We did it! Achieved watching all three films at the cinema on consectutive evenings. Mind you, I would not want to have watched them back-to-back. We did this once with the extended versions on DVD many years ago, and rather than offering a sense of continuity, all it did was make us as screen-weary as Frodo and Sam were journey-weary. We got through it, towards the end, unable to take it in and process what we were watching. Some cinemas actually offering all three screenings in one day. And this is apparently a world-wide event.

I left the cinema with the words, “Well, I don’t want to see that film for at least another five years!” But we had to watch all three as it would have been weird to just see the first one or two. The Return of the King is epic, monumental, the stuff of myth and legend, sweeping you on a journey with the characters, empathizing with their plight, admiring their courage, celebrating the fulfilment of their destiny… you are wrung out emotionally and are finally elevated to that lofty place where you can relish in good triumphing over evil. A classic.

The Wider World View

After watching The Two Towers last night, I asked Joe what he thought of the difference between the first and second films. “I didn’t get so much out of it as the first film.” I agreed that it was the same for me, and that The Two Towers didn’t fill me with the sense of awe that The Fellowship of the Ring had. Joe replied: “I think we wore out our sense of aweness last night!”

The Two Towers has several different story lines going on: the journey from Edoras to Helms Deep and the battle there; the ringbearer’s journey; Saruman gathering his army and the Ents with Merry and Pippin. Joe summed it up: “ In the Fellowship you are following the characters, there’s one narrative, apart from the cutaway to Gandalf visiting Saruman, but that’s part of the same story. In The Two Towers you lose the momentum but gain the wider world view in that you learn more about what’s out there.”

I am moved to admiration of the visual effects: the explosion at Helm’s Deep and the bursting of the dam at Isengard in particular. And Gollum makes his first proper appearance. Using motion capture (recorded human action applied to animation) and movements acted out by Andy Serkis, also voiced by him, Gollum is digitally created. However, Joe remarked that, “The CGI Gollum is way better than what I’ve seen in films in the last five years; how he appears and interacts with his environment.”

We are about to see a lot more digital magic in Return of the King tonight. I think I will need a large bag of snacks to keep me going. It’s the extended version: 263 minutes long.

The Greatest Story Ever Told

“I didn’t expect it to have my rapt attention for a movie I’ve seen I don’t know how many times!” Joe said when we came out of the cinema after watching the re-release of The Fellowship of the Ring . This time the extended version. To commenorate the 25th anniversay of the film’s release. We all agreed, what a difference seeing it on the ‘big screen’. I had missed the first film at the cinema, but made up for that by going to see The Two Towers three times. Once on my own, then with Henry, then with Joe, who was seven at the time. Just about old enough, it was a 12A rating.

It was obvious that there had been a lot of mere babies from 2001 who had grown into young adults who were now making up for a lost experience at the cinema - last night’s screening of The Fellowship of the Ring was full of young people. Obviously anticpated too, due to the adverts targeted at a younger audience.

Anyway, back to the film. I have to say this is my favourite film of all time. The cinematography, the costumes, the scenery, music, attention to detail…yes, the detail is incredible, and you really have to appreciate this by seeing it on a huge screen, which can be filled with a shot of the ring in the palm of Frodo’s hand, showing all its lines and ingrained dirt. The detail was what we talked about most of the way home from the cinema. “I noticed the lines on people’s faces,” said Henry, “and the costumes! I even saw the stitching on Sam’s collar I’d never seen before.” I’d seen that too. In fact, having become so well acquainted with the storyline and scenes, and many of the character’s lines, I was free to let my eye rove over the background and take in even more. Henry commented that in Boromir’s death scene he had noticed a ‘dead’ orc’s foot move.

“Immerse yourself in the experience” you are told at the beginning of the cinema screening. Well, you certainly do that. I asked Joe how they managed to create such a masterpiece. “Pre-production length” he replied, “Giving them time to work on the miniatures and costumes, and not rely on too much CGI like they do nowadays, because of cost-cutting.” It is the time taken to develop the characters, without rushing scenes that I love. I feel like I’m there with them.

As we were leaving our seats last night, a young man behind us said to his friend, “That was long!” and got the reply: “ It has to be; it’s only the greatest story ever told!” I’ll second that. I’m going to see The Two Towers tonight, so let’s see how I feel after 23 years has passed.

