Te turangawaewae o Wiremu

Did I mention that a full English breakfast comes with bread fried in lard? It's interesting... and not particularly fortifying. It is the one new food I haven't liked this weekend. On the other hand, I got curry and mushy peas with my fish'n'chips at lunch, and thought both were fantastic. I wonder what my mother thinks of my cuisine choices?

Anyway, after another solid breakfast, Barbara and Ollie took me for an amble around their area to show me some cool old things, like a pub from the 1700s. I got more views of Pendle Hill as well - although I couldn't spot the witch outline in its forests that makes the place so famous. Maybe I have to live here for forty years first?

We met up with the rest of the whanau shortly after and headed off on a tiki tour of places of Historical Family Importance in Nelson. This is me outside the house in which my father grew up:



The back yard gave me a fair idea of why New Zealand might have appealed...:



Barbara, Ollie, Bailey, Sydney and I also visited the garage my grandfather ran before emmigrating. It is a shabby and dilapidated place, but is still run as a garage. We then wove in and out of narrow streets looking at houses of distant relatives with familiar names, some old primary schools and parks where marriages were proposed (aw!)

After that we joined Sion, John and Fiona at the practice ski area at the top of Pendle Hill. About an acre of hill is covered with green wire and brushes which are kept wet enough for people to slide down. It was surreal, but looked fun enough to make me miss every single ski field I have ever been on:




Because it was FREEZING and windy and winter and lots of other totally excellent reasons, we decamped to a nearby pub, where I got thoroughly beaten at pool and enjoyed a kind of weird British take on Cambodian pork and rice. I avoided all the Real Ale as best as could and discovered a yummy pomegranate and passionfruit drink that I am hoping is sold in London.

Much too soon it was time for goodbye kisses, and I was back at Preston Station. The trip home was long enough for me to finish my excellent book and lose the really cool northern accent I had acquired immediately upon arrival.

So, here I am back in Capital City - completely exhausted and utterly grateful for everyone in Colne for making me feel right at home. Life is good.