Sometimes the challenge is as much to make sense of the offerings as it is to make an offering for the making sense of, or something …
AS IN LIFE
itself. New Zealanders fall over themselves trying to prove how very with it we are (yes, we). We are the nicest most politically correct modest independent sheep-minded souls on the planet. Just ask any one of us, we never brag so modesty too is a virtue we treasure—and when told to be nice, we are pretty bloody nice and you can’t deny it. Not twice.
SO THE OTHER DAY IN TOWN
Bimbling along the street I happened across this modern-artish arrangement—
—which is half charity and half grumbling compliance. When ‘they’ brought into law that everyone need look after our ‘mobility challenged’ folks (in wheelchairs and similar) by making access easier for them many good citizens fell over backwards to comply—even if it meant convolution in thought and deed.
I stood in blissful meditation for an age pondering the genius that had gone into so ingenious a solution—the challenged can wheel (or these days, drive their wheelchairs) up there, sure enough—yet at no point has the proprietor intruded onto the sidewalk. Compliance without running afoul, win-win all around.
Sadly I knew that I could wait there all day, or all week, or even perhaps a month without ever being privileged to watch a wheelie performing those hairpin turns … and I’m not the sort of guy to be amused at some unhappy chappie in a non-motorised wheelchair trying to do it all by hand. I moved on …
… to where I came across a wee canal. So peacefully perfect it just begged a brick in the middle of a photo. No bricks handy and unable to bring myself to use that bottle, I scored the shot anyway. Twice, but this one without the polarising filter was the better. Half land, half water. Sort of.
But all is not lost, SC is dominated by yet another House of the Lord, this time in the form of St Mary’s Basilisk (eh, wot? You talking to me, Ed? Speak up, dammit … oh …) St Mary’s Basilica.
It’s a magnificent wee thing with oodles of brickwork—much like the opposition’s bricky edifice across the Otepuni (got over a million bricks in it, that one. The Catholics can’t really compete in bricks) only a bit more surrounded by bricky outbuildings.
The crowning glory of St Mary’s though is the Dome—copper like you wouldn’t believe (now we know where all the Peter’s Pence went, perhaps). Anyway, I got oodles of snaps but only this one meets The Challenge.
As I was shooting the shot I found myself looking askance and judgementally at various alignments—something didn’t seem quite right about the positioning of the wee cross. In the end I concluded that God hadn’t struck it with a bolt of lightning so He must be satisfied—and who would I be to arrogantly criticise his holy QA teams?
AND NOW TO bed, The Spouse wants me to take her to town tomorrow and I’ll get another chance to meet the challenge. And I’ll try using Raw, boom boom~!