Posts by Russell Brown
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The year I left Timaru ...
OMG, I have a leaving-Timaru story.
I was sent there for a rather challenging year to the Christchurch Star's branch office, near the end of which I scored a job as deputy editor of Rip It Up. On my final day, my boss took me to the pub and, not wanting to appear uncourteous, I had a few. There was also a party at my flat later on, and by that time I was pretty pissed. Not long after I had a couple of bong hits, I was puking in the garden. (The late Kevin Smith subsequently related to me an account of this that still makes me cringe.)
The tragedy of it was that I had been tipped off by a friend of hers that the girl I'd been seeing was planning to give me the goodbye shag to end them all. And there I was, too pissed to reciprocate. She, quite rightly, went home.
I woke up the next morning feeling terrible, and with a good deal of my donated-by-Mum tableware dirty and spread around the flat. I grabbed what I could, and rinsed some of it. The rest, I just left and got in my car. It was time for the next thing. And that was good.
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We decided to head home to New Zealand for a variety of reasons: landlord troubles, a drying-up of revenue in my line of freelancing, the recent (three months) arrival of Jimmy ...Fiona said "should we just go back to New Zealand?" I'd been in London five years, and we really hadn't thought of returning, but as soon as she said it, we immediately knew it was right.
We stayed in a friend's squat in Lambeth for the the last couple of weeks, and had a pretty nice time. The evenings were warm and a bunch of us played cricket and cooked on a barbecue while the English council tenants looked at us like we were mad.
Come the big day, we heaved everything into a taxi and headed for Victoria Station, where we'd discovered that we could check in our luggage for the flight before we got on the train. Only trouble was, the limits for the train journey were different to those for the plane.
The enormous trunk containing my Amstrad, records, etc, weighed up at over 60 kilos. The limit at Victoria was 50 kilos, so we had to unpack on the spot and try and artfully redistribute the excess into our hand luggage.
I got busted trying to nonchalantly carry the additional luggage (mostly vinyl records) onto the plane like it was really nothing, and they put my open courier bag in the hold. Jimmy didn't cry much and really had a better flight than we did. The living purgatory that is an LAX transit (even back then!) has, mercifully, been forgotten.
On landing in Auckland, MAF men came and sprayed the plane. It was so funny: they were wearing walkshorts.
Then came baggage claim. Jimmy was awake and protesting, so I had to grab the bags on my own. I was exhausted and as I watched the big trunk coming around, I knew I was going to have to get it in one: no mean feat given that the handles were as far apart as I could reach and it was moving. I did it. I had to go looking for the courier bag, but found it, with the contents in reasonable order.
The Customs guy frowned at our trunk like it was a really big problem, but I happily opened it for him and he made a derisive noise and waved us through.
Outside, my friends were waiting. They'd been up all night because the club my buddy was running -- where I was supposed to do some DJing -- had had its last night.
New Zealand in the morning was beautiful. It seemed like a long time since we'd seen that. With mother and infant in a different car, we had a joint between the international and domestic terminals and then a snifter of Oban single malt with coffee at the cafe. I felt grounded. It was the end of the beginning of the new thing.
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I didn't actually try the chardonnay (after the last Great Blend when I was forced by the heat to drink it)
So that's why we ran out of the white ...
so I was complaining on behalf of my sister - who doesn't get the internet, or own a TV and who still managed to be very entertained on Thursday night, so I think that's a good demonstration of how fun the Great Blends can be.
Nice. I tend to forget that the format is unusual and people who've never been to one have a new experience, so it's lovely to hear that. Might have to work up a whole new theme for the next one, though. I toy with the idea of going back to the bowling clubs. Are bowling clubs cool in Wellington?
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I'm not sure if I perhaps didn't hear introductions correctly since I was sitting at the back or if perhaps I just misheard (and I'm sure that the wine had nothing to do with that, but incidently, why is there always Chardonnay and never any Reisling? Are you trying to push the Chardonnay Socialism thing really hard?)
Heh. Actually Hatton Estate does mostly red wines for the restaurant trade, and that nice, crisp little chardonnay is the only white they make. They came on board after I was bemoaning the quality of the wine at a previous Wellington Blend to Mark Cubey, who introduced me the person standing next to him, who was Rachel, Hatton Estate's sales manager. She came around with her tasting bag the next time she was in Auckland, we talked about their company and ours, and the deal was done.
And anyway. Drinking Riesling is just being contrary for the sake of it.
but it did seem that most people's questions for Tom Cotter were about aspects fo the TVNZ site that didn't seem to be part of his expertise/job description.
When you're speaking in public on behalf of a big organisation, you have to be quite precise about exactly what is and isn't your turf.
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So say we all.
I've heard those two "I am a Singaporean" testaments three times now, and every time they've choked me up. Special.
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By contrast. Eric from TVNZ needs to watch a video of himself sometime. No doubt the corporate environment is tough and suspicious - however I did think he could have loosened up a bit.
To be fair to Eric, he was subbed onto the panel at late notice and he had me on his ass to try and get him to keep his presentation as tight as possible so we could keep to time. He's actually a pretty chirpy guy in person.
Tom Cotter had much more time to put TVNZ's case in Wellington and basically charmed everyone.
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That was an unexpected treat for me. I'd heard of Bill Direen, but I'd never actually heard his music, but seeing him live was... magic. What made it that extra bit special was all the fan boys in the audience yelling out requests and having them played. Absolutely splendid.
Consider yourself inducted into the small but tasty crew of people who regard Bill as a New Zealand creative genius (the other fanboy-in-chief there was Graeme Hill, btw). I was sitting next to Paul Litterick's friend (whose name has been erased from my brain) and at one point he gasped to himself "What an extraordinary evening." Yup. It was.
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Kowhai, the reason your links don't format properly is that you use a "/" where you should use a "|".
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WHY IS THE WORLD PERSECUTING ME LIKE THIS??? WHY DON'T I GET INVITED TO TASTINGS LIKE THIs??
Calm down, Rob: all things are possible. It was actually a public tasting, albeit quite good value (as whisky tastings usually are) for $50. (I was exhausted, needing to spend some time with my family and a bit gouty, so Graham got to go.)
Consult whiskygalore.co.nz, and I'll if you email me I'll send you the PR person's contacts. And when you're next in ChCh, put aside some time to visit the shop for a chat and a dram. They're good people.
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I've been taking things quietly today.
More than anything, I can't believe what beautiful music I heard last night: The L.E.D.s finishing off the Blend, then Bill Direen, playing to a couple of dozen people at the PR Bar. That was truly special.
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