I find flight miraculous. I know – well, I’ve read about the physics that it’s just the air pressure lifting and all that stuff, but what’s that to do with being able to get to Auckland and back in a day? In my parent’s day you would’ve been hard pressed to do it with an overnight stay. And I got served a cup of coffee – or would’ve except the turbulence made water the beverage of the day. That’s ok, think about it – water – at 32,000 feet. And a muffin. I mean, this is astounding. Maybe not to people who travel the world every day, but for me this is akin to magic.

Not everyone has a great smile like the person in the photo. I don’t understand how people can treat the cabin crew so rudely. It’s like they’ve paid for their ticket, and this somehow gives them permission to act like spoiled brats. I do wonder how their parents brought them up. Another reason why I’m happy to land and gratefully leave the aircraft. One of the joys of travel I guess.

Manifesto
29. Every day eat, drink, rest, work, exercise, play, love, create for your own good. And the good of others.
41. Every day use your mind. It is the greatest technology ever created.
48. Every day there are things you can’t change. You can change the way you think about them and deal with them.

I really wanted this to work. Have you ever tried hard to do something that was doomed from the outset? My documentary videos never saw the light of day – no youtube in those days – however, I have become something of a dab hand at turning out scones. I think my scones are damn fine – I almost would never have one that I didn’t make myself because – well, I like mine the best. Also, as soon as they’re cold? They’re stale. They should be warm enough to melt the butter, light and fluffy, and be served with jelly. I can cope with date scones, beyond that you’re in another territory. It’s not that cheese or pumpkin or other savory combinations aren’t tasty, it’s that they’re not really scones to me. They’re something as yet unnamed.

Scones are sweet. Hot, butter melt-y jelly sticky hot. Floury. Served with coffee. Classic. Accept no substitutes!

Manifesto
28. Every day you will be tested.
30. Every day use all your senses. Touch. Smell. Taste. Hear. See.
43. Every day accept you will make mistakes. Learn from them. They are opportunities in disguise.

Except for Nunga. Now there’s a sport that totally engages me. You’ve probably never heard of it much less played it and even less seen it being played. Don’t feel bad, it’s not available on the sports channel. Hopefully never will be. Nunga is a game we made up a few years back. At a family reunion. We were bored to the point of paralysis and there was nothing to see or do, and nowhere to run to. Nunga to the rescue.

Nunga is a solo sport you play with other people. You need a team of two or more people. Probably five is optimal, more than that they should split off into a separate team so you’ve got somewhere to defect to. Defecting to other teams is an important, if not essential, component. You’ll need a branch/pole/broken broomstick/peg, and at least one ring of some kind. Initially we used an axle off a pushchair and a couple of the broken/rusted out wheels – just the decaying rubber and rusty rims left. Sink the branch/axle in the ground deep enough so about 30 cm/ 1 foot remains above ground.

The object of the game is to throw the ring over the branch. Just like throwing quoits. Horseshoes. Here is where the sport differs. It’s over to the thrower to decide where they’ll stand to throw. Most people start right up close, and then move further back as their confidence and competence grows. They make it just difficult enough. Nunga is a sport that most anyone of any age can compete in with an equal opportunity to win at – physicality is not a requirement – in fact being a stunning athlete in the traditional form is a disadvantage.

Merely getting the ring over the peg doesn’t really win the points. There are no points. The other people on the team are there to boost you onwards to ever bolder moves. How you score is by ever moving out of your comfort zone and still hooping the ring over the peg. The best players are those who can call like a rooster, scurry up clucking like a chicken, run past the peg, and throw the ring without looking, have in bounce off a car, knock (but not spill) Aunty Joy’s gin and tonic, spin on its axis and then descend gracefully around the peg; to the wild screams and applause of the other participants – each of whom are determined to outdo the theatrical splendor, grace, and riskiness standard so recently set. The frailer or younger participants have the advantage that any flamboyance exhibited will be more valued than mere physical expertise. Singing, dancing, chanting, flames, hop, skip, and jump. Spin, twist, and yahoo to your heart’s content. Giggle like a loony-thing. The most important thing is to engage and enjoy as raucously as possible.

Don’t watch the game. BE the game.

PS – When the winning match was scored, my colleagues politely applauded and quietly returned to their desks. Not a lot of Nunga there.

Blue moon, you saw me standin’ alone
Without a dream in my heart, without a love of my own
Blue moon, you knew just what I was there for
You heard me sayin’ a prayer for
Someone I really could care for — Lorenz Hart, Richard Rodgers

Some of the local gargoyles look so alone – it’s a sad and lonely life for many of them.

They’re not alone – many of the people walking around seem just as alone. In some respects they’re not alone – workmates at work, friends to meet up with over lunch or a coffee, and someone special – family – at home.

But still, alone. Numb.

People are often pursuing an interest or a long held dream they don’t – or worse, can’t – share with anyone else. Who can you talk to? Who listens? Who talks to you? How do you listen? These days of change consultation has come to mean being talked down to without much listening up going on. Heads up: We’re people, not blocks of stone.

