tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87269272024-03-14T10:53:56.858+13:00'twixt land and seaa place to put stuff: the attic of my dreams, or the debris left after the tide has gone out.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04612689408655287028noreply@blogger.comBlogger52125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726927.post-70476829795148896182012-03-09T15:59:00.002+13:002012-03-09T16:26:31.356+13:00It's been a while, clearly, since I've felt the desire to share anything here. So do I shut it down? Or leave it lying around, like an old notebook? <div>I'm opting for the latter, and like an old notebook, just seeing it lying around- or making the effort to recover one's work-around google account just to be able to log-in- may bring on the urge to scribble something.</div><div>So, google accounts. What are they? I'm not sure. I have... some. Not sure how many, so here goes: I signed up here, using my UC email address. At some point, UC were trialling google apps/docs as an institution-wide service, and decided to annex these. So I have a 'UC' one, that doesn't get used. At that point, I had to find another home for this blog, so transferred it to a new google account. That's based around the gmail account 'rob.stowell2 at etc' which I had to create. All it has ever done is allow me to log in to blogger.</div><div>I also have a bunch of youtube accounts- and at some point, google required that each one needs a unique email, so I've created new emails/accounts around these. </div><div>Why so many? I have a personal one, for family stuff, and anything else I want to share as me. I created one as a place to share stuff with some on-line friends (and because we needed a home online, and didn't at that piont have any other options.) </div><div>A colleague left for the UK, and we wanted to share some projects, so I started a channel which we never used. Then <span style="font-size: 100%; ">I started making some videos for our union, the TEU- and other semi-political causes. I didn't want them on my own channel (distance is necessary- and they have a totally different 'flavour') so I started another channel. </span></div><div>There are a bunch of UC channels- some of which I know of, and make clips for, but never log in to. But a<span style="font-size: 100%; ">fter the Sept 4 quakes, I started using the 'official' UC youtube channel for UC communications, as a way of getting material both approved, and then out quickly. I'm not the owner of this- but after the</span><span style="font-size: 100%; "> Feb 22 quakes, I started a channel just for learning related university videos- getting the material out to students was a priority. (Another lecturer started another on I uploaded material to, as well) It works so well, I've kept it going- it's good: analytics, reliable streaming, variable qualities, great encoding... </span></div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; ">Finding I like web-video, having a couple of private jobs, and 'considering my options', as they say, due to the endless restructuring at work- I dreamt up a name to trade under (25P), started a website (www.25p.co.nz) and started a new youtube channel for this- and hence a new google identity. </span></div><div>At about the same time, google plus looked interesting, and google insisted on 'real names'- so I started a new google account/gmail/etc using my full name.</div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; ">Hey ho. It's a mess!</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; ">Google insisted on the real names thing so they can collect data about users, which means they can sell advertising in a targeted way. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; ">Good luck with that! </span></div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; ">I generally like google, but I don't feel any obligation to give them good personal data. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; ">And my accounts are such a mess I can't keep track of them myself, forget the passwords, don't know which I'm logged in as, don't know what relates to which account... Any attempt to analyse my 'net habits is going to be randomised and fragmented. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; ">I think I'm getting hints of this in the 'suggestions' youtube, for example, offers when you first open it. And I like it. We all have multiple personalities- different behaviours in different circumstances- don't we? </span></div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; ">And somewhat randomised is how the world is- and the net should be. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; "><br /></span></div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726927.post-944932286848265922011-07-26T22:49:00.003+12:002011-07-26T22:54:48.596+12:00Hate letters from children<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-txmL0xX77Io/Ti6cu7Yt_-I/AAAAAAAAATI/qG3KCcWJbkY/s1600/hate%2Bletter%2Bno%2B1.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 294px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-txmL0xX77Io/Ti6cu7Yt_-I/AAAAAAAAATI/qG3KCcWJbkY/s400/hate%2Bletter%2Bno%2B1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633612513916354530" /></a><br />I've had a few hate letters from the kids. But this is my favourite.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726927.post-63380503188299257652011-06-14T22:19:00.002+12:002011-06-14T23:00:09.906+12:00June 14It's been a week. Interesting how easy tis, on the one hand, to rabbit on about trivia (and occasionally attempt to insert some gravity, some windy generalisation) and also how the impetus dies and builds, and dies away.<div>Woke fairly late, in O's bed. Got up slowly- a good sleep, despite the irregular barrage of aftershocks: a little rumble in the distance; the small thump or click or jerk following faithfully. Made coffee- Poppy and Toby interrupted this, with plans for a big egg/bacon/beans breakfast. P and I took coffee back to bed- chatted. Got up and checked over camera gear, packed and headed off, late. Pen wanted me to get diesel, so I had to fill the truck from the tin; took the charger off, checked the oil. </div><div>Drove in, listening to the radio. Quake quake quake.</div><div>The Emergency Operations Centre was low-key. Lynn asked me to get set up. Found a space and got camera, mic, tripod set up; found ear-phones, checked sound, white-balanced, waited.</div><div>Rod came and talked to camera. Good in that broken into sections. but hard: too much isn't know, and decisions still to be made this afternoon. Digitise, then convert the footage- then realise that isn't right (didn't downconvert to 720p), and it needs to be exported as canopus hq. Still seems remarkable what can be done with the HV20, mics, tripod and old laptop- and thence to youtube in HD. </div><div>Lengthy waiting: had some lunch; talked to people. I get a strong sense of underlying weariness, accompanied by a feeling that we know what to do, but wish we didn't have to do it again. Cut the talk into sections, add graphics, keys, trim. </div><div>John McDonald takes a look and wants the assessment segment up asap. Fairly quick to export and put up on youtube- and I know the process well enough now. </div><div>Jacqui talking to him on the lawn; gives me a big hug. Very hard being away from young kids. A little later she takes a look, and we cobble together another clip, and I get it up. Everything a little flat. While it's exporting, try to record some of the ops meeting, but it's very low-key. Chris Hawker is away in the US talking to other universities about emergency planning. Heh.