The time has come&. Haere, haere, haere

My tour of duty has come to an end. This is my last column on the Stratford Press. It is said that what happens on tour stays on tour, but I see life as an adventure and adventures are an accumulation of stories that serve to make you laugh or make you cry. The girls at Stratford Press have become very familiar and no longer treat me as an itinerant stranger. They probably never did. It's all about familiarity, and in this case it did not breed contempt I have become very fond of every one of them. In the colloquial, they rate as my friends.
I have commuted from my home on the Whanganui River to Stratford every Monday, and return home late Wednesday afternoon. It's a one-and-a-half hour journey each way and one night I drove the route in my mind. I got lost on a bend south of Patea, lost interest and fell asleep.
Cars have played a big part in my secondment, and the experience has been less than successful.
My first excursion into the hinterland was to Tututawa and the day was wet and wild. There was no cell phone coverage and I was gone longer than expected. Sarah and Kylie came looking for me. They spied the silver bullet as I flashed past them at Toko. They weren't to know I regularly travel the Whanganui River Road, and the road to Tututawa was tame in comparison. How can ham and pea soup play a part in this? Teamed with my slow cooker, it spilled in the back of one of the cars I used from the Wanganui Chronicle pool.
When I got home I scrubbed and scrubbed with tea tree oil and left it to dry overnight. You guessed it. The smell of ham and pea soup does not disappear. But I had to return the car to the pool because it was needed. I wasn't popular, but in my defence, I tried, and travelling with food was not an easy task.
My next car experience was the trip to Marco School. I had three saddles to traverse which required shifts to low gear. Holdens have first and reverse gears quite close, although reverse requires a lift, over and back into gear. But I couldn't find first gear and then I couldn't find second. Kylie, the turbo-charged reporter can't believe I drove over the Whangamomona Saddle. I think I found another gear or just willed the car over the ridge. By the time I returned there was only one gear, probably reverse.
I was then given the only car in the Stratford pool to transport me home, which left the girls without a car, but not for long thankfully.
Food has played another big part at the Press. I've concluded that a sweet tooth is a women's thing, and so many of us can't be wrong.
Food fuelled the brain and body as its fragrant smells wafted through the building. Lauren is the nose and she would come into the room and try to guess what flavour or ingredients were in the delicacies that were being consumed. Now everyone is on a diet of sorts, eating healthy, and probably snacking less.
I have come to the final few words of my column. I will remember Stratford for your beautiful maunga and the smiles and hellos, and the kia ora from Carol in the Post Office; and Peter Mischefski who has attitude and the drive to sell to the outside world the assets that make your region unique. Nga mihi kia koutou katoa.