Happy anniversary baby, got you on my mind (Little River Band)

Happy birthday Dulcie! (Photo credit: Graham Purdy)

Wie geht's?

Quite a few April anniversaries happen that need some commentary. 

There are plenty of happy occasions to celebrate. We've had my parents wedding anniversary (on the 18th in 1953), Jacky and my wedding anniversary (on the 21st in 1984), and mum's birthday (on the 23rd in 1930).

There are also two losses of life anniversaries in April: Lucy Adsett, a.k.a Ma (on the 3rd in 1974) and our dear friend - Margo Buchanan-Oliver (on the 25th in 2018).

I know these are just names and dates to the blogosphere, and that a lot of others celebrate their own anniversaries as they come up but clearly without Lucy and her daughter Dulcie Adsett and then her wedding to the strapping young pharmacist Graham Purdy, you would not be reading this, because I would not exist.

That's a huge debt of gratitude I owe all three.

That Earth-shattering event in 1984 also means that our four children exist and consequently, our four grandchildren also exist. So, I think you'll agree, that one is worth a massive celebration as well.

Love and peace - WNP

What you leave behind is all that matters anyway (D'Virgilio, Morse & Jennings)

Hey dad - been a while since we last spoke. 

You'll be pleased to know though that I am really good at communicating with you and mum on a daily basis - your photo together is a constant in my life. 

Generally, things are going pretty well around these parts - the blogs keep me in touch with family and friends; I'm really enjoying being back in the classroom; and the family has expanded a lot with your great grandchildren, and Samantha's recent marriage to Andrew.

Your grandkids are flourishing and living their lives. You would be extremely proud of them.

Jacky and I have been empty nesters for a while now. As you know we celebrated our 41st wedding anniversary in April while in California before flying to Denver for Sam and Drew's wedding (your Pommy granddaughter is now Sam Kalicki).

I still remember your trip to America when I was in primary school - probably around the time of that photo taken on holiday in Tutukaka. Do you remember how you recorded that message on top of the Empire State Building and brought back some exotic presents - sneakers and real Maple syrup? It tasted sooo good! I still have your recording.

I digress. I really wanted to wish you a happy birthday for the 26th. Although I miss you, I want you to know that you continue to inspire me and I still say hi to you both every day when I see that photo of you and mum.

Love and peace (forever and always) - W

I broke through the trees and there in the night - my father's house stood shining hard and bright (Bruce Springsteen)

Wie gehts?

Robert Bly in Iron John makes an interesting statement about a son's movement from his mother to his father when they enter their early forties.

Idealization of the mother or obsession with her, liking or hating her, may last until the son is thirty, or thirty-five, forty. Somewhere around forty or forty-five a movement toward the father takes place naturally - a desire to see him more clearly and to draw closer to him. This happens unexplainably, almost as if on a biological timetable.

Interestingly, it was a little bit later than that - from 45 to 50, before I strongly felt that desire and the urge to draw closer to my father. 

Although - the beginning of that process was forced on me with my mother's passing in 1983, and it continued after Keegan's birth with our decision to move back to Auckland to be physically closer to my dad in 1987.  

After those green shoots of the reawakening process, which lasted about ten years, on July 1, 2008, I began this blog.

The stated reason on that first tentative post, was to communicate more and therefore get closer to my father. Although I left it late, he would pass away a year later, the blog had the desired effect in that it definitely brought us closer together. 

Now, this blog has morphed into a different kind of thing, but it still allows me to have greater contact with my family, and wider whanau.  

Love and peace - Wozza

It's nice to be nice, as my mother once said (Pugwash)

Wie geht's?

As you know, I start each day with a couple of readings. One is from 266 Days With Wisdom by Venerable master Hsing Yun, and the other is from The Daily Stoic (subtitled 366 meditations on wisdom, perseverance, and the art of living).

Increasingly, I have come to realise that my parents taped into mindfulness and stoic philosophies for their messages to me and my brother. 

Whether they did so consciously I'm not sure. But I like to think they did, as they had wisdom beyond their years.