</div><div>Get away around 4:40 as the comms team begin to craft the afternoon's key announcements. It looks like the university won't be fully open til Monday 20th. Exams will be able- all going well- to be squeezed in (there were a few on the Saturday.) </div><div>Buy some fruit and veg; then the supermarket. You can smell spilt beer in the alcohol corner. The diet coke bottles are sticky with a dried on spray of softdrink. The checkout woman is working flat-out, a little feverishly. Friendly, though. Riccarton Countdown is one of the few supermarkets to re-open quickly after each of the quakes. </div><div>Dark as I leave. Get diesel and petrol at the Curletts Rd Shell- they are out of 91. Stop to pick up naan bread at the Indian dairy on Hoon Hay Rd. Everyone cheery, but weary. Little shocks and rumbles don't help. </div><div>After some confusion, wrong number, I pick up the joddies and whip Pen bought on trademe, and drive home. A little grumpy dinner isn't started, and there's a lot to unpack and put away. But it all gets done, and Poppy and Toby make butter chicken, and we eat up. </div><div>School tomorrow, but probably no work. We'll still have to do the driving. </div><div>Play last card with Biddy, who is apparently nit-free, while Julia gets the comb. Hotties, tea, ice-creams, another hand or two of cards. Oscar is reluctant to go to bed- and denies there is school tomorrow. I sit and type most of this, as he eats a last plate of crackers (he had to tidy up the down-stairs pillows to get this) and then a drink, toothbrush, and nods off. </div><div>It's 10:58. Pen calls for me to come up to bed. I wonder what I'll think of this in a year; ten years. Probably just forget it. But diarising a week every year or so isn't too daunting. Pen calls again. And so to bed. </div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726927.post-43956679119922464992011-06-14T21:34:00.005+12:002011-06-14T22:17:44.678+12:0013 JuneHard to remember back to the morning. <div>It was hard getting away. Couldn't find stuff- searched for Oscar's notebook, for example, which it turned out had gone home with another kid. Pen said at one stage I 'wasn't coping' and I gave her a short rant. </div><div>We got off. Biddy home sick. Julia, I think, in the front seat. No heater in the car. The worst thing about this is the way the windows mist and drip and befog. Nice day, though. A hint of frost, thin rime on the grass. </div><div>Running about 10 minutes late by Avonhead School. Pen called to say the truck wouldn't start. Bugger. </div><div>Started to work- getting purchase orders, a few calls; looked over the mudfish script. Walked over the UC to a meeting with Jen Hay and Matthew. Jogged- running late.<br />Went to the wrong 104. Then again- then found it. The 'seismic archive' could be an interesting project. (Rumble, then the little 'crunch' of another after shock as I write). </div><div>we'd almost finished talking when the building began to shake. We looked at each other, I guess looking for someone to take the lead in responding. The shaking lasted for a while. There was a nasty sound of concrete pillars grinding. Nobody really moved, and then, as far as I recall, Jen Hay more or less continued what she'd been saying. </div><div>We were finished, really- we trooped outside. Buildings were evacuating, fairly casually, in the sun. Matt rode off to check out the kids. I headed back to College, to ring and see what the schools were doing. Poppy texted on someone elses' phone to say she was ok. I replied, and asked if school was shutting. She said she'd find out. </div><div>Back in the office, I rang Pen. We dithered about what to do. A 5.5 on geonet. </div><div>Poppy was ok and school re-opened. I thought the others would be too, but calls to both schools did not get through. Pen said she had the truck going, and would need to leave to pick up Oscar soon anyway. So I started work again, in a fitful way. </div><div>A security guard came past some time after 2 and told me I have to get out. I grumbled a bit. Poppy was not due to finish til 6- a drama practice- so I wasn't sure what I'd do with myself. Gathered up bag, laptop and camera bag, and headed to the car. Then realised I didn't have the battery charger (I'd brought it in to charge the work van battery- we needed it at home for the truck) and my cellphone. </div><div>Went back in, and got my cellphone. Must've been locking the door when the next big quake hit. The building groaned; the ground swayed. I came out the door at great pace. </div><div>John the security guard was there, half-laughing. "I thought that building was clear!" he said. Pen called. She'd been stuck in traffic, near the Victoria St clock tower. I told her I'd get Julia, and head for Poppy. </div><div>Avonhead school was busy, but it almost seemed a familiar bustle. Had to sign to pick Julia up. We drove past the University, heading for Rangi, listening to national radio. Traffic really clogged on Straven Rd, though people let us in. We inched down and onto Fendalton, then Holmwood Rd. Parked and walked to get Pop. Julia was chirpy and chatty. Peered about at the great mass of students on the field- Poppy saw us first. Hugs from teachers, talked to Isabel, and back to the car. Julia is not at all frightened of earthquakes, but terrified of crossing the road. </div><div>Very slow down Wairekei; turned onto Greers, then Waimari- and decided to head via backstreets for Hornby. </div><div>This worked out ok- especially as we went past Avonhead where Julia got her glasses, Poppy used the loo, and we stocked up on lollies at the dairy. Poppy and Julia listening to Harry Potter on P's macbook, we drove around town, then back over the hill. The radio full of more stories of terror, damage, and that sense of 'oh, puh-leese- not AGAIN!' </div><div>Home, all together. Drove around and fed the horses, hooked the truck up to the charger, started the generator, checked email, facebook, mercproductions; made dinner... Poppy reading Alana to the twins. Fire blazing. Oscar likes to listen as well. </div><div>No school tomorrow, but I am going in to shoot something. P and I watched an episode of Treme. Love way great music twines into everything. I find it inspiring. Jumped up and started reading about Louis Armstrong, growing up poor in Orleans, befriended by the jewish family (he wore a Star of David the rest of his life) his politics, oddities, musical genius- the playful, mournful-happy jumpiness of his cornet playing- and that voice. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726927.post-68073962706781263852011-06-13T11:08:00.002+12:002011-06-13T11:20:27.789+12:00June 12Pen, Pop and twins off to Pony Club. I grumped about. Listened to the radio. Fed the hens and Lucinda (Paddy being weened, she'd been neighing in the night. Now very swollen udders). Cleaned some chicken-shit out of the chicken house. Ate some fejoas. <div>Cold, the sun obscured by thin smoggy layer of clouds. On the news, it seems this is ash coming from the <a href="http://media.talkingpointsmemo.com/slideshow/volcan-oh-no-amazing-photos-from-chiles-volcanic-eruption/1">volcano in Chile</a>.<br /><div>Tidied up a bit. Put through a load of washing. Attacked gorse by clothes-line. Folded clothes. Checked email and facebook. Made lunch for Pony Clubbers, and abandoned any thought of sailing. Fed other horses.</div></div><div>Drove to Pony Club. Oscar roamed freely, delighted to find Amanda. After lunch there was polo training. I took some photos and video. Finnegan behaving well, and off to (maybe) a new home. </div><div>Came home, nit-combed Oscar, and put on chicken to roast. Toby a little hung-over after a night on the town. Pen picked Marg up. Big roast chicken dinner, tarte tartin. Biddy not well. Drove Marg home. Settled all into bed and half-browsed, half-watched netball with Pen. </div><div>Silver Ferns held on to win 45-42. