The return of Aimless Wandering and the sixties Hair-Do.

Not much to report over the last 10 days.

My legs refuse to change colour, Carole hasn't fallen over for about two weeks and the girls have been back to school for 8 school days counting today (Monday 11 Feb).

Consequently we have been doing a lot of walking or, in NZ vernacular, tramping. Strictly speaking tramping refers to the pursuit of walking in the countryside, rambling etc. but, in terms of the ability of a word to conjure up an accurate image, tramping says it all.

We have extended our range to Riccarton Shopping Mall - the biggest I've ever wandered into - and Hagley Park which is a giant Stewarts Park with enormous trees. During the shopping experience the level of conversation ascended to "Do you mind if we look at this?" and "We didn't come 13000 miles to look at handbags did we?" eventually bottoming out when Carole needed the loo.

On the day that we tramped these venues I made the mistake of consuming 4 large coffees and spent the first couple of bedtime hours trying to keep my eyeballs in their sockets and disturbing Carole's snoring with regular and twitchy changes of body position. Sleeping beauty did awake during my writhing and in an obvious reference to my predicament suggested my 3 minutes on the tablet (I-Pad type!), pre lights out, had caused this and Yes it was my own fault.

The Power of Hair Colour

At the appointed time Carole's roots all turned grey and a "Colour" was required. Of course this happened during our 2010 visit so hopefully the lady who did such a good job then was still around. Fortunately dear friends she was, but owing to a flattened salon (not a hair-style Bill) caused by the earthquake, she had relocated to Redcliffe nearby. I took no part in the operation as Cath had offered to do the transport and the required "You look absolutely gorgeous, it really suits you" stuff.

The hair colouring was a total success with grey roots gone, but I can only guess that the lady colourist, flushed with this achievement and the NZ never-say-die spirit, persuaded Carole that she could lose the curls (to those who dont know, one of the side-effects of the anti-thingy drugs which Carole takes for her thingyitis has an "effect" on the hair). The transformation from a curly top to a sixties "budgie bob" was startling but needless to say fleeting and within 24 hours Alma Cogan had left the building.