One of my mother's favourite sayings was 'two wrongs don't make a right'. As I listened to Pugwash's Two Wrongs song on my commute this week, I realised how deeply that saying has affected me and my approach to others. 

I still use it when the need arises - and it's interesting how often it arises.

I'm picking my mother had heard this phrase from her own mother and passed it on to me, as I have maybe passed it on to my own children.

It's a good one. Within it is the idea of treating others as you'd like to be treated, reflecting on your actions, thinking of the consequences of your actions. Those ripples create your own karma and affect the karma of others.

One of my father's favourites was 'if a thing is worth doing, it's worth doing right'. Mindfulness, right there.

Concentrate on the moment. Be present. Take pride in your work. 

It's all there.

Love and peace - Wozza

We're captive on the carousel of time, we can't return, we can only look behind from where we came and go 'round and 'round and 'round In the circle game (Joni Mitchell)

 

Wie geht's?

Repositing this entry from July 28 2022 as dad passed away on September 21, 2009

This post is dedicated to Graham Purdy (26 July 1928 - 21 September 2009) because without Graham's world there would be no Wozza's world.   Funny how time passes. It's been an unbelievable 43 years since John Lennon was murdered. It's been 40 years since my mother passed away. It's now been 14 years without dad and those moments remain raw wounds. Rather than settle into a depressed mood, though, I'd prefer to be upbeat. As Groucho Marx said,

"I, not events, have the power to make me happy or unhappy today. I can choose which it shall be. Yesterday is dead, tomorrow hasn't arrived yet. I have just one day, today, and I'm going to be happy in it."

So I'd rather commemorate Sept 21 with a celebration of a great life via some pictures of father and son(s) and grandad (or as he signed himself - Deedoo II) for our children. First though - some context:

This was Graham's world as four generations of Purdy are captured here by dad's clever organisation and automatic shutter release in the 1960s. Left to right - William Nugent Purdy (his grandfather), Graham Nugent Purdy himself, Christina Amelia Purdy (his mother), Warren Nugent Purdy (his first son), Harry Purdy [a.k.a. Deedoo] (his father), Dulcie Mary Purdy (his wife), Ross Graham Purdy (his second son). We are pictured on the steps at his parents' house in Reimers Ave, Auckland (a.k.a Rochdene).

Dad with 'the boys'. This was taken, also by automatic shutter release, on a holiday in Tutakaka, east of Whangarei (which is north of Auckland).

GNP and WNP. We often stopped off for lunch in Hamilton Gardens (Purdys love routine - we were taught by a master), at a great spot by the Waikato River. Clearly we were well organised - picnic lunch with thermos of tea.

As a teenager I often attended family holidays to Te Rangiita (Taupo). This was taken on one of our last fishing trips together as a family. Pretty soon I would outgrow them and start some family routines of my own with Jacky.

Deedoo II and the gee-kids (L to R: Adam; Samantha; Jade; Keegan) in the nineties at Mickey D's in Auckland.

One of the last father/son photos I have. Thirty years apart - we were so very different, yet so very alike.

Dad loved the Marx brothers so here's a parting thought from Groucho:

The first thing which I can record concerning myself is, that I was born. These are wonderful words. This life, to which neither time nor eternity can bring diminution - this everlasting living soul, began. My mind loses itself in these depths.

Love and peace - WNP 

Take the chip off of my shoulder, smooth out all the lines, take me out among the rustling pines, till it shines (Bob Seger)

Two crazy kids with Graham Purdy, 1984

Wie geht's?

My father-in-law (G Brian) has been working on transferring our VHS home movies into a digital format and delivered the first batch to us last weekend. I am truly thankful for his time and expertise.

Excited? For me, this was like waiting for Peter Jackson's Get Back documentary of the Let It Be sessions. I was itching to see what was on these tapes - some, like my dad's things, had been lying dormant for decades.

