Happy Monday :)

Morning all and a happy Monday to you all! Hope you all had a fabulous weekend. Ironically, considering my last post was about "summer" finally being here, the weather was kind of bad for us this weekend, with rain and wind and cold, but it was a good excuse to stay inside and work on NaNoWriMo, for which I have cracked 20,000 words! Although I should be at over 30,000 by now, I still think it's a pretty good effort and I still think I can make it to 50,000 by the end of the month. And now I'm going to be helped along by my awesome inspiration wall which is slowly filling up with ideas from the ever creative man in my life. Also went out to dinner with the best siblings a girl could ask for on Saturday night, and on Sunday took a trip to the Wairarapa to talk to a guy about my Tinui Project, spending most of the drive over begging the weather gods to give me some sunshine, but they didn't listen so instead of driving out to Tinui itself and exploring, I went home on account of the rain and the cold... and was treated to a beautiful homecooked pasta meal - which made up for the weather :)

Have a fabulous week lovelies! xo

We will remember them

One of the reasons autumn is my favourite season is because of those days that make you want to sit on the slightly damp grass under the impossibly blue sky and gulp in as much fresh air as possible. It’s those days that look like summer, minus the scorching heat that is replaced by air with an icy edge. The freshness of it feels like the moment the clock strikes 12am on January 1st each year – it’s the start of something new and exciting.
Yesterday was one of those days. April 25th; a day of both mourning and national pride for New Zealand and Australia as we commemorate Anzac Day. We bow our heads in prayer and thanks to those ordinary men who became extraordinary heroes who are remembered nearly one hundred years on.
The number of people attending Anzac services around the country and around the world steadily increases each year as the number of veterans dwindles, and for that, I personally feel extremely proud of my fellow New Zealanders, and glad that those men and women who fought for our right to live free are remembered.
Usually I get up before dawn to attend the dawn service at the cenotaph in Wellington and last year I reported on the Masterton dawn service. But this year, I decided to do something different.
While working for the Wairarapa Times-Age, I became aware of a tiny rural Wairarapa town called Tinui, which was the first place in the world to hold an Anzac Day service on April 25, 1916. Reverend Basil Ashcroft held a service for the people of Tinui at the Church of the Good Shepherd, before a group of men and boys carried a wooden cross up Mt Maunsell which would serve as a memorial to those who had died in the war. It was replaced by an aluminium cross in 1965, which was given a category one Historic Places Trust Classification last year.
I researched the place, and found I could not get its story out of my head. While numerous news stories had been written about it over the years, I felt the town and its people deserved its story to be told in more than just a few articles, so I approached the chairman of the Tinui Anzac Trust and proposed that I write a book about it.
To my surprise, he took me completely seriously despite my age and the fact I have never written a book before and gave me a tour of the town and told me of its history. At the end of the tour, he thanked me for taking on the project and said he was grateful that the younger generation was still interested in the Anzac story.
And so I took my first step towards making this dream become a reality yesterday, and, with my parents and sister in tow, we drove the one hour, 45 minutes from Stokes Valley to Tinui to stand in the brilliant sunshine outside the War Memorial Hall. As the tui sang behind us, the New Zealand flag flew proudly in front of us as people spoke and prayed and together we sang our national anthem before tears of sadness and gratitude came to our eyes at the sound of the Last Post as three war planes flew over our small gathering.
Following the service, we were treated to some country hospitality in the hall, with a massive morning tea spread, and then we made our way towards Mt Maunsell, where we half walked, half rode quad bikes on the trail walked 97 years ago by the people of Tinui to carry the cross to the top.
A few metres from the top, I wondered aloud why they had chosen that particular spot, and on reaching the cross and looking out over the town of Tinui surrounded by acres and acres of farmland, I had my answer. For there, at the top of the mountain, I felt the spirits of the fallen were very much alive and from that point, they could watch over their town, seeing it change and grow as the people in it live their lives free from war because of their sacrifice. And from the town below, its people can look up and be reminded of the realities of war and the freedom of peace.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old;

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning

We will remember them.

 

See more photos here

From the burbs to the wops......pt2

On Friday night my mum, sister and I donned high heels, dresses and our best jewellery, and headed into Wellington City to see the Broadway classic, 42nd Street. We parked and stepped out of Courtenay Central into the busy street and I instantly felt at home amongst the people and the cars and the buskers and the slightly polluted air.
The country is, as they say, a breath of fresh air, and I have come to love it. But, there's nothing quite like the salty breeze that whips you as you walk along the Wellington harbour; the sound of cars and buses and high heels speeding around the busy city (oh how I miss the sound of high heels that aren’t my own); the courageous fashion, odd couples, hole-in-the-wall cafe's that make the most amazing burgers (yes, Offbeat, I'm talking about you), and the vintage fashion as opposed to second hand "fashion".
Driving around the Wairarapa is also a different experience – for those people with no sense of direction, the Wairarapa is the place to be. Long, straight roads that you get to know in no time at all. Only problem is, if you go too far out into the country – like to, say, Alfredton, it’s the scariest feeling if you have got the wrong road because you can be driving for half an hour and not see another street to turn off into that lets you know where you are.
So, Wellingtonians, when you take a drive to work or to the town centre, what do you see? Houses, office buildings, shops, parks, sports fields, bus stops, schools, people.
What do I see? Sheep, sheep, sheep, ooh lambie cute! Cows, cows, cows, sheep, sheep, oh look, a person!... well, it’s a farmer… sheep, sheep, sheep, cows.
Okay, maybe I exaggerate a teeny bit. There are plenty of houses and schools and parks and stuff, but seriously, there are a lot of sheep. And cows. And farmers.
BUT, the thing I love about this place is just how natural it is. You drive past those farms and see the meat you buy for dinner. In summer time, stalls and shops full of fruit and vegetables straight from Wairarapa vines, trees and soil are everywhere. Schools grow their own vegetables, keep chickens, and have worm farms and greenhouses.
It’s also full of surprises. I know I may have led you astray with my “sheep, cows and farmers” comments, but rest assured, the Wairarapa is not all country and western. Little gems are hidden in nooks and crannies all over the place.
In Martinborough a new bar called Cool Change has just opened up, and if you’ve just got the Little River Band song in your head, that’s exactly what the owners Karina and Jimmy want. It’s all about good music, good beer, local wine, and kiwi food, all encased in the beautiful old post office building.
On the road to Mount Holdsworth you will find a little cabin with a wood fire oven, which churns out amazing pizzas on Friday nights, or so I’m told – I haven’t been there yet.
On the way to Stonehenge Aotearoa, just out of Carterton, a beautiful abandoned house sits atop a hill slowly falling to pieces.
On the way to Riversdale/Castlepoint, there is a small town called Tinui, which houses about 25 families and was the first place in the world to hold an Anzac Day service.
Way at the back of the Cobblestones Museum in Greytown sits a man named Tony King, who has a great passion for printing, and runs a working print shop equipped with vintage printing presses as a live exhibit at the museum, where buildings of Greytown’s past have been preserved.
Oh, and you must visit Schoc Chocolate in Greytown, which sits right next to the museum, and try a piece of kiwifruit and vodka chocolate.
So, the people of the Wairarapa may not wear high heels to work or to bars – or anywhere really, and Masterton’s town centre may be bereft of good clothing and music stores. The internet may suck, and there may be a lot of sheep and cows and farmers, but during my time here, I have met a lot of people who have escaped the “hustle and bustle” of the city and come over here to have a lifestyle, rather than a job.
It took me a long time to get used to the quiet of the country, but now I feel at home. Although, I still feel that hustle and bustle calling me back.