Greetings from across the lake. Say Hi, Teddy. (G'day)
Had the first rain since I've been here. Everybody acts like they do in Virginia when it might snow - stampeding toward milk and bread aisles, chains on the tyres, freaking out about missing work and worrying that power will go out and we'll all freeze to death huddled together near the water heater. Anyway, not quite the same here, as it's nearly 90 degrees (35, mate)
, but still, they all worry about roads falling apart and the lake rising and crops crops crops. The grocery store was packed last night and I went to the nearby bar, which was shoulder to shoulder with locals talking about how it's all the fault of that system coming off Korea, it's all the fault of global warming, it's all that fault of the tourists. Then they looked at me, laughed, and drank more beer. Then I laughed, because they all wear short shorts.
Exciting news: When I took - (A bit about myself, as the kid doesn't leave room for one to get a word in edgewise, now does he? Name's not Teddy, as he claims, but let's go with Teddy as I can't say I quite understand what a blog is and all the ramifications held there within. So's, I'm Teddy. A North Islander, originally, I lived and worked in Nelson for 17 years. Fish work. Boat work. If'n it concerned salmon or hoki, I did it. Problem is, well, here's the problem: Used to be, you line up 10 North Islanders, you've got yourself no more than half a man that isn't just the nicest person on the planet. All congeniality and the like. Just a half a person, out of ten. But I don't know what happened. These days, you line up them same 10, you've now got only half a person with the sense to help change a flat, pick up a brother in need, send a line to an old mate. Know'm sayin? Just a general change in lifestyle. Nobody's nice anymore, not on the North Island. That's the truth. Now the kid's talkin about wine, the bugger. Listen:)
- and where the Pinot Noirs certainly aren't bad, and many better than what I'd had in Oregon, I'd put my money, at least in Cromwell, on the staying power of Pinot Gris as a local grape. Most people -
(So anyway, I moved myself down here, down into the bowels of the South Island, where a man can do his work - and it's moving work I do, lifting and moving, driving and lifting - whilst surrounded by good people, you know. And no Maori. Not that I look down upon their kind but it's a certain kind of, I don't know, a certain kind of anxiety that surrounds them and us and nothing against them, great people, but I'd just as soon live without that certain kind of anxiety. Know'm sayin? I like it nice a quiet, here on my boat. Making a good killing, by the by, charging the kid a buck per paragraph. Listen to him go, in that crazy States slang)
- and anyway, as I said in the last post, there are pictures, and I'm working on getting them sent. But I can't exactly like throw the USB chord across the lake to Teddy, ask him to go ahead and upload. So I'm looking for another source of Internet, and when I find it (Between you's and me, it don't exist)
I'll get everybody a better visual.