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726927.post-13034678244342697492011-06-11T20:38:00.003+12:002011-06-13T11:08:04.329+12:00June 11Managed to get a good night's sleep. Woke slowly, Pen making coffee. Tidied up a bit, then had to get the ute started- low on diesel, and the battery down. Luckily we had diesel. <div>Did some chores round the place- twins went riding. They found Riley out, came back very excited (they'd shut the gates.) Truck started, so I went and found Pen, and she brought Riley and Tully down to the three-bay, while I moved some hay, and tried to help out. </div><div>Back at home, Pop and the twins agreed to ride the newbies: Biddy on Chelsea, Julia on Finnegan, Poppy on Tully. Oscar and I went to town, and bought: a new petrol container, voltmeter, ax and rechargable torch-radio 9and a sausage for Oscar); diesel, petrol, gas; and groceries (including, of course, salt and vinegar chips). </div><div>Arrived back to find the twins had had a good ride, but Tully had been a disaster. Thrown Poppy twice, badly scraped, and also rope-burns, from when he'd thrown Penny. He'd just gone silly, wild, hitting the wall, falling over, trying to get the saddle and person off. </div><div>Nachos and wound-tending; then I dug up some ngaios, and went to plant them in the gully in block 1. Sheep and ponies grazing together, scattered into their two groups when I arrived- the sheep, led by Dot, walked up, and she sniffed the ngaios very interestedly,until she was sure they were not edible. </div><div>Getting dark by the time I was heading back. Not convinced we'll have much success with these... we've tried a few times in this spot. Too loved by stock. </div><div>Fed horses on the way back: William and Marley and Finnegan up top; Tully, Riley and Salty around the 3-bay, and Finneen above the house. Made cheese- toasties. Equalising the batteries, and still pondering wind generators. </div><div>Watched some more Nurse Jackie with Pen, and then stayed up late reading about John Ross, Pancho Villa, 1910 and the Mexican Revolution. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726927.post-85919179346791034032011-06-10T13:06:00.005+12:002011-06-11T20:38:39.632+12:00June 10<div>Damp day, woke in the dark, and didn't get up til after the phone had finished it's snippet of "Of Montreal". </div>Toby's 21st: he came in and opened presents as we got ready to leave. Again a leisurely run, Biddy on time to get ready for orchestra before the assembly began. <div>ELMS meeting. Alan is leaving, which seems a shame. But he's been unhappy for a while here. It IS dreary at the moment. </div><div>Spend much of the morning researching prices, and trying to 'make a case' for buying stuff. Some of it stuff I've been talking about for years. Frustrating. When I had the power to make decisions, I did stuff. Now I don't. I talk about it. I write it down. I write it down a gain. I change my mind, give up, try again, throw it in the bin. It does not feel good. </div><div>Off to another ECHO360 meeting at 2. Walk out into the rain, carrying laptop, bag, camera, notepad.... and try to find the van. Feel a bit dizzy. Rain on my glasses. It's not there. Look around a bit. So stupid me, where did I park it? After a moment or two, while half my brain is trying to work out where I DID park it, the other half is saying, slightly incredulously: someone's nicked it.</div><div>Back to the office, unlock, turn off the alarms. Security: no vans have been towed. Ring police to report stolen. Talk to security again. Ring Pen- she has to come in and pick me up, as well as Oscar, the twins, Poppy. Mope, search, call AMI, mechanic (to cancel the car booking for Monday: we'll need it.)</div><div>Pen comes, Oscar tries to run away (Poppy chases him) we talk with Lucy and Tim, gather up the twins, head home. Turn on the generator, nip down to feed Tully and Salty, the last hints of light tinting low clouds under Mt Bradley. Pen makes pizzas. </div><div>Bugger.</div><div>Finished Archer's Goon. </div><div>Watched <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uz2j3BhL47c">Episode 1</a> of Adam Curtis' latest series. Not sure what his point is about computers, but it was fascinating seeing Ayn Rand, and some of the financial history was good. Half-way through, Pen got interested, so we watched it again from the beginning, together. He is a compelling film-maker, but I didn't quite get the 'network' connection. </div><div>Then an episode of Nurse Jackie, and cuddling up, and slumber.<br /><div><br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726927.post-8696089796176052822011-06-09T20:26:00.005+12:002011-06-10T13:14:03.414+12:00June 9Oscar staying home today, so a much more leisurely morning. Chatted to Poppy on the way in. Dropped the girls off near the College of Ed to walk. <div>Pfaffed about far too much at work. Delivered DVD, talked raptors with Gil, tried not to work on the Elspeth talk, went to the Edius forum to find out why Edius crashes on export, did some organising, phone-calls, etc. Wrote diary. </div><div>Tired. Talked over TECP361 dvds with Nicki Dabner and Pat Shepherd. I'd like the College of Ed story to properly figure in Herbert's report on e-learning post quake, but I'm not sure how to manage this. There is a lot of scorn, bitterness and erosion of goodwill out there. </div><div>At lunchtime, drove out to Hornby (Klondyke Place) to alu-fix, and lo! the broken hinges for the front door (Poppy sez HI!) are replaced! The woman apologised for the price, but at $27 each they are cheaper than the $45 we paid for the last two. Bought three... hope a/ I can install them without having to remove the door, and b/ they will make the front door work properly again.</div><div>Found it hard to concentrate after lunch. So I abandoned Elspeth and went to work on the Mudfish. Oh dear: I did stuff things up a little. Not just the wide shots at the beginning with the macro bumped, but also a big patch with no audio... shame, cos what I've got will work quite well, but more of Jon talking on-site would be good.</div><div>Still: there's a reasonable 5-8 minute piece lurking in in the rubble. </div><div>Almost 5 when I got a call from poppy- at the Ricc Mall shopping for Toby. Ah yes: Toby's 21st tomorrow. So I head down in the fast darkening, and find there are no chargers at Dick Smiths. Downcast for about 5 mins- but Noel Leeming have them in stock, and $2 less. Yay!</div><div>Meet Poppy, who gives me her rice-ball. We pick the twins up from Emma's. Sarah and Seamus are nice, and the boys engaging. But my, it's soooo clean! </div><div>Emma's new puppy has to go: Flynn is allergic to him. Sad.</div><div>Drive home in the dark, stew for dinner. Pen is waiting for the netball (I hope never to pay Sky a cent). I am waiting to read the final chapter of Archer's Goon. </div><div>But alas, the twins, having been read Alana in the bath with Pop, fell asleep. So the Goon must wait. Found and squashed the louse that had been making my head crazy-itchy. </div><div>Aussies won a sharp game of netball.</div><div>And so. </div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726927.post-28595063384530411332011-06-09T09:39:00.004+12:002011-06-09T10:20:10.209+12:00Dear Dairy: June 8Penny has started writing a diary. How 19th century, I thought. And then I thought some more.<div>And decided it was an interesting idea, and maybe I would try it for a week, and I would use blogger, cos it's here, and because I've always seen it as my diary, rather than anything anyone else will read. </div><div>Though I've come to realise it's not the place to fully, crudely, express how I feel about work.</div><div>So- June 8.</div><div>Mild head-cold. </div><div>Rushed over the hill and through town because we left late, and the twins had to be at school before 9 to catch a bus to the northwest festival practice day. We made it... which meant the studio lights were on, camera fired up, and I was emailing an audio file to a lecturer when Herbert and then Antoine turned up for interviews about flexible learning in the aftermath of the quake. Alan followed, and then I hastily sent some files to Scratch for Janelle and walked over to a meeting with marketing.</div><div>Once again rubbing up against other people's frustration with the University. and once again we re-invent stuff. Dave, the new head of marketing, is keen on a sort of marketing UCTV. He sees the content as student generated (with prizes- I'd make something myself for a Fiji holiday :))</div><div>Interesting, but... </div><div>Greg showed me some nice implementation of video galleries of short student 'testimonials'. I didn't know they were there. I think they were shot, in fact, by Eve, the photographer. Clips not streamed, simply hosted .flvs on the servers. </div><div>Yet again: another individual initiative heading off on its own to- who knows where. It drives me a little crazy, even when I like what people are doing. </div><div>I'm coming to the realisation: my job is changing, as is the University. University life won't ever be the same. This is down to a combination of current management, long-term erosion of funding levels, and new ways of thinking about the value of Universities- factors that are worldwide. </div><div>Ditto Christchurch. Never the same again. Mostly down to the earthquake.