One of my goals in the new world of Christchurch post-earthquakes is to de-clutter my life. Reducing the ‘stuff’ I have. One thing that is common for those who have experienced the trauma we have shared in this city is that we reassess what is truly important.

During the mass clearing out I stumbled upon two large boxes of photographs, one a collection of loose photographs of my own and the other an assortment of albums of my mothers.

Well one cannot but stop and go through a box of photos really.

I believe it is a human universal that people smile when looking at their photos. It’s a bit like the opening and closing scene in the movie Love Actually where we are shown images of the emotions people display greeting loved ones at the airport. Looking at photos is the same for me; I inevitably find myself smiling and being taken back to a place and time.

But this wee entry is not so much about the photo experience (and those who follow me on Facebook will have seen many of the gems I have uncovered) but rather a reflection about my brother Dominic. I found a few photos of him.

The Hygate family leave the UK for NZ. Dominic is a babe in arms.

I am one of seven children and Dominic is the brother immediately older than I. He is the fourth born. Third son. Dominic (full moniker Dominic Francis) was born March 7th 1962. He was born in the UK and came to New Zealand as a wee fellow; my parents and older siblings sailed to New Zealand on 4 December 1962 arriving six weeks later in January 1963. Dominic currently lives in Wellington.

School photo from St Teresa's. Note Dominic is Head Prefect.

At this point I should also acknowledge that the other trigger for this piece was the recent death of Wellington’s ‘Blanket Man’ whose real name was Ben Hana. He died at the age of 54.

You see Dominic suffers from schizophrenia and has for most of his adult life lived the very hard existence of the mentally ill. He knew Ben and shares a similar sort of existence albeit not so publicly and without the alcoholism.

He has lived in a series of hostels, institutions, hospitals, and prisons and undoubtedly in periods of acute symptoms on the streets. I know on one occasion he slept in a house under construction in Sumner. Interestingly the (very nice) house was being built for Katherine’s current employer. At the time Dom stayed there it was really only framing and tarpaulins.

Approaching his 50th birthday this March is no small feat for a man who has survived day-by-day and week-by-week for 30 odd years with nothing. When last I saw Dom at Mum’s funeral in September 2010, he had aged considerably. The niceties we take for granted such as regular dental care, doctors visits and haircuts are all a very different reality for Dom. He has a pretty interesting diet at the best of times and part of his world has been to shun certain types of food because of some theory or another he holds of that food type. He is pretty much a vegetarian.

He smokes like the proverbial chimney and has an incredible capacity for instant coffee. He simply does not (and has not the means to) look after himself.

Dominic at Maxwell Street

He was, as my mother would have undoubtedly attested a beautiful baby. He was a lovely wee kid; the photos capture a bright, sporting and cheerful young fellow. In fact to this day Dom has a very infectious and unique laugh. Almost a giggle and he is pretty free with it. In better days he was always ready with a joke or anecdote.

Baby Dominic

More recently Dom has become focused on his health and mortality. I suspect this is in part due to our mother’s death but also due to some poor health he has experienced. Dominic was always legendary for his ability to walk long distances; part of his self-management was to walk all across Wellington or Christchurch.

Sometimes this was because he couldn’t afford any other form of transport and was headed to a mate’s to scrounge a fag. Other times he was just wandering around talking to himself. Sadly he is not able to do so anymore. For some reason not entirely known to me he has trouble with his balance at the moment. He collapsed in the doorway of a shop in Courtney Place, Wellington, last year. He felt unwell and tried to get into a shop to call an ambulance. It is a sad testament to his condition that rather than come to his immediate aid the shopkeeper berated him for being drunk (which he was not). He collapsed and was unconscious. A kind passer-by telephoned the ambulance and he was admitted to Wellington Hospital. He suspects he had a seizure.

He has been on a very potent combination of antipsychotic drugs for near on thirty years. I believe they are taking their toll.

I confess I have not always been the gentlest to Dom. Mum was a soft touch for him when he needed cash. She was always forking out money she could ill afford to provide, and from time to time I would step in and tell him to bugger off.

The family pose for a 'portrait' circa 1970, Dominic third from front.

