I saw him coming about a kilometer off.
It was a stinking hot afternoon yesterday, the nor-wester was howling over the Canterbury plains making everything uncomfortable and I'd been working hard and long for some time and just wanted some solitude.
The river was the colour of that bloody hot french mustard that usually goes by a (translated) name like “Firehouse”, the wind too strong to wield a fly line and spinning seemed too much like hard work in the heat.
I'd thrown some bait in my fishing truck, gone across to the north side of the river and driven up the beach a few kilometers just to be alone.
The baited line thrown in the water was more for show, the crabs demolishing the bait almost instantly whenever it hit the water but the book was good, the peace wonderful and I carried a flask of iced water for my own comfort.
He was an older man, I'd guess around 70, wandering slowly along the water edge
The tide was rising and I was parked, along with my rod, about 10 metres up the beach. When he reached my line he followed it up to the truck, informed me that it was too hot for him that afternoon, wished me tight lines and immediately started retracing his steps back along the beach.
Fifteen minutes later I looked up and he was still only half way to the next vehicle I could see far in the distance also, I assume, surfcasting.
Never claim fishing is dull.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Hookey
I'm playing hookey today.
Got up, as usual on a Monday morning at three and there was no snow.
Showered then looked outside and the van was covered in cold white crap that was still falling.
Looked again at four, no snow falling so I cleaned the snow off the van and logged in to start work.
Snow started falling heavily again at five, before I'd found any work. It's still falling heavily now.
I've seen Christchurch drivers.
I logged out and have decided to have the day off.
Bloody global warming!
Got up, as usual on a Monday morning at three and there was no snow.
Showered then looked outside and the van was covered in cold white crap that was still falling.
Looked again at four, no snow falling so I cleaned the snow off the van and logged in to start work.
Snow started falling heavily again at five, before I'd found any work. It's still falling heavily now.
I've seen Christchurch drivers.
I logged out and have decided to have the day off.
Bloody global warming!
Old Farts. Why?
What is it about old farts?
More importantly how the bloody hell did they last long enough to become old farts?
I was driving down Worcester Boulevard yesterday lunch time in the sunshine. There was an old fart wandering up the road (the footpath, at least three metres wide, was obviously not wide enough for him) ahead of me.
As I got to within 3 metres of him he changed direction and wandered right across my path.
Having witnessed old farts stupidity before I was prepared for this and braked while the old fart wandered on oblivious to his narrow escape.
This behaviour is common on the streets of Christchurch.
Old farts have become a serious road hazard, wandering into traffic regularly and driving atrociously.
It is not uncommon to see an old fart driving 20 – 25 KPH below the speed limit along busy highways, always looking straight ahead (because they can no longer turn their heads on their necks), often weaving across the lane.
Nor is it uncommon to have old farts stop in front of you in the middle of the road without warning or obvious reason, pull over right or left without signal or slow right down in the middle of the road, signal a turn and then carry on straight ahead regardless of the actions of other traffic.
Pedestrian and driver behaviour of old farts has become far worse over the last year.
I make this point because I am not far away from qualifying as an old fart and I want to avoid becoming this bloody stupid.
I also now need to have answered my original question; How do you last long enough to become an old fart?
More importantly how the bloody hell did they last long enough to become old farts?
I was driving down Worcester Boulevard yesterday lunch time in the sunshine. There was an old fart wandering up the road (the footpath, at least three metres wide, was obviously not wide enough for him) ahead of me.
As I got to within 3 metres of him he changed direction and wandered right across my path.
Having witnessed old farts stupidity before I was prepared for this and braked while the old fart wandered on oblivious to his narrow escape.
This behaviour is common on the streets of Christchurch.
Old farts have become a serious road hazard, wandering into traffic regularly and driving atrociously.
It is not uncommon to see an old fart driving 20 – 25 KPH below the speed limit along busy highways, always looking straight ahead (because they can no longer turn their heads on their necks), often weaving across the lane.
Nor is it uncommon to have old farts stop in front of you in the middle of the road without warning or obvious reason, pull over right or left without signal or slow right down in the middle of the road, signal a turn and then carry on straight ahead regardless of the actions of other traffic.
Pedestrian and driver behaviour of old farts has become far worse over the last year.
I make this point because I am not far away from qualifying as an old fart and I want to avoid becoming this bloody stupid.
I also now need to have answered my original question; How do you last long enough to become an old fart?
Monday, May 16, 2011
Tits out!
Stuff today carries it's once a month wank about public breast feeding, the stopping of.
This time a sheila went into a Timaru cafe to "have a cup of coffee and breast feed her" brat.
Now I'm not a fan of public nudity, mainly because it seldom looks good, but it seldom disturbs me. That reminds me of the old movie saying - If you're making a film about nudist colonies bring your own nudists.
I care not whether a sheila gets her tits out or not, nor whether they're full of milk (or not) but even I can see why the cafe owner asked her to cover up.
