Bank holiday madness

No trip to the garden centre or B&Q for us! No, it was an early start to meet Danny and Nicky for a game of tennis at the local municipal courts. At £5.50 an hour it was easy to see why Britain hasn't produced a Wimbledon champion in decades.
As Nicky pointed out - courts are free in NZ and there would have been a queue to get on them even at 9am on a bank holiday.

But after finding the local key holder to unlock them - Goody always overcomes bureaucratic hurdles - we pitched into a game despite the rain.

It was a close game - 9 games to 7 - and got the competitive juices going; although I don't think Nicky appreciated my "fuck a duck" comments as self-motivation.

After tennis, Danny and Nicky treated us to a bbq-ed breakfast - home made pancakes, sausages, and even cooked apples. You've got to love that antipodean way of life.


But there's something peculiarly British about the sun and the sound of a distant lawnmower! Or is it just my suburban upbringing?

Full to the brim - when aren't we stuffed with food? - we lolled in the garden until the sun had tipped past the noon zenith and it was time to go home and loll in our own garden.


Goody's is on the sun lounger looking as perfectly beautiful as she always does and I've managed to find a hotspot in the garden for the laptop under the shade of the umbrella.

Surrounded by bird chatter and the noise of kids, no doubt causing havoc and tiring our their parents, in gardens some way off, it's a lovely bank holiday monday.

Of course, we could be in the paint stripper aisle at B&Q...........