I have sent him to Wellington on more than a few occasions just to create some distance between he and mum so she could relax (or recuperate) knowing he wouldn’t be knocking on her window late at night in search of a bed. She’d always give in and he (particularly when unwell) was not the model houseguest. Mum just wasn’t well enough in latter years to manage Dom for long periods. On one occasion mum had a mini-stroke the day after he left.

Some readers will be surprised at this approach. I am unapologetic. Dominic is an adult and while he is not capable of holding down employment he was not the responsibility of my elderly mum.

In fact I could go off on a tangent and have a crack at all the (predominantly right-wing) politicians who would have you believe that Dominic is a beneficiary who should get a job. Dominic the survivor will tell you that even he knows it is cheaper for the Crown to put him in a prison than a hospital. In fact he has been known to seek incarceration over the winter months in order to get to somewhere warm with food. Sadly he doesn’t do well in jail as his illness and frequent self conversations draw the attention of bullies and he has more than once been assaulted while in jail.

Clipping from The Press 1985

Mum of course loved Dominic unconditionally, as only a mum can. Mum always wanted to know where he was. She was great at keeping in touch with his psychiatric nurse and caregivers. She was forever popping parcels or envelopes with $20 notes in them into the mail.

When Dominic stood up to speak at mum’s rosary (the night before her funeral) he spoke from the heart about how much he would miss her. He articulated his recognition that she had always stood by him and that he hadn’t been the easiest son she had. I was profoundly moved and felt his loss as well as my own. My kids still talk about the lovely things he said, so simply and so well.

My dad never really understood mental illness. He was very impatient with Dom. I think dad thought he should just snap out of it. Dad loved him I have no doubt but as is often the case with men (and certainly can be for me) if there’s nothing we can do to fix something we get a bit frustrated. Men can be more focused on the fixing than the understanding and accepting.

My siblings and I at mum's funeral. Dom centre back row.

In my old job with the government I got to travel to Wellington very regularly. I would often bump into Dominic down on Courtney Place and come away my wallet lighter, we’d go a buy him some cigarettes and get some cash. I remember one call where we agreed he’d walk to my hotel and I’d give him $40. I found out later that he had forgotten he’d left a pot on the stove at his flat so used $30 to cab back there!

I would always report back to mum that I’d seen him.

I have an 0800 number attached to my phone. I originally got it because mum while living in Wellington had used the excuse of a “rather steep toll account that month” for not having called me when she had her first heart attack!! It is great though as it means that Dominic (who has an excellent memory for numbers, particularly his bank account) can call me anytime. And he frequently does.

Families are interesting things. Our one is every bit as interesting as the next. I hope Dominic is happy in his own way. I am grateful for the care he gets from the professionals assigned to him.

I’ll get a call in a few days no doubt. It’ll probably include the line “ you wouldn’t happen to have a lazy tenner?” Of course I do. Oh and I shall buy him a carton of fags when next I enter the country and that’ll make his day.

Oh and for my next post I may turn my thoughts to a piece on my older brother Neil who (despite a successful career in the Royal New Zealand Air Force and being decorated by Her Majesty) behaved like a right prat in several family photos….

Suspect Neil always wanted to be 'han 'hofficer

It wasn’t helped much by the very unseasonal weather. It’s easier to hide in the sun behind a book than in the corner of a noisy room full of kids, and in laws.

I got a few walks in. But not of the length I’d have liked given my ‘gammy’ foot. Suspect it’s an old war wound flaring up. Will toddle off and see the quack when he returns from his Christmas break. I keep telling the kid’s it’ll likely need to come off and I’ll need to change my name to Blackbeard. Katie seemed pretty philosophical about having a pirate for a dad.

I read about the latest swarm of earthquakes that had rattled Christchurch overnight. A few people were expressing sentiments of guilt on Facebook for not having been there (from their various holiday locations). I could understand this as they presumably had family there. I on the other hand had my family with me and felt relieved not to have been in Sumner. I am firmly of the view that any you miss are good ones.