If only he'd had the foresight to place in his restaurant a prominent sign stating "ONLY FOOD PREPARED AND SOLD ON THESE PREMISES MAY BE CONSUMED HERE".
This time a sheila went into a Timaru cafe to "have a cup of coffee and breast feed her" brat.
Now I'm not a fan of public nudity, mainly because it seldom looks good, but it seldom disturbs me. That reminds me of the old movie saying - If you're making a film about nudist colonies bring your own nudists.
I care not whether a sheila gets her tits out or not, nor whether they're full of milk (or not) but even I can see why the cafe owner asked her to cover up.
If only he'd had the foresight to place in his restaurant a prominent sign stating "ONLY FOOD PREPARED AND SOLD ON THESE PREMISES MAY BE CONSUMED HERE".
Monday, March 7, 2011
Back to work folks
I'm effing sick of it!
The slime-led whingeing and whining that is.
Yes we had a bloody earthquake – very bloody indeed although it pales in comparrisson to Pakistan or Haiti (among many others) for bloodiness.
Yes people are displaced, distressed and uncomfortable.
Yes many businesses (including, probably, mine) are shagged.
BUT
The world hasn't ended!
People are remarkable creatures and they (we) will overcome these obstacles and come again.
Already people are returning to normal, albeit with a new story to tell and alrteady there seems to be competition to tell the most horriffic story.
I was one of the lucky ones, changing my normal routine and consequently saving my own bacon (and probably my ass) by being nowhere near central Christchurch, Lyttleton (where I'd been until 11:30 that morning) or the Port Hills when calamity struck and so I have to listen to theirs.
That's not what I'm sick of.
This morning's The Press headlines a family who say they are constantly scared. They're not alone for christs sake, the whole bloody province stiffens up when the pre-quake rumble happens. Then we let our breath escape, think “that was a good 'un” or “tiddler that time” or similar and carry on with whatever we were doing.
No news there at all.
Stuff today (and probably The Press) carried a story of how Shirley Boys High was now combined with Papanui High School but did not comment on the good deed by Papanui that saw that possible, did not remark on how, now, Papanui High School will be able to field a competitive rugby team.
No, it whinged about how SBH boys have to travel across to Papanui (Not, incidently, a hell of a long way).
Other news today has been about the City Council attempting to make CHCH safe by “deconstructing” dangerously unstable buildings but being thwarted by the Save Our Dangerous Buildings So They Can Kill Someone Else crowd, led of course by the bloody Red party nutters.
I could understand them if they were protesting about the term “deconstruct” being used instead of demolish but no, they're stopping CHCH people from moving safely because their building is old or, in one case, because they don't know where they can set up again – Green/Red wankers!
Only the stupid bloody slime would side with anyone against getting CHCH safe and working again.
No bloody more! Let's just get on with rebuilding Christchurch, getting people into employment and getting Christchurch's biggest industry, tourism, restarted.
Fuck the slime, fuck the communists, full speed ahead!
The slime-led whingeing and whining that is.
Yes we had a bloody earthquake – very bloody indeed although it pales in comparrisson to Pakistan or Haiti (among many others) for bloodiness.
Yes people are displaced, distressed and uncomfortable.
Yes many businesses (including, probably, mine) are shagged.
BUT
The world hasn't ended!
People are remarkable creatures and they (we) will overcome these obstacles and come again.
Already people are returning to normal, albeit with a new story to tell and alrteady there seems to be competition to tell the most horriffic story.
I was one of the lucky ones, changing my normal routine and consequently saving my own bacon (and probably my ass) by being nowhere near central Christchurch, Lyttleton (where I'd been until 11:30 that morning) or the Port Hills when calamity struck and so I have to listen to theirs.
That's not what I'm sick of.
This morning's The Press headlines a family who say they are constantly scared. They're not alone for christs sake, the whole bloody province stiffens up when the pre-quake rumble happens. Then we let our breath escape, think “that was a good 'un” or “tiddler that time” or similar and carry on with whatever we were doing.
No news there at all.
Stuff today (and probably The Press) carried a story of how Shirley Boys High was now combined with Papanui High School but did not comment on the good deed by Papanui that saw that possible, did not remark on how, now, Papanui High School will be able to field a competitive rugby team.
No, it whinged about how SBH boys have to travel across to Papanui (Not, incidently, a hell of a long way).
Other news today has been about the City Council attempting to make CHCH safe by “deconstructing” dangerously unstable buildings but being thwarted by the Save Our Dangerous Buildings So They Can Kill Someone Else crowd, led of course by the bloody Red party nutters.
I could understand them if they were protesting about the term “deconstruct” being used instead of demolish but no, they're stopping CHCH people from moving safely because their building is old or, in one case, because they don't know where they can set up again – Green/Red wankers!
Only the stupid bloody slime would side with anyone against getting CHCH safe and working again.
No bloody more! Let's just get on with rebuilding Christchurch, getting people into employment and getting Christchurch's biggest industry, tourism, restarted.
Fuck the slime, fuck the communists, full speed ahead!
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