A Visitor From the Deep

This is a bit of a departure from my usual content. And it’s quite long but it is a dramatic story and I had to do it justice. Skip straight to ‘Jaycee’ if you’re short on time. To set the scene, here’s an excerpt from Middle England to Middle-earth:

“By now, our family had a wish list of Things to Do, some spur of the moment ideas, others hankered after for years. One of these was swimming with dolphins. Perhaps I thought that a close encounter of this kind would magically heal the damage caused by seven years of child-rearing. Or perhaps I remembered seeing the dolphin embryo at the Natural History Museum in London and recalled the similarities between dolphins and humans. Or, of course, my father’s encounters with them when sailing. Whatever it was, it took us to Akaroa on the Banks Peninsula, 83km from Christchurch. I am so glad it did, but not in the way I expected. That’s life.”

The Mirror Dinghy

My late father had a love of the sea. His father was a Petty Officer in the Merchant Navy and maybe that kindled his interest. His family lived nowhere near the sea though, but in the land-locked West Midlands. When my father grew up and had his own family, we lived in Worcestershire (again miles from the sea) and I found myself roped into helping to build a Mirror Dinghy, where one of the hardest jobs was holding plywood panels in position by the bow, while Dad stitched them in place with copper wire. For me the smell of resin is redolent of the time spent boat-building in the garage. It was named after the newspaper, The Daily Mirror but we called ours Jaybee after Dad’s initials. If your interested, go to ukmirrorsailing.com for more information.

When the dinghy was finished, I was the one who went sailing with Dad. My brother was a little too young but I was 12 and excited about it. However, the excitement died when, on our first trip to a local river, it became apparent that setting up took an hour. Once in the water, we were either swept downstream by an angry current, something we nicknamed ‘The Bay of Biscay’; or gently becalmed, named ‘The Doldrums'; the latter being nautical nomenclature for a windless belt on the oceans around the equator where sailing ships sometimes get stuck.

The dinghy was taken to the Costa Brava, Spain, where we owned an apartment right by the sea. Here, Dad would go sailing with his friend and colleague Lou, a fellow apartment-owner. Lou’s family and ours holidayed together for a few years.

Back home, Dad took a course with the Royal Yachting Association and then taught sailing on a local lake. He developed his skills over the years on many sailing voyages around the UK, Ireland and France, with an accomplished crew.

Jaycee

I recently discovered some papers Dad had kept, including an account of the dolphin encounter which I had not seen when I wrote my book. To backtrack a little, Dad was now sailing in Lou’s yacht which had been built in the garden - a feat that took two years.

To quote from Dad’s account: “ The day arrived when we assembled and tested the mast, rigging, sails and electrics. Then took it all down again and stowed it in a frame we had built on deck. Two days later, we organised a crane and low-loader in the very convenient adjacent playing fields. Jaycee was then hoisted and transported to Stourport where she was launched with due ceremony into the Severn.”

The 8m-long boat had a hair-raising journey down the river to Sharpness and from then into the Bristol Channel. It was a potentially dangerous passage and they managed to go aground off Weston then spent the night in a sewage outfall outside Swansea Marina because they were too late to get over the bar. The yacht was eventually moored near Milford Haven.

The following year they crossed the Irish Sea to Cork and visited islands with evocative names such as Sherkin Island, Clear Island and Roaring Bay Water, using a small dinghy they carried.

In the third year, they planned a longer offshore passage to the Scillies, which is really where the story begins.

Scillies Season

It was 1992. Lou was the skipper and he had two crew mates. As Dad and Lou were ‘past their prime’, they took with them a guy called Greg who was a hospital consultant from Scotland. He was much younger and very fit and Dad described him as ‘just the man to complement two ancient mariners.’ With their own doctor on board, it gave them a sense of security. The boat was ‘beamy’ and handled well in a rough sea. It had a powerful Volvo engine which proved invaluable. Over to Dad:

Lou

“We had a marvellous time on this holiday in the Scillies. The salon hatch was open throughout and we were under sail 95% of the time. We visited all the main islands with our twin keels and a shallow draught plus with the onboard dinghy we were able to explore some of the more remote ones. The weather was near perfect until the middle of the final week, but on Wednesday the shipping forecast was ominous. On Thursday it rained and rained. Torrential and non-stop. We were in Old Grimsby Sound on Tresco and needed to put on foul weather gear just to go ashore. Friday morning and the shipping forecast was uncompromising: a deep low almost stationary over Lundy, visibility poor to moderate, wind force 7 to 8, sea state rough.”

