Thursday, January 12, 2006

Strange Times

So after I've declared that Harley is the anti-Harrison, I mean, moments after I've pressed the "Publish post" button...Harley shows that he does in fact have 1 thing in common with Harrison.


Harry as you may or may not know had a urinary tract issue. In fact in the letter that the Toronto vet wrote to Harrison (yes addressed it TO Harrison Richards), she said and I quote "Dear Harry, you are a handsome kitty. Your inappropriate urination is due to crystals in your urethra."

Inappropriate urination = peeing on the bed. Once, while Dave was in it. Yes you can now all be glad that you didn't buy a bed from us.

OK, back to Harley.

I finish my post. Turn around and notice that he is squatting next to the desk in a suspicious manner. He has that look on his face that cats have when they are about to pee. It looks something like this:

Ok you can't see my impression...but try one yourself in the mirror - it's quite fun. Could even become a new parlour game.

So I swoop over and employing my most stern voice I say, "You better not be doing what I think you are doing young man". (Mysteriously turning into a 1950's housewife). But of course it is too late. He has done the W thing.

The redeeming feature of the scenario was that as I shooed him away to clean up the mess, I noticed what he had peed on.

It was a document from one of Dave's construction clients. In particular, a brochure on Waterproofing.

So we may have another cat with inappropriate urination. But at least it has a sense of humour.

In other news...we have now both received our suitcases back - a mere 5 days late. I had the deep joy of being on hold for 93 minutes one day while trying to get through to the Air NZ lost luggage desk. Good thing I can still read Shannon's blog with one ear out of action.

But now as to the 2 things that prompted me to entitle this post Strange Times.

First thing.

I went to the chemists today. Not that odd in itself I admit. But it was part of my continuing quest to find some nail polish remover in the sprawling metropolis that is Taupo.

Ok so previously I had only checked the supermarket and one other chemist. But neither places had ANY nail polish remover. And my toes are in a woeful state.

So here I am in the third shop, trying to find the NPR. I hunt high and low. Aha! exhibit A - they have nail polish. Ergo (I always think in Latin when trying to find toiletries...I find it helps) they MUST surely for the love of all that's embellished with coloured chemicals have the remover too. But no, I cannot find a bally bottle of the stuff.

Am I condemned to wander the streets of Taupo, with manky paws half smeared in chipped orangey nail polish? I was starting to think so.

So I of course fell greedily upon a shop assistant. (I adhere to the policy, 'why look yourself when someone else can do it?' whereas I find most men adhere to the policy, 'why ask someone who knows when you can blunder around for 4 hours, get lost, forget what you're looking for, suffer from serious dehydration and still refuse to ask anyone for help')

She looked at me apologetically. "I'm very sorry," she said, "we only have these 3 bottles left. And we're completely out at the warehouse. We always sell out after Christmas..."

Where to begin with that statement?

Firstly, how many bottles does she think I need?
Secondly and more importantly...what is it about NZ women that there is a mad rush on NPR after Christmas? Is it because EVERYONE paints their nails for the Yuletide season but then desperately HAS to remove it before they turn into pumpkins?
Also, how does a warehouse run out of NPR? Am I to assume that the previous 2 shops I checked NORMALLY stock it but have both fallen fowl to the usual NPR surge in the New Year? Is she trying to tell me that she has the last 3 bottles of nail polish remover in the entire town?

I am baffled.

In even more news (can you take the pace of this post?) I met with 2 journos from Taupo Times today. Yesterday we spent some part of the evening tracking down a friend of James & Denise's (we also met her in Plymouth) who has been riding from Wanaka in the South Island cross country and was just about to reach Taupo.Tracey Elliot Reep is her name - Reepicheep for short. She had been riding since 8am to make it to Taupo and she has 2 huge Palomino horses (Dude and Favour). She rides one at a time (she's not a circus act after all...although that would create quite a stir....two horses side by side, Tracey balanced with a foot on each.....hmmm must suggest that to her for her next ride) and leads the other by a long rope. It's pretty cool looking.

Anyway, it took her longer than she thought to get to Taupo and it got dark, which makes it pretty tricky for the horses as they don't have headlights and there aren't too many streetlights in these here parts. Also she didn't know the way. So we had to keep curb crawling her, check she was ok, hold the horses for a bit while she fiddled with the saddle, then drive ahead. We stopped ahead of her and I waited by the side of the road in the dark for her to arrive with the 2 horses and then point in her the right direction again. It was all quite surreal. Then in the pitch black we had to lead her and the 2 huge horses through the bushes at the Eden Centre, oops into a dead end, then nearly garroted the horses on the washing line to eventually find the paddock at the back. It was 11pm by this stage.

Believe me, it was quite a weird way to spend an evening.

So, the Taupo Times (think Headline, "Currant Bun is stolen from Tea Shop. Owner broken-hearted")...wanted to interview her with the horses. (But they are just neighsayers...ha ha). Enter Adele 'I know nothing about horses but I want to look like I do' Richards. First we go careering around town trying to find a 40 kilo bag of feed. Then I try to get bag of feed out of car. I can't even twist it round. Tracey finds a wheelbarrow and lugs bag single handedly into barrow. By the way you should know that I am dressed in my little shiny bronze knee length skirt, t shirt and flirty flip flops. At this point I feel a bit of a girl and not in a good way. Anyway, the journalists turn up and their combined age must have been about 13. One is extremely allergic to horses. So being the wannabe horse girl that I am, I offer to hold the horses reins while Tracey is interviewed. So far so good. Except that Dude, the male horse, has my number as soon as I take the rope. He knows I have no control. I know I have no control. And shortly everyone knows that I have no control and the horse leads ME round the garden as he attempts to a) push me in a tree b) push me in a bush c) tread on my flirty flip flops. In the end I have to give the reins back to Tracey.

Chagrinned. The wannabe horse girl in the shiny skirt retires from public duty and leaves the horsey stuff to Tracey. Except that I did take the saddle out of the car boot for her.

And nearly gave myself a hernia. She had to take it off me before I collapsed. And she must be all of a size 6.

So there we go Taupo Times, Strange Times. It certainly hasn't been dull.


Blogger Michael said...

Jesus rode two muels at the same time... if you read the story right... rock on Jesus!

(Being a girly girl is okay 'Dele - most men don't like those bossy-horsey types anyway...)

5:11 PM  
Blogger Laura said...

blimey Del what a bizarre state of affairs. Can't believe they had no nail polish remover left!!!!!! Can't wait to meet Harley. Having trouble getting a piccy of the hair the colour looks completely different on Chris's camera. sos twinkle.
Love you

11:25 PM  
Blogger s@bd said...

oh Adele.
Thou doest NOT disappoint.

HOW HYSTERICAL are your adventures?

The letter to the cat?! Seriously?! I can barely get my doctor to write a letter to my insurance ...

Where to start?!?
The horses?! The nail polish remover?! The flirty flip flops?! (which I SO want, by the way)

I think my head will explode.

3:44 AM  

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