I was over the moon with the results. Jacky and I (with Brian, Sallie, Ross and Michelle in attendance) were looking impossibly young and getting married again in April 1984. The Purdettes were young again, family holidays with friends reminded me of fun times again. Jacky scowled at the camera again and again - every time it was pointed at her in fact. Ah - the memories! I had quite a few cushions hurled my way during these videoing occasions - let me tell you!

A few of the tapes starred people that dad knew but he's not around to tell me who they are any more. I did see Nita in a few of them so those are from the late eighties/nineties.

The footage of him from that time at his Taupo house in the garden and his preparations to smoke a trout are priceless.  His knowledge of plants was amazing - he knew all of the botanical names! Predictably, he's dressed as if he's just returned from the office (business shirt, dress pants and a cardie). He never wore work clothes like jeans/ T shirts etc. Ever. 

What I loved the most though was his deliberate and careful preparation for the fire and the process that was used to smoke trout. He was a chemist by trade and fastidious by nature so everything like wood, sawdust, charcoal is in neat, precise piles. The methodical detailing of the process had me spellbound.

At one point, I caught myself shaking my head and then...

With a jolt I realized how much I do the same thing! Like making an omelet or assembling a flat pack. I do the same thing dammit!

I may have picked up that trait from him gosh darn it. 

I'm not sure if I've passed it on to the Purdettes. I may have.

Food for thought. 

Can't wait for the next installment from G Brian.

Much love and peace - Wozza

Close your eyes, have no fear, the monster's gone, he's on the run and your daddy's here (John Lennon)

Wie geht's?

Some true facts for you: July 26, 2022 has come and gone. July 26, 1928 was Graham Purdy's birthdate. He would have been 94 this week. It's now been 13 years since he passed away. I think about him every day.

Some opinions for you: I enjoy re-reading a specific post from this blog each year. The post itself is 12 years old! Here it is again, in case you've missed it (slightly modified for 2022):

This post is dedicated to Graham Purdy (26 July 1928 - 21 September 2009) because without Graham's world there would be no Wozza's world.   Funny how time passes. It's been an unbelievable 42 years since John Lennon was murdered. It's been 39 years since my mother passed away. It's now been a year without dad and those moments remain raw wounds. Rather than settle into a depressed mood, though, I'd prefer to be upbeat. As Groucho Marx said,

"I, not events, have the power to make me happy or unhappy today. I can choose which it shall be. Yesterday is dead, tomorrow hasn't arrived yet. I have just one day, today, and I'm going to be happy in it."

So I'd rather commemorate Sept 21 with a celebration of a great life via some pictures of father and son(s) and grandad (or as he signed himself - Deedoo II) for our children. First though - some context:

This was Graham's world as four generations of Purdy are captured here by dad's clever organisation and automatic shutter release in the 1960s. Left to right - William Nugent Purdy (his grandfather), Graham Nugent Purdy himself, Christina Amelia Purdy (his mother), Warren Nugent Purdy (his first son), Harry Purdy [a.k.a. Deedoo] (his father), Dulcie Mary Purdy (his wife), Ross Graham Purdy (his second son). We are pictured on the steps at his parents' house in Reimers Ave, Auckland (a.k.a Rochdene).

Dad with 'the boys'. This was taken, also by automatic shutter release, on a holiday in Tutakaka east of Whangarei (which is north of Auckland).

GNP and WNP. We often stopped off for lunch in Hamilton Gardens (Purdys love routine - we were taught by a master), at a great spot by the Waikato River. Clearly we were well organised - picnic lunch with thermos of tea.

As a teenager I often attended family holidays to Te Rangiita (Taupo). This was taken on one of our last fishing trips together as a family. Pretty soon I would outgrow them and start some family routines of my own with Jacky.

Deedoo II and the gee-kids (L to R: Adam; Samantha; Jade; Keegan) in the nineties at Mickey D's in Auckland.

One of the last father/son photos I have. Thirty years apart - we were so very different, yet so very alike.

Dad loved the Marx brothers so here's a parting thought from Groucho:

The first thing which I can record concerning myself is, that I was born. These are wonderful words. This life, to which neither time nor eternity can bring diminution - this everlasting living soul, began. My mind loses itself in these depths.

