a-thon tomorrow night.

On the subject of sport, I scanned the football results on Wednesday and this one caught my eye: Leyton Orient 8 Droylsden 2 - after extra time! This was from an FA Cup second-round replay (they had drawn 1-1 in their first meeting at Droylsden). Orient were 2-0 down at one stage, and were still a goal behind when they scrambled an 89th-minute equaliser to keep them in the competition. Then came a crazy half-hour which must have produced some kind of record. The scorer of the equaliser struck twice more in extra time and there was another hat-trick scored entirely in extra time. Both sides finished the match with nine men and the Droylsden manager was also banished from the dug-out! So there is some magic left in the FA Cup after all. From what I could tell, the referee saw pity on Droylsden by blowing for full-time after 119 minutes - with all those stoppages for bookings and sendings-off (and of course goals) there should have been enough added time for Orient to hit double figures. Until last week I had no idea where Droylsden was (apparently it's in Manchester). Its football team (who play in the sixth division and are nicknamed the Bloods of all things) are no strangers to, well, strange Cup ties.

Friday was my last day at work. It was good while it lasted. I had a pretty much stress-free run of three months, which was considerably longer than I expected. I left my details with my boss should he ever need somebody again. I got on well with him, even though our personalities were quite different. I'll miss the F-bombs and his mispronunciations which at first I thought were deliberate. Apparently he drives a Missabitsi. He'd ask me about a claim for a property on Bethlehem Road. You mean Blenheim Road? At least you always knew where you stood with him. It was nice just to have a job that wasn't dressed up into this big frothy career, but now I face the unenviable task of finding work again.

On Friday night I went to a Christmas party put on by my mental health service. It was a bit of an eye-opener - some people I saw clearly weren't in a good way at all. Some of them must have a hard time looking after themselves - while I was in the queue for dessert there was a distinct whiff of pee. The food was reasonable but by the time I got there (almost seven - it started at four) the main course could have done with a quick zap in the microwave. I thought the highlight of the evening was the band, who did a very good job considering they had hardly practised. The organisation is fortunate to have a number of talented musicians in its midst. It was good to meet up with some people from the men's group who for one reason or another no longer attend.


I rang my gran when I got back from the party. I struggled to make any sense of her, although it was clear that she wasn't happy. At least she picked up the phone this time; she has her own phone in her room but hasn't been picking it up of late - either she's forgotten how to use it or just doesn't want to talk. In future I'll try and ring her in the morning (her evening) when she tends to be better.

On Saturday I met up in a café on K' Road with Richard and another regular of the Asperger's group (a female) to talk about the possibility of flatting. I think the arrangement could work very well. My only issue is having to leave the Shore where I've spent the best part of seven years. If the plan goes ahead, the most likely suburb we'll end up in at this stage is Onehunga, a place I don't know at all. I intend to spend some time there on Wednesday to get a feel for the place.

Yesterday the Asperger's group met up for our second picnic in Cornwall Park. Good weather for it - in fact a little too warm if anything. There was a big turnout - there must have been close on twenty. Some of them set up a game of cricket (one of the members of the group is a big fan of the game) and I joined in half-way through (after a bit of a doze - it was that kind of weather). My batting was OK but my bowling was pretty shocking! It was a good afternoon which Richard (who else?) organised. He's also holding a Christmas dinner - a great idea because a lot of them don't have families and must feel quite alone over the festive period.

Tennis tonight then. Hope I don't break anything this time.

Old news

Gran’s mental and physical health tend to go hand-in-hand. I was a bit worried when I spoke to her on the phone a week ago, then on Wednesday she was rushed off to hospital – her gut was playing up again. This has been a recurring problem for her. Dad feared the worst (and so did I – in the past she’s always bounced back but she’s so much weaker now). He booked an emergency flight to the UK which he wasn’t looking forward to. They’re having atrocious weather over there. But somehow her gut cleared later in the week and she’ll probably be let out of hospital in the next day or two. That’s a relief. Dad managed to change his flight to February.

