I had never thought of writing a script for John Cleese or Mr Bean but this week has the potential of making a fairly good comedy show. It all started on Thursday when Harry rang me in rather a tizz. It took a while but I worked out that he had double booked himself - contract work on Thursday when I needed the car, but slightly worse - work the next day when he was meant to be travelling with us to Napier for our long awaited art deco weekend. Some rearrangements which included me catching a bus to bridge and having take aways (what a hardship) and then Harry picking me up later was fine for Thursday but Friday took a bit more thought. At midnight on Thursday, we booked a flight, made a quiche for our dinner the next night, decided to catch an early bus into work so that Harry could taxi to the airport after work - all arranged - and he'd be just 30 or so minutes late for our first show. What could go wrong? (a favourite saying of our Bristolian dance teacher). The story turns to Graham where on Friday morning after shopping, and on Jills orders he made a frittata - the only thing Jill had to do was get the tin from the cupboard. She chose a cake tin (drop out bottom one you know the type) which was not quite the required thing for a frittata- pour the egg in at the top and let it ooze out the bottom faster than Graham could catch it. Then this famous chef (the frittata was pretty good) proceeded to our place to pick up all our stuff minus Harry (who would have been there if he wasn't at work!!). On my email instructions he opened the door and punched in the alarm code - a frantic call came soon after - he couldn't turn the alarm off - and after a few more tries I caught a taxi home wondering if the electrician would come out urgently so we could be on our way. In the back of the taxi and just before the bottom of the Gorge I realised 'oops' I had given Graham the wrong number. How could that happen? By the time I got home the house was no longer rocking to the sound of the shrill alarm, the bags were in the car and Graham had waved to the neighbours in a way that gave the impression he was friend rather than foe. The taxi driver (a woman I am ashamed to say) had seen that I was slightly distracted and gave me a couple of 5 cent pieces for change (I discovered later) and we all know that isn't legal tender any more don't we!! Finally we were on our way. But the madness doesn't quite end there - we found the motel with no trouble - ate the frittata - dressed up - and off we went to see the Mousetrap (Agatha Christie famous show - that has run in London since 1952, over 25,000 performances with a few more around the rest of the world). The tickets said 7.30 and so we arrived about 30 minutes early (a bit worried about car parking and finding the location) and we weren't the only ones. By around 7.15 the audience were gathered outside the little theatre, the place was still shut up, and we all began to wonder if we were at the right place. Along came some of the cast and supporters and herein followed a conversation: 'You're all early', 'Not really', 'It doesn't start till 8.00', 'but the ticket says 7.30' and so on... Anyway it was a lovely evening and we didn't mind standing in the sun, admiring everyones outfits and knowing that Harry wouldn't miss too much after all (though the late start of the show was compensated for by a late flight). Soon we were let in to tables, free wine, juice and nibbles. Half time saw us eating carrot cake and have a 'cuppa'. The show was pretty good as well!!
The next day was 'train ride' day. Train whistle blowing and all that stuff. The platform was full of people dressed in their 1930's clothes (op shop and all that) but I did hear one elderly woman say to another about someone's dress - 'if you haven't got it right you have got it so terribly wrong' - but no one else cared we were all having a great time. We hopped on the train expecting a 'free for all' for seats as we didn't have seat numbers. We soon found out everyone else had Carriage A, B, C etc and seat number 19a, 19b etc clearly written on their ticket - expect us and a few others. The conductor (well guy dressed up in conductor uniform) told us just to wander up and down the carriages, find a vacant seat and sit, and if someone came along with a numbered ticket, get up and find another. We did this a few times - assured that there were enough seats for everyone - until we heard the announcement 'Are there any seats free in any carriages - looks as though we don't have enough for everyone'. But there was enough for us - and the bonus was we wandered the carriages looking at peoples dresses, hats, braces and shoes and had a good laugh at the same time.
It was lunch time which we spent on the water front enjoying more of the sunshine and the air show before promenading down to the vintage car 'drive past'. It wasn't really a drive past from where I was sitting as it appeared that they ran out of car parks and soon the cars were all stopped by the side of the road. Harry wandered up and down, Jill and Graham sat in the shade and I sat in the sun under a little poem written by Darryn John Murphy 32 years ago...
"White waves upon the ocean
Will beat a path to where I roam
For in my heart there is a presence
And I will call that presence home".
It was then time for our art deco walk. So, over to the shop to watch a video about the earthquake and the art nouveau, art deco and spanish mission architecture that Napier is known for. It's been 81 years ago since the Napier 7.8 earthquake on the morning of 3 February and we thought about Christchurch still reeling nearly one year after from the earthquake that devastated our city at 12.51 on 22nd February. I guess Napier is one of the cities we can look to for inspiration for our south island city. The art deco walk took us by: the first supermarket; the masonic hall; the insurance buildings; banks (which didn't have verandahs as there were no produce to protect from the sun), lots of magnificent painted and decorated reinforced concrete buildings, wood work and art work. We learn't heaps, all the services were put underground (quite inspirational back then), verandahs were attached to the buildings as earlier ones held up by posts had collapsed, there were no poles so street names were tiled into the pavements (practical until the car came along big time), and the maori art work woven into the art deco style. Pretty impressive and worth going on a tour as there is so much to miss when just wandering the streets.
And after some more frittata and quiche we headed off to the soundshell for an evening of brass band, jazz and dance. By the way, it's great fun playing tunes with those braces!!
And an air show kept the aeroplane enthusiast happy.
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