I would like to miss many more. It is a curious phenomenon that some Christchurch residents inherently criticize others in words or tone for not having been in the city for the Boxing Day quake 2010, or the February 22nd or the June 13 or whatever (there are a fare few to choose from). My view is that there are no prizes for having gone through them all… and as I say any that you miss are good ones.

And so I am now home in Sumner. I head off to Auckland for the balance of the week tomorrow. It’ll see the first flight of 2012.

Lots to do… Looking forward to staying on Waiheke with Woody, Anna and their collection on Thursday. Might get a movie in tomorrow night…

I’ve exhausted my commentary on the year that was. So a brief summary is all that is left to be recorded. It had some lovely bits and some really awful bits. Anyone who follows Cantabrians on Facebook will see the general consensus amongst their postings is that 2011 was an awful year.

If you’ve never lived through major earthquakes, you’re lucky and keep it that way. There’s nothing really to be said in support of them.

Sure there’s the adrenalin rush, the sense of survival, the wonderful sense of community and caring for one another in a new way. There’s the refocusing of the mind on the things that matter, the lessening of interest in material (and breakable) things the newfound desire to fit more into our mortal lives…

But to be honest I’d have been happy to have just kept with the droll status quo rather than panicked about where my kids were, watched my wife suffer through anxiety and my kids loose their confidence and routines. Selfish of me I know.

Of 2012 not a lot is known. I have plans for travel to India for the first time. I expect I’ll be in Canada a couple of times along with at least one trip to the US. I would dearly like to get back to the UK again as I do so enjoy my trips there and the deep sense of connection I have to that lovely crowded Island. I shall throw myself into my work with gusto, it’s an exciting time for Foster Moore and I know we’ll do great things.

Molly starts her high school years at Rangi Ruru in late January. Annie will head off to the relocated Marian for her year 12 and Katie will be the oldest Hygate at Star of the Sea she tells me.

I am in the mood to throw some stuff out. My garage is full of junk and my loft doubly so. Less is more in 2012. Holding on to stuff is just pointless and it’s time to have a good clear out. This is equally true of old ideas, hopes and behaviours.

To those who have been kind to me this year, thank you.

To those to whom I have been less than kind I am sorry.

I truly hope that 2012 is kind to us all.

Have a Happy New Year one and all.

I have lost my religion. Not in the sense that I can no longer find it but rather I have actively and consciously shed it.

Those who have known me a while may find this surprising, disturbing or hard to believe… This is all the more interesting I suppose as it comes from a fellow who as a young man sought the monastic life. I was born into a Catholic family; I attended Catholic primary and secondary schools. I participated fully in the life of the Church for many years.

Now there will be some of you who already having rejected religion might smugly roll your eyes and mutter something about how you already knew all this… I care not. Some may welcome me into the folds of the unbeliever – if it’s all the same I prefer no fuss.

I wish to avoid offending those of my friends and family who hold their beliefs dear. I respect your right to believe what you believe. I do not intend to record this to offend those who have faith or in anyway to suggest that what has occurred to me is better or worse than that which you the reader believe. I am sure some of you will tut-tut and decide to pray for me. Do whatever you want.

I’m happy. In fact I have never been happier.

How did I get here?

When my mother died on 9 September 2010 through a series of events I was left with all her remaining worldly possessions in my garage. As I worked my way sadly through the boxes of half opened laundry powder or wedding cards she and dad received in 1954 I was confronted with the issue of what to do with those things that mum had kept so carefully for 57 years.

It hit me with a tangible force that mum was gone. She was quite simply gone. She was not looking down on me from some heavenly place nor was she watching my disposal of her detritus with some loving glow.

When a person dies they are gone. Simple. All that remains is the memory I hold. When I go – I go. I reject the notion that this life is some form of rehearsal for the next.

This is all there is and I find that rather refreshing. It means that how I behave here and now is important, for no other reason than I wont get here and now again.

I reject vehemently that men in Rome have some exclusive access to the truth. Bollocks to that. I am heartily sick of grumpy priests trying to explain every crappy thing that happens on the planet as god’s will.
I reject energetically any religious belief that argues that one gender is superior to the other.

I reject any proposition that a person’s sexual preference can be right or wrong. Consenting adults can do what they please in my world.