Speaking of the elderly, last night I watched Young @ Heart (or tried to – I was still involved in a poker tournament when it started; I also got a call from my parents). It was a documentary film about a group of elderly people in America who tour the country (and overseas) giving unusual renditions of modern pop songs. Most of them had no singing experience so their director certainly had his hands full. I found their version of the Ramones’ I Wanna Be Sedated hilarious, and somehow appropriate. At the end of the film they showed a chap of about eighty (and probably twenty stone) perform Coldplay’s Fix You. This was supposed to be a duet but his singing partner had recently died of a heart attack. I have to say I found his performance very moving. I don’t know what it is about old people singing, but it reminded me a lot of Johnny Cash when he sang Hurt – it really made my hair stand on end. Just like Cash, the Fix You singer died months later.

There isn’t a lot of news from my end. The earthquake claims have been gradually tailing off, so Friday looks like being my last day at work.

The racket formerly known as Prince

When I play competitive tennis, I normally bring a spare racket just in case. So last night I turned up with two Princes, a 2005 model (my weapon of choice) and a 2000 version which I expected to remain firmly in its bag. When I arrived at Forrest Hill last night – an oppressively muggy evening for tennis – I wasn’t too bothered about winning or losing; I just wanted the damn thing over with. And then I found out who my opponent was. We’d met twice previously. The first time was five seasons ago, back when I still knew how to play, and I won in two sets. Our other encounter was pure torture for me – a memorable match for all the wrong reasons. My fragile mental state, a tenacious opponent and inhuman playing conditions culminated in a complete meltdown – for all the gory details click here. So just when I thought emotionally-charged tennis matches were a thing of the past, if there was ever a time I would lose the plot again, last night had all the ingredients for it.

I win the toss, serve first, go 40-15 up and … that’s as close as I get to winning my serve in the entire first set. I couldn’t get anything going on my serve at all. At 5-2 down, I realised the importance of the next game. If I could break his serve, then even if I lost my own serve I’d have the advantage of serving second (!) in the next set. That’s exactly what happened. I dropped the first set (which featured eight service breaks!) 6-3, but I felt myself coming into the match towards the end of that set, and from then on made a conscious effort to hit deep groundstrokes. Anything short and he gained the upper hand, so getting depth on my shots was vital. It worked, and after a succession of long rallies, I was 4-0 up in the second set. I wasn’t enjoying it though; I was sweating like a pig. After every rally I had to wipe my sweaty palms on my shirt so I could grip the handle of my racket. My shirt soon became a greyish-brown smudgy mess – I must have looked more like a potter than a tennis player. The rallies became longer, my legs got heavier, and at 4-2 I was really struggling. For want of a better word, I was shagged. In contrast my older opponent looked as fresh as a daisy. How can you not be perspiring out here? It was after the first point of game seven that everything kicked off. I missed a seemingly easy shot at the end of another interminable rally and for the first time I can remember, I smashed my racket against the ground in frustration. “That sounded expensive,” said someone on the next court. Well it’s a five-year-old racket and isn’t worth much, but I felt embarrassed and ashamed. It’s only a game after all, and now I was going to lose due to my own stupidity. My racket looked usable, but when I hardly got a ball in play in the rest of that game, there was only one thing for it.

Out came the Emergency Millennium Edition Prince. I had to come out straight away and serve. Switching to a different racket mid-match is hard enough, but serving with a new racket is another thing entirely. To my surprise, my first serve landed smack on the line. The baseline. I was quickly love-40 down and I hadn’t won a point in ages. Somehow I scrambled back into the game, which morphed into a 15-minute monster and had me gasping for air. I clung on to my serve at what might have been the tenth attempt and eventually took out the set 6-4. On to the decider, and it started badly. Down 2-0 and a point for 3-0, I was being outplayed; the end didn’t seem far away. I levelled at 2-2 but fell two games behind once more. Again I came back, and at 5-4 I had my nose in front for the first time in the match. When I stepped up to serve for victory, what little power I had in my serving arm had vanished. My second serves became lollipops, and at 30-30 I double-faulted to give my opponent break point. Realising I might not survive two more games, I went for a winner on the next point and thankfully it was good. After yet another bruising rally, and an exchange that saw him err with a volley, I had won. There was no celebration: after two hours and 20 minutes I was exhausted.