Dad

Forced to set off due to Greg’s work constraints, they had 120 nautical miles of open sea ahead of them in a worsening situation. It was a serious error of judgement.

Leaving behind Round Island, the last island before Wales, the waves were very steep because of the wind and the tide.

“Then as we lost sight of Round Island something totally unexpected happened. Greg collapsed. He was able to talk but couldn’t stand. He explained that he had Meniere’s disease which affected his balance but would be OK when the violent motion ceased. Except that it didn’t. We laid him out in the open cockpit on his sleeping bag, which was soon soaked, and there he lay for 24 hours - clipped on of course. “

The waves were 5- 6m high on the port bow, ‘on the nose’ causing a tremendous racket as they thundered between the keels. Not that sleep was an option. Dad and Lou needed to run watches of one hour on and one off. They had a tiller rather than a wheel but it required a lot of strength and often both hands to meet each wave safely and surf down the other side.

“We had to be alert for two risks - broaching, being knocked sideways especially by the periodic extra large waves from a different angle, and pitchpoling, digging the bow in as we went over the top. With an 8m boat riding 5m waves it would make a good cartoon. We did carry a small amount of sail, which did nothing for our forward motion but helped stability a little and would make us more visible during the night - not that we saw any other vessels.”

I’m not surprised, Dad. I mean, who else would be daft enough to be out in conditions like that? You all risked your lives. And why didn’t Greg have the sense to inform the crew about his medical condition beforehand?

These were three mature, responsible men who seemed to regard their plight as mere discomfort (albeit with a danger of capsize and drowning). In Dad’s account, he compares his experience modestly to the “terrible ordeals of many professional seamen, especially in wartime.”

Back to the story: “ Our navigation was pathetic. We had an old-fashioned system of radio direction-finding with a hand-held instrument which picked up signals from a series of radio beacons around the coast. In reasonable conditions it could give fair results. Ours were hopeless, but we did have other things on own mind, like staying alive.

Saturday dawned with an angry sky and no let-up in conditions. There had been lulls of course when the wind dropped to 24 knots but it was soon back up to around 36 knots and staying there. We had no sleep, food or hot drinks but didn’t really want any. Greg seemed happy enough flat out. Lou and I still did one hour off and one off like robots.

Then around 1000 hrs the dolphin arrived!

This was a huge bottlenose, probably more than four metres in length. My only previous close encounters had been with two groups of eight or ten, on calm sunny evenings, in their traditional mode of leaping just inches from the bow, smiling happily and departing after ten minutes’ performance. Also, much smaller common dolphins in groups of 30 or 40 have followed us all night on occasions, but at a respectful distance.

This time it was so different. I assumed they stayed below in very bad weather, but this one came up - alone. His expression was serious and concerned. Instead of riding the bow-wave he appeared on the starboard quarter, right at my elbow as I stood in the stern. Both my hands were on the tiller otherwise I could have reached out to touch him.

I felt he was communicating with me. Silently - none of the rapid clicks and squeaks they use when in a group. He was projecting thoughts and pictures, radiating support and reassurance.

Our visitor from the deep transformed our situation instantly, lifting the mood of gloom and resignation that had settled on us. All three of us felt the vibrations, but his attention was focussed on me because I was in control at that moment.”

The dolphin stayed with them for several minutes, diving and re-appearing in the same position.

“Finally, he fixed me with that huge eye and I swear I felt, but not heard,' ‘Follow me!’ Then he was away, in a perfect straight line to the horizon with enormous leaps so that he was visible between the waves.

It seemed like an order so I followed him. It involved an appreciable course change and we took careful note of the compass bearing and held to it come whatever for the next five hours.

It led us precisely to St Anne’s Head at the entrance to Milford Haven.

In those next hours the conditions didn’t change. If anything the wind strengthened. The waves were now nearly on the beam, so increasing the risk of broaching.

Shortly after noon Greg surprised us again! Without warning he threw off his harness, jumped up on the hatch over the companion way, shielded his eyes and announced: ‘ I see chimneys!’

Indeed he could, tall ones belonging to the power station. Greg made up for lost time and insisted on tasking the helm for the remaining three hours of the passage, now that he had land to focus on.

