On the loose

They say you shouldn't look at phone screens in the last hour before you sleep and that is advice which I usually follow. I was dozing off when my phone pinged and, possibly because of this very this very anti-social environment I currently find myself in, I picked it up. It was Eddie (NZ based son) asking me what Red Tractor was, as he had been annoyed by some of their posts on Facebook. So, an like an idiot, I looked at the post which was being liked and shared widely in the UK. It was aimed at knocking NZ farming practices compared to British and using that as a reason to question the new trade deal, which if I remember correctly the UK government came looking for? I was really annoyed by it and after a night of twisting and turning I was up at five researching and writing my reply! I won't bore you with the details but it was a great example of all that is bad about Facebook, people taking a few facts out of context and sharing them with dumb people who inadvertently share

 My first New Zealand Saturday morning for fifteen months started the way I like it - Kim Hill on the radio. Kim is a bit like the bucket fountain, in that she divides the nation but I am a long time fan and believe her to be quite possibly the best radio interviewer in the world. I usually listen to Kim while consuming a generous portion of bacon and eggs but I had to settle for cereal, yoghurt and toast today. And a new blend of coffee, I have finished the first 250grm bag I brought with me and am now into Waitrose Java blend, which is very good. It looks like I will have to order another bag before I leave? I found another English speaker during mid morning exercise, a guy from Holland who works in the bulb industry and is in isolation before heading to Invercargill, where his company grow many acres of tulip bulbs, which are exported to Holland for the early spring flower trade. Who would ever have guessed there was such a global bulb industry? He started asking me about Brexit, wo

Friday morning and I click into my standard routine like a little clockwork toy. Small things are starting to matter: will breakfast be early or late? (early), what will the cereal be? (corn flakes) and will there be marmalade for my toast? (Yes, but it's usually strawberry jam.) I listen to the morning news on Radio NZ (having already had the UK news on Radio 4 at 6.00am) The major story on UK radio was the new trade deal with New Zealand, most especially, its possible negative impact for UK farmers. The main story on NZ radio was.........  the bucket fountain! The bucket fountain in Cuba Street, Wellington is an iconic landmark that divides the nation. Most Wellingtonians love it, the rest of the country think it is ugly and weird, splashing water, as it does, all over the pavement and passers-by . Having lived several years in Wellington, I love it. But overnight, someone had nicked a bucket and as result it wasn't working! And worse still, it might cost $2000 to fix it.  ht

I'm settling into something of a routine I suspect. I wake about six, and am up by six thirty for a few stretches before brewing up some coffee and waiting anxiously for the arrival of breakfast. But there was the added joy of a Zoom call with brother in law Robert and Co, over breakfast; this has become a COVID dictated weekly event. Today was truly international, as in addition to my antipodean connection, brother William Zoomed in from his yacht off a Greek island and cousins John and Kim were on a ferry in the Bay of Biscay! Not long after I had munched my way through the Weetbix, there was a loud knock on the door. "Ah!" I thought, "My exercise bike is being delivered." Instead, I find a very friendly lady, dressed as  'cybergirl', waving a thermometer in my face. It was time for my day 3 swab! I have by now got the door manoeuvre off to a fine art; my little sweeping brush wedges nicely underneath it. No room cleaning services are provided but we h

Breakfast was five minutes late this morning! I was pacing by the door, stopping only to peep through my little security porthole, to see if it had arrived. They don't knock on the door for breakfast delivery in case they wake us! Does this mean I am becoming institutionalised already? I can't deny that I start to look forward to the next meal about an hour before it arrives. The food (so far) has been excellent. For breakfast this morning I received: Four Weetbix (Gluten free) and milk A yoghurt A banana Two pieces of toast with jam and olive spread A spirulina fruit smoothie All this to a guy who doesn't normally eat breakfast! I polished off the lot! (But I did struggle with the fourth Weetbix!) Coffee, of course, was a major concern for me, so I arrived with two bags of ground coffee and my portable 'aeropress' espresso machine. A little experimentation and I have produced an excellent brew with only about 100 grms of used coffee grounds spilled onto the floor.

I slept soundly and woke to see a faint glow from the eastern horizon hovering around the edge of the blinds. "Great it must be about 6.30am " I thought. Subsequent investigation discovered that the glow emanated from a nearby streetlight and that it was 2.15am.  I have always been a jet lag denier; "it's just a combination of dehydration and tiredness" you may had heard me spout ad nauseam. This is of course totally untrue. Our body metabolism is based upon deeply engrained circadian rhythms, which naturally take days to adjust to a twelve hour time lurch. Denial has been a defensive mechanism I have evolved, which allows me to dash off to meetings or party 'til dawn, when arriving at the other side of the world. But this is different; I have decided to embrace jet lag; I have 14 days to synchronise. So I calmly munched on a few oat cakes, washed them down with a little milk and read for half an hour before sleeping again until 6.30 am. My body was soon re

AVIATION - SLEEP DEPRIVATION - ISOLATION! OK! I know the title sounds a bit like a song by the Moody Blues. (Remember them?  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Moody_Blues#Founding_and_early_history ) but you have to start somewhere when posting a title for a blog; and after 30 odd hours of international travel, my creative resources are probably a little jaded.  Over the last few weeks I have been asked by several folk, who seemed to enjoy the Glyndwr Blog, whether I intended blogging the fourteen days I am spending in a  New Zealand  isolation facility. So, once more unable to resist a challenge, here goes! I am not sure exactly what I will find to write about, but if I am reduced to "Got up; stared at the ceiling for a while; then stared out of the window; then went to bed" type posts, I promise to stop! Background:   Most of you will be aware by now that New Zealand has adopted a rather different approach to Covid than most other countries, "going hard-going early&quo