Monday, September 06, 2004
Oh, the weather outside is frightful,
But the fire is so delightful,
And since we've no place to go,
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.
- ?
I hadn't been in the snow in ages, and as such wanted to celebrate in the time-honoured manner of throwing it at my friends. So we found a suitable field, separated, and began to hurl it around. This was harmless fun for a while, but then vicious Chuck turned up and completely took over. I watched, unable to resist as I reached down and transformed a fistful of snow into a nasty clump of ice. I took my aim and flung it as hard as I could straight at Wendy's head.
Whoah! Back up there, what's this? Snow in Wellington? asks Frankie Stevens. Well no Frankie, I know it's been cold, but I found myself in the South Island this past weekend, Hanmer Springs to be exact, and in short, it was amazing.
Lulu, Nic and I drove down after a short flight on a Soundsair plane that was last used to rescue Indiana Jones from the savages in The Raiders of The Lost Ark. But it did its job, as did the rental car, and we all met in Hamner shortly after nightfall. Matt and Wendy were there, Jon too, and once we'd all found a bed had a drink and lit the fire, we set about the enjoyable business of catching up.
That of course took hours, and the next morning we were all a little bleary eyed, but could still see well enough to take in just how spectacular Hanmer was by day. It was far nicer than I imagined, a quaint little town dwarfed by a majestic backdrop of snowy mountains that were just begging to get lost in. So we gave it our best shot. We drove up the road signposted 'chains only!' and 'slow! horses' and pretty soon, having negotiated a road fit for a goat we found ourselves in warm sunshine, high on a plateau surrounded by the whitest, brightest snow I'd ever seen. It was breathtaking, and rates highly on my list of amazing sights 2004.
As does the chick in the Kermit the Frog T-shirt, but for different reasons. Imagine, if you will there I was, trying my hardest to sink a putt playing Wild West themed mini-golf, and there's Kermit staring at me with that inane open-mouthed grin. Now I'm not exactly Gianni Versace, and I cannot blame her for my 6 over par 8 on the third, but Kermit!? Where do you even find a Kermit T-shirt these days? Odder still the fact that on the back, emblazoned green on black were the letters KERMIT! as if by chance you were confused as to which particular celebrity talking frog was on the front.
'Oh I see, it's Kermit, I get it. Okay, cool."
The others voted the woman in the super-taper ribbed jeans (yes, that's ribbed, not ripped) with the shit kicker boots, spray-on figure hugging shirt, key buckle and fanny pack with worst dresser, but for me, Kermit took the cake. It may not be easy being green, but I'd hazard a guess that life's a shitload easier when you're not wearing a Kermit the frog T-shirt.
For the record I came second at mini putt, but it had grown a little tedious by the end. Lucky then that Hamner was no less spectacular to look at, and as the sun fell behind the mountains the sky was lit up in ever changing streaks of blue and pink. Matt and I stood on the porch shooting the breeze until it was dark then went inside to continue the enjoyable business of catching up.
Our decision to save the thermal pools until early Sunday morning paid dividends by the fact they were not crawling with kids and pissing teenagers. Instead there were just the right amount of people wallowing around for an early morning dip. And if anyone was there disturbing the peace, then it was us as we played an epic game of eye spy. Which has to be the most frustrating game in the whole wide world. Something beginning with C indeed.
Soon enough it was time to go. We cleaned up the house, packed our cars and went out for lunch where we moped around in the afterglow of the hot pools. I looked at my watch and wished that home wasn't so far away, which I suppose is similar to wishing we could stay in Hamner, which, bad T-shirts aside, wouldn't be too bad an idea. Thank you all for a great weekend.
Hey hey! Ho, what happened to the snowball? asks Frankie Stevens. Well Frankie, the solid ball of ice whizzed past Wendy's nose, missed it by a couple of inches and exploded like a lightbulb dropped on the motorway. And you know what? Looking back I'm pleased it did. Because whether it was the company, the location or just the joy of acting like a five year old it was the best snowball fight. Ever.