We had one small incident entering the Haven when the Stena Superferry for Rosslare. listing alarmingly, was forced to cut across our path in order to clear the entrance. Greg, fully invigorated - well he had had a good rest - showed his usual panache in getting up sail quickly and tacking (with full engine revs as well!) in order to keep clear.

We had another incident later when we went aground but it enabled us to make a hot meal before the tide re-floated us an hour later.

Then back to our mooring and that was the end of the passage.”

Some passage! Just two years later in 1994, Jaycee had a satellite navigation system that enabled them, at the touch of a button, to plot a position accurate in most cases to 100 metres - with this they could sail in close to rocky coasts.

Dad and Lou logged about four thousand nautical miles in the following ten years, sailing in bigger yachts and experiencing some violent but short-lived storms. They never failed to maintain a good log and chart work, using GPS navigation to give an accurate position. And they never had another close encounter with a large, bottlenose dolphin…

'A Fashionable Watering Place'

Here’s another set of comparison photos – this time from Akaroa, our wedding venue in April 2018 and where we spent Christmas 2003.

I am writing this on 1 April 2020. On this day in history my family was 36,000 ft up in the air, on our way to New Zealand. Had we projected ourselves into the future, we would have thought it an April Fool’s joke that 95% of flights from the UK are now grounded. We all know why and I am not going to mention the C word.

I have mixed feelings about flying: it’s great that a plane got us to New Zealand but I disapprove of the flying I have done in the past and wish that it did not cause such damage to the planet and our future. I love the fact that at the moment there are so few planes polluting the atmosphere and marring the pure blue sky with vapour trails. We have all got used to flying, it’s almost like using the bus. Yet frequent flyers are just a small percentage of the population and this is not supposed to be an environmentalist rant about air travel. I just thought I would have a guilty moment.

That’s Life in 2003

Changed to ‘The Little Bistro’ in 2018

The small township of Akaroa is a unique place with contradictions: its name is Maori but it has a Gallic flavour thanks to its nineteenth century French settlers; Akaroa is hidden away in a wild area of the Banks Peninsula, a long drive from Christchurch, but it has become a busy tourist attraction in the summer months.

As long ago as 1850, tourism was developing. The town’s museum reveals Akaroa as being dubbed ‘a fashionable watering place’ and later, being given many names such as ‘The Playground of Canterbury.’

Staying on the Top 10 Holiday Park in 2003, we met people of diverse nationalities. Spending Christmas on a holiday park was a novelty, as was spending Christmas in the sun.

Our pitch overlooked Akaroa Harbour, the site of ancient, extinct volcanoes. From our elevated position the views were extensive, with Akaroa tucked in the crook of the harbour, its colourful houses straggling up into the hills and white boats moored out in the still waters.

We had come here to do swimming with dolphins, one of many outdoor activities provided, you can also try kayaking, sailing or go on a nature safari. Not to mention walking in the area near Akaroa which has quirky place names like Purple Peak Curry Reserve, Murderer’s Gully, Full Moon Bluff, Fantail Falls and Sleepy Bay.

Romantic, historic, dramatic, no wonder we loved the place and wanted to come back to get married here. Another contradiction: Henry and I had our wedding day in autumn, yet back home we celebrate our anniversary in spring. Autumn in New Zealand can offer up some lovely sunny days, but often accompanied by a cool wind; especially at the coast and the further south you go.

In the 1830s, French whalers stopped at this port. A whaling pot is displayed on the waterfront.

Keeping dry for a while.

Although they may have still been able to fit inside, I don’t think it was going to happen with our two adult children, despite Akaroa being nearly deserted.

Free advert for the restaurant on her T-shirt.

The restaurant Le Jardin had changed to The Brasserie. I can’t vouch for the food, which in 2003 was excellent for vegetarians. The garden was once full of charming oddities, like a full-sized door to nowhere and a fairy in a hollow tree. The latest restaurant seemed more sanitized from what I could see.

The garden of Le Jardin 2003

The Brasserie 2018

Here we have a town full of eccentricities: the artist for posing next to, still the same but dolly doing a bungy jump has been replaced by a Bionicle man.

Dolly

Spot Bionicle Man if you can… the boots are more visible.

Getting Married in New Zealand

It was just over two years ago when Henry proposed to me. He got down on one knee in our living room and did the whole proposal in a proper, old-fashioned way. It took me by surprise. Not only had we lived together quite happily for twenty-eight years (Henry dismissing comments from friends with responses such as ‘If it ain’t broke don’t fix it’) but I wasn’t accustomed to Henry being the one to deliver surprises, that had been my department over the years — surprise day trips, holidays, birthday treats and so on. And when you are 57, a proposal of marriage is the last thing you expect.