</div><div>Ditto New Zealand: now 7th worst in the OECD in income inequality, 2nd only to the US I think in imprisoning our own, and heading in the wrong direction. </div><div>And maybe the world, too: food shortage, global warming, economic system teetering. </div><div>This avalanche of change is unsettling for an old guy, but I have to accept it or go crazy. Each step into the unknown. We shuffle forward, carefully extending each foot, feeling for firm ground, as I do when walking down to the generator without a light on a dark night- or we just stride on, out the opened window, not knowing what floor we're on. Expect the unexpected. Worry for the kids. Keep an open mind...</div><div>Ate lunch while burning CDs, the computer/edius/disc burner crashing when I try to encode dvds. Something has crept in: "corrupted mpgs in the temp folder" is a clue, not an answer.</div><div>The afternoon kicked off with a discussion with AV of integrating services. It all seemed to flow around format shifting. Gil was bitter and unhappy. Wayne was more-or-less only interested in metrics; systems for measuring how long we spent on each task. </div><div>I find this mind-numbing.</div><div>We cheered up towards the end, agreeing to share space, set up some AV gear here; that tasks/requests will come to me via Julie (she will get the metrics rolling!); that Andrew and Matt will happily share some of the work if possible. It's a mess, and we skirted some things. clearly there is a 'no money, no chance' attitude from SMT and we will continue to work bitsily in the absence of any vision from above. But we can get on with each other, at least.</div><div>Managed to burn the DVD, and picked up the twins in the dark. Arrived home and Poppy and Toby were just agreeing what to cook for dinner. Combed Oscars hair for lice. Gina grumbled about sick kids at school, and he may not go tomorrow. He's very clingy, seems insecure, and hard to get to sleep.</div><div>Second to last chapter of Archer's Goon (the twins are now finding it very exciting) and finally, after Oscar dozed off, P and I watched the second episode of series two of Treme. Great characters and dialogue, moderately engaging plot lines (they have to keep a host of characters alive each episode) but it's the music- the spirit of the music that really gets me. </div><div>Especially one short sequence of a kid, maybe 10, playing brilliant experimental blues on a keyboard in a music shop. Almost all the characters are on a downward spiral at the moment: Davis lost his job, the bar isn't working out, the chief's insurance company won't pay out for his wrecked house; the Dutch busker, who's just been robbed of his cash-jar by kids on the street, looks in at this kid in the music store and smiles grimly. </div><div>You can't tell if he's pissed off at being out-played by a 10-year-old or affirmed in his love for NO where this musical brilliance just seems to rise up out of the busted sidewalks. </div><div>Oscar came up a couple times, but on the third return to bed, about 12:20, he slept through the night.</div><div><br /><div><br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726927.post-8241956739875644182011-05-23T12:25:00.004+12:002011-05-30T09:31:59.530+12:00I was talking to the piano<div>and the piano started talking back. </div><div>"Shut up!" I said.</div><div>"No, you shut up" said the piano. </div><div>I don't like being talked back to by any of the furniture. </div><div>"You're out of line" I said. "And you're out of tune. You're a dust-magnet and you don't pull your weight."</div><div>The piano got huffy. </div><div>"I'm an instrument. I'm not a bloody lump of <i>furniture</i> like that lazy, useless sofa. If you could play me, you'd know. I'm a sensitive-"</div><div>"I'll play you" I said. So I did-</div><div><br /></div><div><object width="560" height="349"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/gI6YKTi7mtg?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/gI6YKTi7mtg?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="560" height="349" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726927.post-83461923738070299192010-11-01T11:03:00.001+13:002010-11-01T11:05:09.315+13:00Carry Me Down<object width="480" height="295"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/H-Tn8aoMN_c?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/H-Tn8aoMN_c?fs=1&hl=en_US" width="480" height="295" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object><br />Turning 50 and writing songs about dying. Hey ho.<br />Visited Dad in an age-care facility in Kaikohe, for his 90th birthday. I was tempted to use pictures of Dad in this, but it's his private business and the song isn't about Dad.<br />Lots of bum notes. Wish I could sing in tune.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726927.post-80402614332650057642010-06-22T17:32:00.004+12:002010-06-22T17:37:11.995+12:00Rosanne and Johnny Cash<object width="1"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/J2WilM6ljUg&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&border=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/J2WilM6ljUg&hl=" fs="1&rel=" border="1" width="400" height="300" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726927.post-43764020158203345532010-05-04T15:25:00.004+12:002010-05-04T15:42:44.230+12:0035 librarians- ah, now for lunch.<em>Members of the Tertiary Education Union at the University of Canterbury have reacted with anger and dismay to the latest change proposal in which fifty-eight staff positions are targeted for disestablishment.<br />Thirty-five of these positions are in the university's libraries.<br /><br />It is the opinion of members that the roles proposed in place of those marked for redundancy do little to consolidate the expertise and institutional knowledge that are a hallmark of the work done at this university. The proposed replacement of the professional librarians who lead the university's libraries with Centre Manager roles is of particular concern, as is the Vice-Chancellor's as-yet-untested claim that the ongoing employment of senior librarians would occur at the cost of academic jobs elsewhere in the university. <br /><br />The Tertiary Education Union has represented its members throughout the submissions process associated with the multiple change proposals under Project STAR. It has worked not only in defence of members' positions but also of members' own vision for the university. Its views are informed by the deep expertise and experience of its members, from new staff who have joined the university from other institutions to those who have served the Canterbury community for many decades.<br /><br />It is the view of the union that the labour force of a large public institution such as the University of Canterbury is an asset, not a liability, and that positive outcomes for the future are best achieved by treating it as such.</em><br /><br /><br />This from the president of our local UC branch of the tertiary education union. <br />And so it is: the barbarians are not at the gate, they are at the helm at the University of Canterbury. <br />The library is the core of a university: heart and brain. You cannot hack away at it without damaging the institution.<br />I could go on at length about what a complete farce of inHuman Relations uncompetence and Managerial Flatulence the whole "Project Star" has been. (And I started out as being modestly in favour of it: the University does have some odd management practices, and there was- and will be- plenty of siloing, excess of managers and duplication of services.) <br />But... usually when you cut services you have a vision of how to better provide them. Usually you know what people do (or what 'functions' they 'fill' in the Inhuman Relations Vision) before sacking them. <br />I can- and, sigh- do!