Food based religious rules are just bloody stupid.

Any belief system that suggests that by following rules one will gain eternal life – potty.

I recently completed a visa application for travel to India. It asked me to record what religion I practiced. I recorded for the first time Atheist, and I meant it.

And what of my mum and dad? They were both happy in their faith. Do I feel any sense of guilt or that I have let them down? No. They’re gone and I honoured them both in their death. I respected their faith in their funerals. I love them, as much today as I did when they were alive. But they’re gone.

A friend commented after I had declared my new found belief system that I had had the opposite to a Road to Damascus experience… I hopped back on the horse and turned around heading away from Damascus. He’s right… I am riding away happily.

I do not believe in god. I believe in good.

Oh and I do believe in magic and Harry Potter of course… and in good table manners, the restorative power of a good laugh, the joy of small pleasures and nice glass of whiskey a great cup of coffee…

For some this would be the whole idea of a holiday – the absence of interruption, the solitude. Not me. I get enough solitude thanks. I like to be connected. Oh and I have two teenage daughters who feel the same. Katie the 5 year old is always connected but in a 5 year old way… she’s connected to her new soft toy puppy and her Polly Pockets and her Barbie…

It was bad enough, according to Annie, my 15 year old daughter, that we were leaving Sumner at New Years and leaving her friends… but to take her somewhere where she is unable to txt them is tantamount to cruel and unusual punishment. I wouldn’t be surprised if her friends stage a Navy Seal-like rescue in the middle of the night… all flash grenades and Black Hawk helicopters. I hope there’s room for me.

Katherine, my beloved wife of 22 years had always intended to marry a farmer, as she frequently reminds me. I could never have been a farmer. I need city living. I like neighbors and noise. I relish walking to the coffee shop(s), cinemas and supermarket. I am well and truly a city boy.

On those occasions, such as this, when I am in a rural location I find the absence of noise novel. Though even as I type there are six cousins all talking over each other at the table while they make origami thing-a-ma-jigs.

My plan (and if you are reading this, my plan has worked) is to empty my head into the trusty MacBook and then drive a few kilometres up the road in order to connect and update you all on my imprisonment.

The postings are designed to allow me to share what has become something of a family ritual. We head away at least once but occasionally twice a year with Katherine’s family. We have 13 of us here at the Huruni River Mouth. We are staying in a lodge that amply accommodates us all. We have bought tents as well but the weather is decidedly inclement so they may stay in their bags for a day or so yet.

We drove here this afternoon and I enjoyed listening to Katie singing the chorus to the song on her iPod… “just passing by” (she was listening to Rolf Harris’s, the court of king characticus). She would hum along and then burst into the chorus…

One of the hallmarks of a Robb family holiday is the jigsaw puzzle. Egad I hate jigsaw puzzles. The highly successful NZ Transport Agency advertisement ‘Legend’ has a scene where the surviving youth has to live with the victim’s family. He is stuck at a table where a nerdy sibling of the deceased proudly and enthusiastically announces “Puzzle Time”. I found it the most disturbing scene of all the road safety campaigns ever.

I have a lot of reading to do and plenty of thinking to do as well. One of the annoying effects of the earthquakes we experienced in 2011 is that I have had difficulty finishing a book. I was previously an avid reader and would chew through a novel easily while on holiday. A five-day-break like this would see several consumed. Since February however I have struggled to complete a handful. I’ve picked up plenty and started them only to lose interest and to cast them aside.

I am hoping to break this curse this weekend.

I have also plenty of thinking to do. I want 2012 to be better than 2011. And by this I don’t mean an absence of earthquakes, they are well and truly out of my mortal control. I suppose the best way to articulate it is that there were plenty of things that happened in 2011 that I didn’t like. It’s very much a case of me learning to change the way I react to these events. I can only change my behavior not that of others. So I shall have a wee think about how I might make this happen.

I think I shall also start a Bucket List. I have an appetite for living and I plan to do a bit of it in 2012 (for the whole year is the plan). I intend to seize any and every opportunity for new experiences in the New Year.

