Spending the weekend with Dallas and his family in "Invercargill" (because Carl had his daughter up for the weekend, and rather than being in the way, I was offered the chance to see a bit more of New Zealand, and stay with Dallas) was really quite something. Driving the 2 hour journey in the van jamming to "The Clash" in the brilliant sunshine would have been great had it not been for the fact that the cd player and cd's were all so tempramental, the cd's spent more time cutting out than actually playing, but oh well..... We'd had a half-day at work, due to having completed all the work up to date, so an early afternoon wasn't to complain about.
Dallas's wife also a pommie, from Kent would be at home and i'd get to meet her and I was told she'd love me because I'm a fellow Brit, despite the fact she left England at the age of 10. We spent the evening chilling out and having also met Dallas's daughter and her boyfriend we all ordered in Pizza and chatted over a few beers (and a few more) Sandra (Dallas's wife) and I spent the entire evening chatting untill the early hours of the morning, and listening to various punk-rock LP's that we were into. She being a teacher by profession works monday-friday and has friday nights as her one night off to relax before filling in lesson plans, time sheets and pupil progress reports, and she was greatful for the company to talk about the queen, the pound sterling and of course yorkshire tea.
Feeling pretty fresh in the morning, which is more than can be said for Sandra, who was evidentally still hammered. I help Dallas's neighbour to concrete his driveway, for the promise of a crate of beers at the end of it (he's a brewery representative, and it would be rude not to....) So Dallas and I head over to the building yard, pick up the cement mixer and borrow a trailer for the morning. Having spent a few hours, and washing the work down with a few light beer-like refreshments, the driveway is finally fully cemented, and a job well done in my eyes. So it's time to clean the cement mixer down, and drop the trailer back off.
It's now time to meet the rest of the family, (yeah they're a close bunch and try and see each other at weekends). This time I get to meet, Stacey (Sandra and Dallas's other daughter) and her two children Zavier and Cordanne, it's only when i've been told independantly from Stacey, Dallas and Sandra that I look like Zavier's father.... that I'm hoping he won't start calling me "daddy". Being 5 years old and full of that adoreable child-like naiivity, and constant need for attention, he provides us with an entertaining evening while we adults spend the evening talking about politics, and the Christchurch quake at the Barbeque, I made the best salad ever.... which i'm sure they will all agree, and that my blend of lettuce leaves and tomatoes were done to perfection. Another evening spent socialising and discussing my intentions in New Zealand, and finding out all the gossip there is to know, and suprisingly they thought I was late 20's.... and were shocked and refused to beleive that I was only 20.
We'd also found out that day that a local grocery store (Dairy Store) in their community which was run by a Chinese man, was closing down, (or more that he was running away), Dallas and Sandra both being interested in finding out more about the business and keeping it open in the local area, we all decide to go and have a look at it, they ask me to come along too for opinions, and advice, (as they know i've run the bar back in manchester and know about the behind-the-scenes of running a business). It's a little shop, with a lot of potential, but is certainly need of gutting and completely doing-up. We are offered endless amounts of free food and drink, because the Chinese shop owner Niel had endless surplus stock and needed to get rid off it. So heading back to the House with arms full of ice lollies, litres upon litres of Coca Cola, and a crate of energy drink, we literally have "food for thought". I advise both Sandra and Dallas, to seriously think about it, and not to rush into any decisions, because at the day it's their money that's on the line and after a final word of advise "sleep on it" we depart to bed, I'm staying in the end room...a.k.a the bar, with a full bar set up in their I feel right at home in my environment I enjoy, but also being surrounded by England memorabilia and Union jacks on the wall's and ceilings.
Sunday involved me meeting pretty much everyone else in their family, sons, boyfriends, grandmothers, brothers, nieces and nephews, I've now met more actual kiwi's in the space of 2 days, than I had the entire time i've been in New Zealand, The men amongst us all decide to have a throw about in the garden with the rugby ball, and Zavier gets involved, however for him it's about throwing the ball (albeit badly) to the middle of the circle, as he hadn't quite grasped the concept of throwing it to anyone else, the rest of us, decide rather than passing it to each other it's more a game of who can throw the ball into each other's bollocks the hardest. Poor little kid doesn't realise why we're all in histerics and spending more time doubled over in laughter and...pain, than throwing the ball.
A lovely weekend, being an honourable member of the family, or known as the English refugee, but yeah thoroughly enjoyable, and heading back early monday morning for work.
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