- vent about 'project star' for hours (they spelt the name backwards, a local wit proclaimed). And that wouldn't touch on the debacle at the College of Education. <br />I seem to need to vent because I feel powerless. There is some fight-back (the Academic Board gave a solid push) but we are divided, herded into seperate corrals,and there is little opportunity to take a public stand. <br />And while real damage is being done to a major public institution- that feels wrong too.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726927.post-5837388399925780982009-12-24T19:42:00.007+13:002010-01-12T12:55:30.877+13:00<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418732548868177346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: left" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/SzM0iyQifcI/AAAAAAAAASM/us6xDSv3UzI/s400/pohutukawa.jpg" border="0" /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#551a8b;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="TEXT-DECORATION: underline"><br /></span></span></div><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"> Merry Christmas! </span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"> </p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418732554720378546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: left" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/SzM0jIDz_rI/AAAAAAAAASU/gtZjjd5cVPo/s400/oscar+tree.jpg" border="0" /></p><p> Oscar has taken to sleeping under the tree.<br /></span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726927.post-76846493338547827942009-12-21T09:42:00.003+13:002009-12-21T09:51:34.218+13:00More time lapsing<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/Sy6OQrcQT-I/AAAAAAAAAR8/Mhu7YgSLMzw/s1600-h/IMG_3598.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417423818963570658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 225px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/Sy6OQrcQT-I/AAAAAAAAAR8/Mhu7YgSLMzw/s400/IMG_3598.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><div>Bones healed, more-or-less. Dell laptop dies, and then so does the HD of replacement thinkpad T42, along with some parts of "Seasons of the Boat". </div><br /><div>Summer hits. A rare night at the world's best bar= the <a href="http://www.wunderbar.co.nz/">wunderbar</a>, Lyttelton. </div><br /><div>More time, more short short summer nights. </div><br /><div>Less time alive. </div><br /><div></div><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwdyHpMyPjrQ_R6vvplWUiieJxUNxcArflNonl2BEuiCuk-dHqnPujCcTinQeIMapBRqeRs_e2MJUM' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726927.post-2351296093876666512009-08-09T13:29:00.004+12:002009-08-09T13:37:55.863+12:00Timelapse experiment 1While charging around one night, head fizzing with picture and timelapse ideas, I stood in a shadow and broke a bone in my foot. This has put a damper on any timelapse experiments- and thrown the standard daily round here into a strange perspective.<div>Hobbling about, and limited to a 16Mb card on the camera, the first few attempts at timelapse have been fun, anyway.</div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwj-iUpn7IvC3-U9uJeQNzgk8Vt6SaxFrmgHEn8SNXDoowh2lW7fgxPACCv17zvN4tNMTUG6jxOaA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726927.post-14956305986318447452009-07-28T23:18:00.001+12:002009-07-28T23:18:46.157+12:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: -webkit-monospace; font-size: 13px; white-space: pre-wrap; "><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/Sm7bjn-zoBI/AAAAAAAAARs/tF-DwWjMGag/s1600-h/IMG_0093.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/Sm7bjn-zoBI/AAAAAAAAARs/tF-DwWjMGag/s400/IMG_0093.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363465611319156754" /></a> Playing with a new toy: a 'powershot' A460 canon digital camera- plus <a href="http://chdk.wikia.com/wiki/CHDK">CHDK</a> (the canon hack development kit) <div>Been wanting to do some timelapse photography since last winter. I have a few projects in mind, including one of Awakeri at anchor, titled by cyber-friend Merc "The Season of the Boat." Ideally it'll be tide in, tide out- and, ahm, again. In all sorts of weather, with a lot of fast-moving clouds and some mood music. It may never work out, but things are looking better than last year. Last year, after extensive research, I bought a Nikon 'coolpix' 8400- which turned out to have dropped the timelapse feature of the 8000. Poppy is enjoying the Nikon... And I'm fascinated with the A460. CHDK is a sprawling project that uses software hacks to tap the full potential of cheap canon 'point-and-shoot' cameras. It's been developed by an unruly collection of enthusiasts- there are gaps and maddening frustrations- but also a remarkable collaborative success. So 'raw' unprocessed picture data is possible- all manner of bracketing- and the ability to over-ride, tweak and automate a whole range of features. Mostly I'm intrigued with the possibilities of time-lapse, and very long exposure times at night. But very fast exposures- and motion-detection quick enough to capture lightening- sound cool.<div> </div><div><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/Sm7bj5iHu6I/AAAAAAAAAR0/EQgVh_p_BBk/s400/IMG_0218.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363465616030677922" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /> </div></div></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726927.post-49505454564216589522009-07-07T18:32:00.004+12:002009-07-07T19:07:42.265+12:00The Dankest Winter in Living MemoryWe are beset with under-runners and foul weather. Only the hope of a week or two living on hard-tack and hiding out from swine-flu keeps our spirits up. Awakeri has an itchy bottom, due to an infestation of crabs (and barnacles.)<br />There's now an 'add video' button on blogger: this seems dangerous.<br />I'm going to try it...<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyiYuYeiEmvI-9YdZ7GvYnH49ILahRn6o3rjdr39cQFawtw5h4TRa6VfyEHC4oZObL0ZF3uHVIekqo' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />this is a video I made recently. Compressed in the fancy-schmancy h264. Hey ho- it seems to work!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726927.post-87969023875328120162009-01-11T14:06:00.004+13:002009-08-19T14:58:29.210+12:00Summer at Windward FarmTook one of the HD cameras from work home and got a chance to shoot a few scenes round the farm. <p></p><p>Blogger won't let me embed it- or I don't know how to get the html right. But it's here: <a href="http://vimeo.com/2785000">Windward</a></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726927.post-74508014011812579912008-04-02T22:09:00.003+13:002009-08-19T14:59:32.754+12:00Marching through March, angsting through AprilThere are paces in life, sometimes steady and measured, sometimes disciplined and militaristic, sometimes a long slog.<br />Or you can go loopy-loo and skip through the daisies one minute; loppy-la-la swung through the trees by your hair the next.<br />I dunno what the rhythm is at the moment, feel like I'm slouching out of step. No plans or dreams on the boil; a sort of sleep-walking with banal vistas interupted by odd forays into the bizarre.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726927.post-58678969415007010212007-11-10T23:13:00.001+13:002009-08-19T15:01:34.706+12:00Ruatoki Revisited<a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RzWNQaDdASI/AAAAAAAAAIE/O6iTvI7GXrE/s1600-h/Ureweras.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131162663469777186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RzWNQaDdASI/AAAAAAAAAIE/O6iTvI7GXrE/s400/Ureweras.jpg" border="0" /></a> The Ureweras<br /><div></div><br /><div>In 1963 the Stowells- Bob, Anne, Laurel and I- moved to Ruatoki for a year. Dad had a job teaching English at the high school, run by a straight-backed former Major of the Maori Battalion.