the other day
TO GEMSTONE BEACH
and back …
I took oodles lots of shots. The wind was howling, the sand blasting along the beach, the temperature … chilly; in other words a gorgeous late summer day in Southland. Pretty damned late, winter solstice beckons (nay, Sire … loometh) (ath in imminent—and why are we lithping?) tho I’d better get on with it. Anyway here’s yer snaps—
—this cute structure is the public toilet(s) in the main street of the wee country town of Tuatapere, which until very recently billed itself as ‘The Sausage Capital of New Zealand‘ — sadly, no more. The butcher’s shoppe has gone, replaced with a neatly tailored vacant lot. Sic transit gloria and all that stuff … after my coffee there (the Spouse always tosses a coffee into the car for me while she bimbles off to check the wee craft shops—a marriage made in Heaven, I tell you) (makes the tongue all furry licking up that coffee sometimes …) we carried on to Gemstone.
ON THE WAY
back along the beach I scored a late afternoon shot of The Spouse under full sail ghosting along the beach which had been very completely rearranged by the recent stormage. All part of some divine master plan, I suppose, but plays merry hell with me getting the shots I badly wanted of a certain iron pipe I could no longer find.
But we did find a wee doggie. Actually, he found us, and took delight in sky-lining himself a couple of times—probably just checking to make sure that we were leaving ‘his’ beach before the tide comes in. You know how it is when the tide catches you between a rock and a wet place (it did that once when we were newbies and we had to find our way back along the clifftops). One learns fast, dog needn’t have worried. Hereunder be said woofer, and the soft light of the rising moon—
—and no, he didn’t howl at it. For some vague reason I felt slightly unfulfilled …
it was home-time; but we stopped on the way at the wee country town of Otautau* to buy dinner. Dinner being takeaway fish’n’chips. A nice big codpiece each and enough chips to satisfy without overstuffing. We make a special effort to attend this guy—his f & c are the best we’ve ever had, something I at least never expected from such an unprepossessing little shop in an unimpressive little country town like Otautau. This is it—
—main street Otautau, Sodom and Gomorrah on a Saturday night … or not. Fish and Chippery on the left, pub on the right, ‘supermarket’ (okay … general store) up from the pub and the shot was hand-held by moi in the car whilst The Spouse was in the shop confusing the owner. And as always, absolutely delissimo, piping hot and splendidly crisp and crunchy.
* Otautau … to a honkie the O is pronounced ‘oh’ but to a Maori or a purist it’s more like ‘aw’. The tau parts are pronounced much as the ‘ou’ of the English yelp ‘ouch’.