But the fire is so delightful,
And since we've no place to go,
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.
- ?
I hadn't been in the snow in ages, and as such wanted to celebrate in the time-honoured manner of throwing it at my friends. So we found a suitable field, separated, and began to hurl it around. This was harmless fun for a while, but then vicious Chuck turned up and completely took over. I watched, unable to resist as I reached down and transformed a fistful of snow into a nasty clump of ice. I took my aim and flung it as hard as I could straight at Wendy's head.
Whoah! Back up there, what's this? Snow in Wellington? asks Frankie Stevens. Well no Frankie, I know it's been cold, but I found myself in the South Island this past weekend, Hanmer Springs to be exact, and in short, it was amazing.
Lulu, Nic and I drove down after a short flight on a Soundsair plane that was last used to rescue Indiana Jones from the savages in The Raiders of The Lost Ark. But it did its job, as did the rental car, and we all met in Hamner shortly after nightfall. Matt and Wendy were there, Jon too, and once we'd all found a bed had a drink and lit the fire, we set about the enjoyable business of catching up.
That of course took hours, and the next morning we were all a little bleary eyed, but could still see well enough to take in just how spectacular Hanmer was by day. It was far nicer than I imagined, a quaint little town dwarfed by a majestic backdrop of snowy mountains that were just begging to get lost in. So we gave it our best shot. We drove up the road signposted 'chains only!' and 'slow! horses' and pretty soon, having negotiated a road fit for a goat we found ourselves in warm sunshine, high on a plateau surrounded by the whitest, brightest snow I'd ever seen. It was breathtaking, and rates highly on my list of amazing sights 2004.
As does the chick in the Kermit the Frog T-shirt, but for different reasons. Imagine, if you will there I was, trying my hardest to sink a putt playing Wild West themed mini-golf, and there's Kermit staring at me with that inane open-mouthed grin. Now I'm not exactly Gianni Versace, and I cannot blame her for my 6 over par 8 on the third, but Kermit!? Where do you even find a Kermit T-shirt these days? Odder still the fact that on the back, emblazoned green on black were the letters KERMIT! as if by chance you were confused as to which particular celebrity talking frog was on the front.
'Oh I see, it's Kermit, I get it. Okay, cool."
The others voted the woman in the super-taper ribbed jeans (yes, that's ribbed, not ripped) with the shit kicker boots, spray-on figure hugging shirt, key buckle and fanny pack with worst dresser, but for me, Kermit took the cake. It may not be easy being green, but I'd hazard a guess that life's a shitload easier when you're not wearing a Kermit the frog T-shirt.
For the record I came second at mini putt, but it had grown a little tedious by the end. Lucky then that Hamner was no less spectacular to look at, and as the sun fell behind the mountains the sky was lit up in ever changing streaks of blue and pink. Matt and I stood on the porch shooting the breeze until it was dark then went inside to continue the enjoyable business of catching up.
Our decision to save the thermal pools until early Sunday morning paid dividends by the fact they were not crawling with kids and pissing teenagers. Instead there were just the right amount of people wallowing around for an early morning dip. And if anyone was there disturbing the peace, then it was us as we played an epic game of eye spy. Which has to be the most frustrating game in the whole wide world. Something beginning with C indeed.
Soon enough it was time to go. We cleaned up the house, packed our cars and went out for lunch where we moped around in the afterglow of the hot pools. I looked at my watch and wished that home wasn't so far away, which I suppose is similar to wishing we could stay in Hamner, which, bad T-shirts aside, wouldn't be too bad an idea. Thank you all for a great weekend.
Hey hey! Ho, what happened to the snowball? asks Frankie Stevens. Well Frankie, the solid ball of ice whizzed past Wendy's nose, missed it by a couple of inches and exploded like a lightbulb dropped on the motorway. And you know what? Looking back I'm pleased it did. Because whether it was the company, the location or just the joy of acting like a five year old it was the best snowball fight. Ever.