<br />We'd been in New Zealand for about a year: at Beeville commune in the Bay of Plenty, a few months in New Plymouth, a taste of Northland. We'd left the US- the farm in the woods of Vermont- looking for a better life, away from the madness and hysteria of cold-war, prosperity-conscious America.<br />I was just three: a white-haired kid floating a jandle down the Ruatoki River with his mum. </div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131164295557349682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RzWOvaDdATI/AAAAAAAAAIM/2dSB0d4P22U/s400/PlayingInRiver.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div>I can't remember much, and there's a level of family myth about the stories that remain which veils the reality. As if myths are not real...</div><br /><div></div><div>In 1993 Penny and I were at a family wedding in Whakatane, and we drove up to Ruatoki. I wanted to find the house on the rise above the school we lived in for that year. Ruatoki has hit the headlines; balaclava-clad commando figures that do not look like police; road-blocks and rumours; a secret army training in the hills; moko and myth. </div><div>I needed to take another look at the house and the place. Here are some stills culled from casual roadside vhs video taken in 1993.</div><br /><a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RzWNJKDdARI/AAAAAAAAAH8/IC37ymTdQZU/s1600-h/TheHouse.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131162538915725586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RzWNJKDdARI/AAAAAAAAAH8/IC37ymTdQZU/s400/TheHouse.jpg" border="0" /></a> This is the house we lived in in 1963.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131166322781913410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RzWQlaDdAUI/AAAAAAAAAIU/UxaennXk2Eo/s400/BlueHouse.jpg" border="0" /><br />The blue house was next-door. I remember the two as twins, sitting on the hill- but now there are more houses, and these two are not so alike.<br /><br /><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RzWMlqDdAQI/AAAAAAAAAH0/BpVcYAgN0bA/s1600-h/RuaNuiDairy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131161929030369538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RzWMlqDdAQI/AAAAAAAAAH0/BpVcYAgN0bA/s400/RuaNuiDairy.jpg" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RzWMcqDdAPI/AAAAAAAAAHs/QNmJYDOviBA/s1600-h/RuatokiRiver.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131161774411546866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RzWMcqDdAPI/AAAAAAAAAHs/QNmJYDOviBA/s400/RuatokiRiver.jpg" border="0" /></a> The Ruatoki River.<br /><br /><div><div><div><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RzWMQqDdAOI/AAAAAAAAAHk/R2ISde8n-Mg/s1600-h/PinkHouse.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131161568253116642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RzWMQqDdAOI/AAAAAAAAAHk/R2ISde8n-Mg/s400/PinkHouse.jpg" border="0" /></a> Once upon a time, this house was a vibrant new pink.<br /><br /><div><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RzWMGqDdANI/AAAAAAAAAHc/ApMhHc_4IwE/s1600-h/Marae.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131161396454424786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RzWMGqDdANI/AAAAAAAAAHc/ApMhHc_4IwE/s400/Marae.jpg" border="0" /></a> There were several marae in the area. This is not the main Ruatoki wharenui.<br /><br /><div><a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RzWLwaDdAMI/AAAAAAAAAHU/EQ3w-rvVDAg/s1600-h/Horses.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131161014202335426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RzWLwaDdAMI/AAAAAAAAAHU/EQ3w-rvVDAg/s400/Horses.jpg" border="0" /></a> Horses grazed the roadside freely.<br /><br /><div><a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RzWLcaDdALI/AAAAAAAAAHM/ysuw-HiKccE/s1600-h/church.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131160670604951730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RzWLcaDdALI/AAAAAAAAAHM/ysuw-HiKccE/s400/church.jpg" border="0" /></a> A church at another marae.<br /><br /><div></div><div><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RzWLVqDdAKI/AAAAAAAAAHE/eeMDU5odHXo/s1600-h/Man.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131160554640834722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RzWLVqDdAKI/AAAAAAAAAHE/eeMDU5odHXo/s400/Man.jpg" border="0" /></a> We didn't see many people, and I was shy with the camera. I'm glad I recorded at least one person. </div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726927.post-18889949124927770852007-04-20T16:24:00.000+12:002007-04-20T16:26:03.987+12:00"Mt Somers Day hath all too short a lease..."<embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/mXIl60fiC3g" width="425" height="350" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent"></embed>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726927.post-73549570774305852882007-03-17T00:22:00.000+13:002007-03-19T14:22:57.961+12:00...and back again<a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RfyVuT1biOI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/JkbN1n-Ex4s/s1600-h/DSC00978.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043070305579010274" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RfyVuT1biOI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/JkbN1n-Ex4s/s320/DSC00978.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><strong>Jan 9.</strong> </div><div>Warm summer morning. We stretched and grunted and slowly awoke. Had coffee, chocolate and a swim. By 10 the NE was getting up, and we started tacking out.</div><div>A relaxing sail out to the heads, but once there, we sat tossing, and elected to start the motor. For an hour or so, as soon as we'd get the motor running, the breeze would seem to get up, only to die as I turned the 'rude off. We had a few speights I'd frozen that were quite cold. Into the afternoon, the wind steadied a little. </div><div></div><div>Before leaving, I'd checked the marine forecasts. Two days of NE, 5-10 knots, small chance of a little n'west, etc. A km or so off Godley head, we started to get a good southerly. It was quite warm, and at first I couldn't believe it. Soon it was up 15+ knots and quite a battle. And still rising steadily. Jonno got the jib down, and we snuck- ok, banged and flapped- into Little Port Cooper, fixin' to reef. <a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RfyRKj1biMI/AAAAAAAAAFA/XqdzLj_C-7g/s1600-h/DSC00980.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043065293352175810" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RfyRKj1biMI/AAAAAAAAAFA/XqdzLj_C-7g/s320/DSC00980.JPG" border="0" /></a>A couple of motor-boats were selfishly hogging the only pile. We had to put in the straggliest reef I've ever sailed under, pulled hither and thither under the cliffs and about the open bay. Then we headed back out, and it still wasn't easy sailing. We made slow but steady progress tacking up-harbour. On our second tack, under the cliffs between Little Port Cooper and Camp Bay, a big cruising motorboat offered help, but we waved them off cheerily. At the same time, I was a bit worried. Checking the LPC wind records after I was back at work, it was about 20 knots that hour- and generally you can count on max gusts being about half that again. 30 knot gusts throw Awakeri over, and bat her about. It's slow progress with the wind pulling up steep little waves, against the ocean rollers. We were getting wet. While we were coping ok, I just didn't want the wind to come up any more. </div><div>Approaching the big yellow bouy that bobs about off the rocky north shore of the harbour, about a km in from Godley Head, one of the two metal straps holding the rudder gudgeons to the rudder snapped. They've done this before. I could just hold the rudder into a semi-steering position while the remaining straps were intact, but the metal was twisting badly. We flapped along quartering the sea, pushed back downwind towards Godley Head. <a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RfyXAz1biQI/AAAAAAAAAFg/YAk1_Fr61lE/s1600-h/DSC00981.