I tried hard to do some new things in 2011 and if anything have added a whole series of experiences to my repertoire. Whether they’ll count for much in the long run and whether they have made me a better person will not be for me to judge I guess. That’ll be for those who read my eulogy. And I wont get to hear that so I care not a jot.

2011 has been enormous. By every metric it has been a big year. Full of change; some traumatic, some voluntary and some delightful. A lot of change.

It has also been truly a year that will be seared into the memory like no other.

If I were to sum up 2011 in one word it would be survival. Making it to the end of this amazing and tumultuous year with any form of functioning sanity is no small feat.

A year full of earthquakes, job changes, hundreds of thousands of kilometers of air travel on top of the ‘normal’ excitement of family life has certainly marked 2011 as a very memorable one.

Some statistics for 2011:

Number of take offs 74 and landings 74 (happily the number balances) – according to Tripit I have travelled 241,411 kilometres this year. That equates to flying around the circumference of the Earth 6 and bit times.

I have flown on Air New Zealand (my beloved airline), Air Canada, United Airlines, British Airways, Singapore Airlines, JetStar (shudder), Lufthansa (who unbelievably still fly aircraft long-haul with no in seat entertainment, thank Steve for iPads), BMI, Ryan Air (never never again), and Aer Lingus. Forgive me if I groan when I hear “even if you are one of our regular travelers please pay attention to the safety demonstration”…

I’ve done the vast majority of the flights in coach/ economy. I’ve sat in premium economy a few times and had the luxury of business class on only 3 of the legs this year.

I’ve travelled to: Singapore, Kuala Lumpur, Washington DC, Winnipeg, Hong Kong, Bonn, Cardiff, Portsmouth, Dublin, Jersey, Toronto, Regina, Montpelier, Halifax, Ottawa… and some of these places I have been repeatedly!

I’ve stayed in at least 27 different hotels over the course of the year. I’ve been away from home for about 12 weeks of the year cumulatively. I find hotels soulless places. The best I’ve stayed in would be The Cambridge Suites in Toronto, the Hilton in Taupo and perhaps the Radisson in Regina. The worst would be the Comfort Inn in Toronto. These are very subjective assessments though and are greatly influenced by my mood at the time I’m there.

I’ve travelled to and from Wellington and Auckland umpteen times (where umpteen = more than 10 each at least).

Number of aftershocks (as at the time of writing) 9221 [see http://www.christchurchquakemap.co.nz/ for up to date numbers]

Number of glasses of whisky drunk = 700+ (note correlation to aftershocks)

But rather than spend too much time reflecting on the year that was, I shall look to the promise of the year that is to come.

I’ve hung up my noise canceling headphones for the year and will throw them in my carry on again in late January 2012. The holidays will include a few days under canvass at Hurunui and then a week or so in Auckland with the family. They’ll get a first chance to see where I now work and live when away. We’ll also get to play in Auckland with trips to the zoo, Waiheke and some teenage shopping sojourns to Newmarket no doubt.

I have also been reflecting on my New Years resolution for 2012. I believe I had some modest success with those I set in 2011 (in the main, with a few relapses from time to time).

I am always keen on rebuilding oneself and I suspect 2012′s objective will be to reduce some of my more annoying behaviours (I have many) to move on from those things that are beyond my control and to build on some more positive ways of thinking.

There are some things that will occur in 2012 that are well outside my control and I shall just adapt to them. There are plenty of other things that I can manage.

And to those poor souls who have read to this point… Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

I’m on an Air Canada plane but am going to write about Air New Zealand.

The flight from Auckland to Vancouver NZ84 was very pleasant. Anyone who has ever even glimpsed at my meagre contribution to the twittersphere will know that I am something of a fan of our national airline.

It hasn’t always been that way however, I remember being a very devoted fan of Ansett New Zealand and then Qantas for many years.

Coming back to Air New Zealand took a while but it has been well worth it. I am a very loyal passenger and enjoy getting to know the cabin attendants and lounge personnel on my regular trips.

I want to record a little of why I like them so much, and in particular the concierge service.