As one of our relations put it: ‘You’d really got us past the ‘will they won’t they?’ point.’

So people had been thinking about our relationship. We had not got married for many reasons: beliefs — more specifically, lack of religious belief to justify marrying in a church — past history (we each had divorced parents), sheer rebellion and finally, lack of money.

Nearly three decades had passed during which we had shared a business partnership in landscaping; raised two children in an unconventional way and gone through major life changes such as selling up to go travelling to New Zealand.

Henry’s proposal included asking me if I would marry him in Akaroa, New Zealand, where we had spent a wonderful Christmas in 2003. Akaroa is a township with a French history, which has special meaning for both of us, and is nestled in a harbour encircled by volcanic mountains, a beautiful, wild, dramatic location — most certainly a romantic backdrop for a wedding.

Having said ‘yes’, of course, and already having travel plans to visit New Zealand in four months’ time, I was now propelled into the biggest organizational challenge of my life:

1)    Find a celebrant

2)    Select a venue and a date

3)    Choose the type of ceremony, wording, music, poems, discussed with celebrant over Skype

4)    Discuss accommodation with owner of the venue

5)    Arrange for a make-up artist

6)   Book a photographer

7)    Find a dress!

8)    Everyone else buy outfits

9)   Buy rings

10) Get a marriage licence

11)  Book a restaurant for the evening

12) Make a handfasting ribbon

Although Henry and I made joint decisions, I did a lot of the organizing as I had more time. Long distance arrangements are no barrier to people marrying abroad today, with Skype and emails giving incredibly easy communication, once you take time-differences into account that is.

Our Skype call to our celebrant, Phillipa, took place for us, on a cold, dark November evening, and for her on a hot, sunny morning, it being early summer in the Southern Hemisphere.

Following the initial meeting with Phillipa, plans sped on too quickly, punctuated by Christmas. We had not even booked the flights, which had to be done in early January.

The date of the wedding would be 18 April, our last day in New Zealand. We didn’t have time beforehand to apply for a marriage licence in Christchurch, the nearest city to our wedding venue, as this has to be done three working days in advance of the wedding.  Henry and I would have to travel down to London, to New Zealand House, in order to sign the application for a marriage licence in front of a Commonwealth representative and have it sent to New Zealand. We did this roughly a month before the wedding.

The following steps explain process of getting married in New Zealand if you are a British national:

Check if you are eligible to get married

If you don’t have three working days in New Zealand before your intended wedding:

Submit a Notice of Intended Marriage where both parties ordinarily resident outside NZ (form BDM58) at Births, Deaths and Marriages, Department of Internal Affairs, New Zealand House, 80 Haymarket, London SW1Y 4TQ.   Or the Sydney office if you are in Australia.

This enables you to receive your marriage licence.

This is done by appointment only and the document is sent to BDM registry office in New Zealand, we paid a small extra fee to have ours couriered from Christchurch to the wedding venue. Christchurch Registry sent an email with the document attached as back-up in case the hard copy was lost in the post. We received the email three days after going to London.

 If you are going to give notice of intended marriage in New Zealand this has to be signed in person, completing form BDM 60. It can be done at any registry office in New Zealand, consists of nine steps and takes about 30 minutes.

Or you can complete form BDM58, send it to the nearest registry office to your wedding venue, then go there and sign the declaration before a Registrar of Marriages. You then receive your marriage licence.

A third option is to complete the form and have it processed and emailed to you. You then need to check it through thoroughly and email it to your celebrant.

Get married, sign Particulars of Marriage. Two witnesses required to sign also.

Celebrant sends particulars of marriage to BDM registry within ten days

Receive Marriage Certificate

Change of name if desired   

 Changing my name was complicated as I added a middle name. I had hankered after this as I was not given one at birth.

So I had to make an unenrolled deed poll. I could have made one and enrolled it with the Royal Courts of Justice but since my research informed me that unenrolled deed polls were widely accepted I found a template on a website, printed it out on expensive paper, signed it in front of two witnesses and started to send it to the various authorities, together with the marriage certificate.

There was a concerning moment when I thought I would need an e-Apostille because of getting married abroad. But after checking with my bank, this was not needed.