Time goes by so fast, people go in and out of your life. You must never miss the opportunity to tell those people how much they mean to you (Karen Blixen)

 

Nita with dad in Queensland 1994.

Wie geht's?

Last Saturday, my stepmother, Nita Purdy, passed away.

Nita is, was, the last person on earth who knew me from birth to now. She was chosen as one of mum's bridesmaids in 1953 so was all class. 

When mum passed away in 1983 Nita got in touch with dad to offer condolences and eventually things became romantically entwined and she became dad's second wife in 1987.

I was best man and did a speech at their wedding. My mother was a great judge of character and so I had no problem welcoming her (genuinely) to the whanau.

The marriage didn't last though and by 2009, when dad passed away, they had been separated for some time.

But, for a while there, they were a happy couple, and Nita was a terrific grandmother to the Purdettes.

However, she was a real technophobe so there was no way I could email her or have a relationship via Facebook. Instead, Nita was old school - landlines and letters via NZ Post.

As things sometimes happen, we lost touch with each other over the last few years, which I regret. When her niece got in touch with the news this week I was rocked a little.

She was a very genuine person, with a great sense of humour and an infectious laugh. She was very empathetic and cared for people. Surprise surprise, my mum picked a good one to have as a friend.

We are all richer for having had Nita in our lives. May she rest in peace.

Love - Warren

They say it's your birthday (The Beatles)

2003 versions of Irene and me

Wie geht's?

This post acknowledges a couple of big events in the Purdy calendar.

The 26th of July is Graham Purdy's birthday (he would have been 93). Happy birthday dad!

GNP with his first grand daughter

The 29th of July is Irene Purdy's birthday - she turns 100! Jacky and I were there (Bury, Manchester) for her 9oth celebrations in 2011 but sadly we can't get there in the current pandemic circumstances for her 100th, as we'd hoped to do. It's a priority for as soon as it's safer to travel to blighty though.

In the meantime, from half way across the planet, huge amounts of love and peace are sent out for next week to Irene and the Kirkham/Purdy brigade from the Nu Zild Purdys!

If they make Tony Adams captain we could all go screaming in the park (Joe Strummer)

In one of my happy places

Wie geht's?

For the most part, I'm a happy sort of bloke. A colleague and I were discussing happiness recently and she offered to lend me some of Gretchen Rubin's books.

These are The Happiness Project and The Four Tendencies (which I'll write about in the Baggy Trewsers blog).

Why am I generally a happy bloke? 

According to current research cited in Gretchen's book - its mainly about your genetics, so I have my parents to thank for 50% of my predelection for happiness (age, gender, ethnity, marriage status, income, health, occupation, religious affiliation make up to 20% and the other 30% is a product of how I think and act).

So thanks to Dulcie and Graham, Jacky Purdy (she's beautiful inside and out), and me - I'm a happy bloke. 

It also helps that I'm a teacher on a good wage who lives on a few acres in the country with no neighbours to speak of.

I'm pretty sure my other 30% comes from my love of music (15%) and English (reading and writing - 15%).

Here are the things that are currently adding to my happiness:

• It's autumn (I LOVE autumn) and we had our first frost yesterday (so good!)
• Music and reading (on the day I wrote this post I finished a Desmond Bagley adventure story, started another Anne Tyler novel, dipped a toe into The Happiness Project while listening to Brand X albums in the warmth of our Garden Room while the dogs slept at my feet)
• Writing (I worked on some posts to four of my blogs)
• I enjoy menial tasks like hanging out washing, picking up horse poo, baiting rat traps (rats don't like winter so they start casting around for some warmer lodgings)
• Following Arsenal F.C. - we play Liverpool overnight so I'm forever hopeful (if they lose I'll be momentarily less happy)
• Looking at my record collection and posting photos on the Facebook vinyl group I belong to (the Brand X live album is great so I needed to share that today)
• Listening to MNAC albums and writing about them (Herman Dune was the latest band I never would have discovered without Alex, Lew and Tom's input) 
• Seinfeld (the show - it figures in my daily life in many ways - quotes come to mind and Pinterest groups have stills that instantly make me smile)
• The Beatles posters in my music room (as well as my other decorations in there - they bring me joy everytime)
• Watching Asher interact with his mum and us (Papa and Mema) is a real source of happiness!