On this occasion the concierge (Aaron) was the same one I had on a flight in June from Vancouver to Auckland. That was a particularly memorable flight. I had been in the US and Canada (old job) and landed in Vancouver to connect with my homeward leg. Upon switching my phone on after the four and a half hour flight from Toronto it immediately went into overdrive with SMS messages from New Zealand. There had been another significant aftershock in my hometown of Christchurch. Several of my wonderful Christchurch staff had in the midst of their own drama thought to let me know so I could contact my family. I’m not too sure I’ve ever thanked them for this.

I telephoned my wife immediately. Thankfully Katherine (who it would be fair to say is not a big fan of earthquakes) was OK. It was a Monday in New Zealand when the quake hit and through good luck my youngest daughter Katie had had sore tummy and had not gone to Kindergarten that morning. This necessitated Katherine saying home from her work. Katherine works as an early childhood teacher and the protocol should a quake occur when she is at work means that she has to stay with her wards until they can be collected by their parents. This can take some time depending on the level of damage to the roads or bridges to our seaside community.

Our middle daughter Molly was also at home unwell. So despite the quake being large, Katherine was OK as she had two of our daughter’s with her. Separation anxiety is a considerable stress during earthquakes in Christchurch, not knowing where your kids are or if they’re OK is physically sickening.

So I was able talk to Katherine and establish that she had heard from Annie (our oldest, who was at high school and who had texted to say she too was OK). I talked for a while and then told Katherine I was going to get a coffee before boarding the long haul flight.

No sooner had I hung up than my phone rang. A good friend from work telephoned to tell me there had been another much bigger quake that very moment. It was (to say the least) a very emotion charged call… I was left with no doubt it had been a big and scary quake. I rang home straight away. Katherine was audibly shaken and I could feel the panic, fear and terror.

I did what little I could do by talking calmly and telling her to get to her family. Annie was on her way home from school, which had been closed due to the earlier shake. We didn’t know where she was.

I then received the boarding call for the flight. 13 and a half hours without contact. Grim.

Aaron from Air New Zealand came and found me at the gate lounge. He knew that I was from Christchurch, he told me that they we monitoring the situation and that he would keep me up to date throughout the flight. He was excellent, several times he came back to find me and kept me informed as best one can. He was the consummate professional. I was and am very grateful.

It was nice, therefore, to have a laugh with Aaron in the lounge before the flight on this trip and to get a chance to say thanks.

Special mention also to Tina and Jon on the flight today also. They were great.

My recent flight homeward in late October had Mary Jo as the concierge. She was equally awesome. As a regular traveller (polite way of saying Gold Elite) I receive a text message usually the day before the flight from the concierge introducing themselves and asking whether I need anything. I always say hi back. On this occasion I had neglected to do anything about looking into an upgrade from economy to premium economy and given I and done a ton of internal travel in Canada I thought a bit more leg room mightn’t be a bad idea.

I cheekily asked whether Mary Jo might be able to assist in the process of this (I’d left it too late to do online from my hotel). She cheerfully replied she could and did. Nice.

And the bit I really like is where I get little gestures that remind me I am welcome back. I tend to travel economy class for long haul (we are a small company and I am trying to maximize our travel spend in the number of trips I can make to clients rather than the location on the aircraft I sit). Notwithstanding that I’m in economy the Air New Zealand team equip my seat with water, premium economy toilet bag and headphones. And I frequently get a glass of port or some other nice surprise pop from the curtains in front. I love it.

I was once a premium One World member (the Qantas days). I was on a Cathay Pacific flight to Hong Kong with colleagues. They’re sick of this story… All three of us were sitting in economy together when the cabin attendant approached us asking for Mr Hygate. “Here we go chaps”, I said… “upgrade time”. She lent over and said (looking at a computer list) “welcome onboard”.

I laughed and laughed, how did my colleagues feel? Presumably they weren’t welcome onboard?

Well actually I do know how they felt as the same thing happened to me on a flight from Heathrow to LAX in June. I had a last minute seat change to Premium Economy and was siting next to chap who received a very warm welcome as a Gold Elite. He proudly told the attendant he had just ‘made’ Gold Elite. I am into my fourth consecutive year there. I was tempted to refer to chopped liver but was having such a comfy flight and after all I had the Cathay karma to make amends for.

