Blogging Pubbitch

Third gear in our camper van is a lot harder to find than fifth. This means that it’s possible to go from 0 to 60 in as many minutes, especially if there’s a slight uphill gradient to fight against. On the other hand, the sheer mass of the thing means that acceleration is dramatically improved on downhill straights, though perhaps it’s best not to put so much pressure on the reassuringly squeaky brakes through the bends.

For the next 49 days, this camper van is going to be home for Holly and me. It’s got the works. A cooker, a microwave (only useful when plugged into the mains), a shower, a toilet, a sink, a fridge, a double bed and the full array of levers and pedals found in most motor vehicles. It’s got more space than some of our friends’ flats, and it comes at a bargain price. Of course, it’s not quite big enough for us to get anyway from each other, which means that every odd now and again, one of us needs to wander off into the New Zealand wilderness to give the other some space.

Yes, patient reader, we’re in New Zealand now, the land where “sex” is the number between “five” and “seven” It also appears to be a land almost devoid of high-speed internet access. Maybe we’re not asking the right questions, or maybe it’s just that two years in Australia has given us enough of an aussie twang to fire off the local “be rude to our nearest neighbours” reflex. Note to self, the Australian Rising Tone may not be the most useful thing to have as a tourist.

Anyway, we’re here now, and the fools have given us a sex month visa to stay and potter around. I’ll post when I can.