Love and peace - Wozza

We're related to each other in ways we never fully understand, maybe hardly understand at all (Robert M. Pirsig)

Wie geht's?

Fathers' Day was on Sunday, and very appropriately, I finished my fifth reading of Zen And The Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance then. Part of the story traces the relationship between Chris and his dad (the narrator).

Stories about fathers and sons fascinate a lot of people, and I think the reason is largely because we can't fathom our fathers. No matter how hard we try.

As Robert M. Pirsig says, "We're related to each other in ways we never fully understand, maybe hardly understand at all".

We're always from different generations, we've not yet fathers ourselves and then we have our own sons and they struggle in the same ways. And so it goes on.

Certainly Chris fails to understand his father in ZMM. 

I sometimes got a glimpse of understanding from my dad but it was a struggle most of the time. While quite effusive with Jacky and my children, he was more guarded with me, or at least I sometimes felt that way. I know he was proud of me because other people told me he was but he seemed to struggle letting me know it.

Only three times did he let his guard down completely with me. Once when, as a preteen, I criticised his mother, then right after my mother passed away in 1983, and when he was about to in 2009.

During his few days I sat beside his bed and listened to him open up and tell me how things were between us (during which he stunned me somewhat by saying what a wonderful son I'd been).

At the time, he quoted the Masonic prayer and a section from Philippians. I knew my dad had spiritual values because of his Masonic background but we were never church goers as a family. It was a surprise to me, when we had to clean out his unit afterwards and I found a new Bible beside his bed that he clearly read a lot. It's beside my bed now.

Anyway, I wrote down in my copy of ZMM the bit he told me from Philippians 4.8-9, where Paul is encouraging the Lord's followers:

Finally, my friends, keep your minds on whatever is true, pure, right, holy, friendly and proper. Don't ever stop thinking about what is truly worthwhile and worthy of praise. You know the teachings I gave you, and you know what you heard me say and saw me do. So follow my example. And God, who gives peace, will be with you.

That kind of sums up things for me in many ways: being a father is about setting out values and examples and a way of living for your own children. 

I also loved the section in ZMM where he quotes a section from the Iliad. Hector says of his son:

...may they say, as he returns from war, "He is far better than his father".

There is that feeling with fathers that, not only are we replaced by our children, but that we place in them hope and trust, that they will be better than us.

Jade gave me a lovely card for Fathers' Day and she tells me in her message that I set the bar for being a good father. 

That was a great compliment. Even so, I haven't always cleared that bar but I've done my best and so I should. It's a huge role, a huge job, a huge responsibility and, although I haven't always got it right, I want to, and that's the key really.

I want to be a better dad, and I'll keep aiming to fulfil that verse in Philippians for my children.

It's a lofty goal.

Love and peace - WNP.

You know, most of the time he seems like such a normal guy (John says to Sylvia about the narrator)

Wie geht's?

Recently I got into a conversation with a colleague at work (let's call her Julie) about our favourite books and I mentioned that I'd only ever read one book four times: Robert M. Pirsig's Zen And The Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance.

She expressed interest, but I had to tell her that while I would normally lend her my copy, I couldn't in this case. 

You see, the fourth and last time I read it was in 2009 when my father had a stroke from which he wouldn't recover. At the time I wrote in the book things he said while I read beside him, so it has a lot of sentimental value to me. 

She understood and so ordered a copy for herself. I hope she gets a lot from it and recommends it to her husband to read. I really do. It's an astonishing book. A true one-off.

Feeling an urge, I decided to reread it for the fifth time. When I opened it up, I noticed my initials and purchase date of July '99 were written on the inside cover.