I am interested to see how Air New Zealand will continue to reward their most loyal clients. I don’t see a huge amount of daylight between Gold and Gold Elite. I once heard that the number of Gold Elites was quite large, and I’m not that sure it’s hard to get there. I’ve banked enough status points to keep me there a while and that’s without the rather daunting 2012 schedule…

I do wonder whether a more status-based-upgrade-at-the-gate (where there are seats free) system might be cool? Then again I see that operating for Air Canada and United and don’t really like the whole litigation that can occur at the gate or the whole not knowing. I like to know where I am on the aircraft, it allows me to go through my own preflight rituals… But they’re the stuff of another blog entry.

Thanks Air New Zealand and thanks to the awesome team onboard.

This most recent trip (a fortnight) saw me visit Regina, Saskatchewan, Toronto and Halifax, Nova Scotia. I was there in my new capacity as a Registry Consultant and as the Business Development Manager for Foster Moore, my wonderful company.

As I have been announcing to all and sundry I have now had the privilege of visiting eight of the ten provinces of Canada. I have only to visit Prince Edward Island and Newfoundland. Then I’ll need to visit the three territories and I’ll be done.

I love visiting Canada. It has a lot in common with New Zealand. The people are consistently friendly and incredibly polite. I have never experienced such an orderly and relaxed disembarkment of an aircraft as in Canada. Nobody is pushy, everyone understands that we’ll all get off more easily if we take it in rows. There isn’t some self important tosser at the rear of the aircraft announcing loudly the importance of their connection as they steamroll past, as has been my regular experience south of the border.

I had a fair few flights on this trip and seven different hotels along the way. It all went very smoothly, in part because I just go with the flow these days but also because on the whole it is a very easy country to get about (or is it aboot eh?)

I picked up a couple of new travel tips on this adventure. Data roaming is prohibitively expensive when coming from New Zealand. I’m a big iPhone user and have all my travel material in my hand at any time. The problem is those tools that require an internet connection. What I’ve started doing is connecting in hotels or other wifi rich areas and then I’ll take a screenshot of the booking or the map I need. That way I have it in my photo album and don’t need a connection to access it. I’ve also started taking a photo of my hotel room number, such is my old age and the number of hotels I stay in… they don’t print the number on the key these days!

A friend tells me he regularly takes a photo of the licence plate of his rental car when travelling just in case it is stolen or presumably if he forgets what car he’s got!

I struggled a bit with the coffee differences while away. I am absolutely addicted to caffeine (admitting you have a problem is a good start I’m told). I wasn’t able to find much that resembled what we would drink in New Zealand. I had to settle for copious quantities of doppio espresso at Starbucks. A place I would never dare enter in New Zealand for fear of ridicule or extradition.

I caught up with some of my Canadian cousins over the weekend and enjoyed just chilling in front of an enormous telly watching the Maple Leafs defeat the Canadiens in an hockey match, the quintessential Canadian evening.

Definite highlights of this trip included curling in Halifax. I had always wanted to give curling a go and was pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed it. It is deceptively difficult and a lot more physical than it looks. I had jokingly told people that I would likely break my leg on the ice. I needn’t have worried, after an afternoons curling I felt as though I’d been hit by a train. I used muscles I hadn’t awoken in years! I suspect I got a few funny looks as I attempted the stairs at the various airports I transited through the next day… I was rather stiff.

I enjoyed a flying visit to the Royal Canadian Mounted Police college and museum in Regina. All RCMP officers for Canada are trained in Regina and they have an excellent museum honouring the history of Canada’s top police force there. I also got to visit the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic which was very well done. The Halifax explosion was particularly interesting.

But for the most part it was a work trip and I met with a large number of people, some for the first time along with catching up with colleagues I’d met at different times. The meetings were all productive and the people warm and friendly. It is a real delight doing business in Canada.

I’m heading back up there again before the year is out and so will need to ensure a warm coat as it was chilly enough in late October. Can’t imagine how nippy it’ll be this time.