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043071722918217986" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RfyXAz1biQI/AAAAAAAAAFg/YAk1_Fr61lE/s200/DSC00981.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div>Fortunately, Awakeri has a spare rudder. It was probably the original, substituted for the deeper, simpler dagger-board, which gives a bit more bite. (She needs it. When she tips- and she's quite tippy- the rudder starts to come out of the water, and you have to fight it not to lose steerage and come into the wind. If you tip enough, you just do come sliding helplessly into the wind, like it or not- not necessarily unsafe, but she can be a pig to get back under control. <a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RfyVUz1biNI/AAAAAAAAAFI/JrZH3SRWj-o/s1600-h/DSC00979.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043069867492346066" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RfyVUz1biNI/AAAAAAAAAFI/JrZH3SRWj-o/s320/DSC00979.JPG" border="0" /></a>Sigrids' design balance is not quite right, tho' once you know them, mostly workable.) </div><div>Jonno jumped below and found the spare. AB Poff was a fine deck hand all trip, bouncing about on the foredeck in big seas, but this was his finest moment. We improvised a tiller out of the boat-hook, a stainless-steel spinnaker pole, a paddle, and some twine. Tacking on- into and out of the shelter of Camp Bay; past Ripapa Island, Purau, Diamond Harbour- the wind, tho still gusty, seemed to drop intensity. <em>(Sidebar: There are no pics of the rough stuff. We were all too busy, Jonno's camera had no battery and it was too wet to risk a camera anyway).</em></div><div><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RfyWjj1biPI/AAAAAAAAAFY/GU4vevdzxy4/s1600-h/DSC00987.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043071220407044338" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RfyWjj1biPI/AAAAAAAAAFY/GU4vevdzxy4/s320/DSC00987.JPG" border="0" /></a>Dropped Crispin off about 5, and Jonno took a look at this craft- and had a chat with Andrew Fagan, one-time Mocker, on an orange circumnavigation. The wind was down to maybe 15 knots as we trundled up towards the Head of the Harbour. Little rain squalls came and went. We were wet. Started eating lollies, peanuts and apples. I knew the tide wasn't in til 9ish- quite late- and we couldn't arrive too early. But I wasn't paying enough attention, and we ran aground on the shoal off King Billy Island. Immediately tried to get the center-board up, but it was jammed. I could see the wire cable had moved out of the <a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RfyXKT1biRI/AAAAAAAAAFo/2NfHbaOb_Bs/s1600-h/DSC00990.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043071886126975250" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RfyXKT1biRI/AAAAAAAAAFo/2NfHbaOb_Bs/s200/DSC00990.JPG" border="0" /></a>groove that holds it in place- scraped off on the bottom no doubt. We managed to get off the shoal by tipping her right over- aided by some decent gusts- and we skulked off across the bay. In slightly deeper water on the MP side (off Boulder Bay), I stripped off and standing and slipping around on the muddy bottom, tried with feet and hands to pull the wire free, and get it back into place. NO go. The boat was moving constantly. I got in and out several times. Jonno tried to wedge things free from inside the cabin with wire. After almost getting it, then spending another ten minutes in the surprisingly warm water, I started to shiver uncontrollably, and went below and put on clothes, wet as I was, and the lit the little gas cooker and made tea. <a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RfyXTz1biSI/AAAAAAAAAFw/l49gQbubbDc/s1600-h/DSC00989.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043072049335732514" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RfyXTz1biSI/AAAAAAAAAFw/l49gQbubbDc/s200/DSC00989.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div>We were just finishing when Alice came out with a canoeful of good cheer. Of course they'd been watching... Poppy followed soon after. I was indecisive. With the centre-board down, the beach was not a good home for Awakeri. But I thought what the heck.... and started the motor to come in- and at least get some gear ashore. We took off with a pleasing roar and the mast fell down. While standing and swimming alongside, I'd been holding the stays, and I must've almost completely loosened one of the turnbuckles. Remarkably there was no injury or damage to be seen. We pulled the mast in, rolled up and stowed the main, and raised the mast. Then Jonno, Alice and Poppy went in with a load of gear, and I quite quickly managed to get the cable sorted with my toes, and had the centreboard up before they got back. </div><div>Relief greatly lightens the spirits. Moored Awakeri and carried big loads up the hill, feeling a little touched by an angel. I need to break up the reassuring normality of routine family life by doing things like this de temps en temps. But it was grand to be home, beaming back at Oscar, kissing the twins goodnight, enjoying Penny's friendly ribbing. Sailing is great but sometimes it's like banging yr head against a brick wall- the stoppin' really satisfies too.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726927.post-15232116455224411952007-03-16T23:27:00.000+13:002007-03-19T14:13:54.803+12:00To Pigeon Bay<a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RfqBIT1biII/AAAAAAAAAEg/9SVo92HtTlg/s1600-h/KIF_9813.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5042484712558004354" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RfqBIT1biII/AAAAAAAAAEg/9SVo92HtTlg/s200/KIF_9813.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div><br /><div><div>It's now mid March. I've been back at work for two months. The holidays are receeding into the haze.<br />And here I am just getting to Jan 8. The interweb is so durned <em>immediate</em>, n'est-ce pas?<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5042471136166381538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/Rfp0yD1bh-I/AAAAAAAAADQ/i15thJjgyEg/s320/DSC00951.JPG" border="0" /> <strong>Jan 8. </strong><br />I told Jonno and Crispin I'd meet them about 10 in Lyttelton. They were late. I found this out as I txtd them to say <em>I'd</em> be late, tacking up-harbour past Quail Island in a steady but fairly light breeze.<br />They'd have another coffee, they decided.<br />Lyttelton's inner harbour moorings are half-way a yacht basin again. (The "marina storm" did that much good.) The little float can be quite busy, but this was a Monday morning. Crispin and Jonno clambered aboard, slung in some bags, and we slipped out past the other yachts, sitting tight.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5042472029519579122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/Rfp1mD1bh_I/AAAAAAAAADY/JDrl_jijISM/s320/KIF_9621.JPG" border="0" /><br />11:00 til about 2 or 3 pm we tacked out in a wavering NE. Godley Head slipped behind us, and we sailed past a tanker in the Roads. And out. Further I think than I've taken Awakeri- 4-5 kms at least.<br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5042469409589528530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RfpzNj1bh9I/AAAAAAAAADI/SCTlgSobeN8/s320/DSC00934.JPG" border="0" /><br />The big greasy rollers in light weather made Cris quite ill. It squelched all of us a little. Deep nausea is dreadful; when you're sea-sick well out to sea, you can start to feel hopeless. On the Australis I can remember being queasy for days. It's not life-affirming. So we took a long wandering tack into Little Pigeon Bay. As we went in, a curious scow motored past and into Pigeon Bay.<br /></p><p></p><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/Rfp6Bz1biAI/AAAAAAAAADg/sM3wineQeRI/s1600-h/KIF_9719.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5042476904307460098" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/Rfp6Bz1biAI/AAAAAAAAADg/sM3wineQeRI/s200/KIF_9719.JPG" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/Rfp7pT1biDI/AAAAAAAAAD4/asy1_Neqyow/s1600-h/DSC00943.