Mosney Gone Wrong
This was Mrs Poodle's first impression of Lake Tekapo where we stayed the second night in NZ.
The first night we stopped at the little town of Geraldine and stayed at the local pub. It seemed a dismal place after a fairly dismal drive through flatlands reminiscent of Belgium, the difference being GIANT hedges of what looked like clipped Leylandii forty feet high in long straight lines. It was raining and chilly after the Australian interior. Mosney premonition.
The next morning Geraldine seemed a bit happier. Well, it does have a Swiss chocolate factory in a storefront location, a poodle can purchase a hot choccie and treat for a snack. We saw what the germans sell as Moorenkopf and I said to the lady proprietor you have moorenkopf. "We do not call them that anymore" preceded an icy stare.
The town museum was invigilated by an elderly lady who had an accent second only to the newsworthy Camilla Parker Bowles. She had spent time in Dublin and grew up in London and Buckinghamshire. She said "do people still send their children to Public Schools?" . Big question. Which people? She was knitting and told us of her new found love of growing oraganic veg.
I was torn away from Geraldine by the ever alert Mrs P and we set off towards Queenstown, leaving the low country and climbing towards Alpine scenery. We stopped at Lake Tepako, whose colors are an iridescent turquoise due to crushed ice from the glaciers above. Huddled at water's edge is an ugly town of tourist facilities. At this Georgie pronounced the country to be like 'Mosney gone wrong'.
Worse, we had to pay a fortune to stay at a very classy B+B, every mod con BUT. We were informed that drinks would be served in the drawing room at 6.00pm. Our jaws dropped when we entered. Poor Mrs Poodle, she was being born while the others were just retiring. The topic of rather forced conversation was Camilla and Charles. Sweet people really, especially the Yorkshire farmer and wife and the very elderly couple who chafed each other and winked at us. Reminded me of the time I met an eighty year old man in Mallow who said "would you like to see my wife?". Simple and obligatory reply "yes". But what was I to say when he said in front of her "she's awful isn't she?". Several replies stuck in my throat such as "Not too bad" and "wonderful considering". I think I got away with " Now don't be saying that."
We had our drinks and rushed to the town to find everything close to closed. So NZ is the same as OZ. The chef throws in the spatula at around 8.00 pm.
The first night we stopped at the little town of Geraldine and stayed at the local pub. It seemed a dismal place after a fairly dismal drive through flatlands reminiscent of Belgium, the difference being GIANT hedges of what looked like clipped Leylandii forty feet high in long straight lines. It was raining and chilly after the Australian interior. Mosney premonition.
The next morning Geraldine seemed a bit happier. Well, it does have a Swiss chocolate factory in a storefront location, a poodle can purchase a hot choccie and treat for a snack. We saw what the germans sell as Moorenkopf and I said to the lady proprietor you have moorenkopf. "We do not call them that anymore" preceded an icy stare.
The town museum was invigilated by an elderly lady who had an accent second only to the newsworthy Camilla Parker Bowles. She had spent time in Dublin and grew up in London and Buckinghamshire. She said "do people still send their children to Public Schools?" . Big question. Which people? She was knitting and told us of her new found love of growing oraganic veg.
I was torn away from Geraldine by the ever alert Mrs P and we set off towards Queenstown, leaving the low country and climbing towards Alpine scenery. We stopped at Lake Tepako, whose colors are an iridescent turquoise due to crushed ice from the glaciers above. Huddled at water's edge is an ugly town of tourist facilities. At this Georgie pronounced the country to be like 'Mosney gone wrong'.
Worse, we had to pay a fortune to stay at a very classy B+B, every mod con BUT. We were informed that drinks would be served in the drawing room at 6.00pm. Our jaws dropped when we entered. Poor Mrs Poodle, she was being born while the others were just retiring. The topic of rather forced conversation was Camilla and Charles. Sweet people really, especially the Yorkshire farmer and wife and the very elderly couple who chafed each other and winked at us. Reminded me of the time I met an eighty year old man in Mallow who said "would you like to see my wife?". Simple and obligatory reply "yes". But what was I to say when he said in front of her "she's awful isn't she?". Several replies stuck in my throat such as "Not too bad" and "wonderful considering". I think I got away with " Now don't be saying that."
We had our drinks and rushed to the town to find everything close to closed. So NZ is the same as OZ. The chef throws in the spatula at around 8.00 pm.
posted by Tim Goulding at Wednesday, February 16, 2005
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