I am currently with my family in beautiful Lake Wanaka for the first week of the school holidays. It is Katie’s first ever school holidays as she only started school in August. It is also her (and Molly’s) first trip to Wanaka. Annie was here as a two year old, so technically has been here before…

The older girls are currently engrossed in the Australia versus South Africa quarter final of the Rugby World Cup. They are excited about the All Black Argentina game later. Katie is singing away in the bath.

Molly in particular has become an avid follower of the whole Rugby World Cup. I have failed her regularly as she asks me how points are awarded or other rugby related questions. I must confess have used Wikipedia a few times to respond.

We had a lovely first day in Wanaka having arrived yesterday afternoon. It was a beautifully sunny day and we went for a wander to the famous dinosaur-slide park. We enjoyed morning tea (well coffee for me of course) at a café on the lakefront before the compulsory (for Katie) turn on every piece of playground equipment.

This afternoon we went for a more serious wander along the lakeside and along the waterfall track. We had our first barbeque of the season for dinner on the sun-drenched deck at our holiday home.

Wanaka is certainly beautiful and there is some serious real estate here. It always amazes me the wealth that some people must have that they can leave such huge and expensive (holiday) houses empty. I hope they’re all in the IT industry…

The drive South yesterday was uneventful and the roads were surprisingly quiet for the school holidays. Katie coped pretty well until the last half hour when the litany of “are we there yet?” commenced. It could have been worse. We once went to the West Coast with Annie and Molly (a five hour trip) and Molly at the age of two started the same litany as we drove through Redcliffs, the neighbouring suburb. It did turn out that she had chicken-pox at the time but it made for a rather tedious trip.

We are planning a trip to Queenstown in the morning and will head up the Skyline gondolas with Katie and then the older girls are keen for something a bit more exciting such as the Shotover Jet or similar.

Later in the week we’ll give Cinema Paradisio a look (it has a collection of old couches and even a Morris Minor convertible to sit on/in) and there’s also the Puzzling World to explore, thanks to the generosity of a friend.

On Thursday we head to Lake Tekapo for the last two nights of our break. We arrive back in Christchurch on Saturday. I’ll then have a half-day to sort myself out prior to my first work trip in my new role.

I have two weeks in Canada ahead of me. I will visit Regina, Saskatchewan, Toronto, Ontario and Halifax, Nova Scotia. I am looking forward to the trip as I will be visiting in a different capacity than the past. I have some very good friends in Canada and will get an opportunity to make some more. I am contemplating doing some unadulterated tourism in the weekend I have in the middle with either a trip to Niagara Falls or Ottawa. I haven’t been to the Falls since 1993 so may head there.

It’s been a busy few weeks starting the new job and it’s nice to have a chance to have some thinking time.

Some morning wanders along the lakefront will be just the ticket to sort myself out.

I am pretty exhausted, I didn’t take a gap between the old job and the new which was a bit silly I guess. I came home from Auckland last weekend but had my wonderful cousin Rob visiting from the UK so we spent a lot of time catching up.

I imagine I will hit the wall soon if I’m not careful as it has been ‘all go’ as they say.

I’ve been enjoying the changes that come with a new job. Some are big such as new colleagues, new role and so on. Whereas some are small, I have only worn a tie once in the last three weeks!

When working from Auckland I live in an apartment downtown. This enables me to leave a load of gear in Auckland all the time and enjoy the luxury of travelling with carry on only. It makes a huge difference being able to get off the plane and head straight to the car. The apartment also means there is some routine to the stay. I have never been a fan of the hotel room lottery, never knowing what sort of room one is going to end up with when checking into a hotel. The apartment is rather noisy however due to its’ location (right on The Quay and directly adjacent to party central for the Rugby World Cup 2011).

When in Christchurch I am currently working from home. I’d have to say I’m not enjoying this part of the new arrangement, so far. I am a social being and sitting in my study all day is not my bag baby…

It is early days and I can’t realistically be in Auckland every week (something to do with having a family apparently). I shall find some routine soon I am sure.

I am heading up to Canada a couple of times between now and Santa so that’ll keep me busy no doubt.

Apologies for the rather bland post, but some days are blander than others…