I started with the passport office. If they didn’t accept my documents, I reasoned, no one would. Success! The same with the DVLA, then the banks. Only one person looked at my deed poll and questioned its authenticity. I was supplying her with ID in the form of my new passport so I couldn’t see the problem.

Make a long list of all the places you need to change your name with. Some of them will only accept a certified copy of your original document which you have to pay for at a solicitor’s office. The post office told me they no longer offered this service due to the possibility of fraud.

Many authorities were happy to receive copies though the post.

 Good luck with your planned wedding and I hope this post has been useful. We found our celebrant extremely helpful in giving advice and information. For further information look at https://www.govt.nz/  and search for Get Married. Also https://www.dia.govt.nz/  

Aoraki/ Mount Cook and the Tasman Glacier

Where did that lake come from? I wondered, as I looked at the view of Aoraki/Mount Cook and surrounding mountain ranges by the Tasman Glacier. We visited in April 2018.

With only a few hours to spare, there was no time to do the Hooker Valley walk to get a close view of New Zealand’s, highest peak so we did what a lot of people do and drove to Blue Lakes Car Park. Here you can walk up 314 steps to the lookout point. A hundred years ago, the viewpoint would have been higher than it is today.

Not only do you catch a glimpse of Aoraki/Mount Cook on the far left but spread before you are a dozen other peaks, plus Rudolf and Murchison Glaciers.

The scene you observe is constantly changing and recently, more rapidly, due to the melting of the Tasman Glacier.

In 2004, the glacial moraine, an expanse of grey rubble, was the biggest part of the landscape and the lake was not very big, as you can you from the photo below. Around fifty years ago there was no lake here at all and since then the lake which formed has been increasing in size as a result of ice melt.

The glacial moraine, and by now the lake, hide the ice which is only a metre or two beneath the surface. This is hard to believe, especially in the above photo where the foreground resembles a moonscape or a quarry.

If you look closely at these ‘spot the difference photos’ you can see which one was taken in the summer - the mountain peaks have less snow on them.

Aoraki/Mount Cook: dual eponymy to describe mythology and history attached to New Zealand’s highest mountain. The indigenous Polynesian people, Māori, named it after the tallest son of the Sky Father.

Excerpt from Middle England to Middle-earth:

 The legend tells of how Aoraki and his three brothers were sons of Ranginui, the Sky Father. On a voyage around Papatūānuku, Earth Mother, their canoe was stranded after striking a reef. They climbed out onto the top of the canoe and the cold south wind hit them, freezing them and turning them to stone. Their canoe became the South Island, called Te Waka O Aoraki. The tallest brother, Aoraki, gave his name to its highest peak. The other brothers and crew members became the mountains of the Southern Alps.

In 1851, Aoraki gained the English name of Mount Cook, named after Captain James Cook who first circumnavigated New Zealand and put it on the map.

Aoraki/Mount Cook, 2004

Julia, Henry and Freya 2018

Moeraki Boulders Revisited

What a difference fifteen years makes: you can grow up in that time… but still fit inside one the Moeraki Boulders.

Excerpt from Middle England to Middle-earth:

Not far away was an interesting geological feature we wanted to see. The Moeraki Boulders were an amazing sight just off South Highway 1. Scattered across part of the beach, odd and wonderful as you could imagine dinosaur or dragon eggs to be, they had a surface that was cracked all over in colours of olive-green, grey and ochre. These large, spherical boulders, each weighing several tonnes, varied in size. Some were emerging from the cliff-side as if they were being born, others had split open wide enough to hold two small children.

Summer 2003

Some things don’t change! Depending on what time you visit, you can get some different photos of the boulders. Sunset would be an awesome time of day to see them..

Our brief stop here in autumn 2018 was first thing in the morning and it appeared to be busier than when we came here on an afternoon in the summer of 2003. You have to be a bit skillful in so as to avoid getting people in the background of your shot, unless of course you want to include them. Crowded or not, a beach full of boulders like these is still a sight worth seeing and definitely something you don’t find in Britain.

Arrivals and Departures

There’s only one good thing about disappointment in returning to a place: it makes you appreciate what you had.  The Otago Settlers Museum in Dunedin (now known as Toitū Otago Settlers Museum) is a case in point. I have to stress, though, that I am only referring to vintage clothes in the Booking Hall.

