On Tuesday, Dad and I put all the stuff I need into a van. There was some room left over, so we also put in some stuff I really don’t need, and some stuff I’m liable to just through away eventually. Then we drove the van to Picton, or rather, Dad drove and I paid, which seemed a reasonably equitable arrangement.

In Picton I learnt about Darren’s secret other life, where he visits his family in Picton and does Picton things. He regaled us with tales of the secret history of Picton, such as how the model railway used to have a shorter track but now has a longer one, and where the retirement home used to be before the Rich People came in their boats. We had coffee in a boat, went to Seahorse World (baby seahorses are called “ponies”) and then bade farewell to Darren and drove our van onto a bigger boat, known to the nautically inclined as a “ship’, and to those with a keen interest in the minutiae of ocean travel as a ”ferry“.

In Wellington we negotiated the many confusing one-way streets to deliver a stereo to my brother Ari, who, due to an unfortunate conjunction of circumstances, was in Christchurch. But he had given us a key, so we left it in his room and remarked on how tidy the empty flat was.

We stayed the night in the Sharella Motor Inn, a monstrosity from the 1960s which I can heartily fail to recommend. It is haunted by a ghost, and the ghost smokes, and talks to another ghost outside your fourth-floor window in the wee small hours.

On Wednesday we continued north, passing through many picturesque and quaint North Island towns and hamlets. We had coffee in an aeroplane specially camouflaged to fly through fields of gigantic biscuits without being seen. We waited for a long time for kebabs in Taupo. We pondered the odd spectacle of a dead possum on the Desert Road, kilometres from any tree.

I am now living in Ellerslie, Auckland. I have a room with several unpacked things in it, in a house with several nice people also living in it. I shall be here for some time, working on my theory that Auckland is basically about fifty Timarus stuck together. I hope to eventually develop this insight into a doctoral thesis in political science.

I’m packing my computer now. See you in Auckland.

Jeff has put together a party of adventurers to see The Incredibles tonight. I’m looking forward to that, although with some trepidation to the Pizza Hut dinner afterwards. Last time I had dinner at Pizza Hut I was about eighteen, it was Duane’s birthday, and there was an all-you-can-eat creme freeze machine. While I myself did not take part, the horror of the ensuing who-can-eat-the-most-dessert competition took some considerable toll even on we unwitting observers. Simon was the eventual winner, although when asked to make a speech he lurched alarmingly, and with a glazed look in his eye said “I don’t feel like a winner”.

A festive short story from the Socialist Review.

How two guys snuck into Apple headquarters without passes to write software: The Graphing Calculator Story.

If you have leftover computer parts you’re not using Molten Media is a community trust that will take them off your hands. They build secondhand systems for charity organisations, and they take pretty much anything.

I have 45 CD-Rs.

I have back-up software than can compress my entire user directory onto 47 CD-Rs.

I could find more things to delete, or I could buy more CD-Rs.

It is night-time, so I shall delete things.

Addendum: Apparently it is night-time on a late shopping night. Karen knows about such things, and was going to the Mall anyway, so she’s going to pick up some more CD-Rs for me. No more deleting!

If you are walking through Michael’s Ave Reserve, you will find yourself leading a cadre of highly disciplined and motivated pukekos. They will follow you as you walk, matching your pace with verve and turning when you turn. Soon you will feel like the leader of an elite pukeko squadron, possibly a respected pukeko official like a Field Commander or King.

Then they will realise in their little pukeko brains that you have brought no bread for them, and go away.

I thought there was a pretty good chance I’d like flatting with Lisa and Angelo and Jessica from their flatmate wanted advertisement. It had the right sort of tone, and sometimes you can just sort of tell from the general vibe of the thing. As negotiations progressed, it transpired that this particular vibe is of remarkable tonal quality and extremely high workmanship. For it is one thing to find flatmates you can get along with, but another to find flatmates who like to draw comics and play roleplaying games.

It would be unlikely that one would ever find such fine people to live with. And it would surpass the realms of credibility to find them on the same street as one’s girlfriend. But this is the way things are, and I for one am not going to argue if the Fates should choose to be in a whimiscally benevolent mood.

This morning Auckland was promoted to an international destination. The people at Christchurch airport sent me to the international terminal and made me go through customs to board a 747 that was mostly full of transit passengers from Japan. On arrival in Auckland they made me got through immigration, although they did have a special Calyton’s Immigration aisle for people who weren’t really immigrating. International air travel is even less enjoyable when you know it’s all just a big trick you have to play along with.

I took a shuttle bus full of French people who were very keen to talk to me about stock car racing in my choice of French or English, and have taken up house-sitting in Ellerslie, and am working on gaining the confidence of two suspicious cats. If any Auckland people would like to share in the exciting journey that is me being in Auckland, I’d be keen to meet up.