I tried my best in the doubles, but I’d have been up against it even if I was fresh. My partner had played a very long singles match too; that probably didn’t help. I made a lot of mistakes and we lost 6-3 6-4. At least I could go home. The bad news is that I’m playing again tonight, though in a less competitive situation. Now which racket should I use?

Figuring out my next move

I played tennis yesterday and will be playing again tonight. And tomorrow. I’m very much looking forward to Wednesday, my next tennis-free day. I don’t enjoy the game anything like I used to, and when I play at night I take ages to get to sleep and need gallons of coffee to get through the next day. Four or five years ago, tennis was the highlight of my week. Now I really only do it for the exercise.

Richard came over to Devonport on Saturday. We didn’t do all that much I suppose. The warm weather didn’t lend itself to vigorous activity, and we mainly just lay in the park and dozed. We also had an ice cream and talked about possible flatting arrangements. I’m still a bit apprehensive about sharing a four-person flat, especially when I’ve only briefly met two of my potential flatmates. Instinctively I feel it should work out fine, but we’ll only get a better idea of our compatibility (or otherwise) if we all meet up. Hopefully that can happen this weekend. It was good to see Richard, and there’s nothing wrong with just having a relaxing afternoon.

Work seems to be gradually drying up – at this stage my last day looks like being 10th December. Some months ago I registered with Edge, an employment agency for people who have had mental health issues. They had a long waiting list which I reached the top of a couple of weeks ago. Last Thursday I had a chat with one of the people from Edge – he came round to my flat – and we talked about what I should do once my current stint comes to an end. He was quite adamant that the mental health industry would be too stressful for me right now, and should therefore be avoided. However he pushed English teaching to the forefront of my mind once more, and came up with a new idea – working in medical statistics (clinical trials for new drugs, for instance). We also talked about my CV. For some reason, there is huge emphasis put on CVs these days. This chap gave a recent example of one of his clients who applied for what he called a “donkey job”. There were dozens of applicants for six places, and apparently CVs were the deciding factor in who was successful. I said it would have been better to have put everyone’s names in a hat and picked out six at random. Probably just as fair and less time-consuming for everyone involved. In fact, the Lotto method could also be used for some non-donkey jobs, and would in many cases be fairer (and would certainly be more easily understood) than the current selection criteria. At least people who are less connected (like me) wouldn’t be discriminated against. He also suggested I need to be socialising with different people three or four nights a week, but I’m less sure about that. It’s likely that would just make me more stressed. All in all though, our meeting was very useful.

I rang my grandmother yesterday. She has taken a definite step backwards in the last two weeks. She was confused, but worse than that, she sounded quite unhappy and for some reason she was itching to get off the phone. She might get moved to a different home, one that caters specifically for dementia patients. Somehow she had got wind of this possible move, although she didn’t know the reason for it. After some very positive phone conversations with my gran, this one was quite upsetting.

It is now seven years and one day since I arrived in New Zealand to live. I remember that day very clearly – it was a crystal clear Canterbury day; the brightness of the sun (far brighter than you ever get in the UK, even in the height of summer) was almost intoxicating.

Badverts

There seems to be little point in blogging at the moment - there is hardly anything happening in my life that is worth blogging about.

There's plenty happening in other people's lives however. The mining disaster on the West Coast has taken up a lot of air time in the last few days, and rightly so. Things aren't looking good there to say the least. Yesterday's developments were described as "two steps forward and three back", but even that seemed to be putting a positive spin on things. It's a very close-knit community down there; I just hope we can find out something in the next 24 hours. It must be hell for the friends and families of those who are trapped. As for what the miners themselves have been through, that doesn't bear thinking about.

