Minorly crappy day so a lazy start


Who's a lazy bugger, then?


Yup - couldn't get my arse into gear this morning and didn't try all that hard.  It was blowing a bit of a gale when I woke up so I did the only thing possible and went back to sleep.  Finally bestirred myself to head north, destination undecided but as it turned out I wound up at Goat Island where the tide was out and the waves looked less than inviting (great snorkelling spot but the rocks make it less than ideal for low tide swimming)

To my eternal discredit, this rocky beach picture below isn't from Goat Island - it's from somewhere between here and there whose name I've forgotten.  There goes my career as a travel writer.  Cool spot, though - there was a Maori guy and his grand-daughter (maybe) trolling for fish in the waist deep water: by the time I returned, from my long walk they'd gone so I hope they'd caught enough for dinner.
Now, this urchin is from Goat Island - it's about the size of a quarter / 20 cent piece.  I took about 50 photos of it and liked this one the best.  On the way to Goat Island I went through some pretty ghastly road works and resolved to find another route home.  "Fortunately" the road I'd taken was closed and there was a detour sign up.  Just one.  That took me to a t-junction.  When all else fails, turn left and pull over at the first opportunity and check the GPS.  OK - turned left.  Phone battery was flat.  GPS would turn on only long enough to tell me it was powering off and then wouldn't power on again.  So now I know (a) what Martin's Bay looks like and (b) that it is not on the way from Goat Island to Orewa (where I was going to the supermarket).  So back-tracking about 20 km, with the gas needle nudging the red, I took what would have been the right turn at the t-junction and found myself at my unfavourite road junction in the whole world in Warkworth.  But I recalled from a previous trip that, if you go into downtown Warkworth, through the library carpark and over a grass verge, you come out on the road to Orewa.
I'd decided on a plain salad for dinner but was seduced by a "reduced to clear" pack of drumsticks that I intended to throw on the grill and eat half of with said salad.  But what did I find stuck in the door when I got "home" but a note from my mates Hugh & Maureen saying, "Hey, we're at the Casablanca in Orewa if you fancy a nosh."  I've eaten there before and needed no second bidding.  Not even pausing to empty the sand from my sneakers I hopped back in the car and, 30 minutes later, was chomping down on the first of probably several lamb shanks.
We passed a very pleasant hour and a bit - not even the dickhead in the car with the defective muffler (yes, you, Mr / Ms MTAD0R) could spoil it.  And now I have stayed up past 9:30 and I'm yawning.  Bed time!

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