Weirdly, I realised that over the last 40 years I have read this book every ten years (give or take) and worn out two previous copies in the process. 

Initially, my good friend, Chris Loud, suggested I read it when he saw it at a second hand bookshop we were visiting. 'This book will change your life' was the blurb on the back cover. Sure enough. I was 23 at the time.

Subsequently, becoming a new father myself of two sons and two daughters was a transformative process in so many ways. My second reading was when I was in my early thirties trying to understand who I was all over again. The book made sense to me in different ways then.

When 1999 rolled around I was 42.

When dad passed away I was 52.

I'm currently 62 and reading this book for the fifth time. Freaky.

The book reasonates with me...Duh!

Strangely, in the past I've identified strongly with Pirsig's ghost presence in the book - Phaedrus - the English teacher who is exploring his stance on things.

This time around, having now spent ten years without my father, I'm identifying with his 11 year old son, Chris, as he struggles to understand his father.

Graham N. Purdy was a logical thinker and a quiet, often fleeting, presence in my life. A chemist, a manager, a great dad in many ways, but rarely emotive, and he wasn't a good communicator. At least, not to me. 

Of course, I now realise this was partly my fault. I didn't have the right questions for him, nor the ability to persist and break down the non-communication like Chris does as an eleven year old with his persistent questions. Unlike my brother, I wasn't on my dad's wave length. Not until I became a father myself.

That's just the way it was. I can't change anything about the past. But I can understand him and more importantly, me, by reading Zen And The Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance again. 

Love and peace - WNP

P.S. At the same time, I'm also reading that other book in the picture - a Guidebook to ZMM: a collection of stuff about the book I bought while in England in 2018. It's an excellent companion.

Go ahead on Mr. Business man, you can't dress like me (Jimi Hendrix)

Wie geht's?

These three photos include my dad (try and spot him*). Each photo is a perfect document of the times. 

The top one is a fifties shot of the staff at the NZ branch of Burroughs Wellcome. The hair styles, the cut of the uniform suits, the poses are all very much 1950s.

Dad must have been doing okay - he'd just moved from working as a pharmacist at Walls and Roche Chemists in Royal Oak (before that Eccles Pharmacy in Queen St. where he met mum) to a management position with this huge international drug company. Now he's pictured in the front row, on the boss' left.

The seventies one is a classic too with the riot of colour, suits are a mixture of smart casual styles and the informal grabs indicate that some of the wives have joined in on the company picture. Dad, however, still looks like Mr Conservative.

Looks like a conference setting - not sure where though, mum must have stayed behind with us at home so maybe the south island? 

The last one is from dad's retirement do in 1988. Very eighties business casual this one. Interesting that all those men are also in the first photo - a fun activity for you - see if you can trace them back to their bloom of youth. Clue for you to get started - Harry Makin, the boss from the fifties photo, is next to Nita. 

A loyal bunch back in the day.

Love and peace - WNP

* Bottom row, 7th from left; Back row, 3rd from left; 5th from left next to Nita.

Check it out now, the funk soul brother (Fatboy Slim)

Wie geht's?

As I was researching the pictures for that Wozza in the seventies celebration (see back a couple of posts) I came across a veritable mountain of family snaps featuring me and my younger brother. 

Our dad was a keen amateur photographer and he took loads of pictures of us together. I hadn't quite realised how many!

Before our lives diverged at the end of 1981 (I moved away from home to flat by myself while going to Auckland Secondary Teachers' College), we were 'the boys', as in Dulcie, Graham and the boys.

From our perspective in 2020, those 22 years when our lives intersected, from 1959 to 1981, have become a relatively short lived period in our lives. 

For much of that time, though, as these pictures show, we were tight as. 

Off to Sunday school

Love and peace - Ross' older brother

Something tells me you're here with me (Train)

Wie geht's?

Have to report a tearful moment in the Purdmobile on my daily commute recently.

Been thinking about my mum and dad a lot of late (see the next post on Goo Goo G'Joob) and a live version of Train's When I Look To The Sky came on Radio Wozza. 