On Saturday I attended the monthly autism group which was interesting as always. The topic of discussion this time was adverts; people had to vote on their best and worst. I like to think I'm immune to advertising. Although it probably influences me more than I imagine, I'm pretty sure I'm less susceptible than most. I can see that a lot of ads (car ads being a prime example) are trying to press some kind of emotional buttons, but they're wasted on me I'm afraid. I'm particularly unimpressed with ads for banks, who are all trying to out-Kiwify each other, even if most of them are Australian-owned. ASB (owned by the Commonwealth Bank of Australia) have ditched Goldstein and jumped on the Kiwi bandwagon. TSB (who really are a Kiwi bank) used to run an amusing series of ads, one of which featured someone let loose on a solo plane flight with no training; they've since gone down the "real Kiwis only" route too. On a similar theme is Resene's "Colours of New Zealand" paint advert which, if I'd thought about it, would have got my vote on Saturday for the worst ad. Lake Wakatipu blue, it's so much bluer than bog-standard blue. How can you get away with such crap?

Worst of all must be ads that use sportsmen and other "great" New Zealanders to endorse medical and financial products. These ads aren't just crap, they're downright dangerous. Being a great rugby player or cricketer or golfer doesn't give you the authority to promote products that, should they go wrong, can wreck people's lives. One example was Colin Meads' endorsement of Provincial Finance. "South Island based. Solid as, I reckon," he said. Yes, solid as a house of cards during the South Island earthquake. Provincial was one of the first of New Zealand's many finance companies to go under.

This weekend I hope to meet up with Richard and two female members of the autism group to talk about flatting. I'm a bit unsure about sharing a four-person flat. It might be fine but I'll need to give it some thought. There will be plenty to discuss at the weekend.

Update:
An hour after I posted this, it was confirmed that there had been a second explosion (much bigger than the first), ending all hope of finding any of the 29 miners alive. Devastating news. I found yesterday's extended news bulletin quite moving.

Not much to report

It's been light on the news front in the last ten days. I haven't given much thought as to what I'll do when this job finishes, nor have I looked at flats. My landladies are selling the place I'm living in; I don't know whether I'll be able to stay there and for how long.

I played tennis on Monday night. In Superman's absence I had to play at number one in our team and I was up against it from the start. After losing the first set 6-1 I needed to change the game but lacked the necessary weapons, so I chose to slow the game down, a tactic that brought me three games in the second set. The doubles was a bit closer - 6-3 6-4 - and if we'd decided to stay back from the first point, rather than play "proper" doubles at the net (where we couldn't compete), we might have had a chance. As a team we were well beaten, five matches to one. I've now lost seven of my last eight matches in all competitions. As is usually the case, it was a struggle to get to sleep after tennis, and just as big a struggle to stay awake the next day.

I've given my last maths lessons of the year - my two 16-year-old students had their exams on Monday. I rang them up to see how it all went. Contrary to what I might have expected, the boy was quite happy with his performance while the girl was a bit disappointed with hers. I've noticed girls have a tendency to play down their efforts in exams, so that might have something to do with it. But also this NCEA system can put too much emphasis on a single question, to the point where a student can know with certainty that they won't get Excellence or Merit just because of what happened on one question. It sounds like this is what happened to her.

The Rocky Horror Show is currently on in Auckland. I'd quite like to go, but as it's only on for another week or so, I doubt I will. I did ask Julie - it seemed her kind of thing - but she isn't able to go. Richard O'Brien wrote the musical. In the early nineties he presented The Crystal Maze which I used to watch religiously every Thursday night. The show was very cleverly designed; O'Brien's wit and intelligence (and the fact that the was totally barking) helped make it very popular back in the day.

Extreme pétanque

It was a good weekend, dominated by various competitive pursuits: tennis, pétanque, online poker and extreme ironing. I got a fair bit of sun.

