Gathan Beaga

grace, bemused

grace, bemused

Despite not having been raised with small children, my mother’s dog Grace is pretty patient.

But this posting is not really about the ancient and serene canine majesty of Her Grace and the tribute of her two little subjects: all that was this time last week.

We spent Tuesday and Wednesday driving back from the South, staying overnight in North Canterbury and generally taking it pretty easy. There’s lots of good places to stop on the way: Barkers at Geraldine; Waipara (I wish); The Store at Kekerengu and of course vineyards etc in Marlborough (I succumbed to the lure of apricot schnapps at Prenzel).

[Later edit: I forgot earlier to give a big shout out to DodderyOldFart and his colleagues up and down the nation, keeping the roads in good nick, and not just for all the loopy city folks like us on our annual rampage through the kiwi countryside. As I waited, somewhere in North Canterbury, for the good-looking lass doing sign duty to flash me the green I thought of you. True!]

Thursday and Friday spent bemoaning the state of the section (convolvulus; thick lawns; blackberry; weeds in profusion) Saturday and Sunday doing something about it… and now today.

Back to work, for me. And I was not singing the refrain from this song.

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