Manifesto
15. Every day make a difference to yourself and others.
28. Every day you will be tested.
34. Every day focus on your dreams.

In the middle of winter it is still a destination, although some people would tell you it’s a way of life. I guess it depends on where you lost your virginity.

I think Lyall Bay is at its best on a wet and windy day – storms squall in from the Antarctic (just over the horizon) taking the sea spray up and over the road. You put on your oilskin, and walk along the footpath, and pretend you’re an extra in Moby Dick. You can swirl in the roar of the waves. Lick the salt off your lips. Push back against the howl of the wind. Come back to yourself. While you’re still alive. Your great white whale is out there, waiting for you to do something about it.

Manifesto
05. Every day is now. The present moment.
16. Every day looking at the order of things gives you power.
30. Every day use all your senses. Touch. Smell. Taste. Hear. See.

Manifesto
04. Every day is an opportunity to cultivate the promise of the future.
29. Every day eat, drink, rest, work, exercise, play, love, create for your own good. And the good of others.
50. Every day has an ending.

Take a breath, people. Chill out! (We say that, we just think that means, “All you other people.” But you know us. Aroha mai.)

Manifesto
06. Every day you make choices.
29. Every day eat, drink, rest, work, exercise, play, love, create for your own good. And the good of others.
48. Every day there are things you can’t change. You can change the way you think about them and deal with them.

I’ve often wondered how much coffee gets consumed here in Wellington. Based purely on observation of the numbers of people I see with a coffee-to-go in the morning I’d guess several tonnes a day. Today I managed to grab some shots of one of the local coffee roasting facilities – bags stacked almost to the roof. Talk about get your Mojo working. Further investigation is required.

Manifesto
14. Every day the ordinary can be the extraordinary.
19. Every day make time for yourself.
41. Every day use your mind. It is the greatest technology ever created.

This coffee falls into your stomach, and straightway there is a general commotion. Ideas begin to move like the battalions of the Grand Army of the battlefield, and the battle takes place. Things remembered arrive at full gallop, ensuing to the wind. The light cavalry of comparisons deliver a magnificent deploying charge, the artillery of logic hurry up with their train and ammunition, the shafts of with start up like sharpshooters. Similes arise, the paper is covered with ink; for the struggle commences and is concluded with torrents of black water, just as a battle with powder.
– Honore de Balzac, The Pleasures and Pains of Coffee

“Where can you get a decent cup of coffee around here?” I asked.

“Jolt,” was the response from the locals in the room.

“Where’s that?” was the next question.

Not that long ago instant coffee was an acceptable drink of choice but this is no longer the case. Percolated coffee – a black liquid that has sat around for far too long – doesn’t get a much better response.

When we talk coffee these days we are talking about coffee made with freshly ground beans which has had water forced through the tightly packed ground beans under high pressure. The resultant dark liquid is like liquid gold. It forms the basis of all the many varieties of coffee we drink today – flat white, long black, short black, latte, cappuccino, mocha, macchiato, americano and so on. No wonder being a barista has become a skilled trade in its own right.

I grew up with the understanding that the strong, thick turska kava (Turkish coffee) my mama cooked in a cezva (a small copper pot) was a cup of coffee because this was the only kind of coffee drunk in our home at that time. Even our traditions have changed – the cezve comes out a lot less frequently than it once used to and has been replaced by coffee made using a coffee plunger.

This morning my friend Rossi and I needed a “real” coffee to kick start our day.  After finding out where the recommended cafe was and taking orders we headed off to get that much needed morning caffeine fix. Today is only the third day of our course and already my head is buzzing with the excitement, and challenge, of it all.

After my jolt from Jolt I was ready to attack the day – a photo shoot, debating, editing, proofing, critiquing, learning loads about photography and myself all lay ahead of me. This is turning out to be an incredible experience. Going out of my comfort zone is so good for me.

By the way, if any of you ever find yourself in Wanganui I can recommend the coffee from Jolt in Victoria Avenue. It was exactly what I needed.

Manifesto
02. Every day is an opportunity for a new beginning.
09. Every day learn something new.
19. Every day make time for yourself.

This year the ideas have been slow in forming – perhaps because people around me have been busy making their plans and I’ve held back to wait and see where I might be able to dovetail my plans with theirs.

I found this sight particularly ‘inspiring’. Some person has felt the ‘Learning and Development Folder’ just wasn’t worth the effort. As there’s still documents within I can only assume the learning and development wasn’t worth the effort either. How dis-empowering. Still, if the programme was rubbish, the trash is the best place for it. I want to assume that the trashed ‘V’, ‘Nippy’s Iced Chocolate Dairy Drink’, and takeout coffee is a sign that a better nutrition resolution has been put in place. I want to assume this. I doubt it.

Manifesto
27. Every day pain is a sign of growing.
29. Every day eat, drink, rest, work, exercise, play, love, create for your own good. And the good of others.
37. Every day fight for what’s worth fighting for. Pick your battles.