'Cause when I look to the sky something tells me you're here with me
And you make everything alright
And when I feel like I'm lost something tells me you're here with meAnd I can always find my way when you are here

Never fails to get me.

Then I read this poem today and it happened again.

Briefly Here and there some scrap of beauty gets snatched from this or that: One child’s voice rising above the children’s choir. A few wild notes of laughter passing through the open window of a passing car. That pink handkerchief waved at the parade. The tiny Nile-blue tile broken at the edge of the mosaic —all shining accident and awe. And this last second or two of dreaming in which your face returns to me completely. Not even needing to be, being so alive again to me. Laura Kasischke (2011) Beautiful Laura. Thanks. Love and peace - your eldest.

“And what is the use of a book,” thought Alice, “without pictures or conversations?” (Alice in Wonderland)

Bookshelves in the background at 18 Korma Ave.

Wie geht's?

While reading this pretty cool article about why some people read, and others don't, I quickly flashed back to our house in Korma Avenue, Auckland in the 1960's.

Not for the first time, and it certainly won't be for the last time, I thanked God for allowing me to born into a home run by Dulcie and Graham Purdy.

There are many, many reasons why, but check this bit from the article:

Why some people grow up to derive great pleasure from reading, while others don’t. That why is consequential—leisure reading has been linked to a range of good academic and professional outcomes—as well as difficult to fully explain. But a chief factor seems to be the household one is born into, and the culture of reading that parents create within it.

Number 18 Korma Ave contained some impressive built in book shelves. I love that idea - that permanence of a place to put the books.

Many times I would gaze through the shelves, looking at the spines of the Doctor At Large, Hammond Innes, Alistair MacLean books, and many others while growing up. 

The culture of reading was important in our house - as I know it will be for Asher at Jade/William's place.

During the weekend, I collected all the books for children I have in my collection (some are mine, some are mum's, others I've accumulated) and put them in Asher's room at Maple Grove. 

Ready for him. 

Love and peace - Wozza (far left in the picture taken by dad, with my brother and the Adsetts - Lucy, Jack and Dulcie)

Tell us more Mr Science (Elaine)

Wie geht's

The Science Roadshow hit town yesterday and my campus was hosting it for the Hastings area.

As I watched a presentation by two lively young science guys that featured some fun chemical reactions for the students, I, of course, thought of Graham Purdy - Pharmacist.

He would have loved it. And understood it far far better than the two young guys.

I thought back to when I was about 8 or 9 and asked for a chemistry set. After getting it I played around with it a bit but it didn't take.

At M.A.G.S. I attempted chemistry during my two School Certificate years, 1973-4, and that was an utter disaster.

Chemistry was not for me!

Isn't that weird. That I would be interested enough to ask for, and get, a chemistry set but then develop zero interest in it.

Zero, zip, nada, zilch.

Funny old life innit.

Love and peace - Wozza

Running as fast as they can, Iron Man lives again (Black Sabbath)

Wie geht's?

While dismantling my mum's old iron wrought (an old in joke) table and chairs in a light drizzle this morning after a frosty start, my mind turned towards the vagaries of my sentimentality.

Some things, like this table and chair set mean a lot. Other things, like my grand mother's tapestry table...meh.

I can remember when we bought the iron wrought furniture and where we had them positioned outside the back door at 4 Ramelton Road. Outside my bedroom actually (the one my parents had sound proofed!).

Mum loved this table and chairs and we used them a lot in those late seventies Auckland summers. Expertly, she made some cushions for it (still being used incidentally).

It appears in photos from that era and, Zelig like, it has endured.

Time moved apace and dad had them outside but unused at his Maygrove Village semi-detached abode. When he passed away in 2009 I took custody of the set and we have used it in our various Nu Zild locations since then.

Unlike the concrete mixer we have found space in our lock up for the dismantled set. A few of the nuts and screws were a little rusted up but generally it was easy enough to dismantle.

A quick water blast and it's now safely tucked away for the meantime, for future unpacking and continued enjoyment. 

Love and peace - Wozza