We have done more paddling and fishing than riding this year.... Instead of doing battle in sweaty riding clothes over the summer, the loverly Vicki and I have contented ourselves with local trips and much jollyment including unintentionally entering the bike show (park over there) and winning a prize at the 15th annual Triumph rally with our (wait for it) Triumph... It was for 'Best Restored' which is rather odd as this same bike won 'best triumph' 15 years ago at the first annual triumph owners rally and it's not really changed that much... (I did paint the frame and tanks etc as there were more stone chips than paint... I should really stop riding I now that it's famous... (yeah - right)
Anyway - aside from winning prizes and working our buts off to hold off the great recession from our house. (mixed results thus far) We have, as reported, recently discovered fishing - nasty habit it seems - made more enjoyable by doing it from our kayaks off our local beach so we are getting plenty of exercise and strengthening our marriage. (Vicki did use strong language at me because I'd made the ocean too rough the other night). This fishing business does seem to be a relaxing yet perplexing pastime. It seems to consist mainly of me throwing perfectly good tackle into the ocean never to see it again but fish have been caught so I must not complain least I offend the fishy gods any more than I have already by poluting the waters with gear.... But sadly the golden days of summer are drawing to an end and last night, the first of the southerlies arrived.....
The aged cat is not a happy camper and you can see her wishing a pox upon the south wind which was sneaking around our house last night and disturbing her rest....
Like an unwelcome guest who arrives with too much luggage and no fixed plan for leaving, the first whiff of winter has arrived, crossing my nostrils this morning and exited in a cloud of condensation from my lips. 'Bugger' I said and Vicki could see that I said it. This is not good, a solid 4 weeks before it was due, a premature birth filling the cot before the nursery is ready. While not 'cold' as it is where I was born, no drifts of snow you understand but the summer duvet went from tossed carelessly aside in a crumpled heap to drawn tightly about the small smoldering heap in the bedclothes otherwise known as Vicki as her hand crept towards the controls of the electric blanket and the first icy feet of the year landed on my back....
Dampness stayed at the edge of the road during the morning commute and the rash vest has been replaced with a polyprop for a morning paddle on the kayak, this is too early in the year for us old fellas to be this cold and slightly unfair. The mice in the old orchard next door are also aggrieved and can be heard discussing invasion plans for our house. Taken by surprise, we are as yet unprepared and not sure where we left the traps last year. The first wave, a green tree frog, has been tossed out already, I hope he doesn't croak.
However, this ill wind does blow some good. It heralds the best motorcycling weather, still warm days following crisp mornings. Jaunts throught the browning countryside as the dear old Moto Guzzi Mk2 LeMans drinks gratefully the cool air and bellows it's pleasure thought the loudened pipes as summers fallen heros, the golden leaves of autumn scamper from our snowflake wheels in lazy circles marking our stately progress on the gentlemans express through the golden glory of autumn in the Wairarapa.... The morning bite lasts a little longer for keen anglers and soon the elusive snapper will make way for fat lazy red cod, perfect for a breakfast of thai fish cakes...
The 'great recession' might be grim, even here in paradise, but it's not all bad because as long as I can afford a tank of gas I can wind the clock back to 1980.... and if it gets really grim, the Triumph has a smaller tank to fill and lets face it, 1970 wasn't too bad....
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