Moving North

After our South Island adventure we settled back into work for another few weeks before finishing our stint in Greymouth.  Dan at this time was one of the two orthopaedic/ gynaecology/ general surgery/ urology RMOs (SHOs) and had built himself quite a reputation.   It was his singing that had become a talking point on the ward.  Dan can make any phrase into a song, something I learn early on in the dissection room at university where Dan would hold a lung in his hands and recite those well known words from Top Gun “take my breath away....” under his breath (always done with the upmost respect for Molly our cadaver of course!)  His other well known phrase was “can we go through the list again”.  A doctors list of jobs is kept close at all times.  Losing it would not only cause a potential ‘media frenzy’ as confidential information seeps into the ether, but panic as the days carefully planned and prioritised jobs disappear.  Dan would insist on going through the list every half an hour with his colleague Katie to ensure all jobs were itemised and in hand.

I’m not half as charismatic or interesting as Dan but hope I will be known from my hard work and attention to detail. (Dan addition – this is not true and to show what an impact Sarah made in her 3 months stint on Hannan ward part of the time, all the team baked her a myriad of cakes, cookies and other edible treats and then ignored all the patients for an hour or so to tell her how wonderful she is)

That week we started packing.  We arrived in November with two 32kg suitcases (well the equivalent of this once Dan’s contents had arranged themselves over the bag collection belt), yet when we came to pack our possessions had most definitely multiplied!  This required us to purchase some plastic containers to aid packing.  So one Saturday between my am and pm weekend clinic we went to Mitre 10 (Homebase) for lunch and plastic box shopping.  Dan had insisted on bringing his iPad to enable us to write a list of things we needed to do, I was pretty oblivious to most of this as I was thinking about my morning patients; pondering diagnoses.  When we reached the plastic box section Dan placed his iPad on the shelf to he could take down the boxes and mimic packing the car.  It was very important that we bought the right boxes.  We then went home, I went to work and Dan went shooting with Al and Alan, (Steve and Steven).  It was later that evening when I asked Dan where his iPad was that we realised we had left it in Mitre 10.  Dan was devastated; the thought of losing his iPad and all it enabled him to do was almost too much.  I had that sick feeling in my stomach the sort of feeling I’d get as a child if I couldn’t find my parents in a supermarket (odd), it was the thought of losing all our pictures, personal ‘to do’ lists, blogs, documents, all those things which made the iPad unique to us.   There was nothing we could do but wait until the store opened and pray someone had handed it in in the four hours there had been between us leaving it and the store shutting.  Sunday morning Dan Wattley, yes Dan Wattley was up at 7.30 ready when the store opened to see if his iPad had been recovered.  When he asked the staff they hadn’t had it handed in so with a heavy heart Dan went to the plastic box section and was elated to see the slither of black on the shelf exactly where he had left it.  

Eventually the car was strategically packed with bikes, cushions and photo frames and it was the night before Dan’s Birthday.  We had a fantastic final evening watching the Hobbit with friends and producing a surprise pink lolly cake for Dan’s 27^th Birthday.  It was rather an odd morning as we dropped off our keys at the hospital and headed to our favourite Greymouth coffee shop for our last coffee on the West Coast.  When we got back to the car having had a full cooked breakfast with cards and presents Dan insisted on going back to the house to check the letter box in case any more cards had arrived.  There were no more cards but content all the same we started our journey to Hamner Springs.   

We arrived in Hamner Springs to the fresh cold breeze of the mountains.  We walked around town and then suddenly were gripped with the hunger bug.  The problem was the only thing I really fancied was tomato soup.   Some people love all food and can look at a menu and feel the endorphins stream from their pores at the very thought of food.  I am not one of these people.  I like food but I don’t love it and sometimes I just want tomato soup.  This was torture for Dan as none of the restaurants or cafe’s sold soup and although I assured him I could eat when I got back to the hostel, Dan would not eat without me.  We ended up buying soup and eating it back of the hostel at 4pm.  Unfortunately the endorphins were running a little thin by then.  The day was recovered by a wonderful trip to the Hamner Hot Pools and a lovely dinner out in the evening.  The following morning we woke to crisp, fresh snow.   We walked up the most magnificent forest covered hill where the snow and frost produced beautiful frost patterns which I had always associated with Christmas.  At the top of the hill we had a 360 degree view over Hamner all perfectly dusted with a white canopy.

The next day we drove to Kaikoura, a coastal village on the East coast.  This time the first thing we did was eat lunch (you’re not you when you’re hungry) and I was so pleased to see they had tomato soup on the menu.  We thought it was odd that we were the only people in the cafe and on trying their food I realised why.   Their soup lasted like sugar and purred onion and Dan’s burger was gross.  Dan really wanted to complain but I always feel that taste and food is so subjective that complaining is very difficult.  So we just left quickly.  As a child at primary school I would always thank the canteen staff for my school dinner.  Some days the phrase “thank you that was lovely” coincided with me scraping most of the content of the dinner into the slops bin.

The next stop was Picton via Blenheim.  I was not a fan of Blenheim it was far too town like.  It was at this point that the seeds of anticipation of moving to a city started to sprout.   Picton on the other hand was another New Zealand beauty spot.  The small town is nestled into the Malborough Sounds so after walking down a street of gift shops and cafes you find yourself at the water’s edge overlooking multitude of moored sailing boats bobbing on the calm waters.  I am so pleased that this will be my last memory of the South Island (for now).

The ferry across to the North Island was pleasant and a little bumpy but not retch worthy (thank goodness). 

Wellington was a shock to the system.  I guess I can explain it like going to Brighton having been in Scotland for six months.  People were dressed ‘individually’, there were more suits than gum boots, and more attitude than west coast gratitude.  There were definitely no cows.  The seeds were more like mini plants now and to my surprise, as I had loved Wellington on our last visit, I felt a need to get out of the city.  We had booked a hostel twenty kilometres outside of Wellington in a coastal town called Plimmerton.  As we arrived the natural beauty of the coast was once again our resting place for the night.  We were shown round the hostel by a lovely, slightly camp man who on passing through the kitchen straightened the matching chopping boards as we went.  He decided as he wasn’t busy to give us an upgrade to a room with a view.  We opened the door to a beautiful double aspect room with a sea view just as the sun was setting...