Excerpt from Middle England to Middle-earth:

The museum itself was housed in Edwardian galleries and the former New Zealand Rail Road Transport Building, with its Art Deco style. The Booking Hall with a marble-tiled floor and walls had the words 'Arrival Platform' over the dark wood double doors at one end and 'Departure Platform' at the other. The hall was virtually empty of furnishings except for a black leather sofa in one corner and – joy of joys — two rails of vintage dresses which two giggling teenage girls were trying on. So that was the idea.

After a short while, the girls left and I had the dresses to myself. I tried on a whole selection from a starchy, high-necked one to a pale pink, silky, full-skirted one that resembled a ball-gown and swirled about me as I danced with Freya. Henry took a real interest in me when I put on a slinky, peach-coloured 1950’s dress with a side-slit in the skirt.

Going back and comparing our experiences though, the conclusion was that it is still a brilliant museum.

This museum has undoubtedly undergone some major (and expensive at $37.5 million) renovation. For a start the museum’s entrance is now the Josephine Foyer, housing this steam locomotive engine which occupies a prime place and you could get up close to it.

Pretty dresses in 2004

In contrast, the display of ladies’ dresses in 2018 was now behind glass and seemed a lot less pretty.

Would you believe it, these are wedding dresses. From 2018 visit.

Would you fancy one of these dresses as bridal wear? This is what nineteenth century women in New Zealand would have worn. Sarah Palmer married Samuel Lister in 1872, wearing the grey silk with blue tassels and fringing. In the brown gown, Bridget McCarthy wed John Kerrin – both came from Ireland – in 1875. They were pioneer settlers at Cadrona. 

You could try a small number of outfits on in this area. Freya wore a huge dress with a steel-hooped cage skirt.

It was the Booking Hall though, that made me envious of my former self who tried on some beautiful dresses here. All those years ago, perhaps by some stroke of luck, we had the place to ourselves even though it was the Christmas holidays. I appreciated it at the time, feeling like royalty or as if I was on some Experience Day. Now the space seemed geared towards children. It was a Sunday so the room was busy, noisy and cluttered with tables and sofas with a small selection of outfits on a rail. How ironic that such a room would have been enjoyed by our children more when we visited in 2004.

What a Difference a Day Makes

Yesterday, 13 April, had a cold start, even with a frost here in England, followed by a sunny day. About the only thing the day had in common with the same day last year, when Joe and Freya went on the Doubtful Sound cruise. We have been re-living our trip round New Zealand of course, as you do. The whole journey was blessed with luck… everyone being able to get time off, the way the itinerary worked with most days going to plan, and the weather, which can ruin some days, especially in New Zealand with its high rainfall in places. Never luckier than the Sound cruises. On this day last year, a beautiful, sunny day, we took the Milford Sound cruise.

In 2004, the weather was about as wet and murky as it can get here.

 Excerpt from Middle England to Middle-earth: 

 Milford Sound was misty and moody. From a lowering grey sky, tissues of cloud wreathed the dark mountains, making them appear to block our passage.

Trees growing out of moss clung to the rock-face and in this harsh environment, frequent earthquakes caused 'tree avalanches' which would clear a whole mountainside of rainforest that took 80 years to grow back.

What it looks like on a good day. 2018.

I didn’t seem to mind getting wet after going past one of the waterfalls, summer 2004.

But the sun came out when the cruise ended:

As we boarded the flyer to take us back to dry land a curtain of cloud descended, obscuring the mountains all around us and rather predictably it began to pour with rain, just as the next cruise was setting off. We felt sorry for the people on board who must have done that cruise in the rain then left Milford at three o'clock when suddenly, miraculously, the sky cleared. Blue sky advanced from a seaward direction, working its way up the fiord until Milford Sound was bathed in sunlight and the Mitre Peak stood there exulting in its predominance.

Enjoying the sun after the cruise at Milford 2004.

Joe, 2004

Joe, 2018.

I missed going on the Doubtful Sound cruise last year, but Joe took some stunning photos.

Below, is one of my favourites. The butterfly effect!

Lake Manapouri, 2018

Lake Manapouri, 2004

Joe at the Start of Doubtful Sound Cruise, 2004.

Joe, Doubtful Sound Cruise 2018.

Freya’s main interest on the Doubtful Sound day out, 2004.

Freya, Doubtful Sound Cruise, 13 April, 2018.

Freya at Wilmot Pass, 2018. Doubtful Sound in the background.

From Wilmot Pass, 2004.