All on my ooooowwwwwnnnnnnn, all by mysellllllffffffff (tuneless singing commences)

I am sorry to inform you, there has been a loss in the family. Two losses in fact. The first, and perhaps saddest of all was Rupert. The faithful, the hardy, the stoic, the red. While still on the South Island Margaret and I made the executive decision that Rupert should not be made to suffer a ferry ride ever again and we would put him out to pasture down in Christchurch. We put up an ad and waited. Not a single reply for two whole days and we were getting nervous. Did no one want this amazing van? Was no one enticed by our glowing description on Trademe? I mean, we were...brutally honest in our description so that's probably why it took so long, but we finally heard from Kirby. Yes. Kirby. He wanted the van for his son who races carts (whatever that means). We cleared all of our crap out of the van including all 19 of Margaret's 7/8 finished diet coke bottles from behind the driver's seat, parked him in the best lighting we could find and waited for Kirby to show up and take a look. After wandering around the van and looking inside and out Kirby sort of looked pensive and asked how much we wanted. We said 1500, he said 1200. I kind of tried to make it look like I was mulling it over just because I didn't want him to know I was practically shouting "Anything! Anything at all! Do you have any cookies? A good book? Sold!" and we made the deal. I was a little sad, I'll admit. I got a bit sentimental but I like to think of Rupert parked out in a nice pasture with some shady trees and only occasionally asked to ferry around some carts with Kirby and his son, probably singing Kumbaya and whatnot. Sigh.


Our last portrait with Rupert

But we also felt an elation, a weight of a couple thousand pounds of metal, bald tires foam mattresses and plywood had been lifted from our shoulders. So we got dressed up and went and bought a bottle of champagne. It was terrible, so we went somewhere else and bought another one, much better this time. Finally just as we were about to make a terrible decision to go into a club that was called Boogie Nights (yes, the sign looked just like the movie) who should we run into but Charlie Carter and Po! So thank god we ended up avoiding the club and instead went to a park with a little creek and watched ducks fight with each other and there were some eels in the creek too and a naked guy ran by. Sorry, I tried to just slip that in there but it kind of sticks out, no? Anyway I have no explanation other than that he'd probably had even more to drink than we had so we cheered and then ignored him. Weird night but good celebration and a nice way to see Rupert off.
The next night we went to see the Crusaders play the Stormers which was a good game even if it wasn't a very high score, there were several fights and at the end as time ran out the Crusaders ended the game by booting the ball right out the sidelines. Unfortunately this incredible kick was a little low and fast and absolutely SMASHED the TV announcer directly in the face. I mean it was an incredible hit. You just look at the kicker's leg which is the size of my torso and you can imagine how fast that must have been. I've been hit in the face by kicked rugby balls and it is absolutely painful but they were kicked by college age girls. Sorry feminists everywhere, but I think we can all agree there's a degree of difference there that you would be unwilling to personally test out. After the game we were wandering around and found the Twisted Hop which is an awesome little brewery kind of tucked away in this weird alley enclave. It had amazing beers and maybe the first actually hoppy beers I'd had in NZ. A welcome respite from the bland swill they mostly serve elsewhere. While we were sitting there this guy is sitting at a different table in full tails and a white bow tie. Just wait it gets better, he has got a perfectly waxed mustache, slicked back hair, he is drinking from a little metal tankard and then he lights up a pipe! We were full of speculation as to where he hid his time machine, and he has obviously noticed us staring at him with abandon. So we begin to feel a little like we're the ones being weird (go figure). I think I was ready to just write him off as just a quirky dude but then a kid who was about our age in a raggedy tshirt and jeans had come to sit with him and they obviously knew each other so I had to know what the deal was. I went over and it turned out that 'Barney' was a concert pianist who had just finished his show and this pub was the only place he ever came to drink because they had the best beer. He came so often that they kept that metal tankard just for him. Amazing
Anyway, to move on with the story we flew to Wellington on Tuesday and stayed for a few days and this morning at 5:30 AM our family suffered another loss. Margaret has left me to my own devices in this wilderness land full of huge predators and unforgiving landscapes. YAY! No, seriously though, at 5:30 this morning Margaret leaped from the top bunk and ran out the door of the hostel to get on a plane and commence 30+ hours of travel to get home. I think she might have gotten dressed first, I don't know it was all pretty hazy that early in the morning but I'm pretty sure she whisper-yelled "BYE!!!!" at me which was nice even if the other people in the room all heaved large and pointed sighs. So now I only have a week or so before I do exactly the same thing. What, you may ask, am I going to do with my last few days here? God only knows. I might keep you posted though, what with all of my free alone time.