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5042478682423920690" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/Rfp7pT1biDI/AAAAAAAAAD4/asy1_Neqyow/s200/DSC00943.JPG" border="0" /></a> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5042479172050192450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/Rfp8Fz1biEI/AAAAAAAAAEA/a6Y0Lo520ng/s200/DSC00944.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p>It was quiet and hot in Little Pigeon. Starting the motor, I broke the starter chord- I'm thinking guiltily that it's still not fixed- on the second pull. But the same pull started the engine and we putted in.<br /><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/Rfp6rD1biCI/AAAAAAAAADw/40gyjcX85kA/s1600-h/DSC00947.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5042477612977063970" style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/Rfp6rD1biCI/AAAAAAAAADw/40gyjcX85kA/s200/DSC00947.JPG" border="0" /></a> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5042477290854516754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/Rfp6YT1biBI/AAAAAAAAADo/l-nh3bXHkuc/s200/DSC00946.JPG" border="0" /><a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/Rfp9zj1biFI/AAAAAAAAAEI/BAWCd2Le7wU/s1600-h/DSC00952.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5042481057540835410" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/Rfp9zj1biFI/AAAAAAAAAEI/BAWCd2Le7wU/s200/DSC00952.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></p><div></div><br /><div><p>Stopped and discovered we could still start the engine, because smart designers built a round pulley you can wind the cord onto, right on top of the shaft. Quite tricky to get the plastic cover back on the engine though, with the engine's exposed head whirling, and you're heaving and pitching in any sea. <em>( Sidebar: I've got a smallish two-cylinder 4 horse evinrude. I should have held out for a 6. But after 18 months scouring the buy sell and echange- and rejecting another very cheap, old four- I bought this one in about 1997 for $400. The guy told me it was a 1982 model, and I believed him, because when I arranged a time to come round to see him, it was a Sunday, and he said not til after 11 as he'd be at church, and christians don't lie, do they? A mechanic checked the serial # and it's a 1976. Awakeri is also a '75 or 76. They've got on well. She generally starts like a dream. Once I didn't touch it for three years, and it started second pull. It's taken us through a few passages. But it's not a long-distance engine, less reliable when hot. )</em></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5042482595139127394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/Rfp_ND1biGI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/SME85urKYGk/s400/DSC00974.JPG" border="0" /> Little Pigeon Bay is still my favourite anchorage. We moored up in the sun, and went ashore. Solid rock livened Crispin up, and soon he was only light green.<br />We walked up the ridge, finding, as you do, that ridge-tops kept disolving into other ridges, each promising the top.<br />But getting ashore at Little Pigeon involved stretching, scraping, possibly getting wet. It wasn't easy enough for the lilly-livered, weaselish paltroons I'd press-ganged. We had a glorious swim in the cold sea, and started the 'Rude (I have never before called it this, and may never again) heading for Pigeon Bay, a jetty, and an actual toilet. The sea was up round the point, but the wind had right dropped away. I didn't want Cris, who was feeling restored, chundering again. So we motored along at a grand 3-4 knots, enjoying the harbour- but a little shocked at the impact of an extensive mussel-farm. It's not a pretty business. <p>The scow was anchored in Holmes Bay. We tied up at the wharf. </p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5042484072607877234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/RfqAjD1biHI/AAAAAAAAAEY/MWeZfQL6-oM/s320/DSC00975.JPG" border="0" /><br />The evening meandered along- a bottle of wine, some rice and tuna, companionable talk. Some kids came and bombed off the jetty posts. We put out a bow anchor, and stretched a stern line back in a loop we could easily slip. It was very still- the low heave of the ocean, the occasional scrawk of an oyster-catcher, stars everywhere. I'd brought a hunk of trampoline safety mat, which was useless as a mattress. The narrow cockpit bench I tried to sleep on was bloody uncomfortable. </div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726927.post-21614047729939512322007-02-27T15:34:00.000+13:002007-02-27T15:54:05.239+13:00Awakeri Logbook<div><div><div><strong>Launching.</strong><strong><br /></strong>Somehow this was delayed until after Christmas- and even then, with one thing and another, it was 9pm before she slid off the rusty trailer at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Charteris</span> Bay and into the water. I waved goodbye to Penny, bumped a few rocks, and we were sailing.</div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5036040163930580530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/ReOb2NWupjI/AAAAAAAAAAk/FvwRg4AER1k/s320/dirtyBoat.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div>She was covered in sawdust... but <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">snuck</span> out into the gloaming on a gentle breeze. </div><div></div><div></div><div>The cartoon sea shimmered in the dying light.</div><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/ReObCNWuphI/AAAAAAAAAAU/ID_dyG1Qw58/s1600-h/Water.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5036039270577382930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/ReObCNWuphI/AAAAAAAAAAU/ID_dyG1Qw58/s320/Water.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>As is common around nightfall, the breeze was dying- and as I neared King Billy Island, it was almost 10- and I was a little concerned about getting through the passage- and missing the tide at home. </div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5036040030786594338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_-VKWDqUYOB0/ReObudWupiI/AAAAAAAAAAc/Hl2kvhk7FOg/s320/SkyMoepuku.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div></div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">But</span>- with a couple of tacks in the narrowest part- I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">snuck</span> through- and whizzed across to Manson's Pt on a nice 6 knots. Then just off the beach, the wind died almost completely- and it took another 20 minutes to get in. Anchored and secured by moonlight- great to have her back in action.<br /><br /><strong>Jan 3.</strong> </div><div>Poor weather- a series of southerlies and rain- has plagued the summer. One sunny afternoon however I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">nipped</span> down for a quick sail. A southerly was blowing through, and I was lucky that even while the beach is sheltered, I was getting blasts that indicated it was fierce. So I put the reef in before heading out- which took quite a while, but proved worth it.<br />Sailed across to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Moepuku</span> and back- and that was enough. The gusts were howling- and I was having trouble keeping her up, spilling wind, struggling. I still think it was gusting well over 30 knots- although the Lyttelton Port Company figures show 26 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">ish</span> gusts, this is a one-minute average, and the gusts were fairly short. When I got back, big Bridget wondered why I'd been so quick. Long Beach is right out of the Southerly, and the sun was hot. </div><div><br /><strong>Jan 5.<br /></strong>Beautiful evening sail in 6-12 knots. Cruised up-harbour, tacking into Cass Bay, and over to Diamond Harbour, before a fast run down to Church Bay- taking in the sewage plant, various houses and jetties, and a good look at Black's Point- soon to be "developed" with a preposterous 50 houses. Back through the King Billy passage and home.</div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1