NZers can't dance!

Two days into my jet lag I was travelling again, this time in a far more leisurely fashion but ferry to the South Island for 'The Wedding' which was taking place in Nelson. The ferry journey was three hours, twice as long as a trip across the Channel, for a short crossing across a tiny drink of water. Apparently the ferries aren't allowed to go faster than 5 knots an hour for fear of whipping up too much foam or something, but it's a much more scenic journey than a Channel crossing so I sat back and enjoyed it. Once in Nelson it was pretty frenetic. I stayed with the bride-to-be's prospective in-laws in a lovely house with fantastic views across Nelson up a 1:3 hill - try doing that in heels, carrying bundles of 'stuff' at what feels like 20 miles an hour. I did, at least twice a day for the next three days - my glutes have never been tighter. I spent the next three days finishing off bridesmaids dresses, wrapping fairy lights around 10 foot pillars in the wedding venue, making posies and generally being sociable, meeting interesting family members from all over New Zealand who had made a special journey for this particular family event. I was also an unofficial win taster - one task I didn't mind participating in... So the day came and luckily the weather held up, unfortunately the groom's car didn't and unusually it was the groom who was late for this particular wedding. Finally he arrived and everyone entered the church. Except me. My next duty I was told was to tend to the 'ring-bearer'. In this case one beautiful white-haired golden retriever, the family dog. Someone remarked that they'd never been to a wedding where there had been so much laughter in the church, due in no small part to my charge deciding to smell his way to the alter and almost escaping from the side door but needless to say he made it in the end. After the ceremony and the many photos, it was off to the party venue and my final duty for the eve - barmaid. I know NZers can knock back their booze and maybe that was the reason for the lack of rhythm but in all the weddings I've been to I've never seen anything like it. Not one dancer among them - the kids were worse than the adults. They probably thought I was doing my best 'stiff upper lip' english jig by the side of the dance floor but truth is - I was embarrassed. Dad - I'll never be shamed by your 'english dad dance' again, all is definitely forgiven!

Arrival

One of the first things my boss/housemate said to me as I arrived in my new home was 'you have to watch out for these spiders'. As an arachnophobe of long standing I felt the little hairs on the back of my neck start to stand up. This isn't right. One of the reasons for coming to New Zealand, apart from the weather (of which there's lots) is that, like the uk, they don't have any poisonous creatures. Unfortunately the white-tailed spider is an unwanted import from Oz (good to know the uk isn't the only place that suffers from unwanted Oz imports) and apparently if you get bitten by one your limb falls off or something equally horrendous. My temporary home was a wooden clapboard house nestled on a hill in the middle of a mix of bushes and trees and loved by spiders. My first night, tired as I was, wasn't an easy one. I'd evicted three of the blighters before I even began to feel comfortable but over the coming weeks became pretty adept at capturing and 'setting free' numerous brown, long-legged hairy things, fluttery things and just plain big ugly things (that's wild-life not the neighbours I hasten to add). The next day I got out the hoover and sucked up anything that wasn't nailed down and evicted the trap-door spider (yes you heard correct) which was living in a rolled up blind in the corner. I believe it's much happier living in it's dingy corner of the garage than it ever could have been in my bedroom. At least I'm much happier!