Last night was fantastic. It ended at about 10:00pm with Martin (Austrian haemophilia researcher) showing us the king of all dances, the slow foxtrot.
I showed him my only dance move, which my grandmother taught me, and he instantly recognised it as the Charleston. I have only another 30 or so moves to go.
The path to Glendhu leads around the foreshore and seemed to take forever so by the time I got to Glendhu I was fully uninspired by walking.
There was one amusing bit where we noticed New Zealand takes pains to point out weird history. For instance, there is a sign that extols a butchery that fed 50 people and another that explains the Wellington tree. It seemed to be famous because it didn’t grow well?
To add to my malaise, rain was forecast for the next day so I threw my hands up into the air, gave into laziness, and stayed to wait it out. Silvin bravely carried on. Well, not really bravely as he was ahead of me when I decided so he didn’t know.
- As you go through the Lake Country you realise the people who did really well were the bakers.
- Poor motel people have the worst customers.
- Glendhu Bay Motorcamp is a great place to stay.