Tennis on Saturday was up at Whangaparaoa (well Manly actually) and to be honest it wasn’t much fun. I was well out of my league. Playing number two in our team, when I was clearly the weakest player, it seemed I was the sacrificial lamb. Our team did win overall, so I guess it was an astute tactical decision by our team captain. In the men’s match, both our opponents were excellent net players (my partner was pretty handy in that department too), but when I get to the net I’m suddenly playing at 15,000 feet. We lost that match 6-2 6-3 and the mixed 6-2 6-2. It was a nice sunny afternoon for tennis but to be honest I just wanted to get home.

At the other end of the enjoyment scale was yesterday’s pétanque on Waiheke. This time I teamed up with Phil (we’d had a practice on Friday night) and Sylvain. As always Patrick, the dreadlocked hippie Frenchman, was in attendance. He’s been on the championship-winning side several times in the past and takes his pétanque pretty seriously; the only hope for the rest of us was that he might be stoned. Unfortunately the only weed we could see was an unusual formation of seaweed. We breezed through our first three matches, easily qualifying for the semi-finals from the nine teams who started. We were playing jolly well, mainly going for long jacks because we felt our opponents would struggle to match our accuracy from that range. We had a 13-2 win in the semis and inevitably came up against Patrick’s team (who had also had four big wins) in the final. His wife was on their team; she’s even better than Patrick – less dynamic perhaps but deadly accurate from any distance. The other bloke on their team was very handy too. The match started off nip-and-tuck – we were 3-2 down after five ends – but that soon became 10-2 and we had a mountain to climb. Short jacks and they could take our boules out; long jacks and they would get within inches. They were just too good. We scored two singles and a shock four to move to within two, and suddenly we had a real chance, but that was snuffed out when they cashed in on the very next end for a 13-8 win.

The pétanque was a lot of fun. It always is, even if you get thrashed. Everyone was really friendly. Next time I’ll make more of an occasion of it; a couple of beers or a bottle of wine (or even some Pastis) wouldn’t have gone amiss.

As for extreme ironing, no I didn’t actually iron my shirts in the sea at Waiheke yesterday, but the sheer quantity of ironing I did last night sure made it feel extreme. The closest I’ve ever come to extreme ironing by the way was during my map-making job in the UK. They wanted all their maps hung in a vertical file, and because they’d all been rolled up, I had to flatten out several hundred of the buggers (all A0 or A1 size) with my own iron.

The rest of my weekend (and last night's tennis)

After the maths tuition on Saturday I joined up with some of the Asperger’s group for a picnic in Cornwall Park. It was a very enjoyable afternoon (we were lucky with the weather) and the turnout was impressive. They were such a nice bunch of people; I had no problem relaxing. We even played a few ends of pétanque – perhaps useful practice for me before this weekend’s Waiheke tournament. Richard did a marvellous job of organising it all, especially as he sat an exam the previous morning. He has a knack of organising events; I have a hard enough time organising myself. We’ll have to do something similar again over the summer.

On Sunday (we were blessed with even better weather that day) I went to the monthly morning tea at the French club. I met up with Phil, who still doesn’t know when (or if) he’ll be returning to Denmark. We had a presentation from a bloke who speaks fluent French and Italian, giving us some entertaining tips on pronunciation. I played tennis in the afternoon – nothing serious, but just enough to get my eye in for the following evening’s interclub.

We played at Albany last night. First up was the doubles; I played with a young gun this time. His game oozed raw power but he didn’t quite have the accuracy to match. My play was a bit scratchy and we went down to a 6-4 6-2 loss. If we’d taken more of our chances it could have been closer, but really we were well beaten by a partnership who knew what they were doing on the doubles court. In contrast my singles opponent (half of the doubles team that beat us) was a good match-up for me. He was overweight and lacked mobility (forwards and backwards in particular), so I was able to work him around the court. The match started off close but I ran out a comfortable 6-3 6-0 winner. Overall our team won by four matches to two.

This is a busy week for me. I’ve got two lots of maths tuition as well as the men’s group on Wednesday. Then more tennis (at Whangaparaoa) on Saturday, followed by the pétanque on Waiheke Island on Sunday.

Some good news from a couple of weeks back that I neglected to mention: I did manage to get off that parking ticket. That's a relief.