So here we are, almost three months since arriving in this part of New
Zealand’s largest city, and still here. We came with the intention of returning
this rental house to the pristine condition it was when we purchased it about
twenty two years ago, and hopefully more desirable for a tenant willing to pay
greater than the very modest rent we had demanded from the last occupant. In
fact, it would seem from comments made to us since, that we had been charging
little more than fifty percent of market rent for such a property; such is the nature
of a soft generous hearted landlord!
But as the work proceeded, the fences pulled down and replaced, old
decks demolished to make way for new, the driveway repaired and re-shaped, we
were wooed by land agents to consider sale rather than re-letting, and so the
property was listed over three weeks ago.
Still parked up in the driveway, we spend our days dusting and vaccuming
to present the house in the best condition possible at all times, and even more
so for the twice weekly Open Homes, watering re-grassed lawn, checking for
graffiti on the fence each morning,
picking up rubbish outside the fence deposited by the unthinking passengers
waiting for the bus, and hoping for the elusive sale.
Our bikes which carried us up and down the Otago Rail Trail all those
years ago, up and down less demanding cycle routes, and which had ridden around on
the back of our motorhome during all the intervening years, were stolen by
brazen thieves while we worked not metres away, and the motorhome itself was
tagged during the short time it was moved to a different position on the
section while we dug out the metal driveway by hand. The fence was also hit,
all of which caused untold grief, resulted in lengthy but futile police reports
and subsequently, sheer anger.
The positive that came from this was the discovery that the “graffiti
removing truck” cited in my last posting is part of the Manurewa Beautification
Trust and notified by calling the Auckland Council who logs the callout
schedule. Within an hour of my call, the valiant angel turned up with paint to
camouflage that on the many-times-painted fence and a waterblaster to clean the
unpainted new fence. Alas, that on the bonnet of the motorhome required a more
personal effort; fortunately Chris was able to clean it off with turps and
compound. We were thus armed with the knowledge of the solution to this scourge
by idle disrespectful youth.
And as for our bikes? Yes, we are insured but the age of the bikes and
the size of our excess makes any claim a waste of effort.
And so the prospective buyers come, hover, admire, praise and sniff
around. A couple of investor types have offered and negotiated but in the end
the deals have come to nothing. This all makes us reconsider the re-letting of
the house, until we decide not to as we observe the efforts of the agents who
come and go with mainly new-New Zealanders.
We have taken the opportunity to see three movies to date and there will
be more in the next weeks. “The Danish Girl’ impressed us greatly with the
brilliant cinematography and equally brilliant acting by the two leads, even if
the subject matter did not excite so much. “The Hateful Eight”, the first
Tarantino movie that either of us had seen, fulfilled its promise of blood,
guts and violence, but still managed to impress with the clever story line and
the brilliant acting; we were glad we went. Then finally and more recently, we
saw “The Revenant”, a hideously gruelling
recounting of history set in the cold uncharted wilderness of Montana in
1823, cinematically a brilliant movie, but so tediously brutal, just as the
reviews had suggested.
All this movie going reminds me of the summer we passed north of
Brisbane waiting for the sale of our landcruiser and caravan before returning
to New Zealand. In fact there are many similarities to our situation now. And
that did end up with satisfactory success; I should hold that thought!
The plus side of this is that now the full scale efforts of work here
are completed, I now have the pleasure of my husband’s company as I shop, visit
the library and go about my daily business. We are now starting to venture out
together in an effort to gain some exercise now the hard labour is done,
although Chris is still exerting himself in the regular lawn mowing necessary
to present a property for sale.
The other day in an attempt to reach what we incorrectly had called
Roscommon Knob, for want of any other identification on our maps, and after
driving down roads close to this strange geographical feature to find ourselves
at the gates of prisons, we found ourselves on a track behind the growing Wiri
industrial area beside the Puhinui Stream. Crossing the waterway and
wandering downstream we fought our way through a wilderness of plant life,
seemingly untouched for years. Below us, when we could see through the great
mats of foliage lay a wide tarmacked path. Bridges over side creeks were
derelict and required careful crossing. Birdlife and butterflies abounded.
Great fields of ripening pumpkins bounded our route along the western edge of
the reserve, and then we abruptly arrived at a gateway marked “Private: Do not
enter” thus were required to return by the same route. We had just decided to
attempt access down the other side of the creek when we received a call from
our agent that he had an offer for us. Naturally the day’s walk was abandoned
although this too resulted in the ping pong negotiation of try-hard investors.
We subsequently did more research regarding our postponed
expedition and found that this strange little knob does have a proper name and
a history. Matukutureia or McLaughlins Mountain is one of the many Auckland
volcanic cones, this rising seventy three metres above sea level. Once it was
the site of a pa, originally crescent shaped and featuring Maori terraces and
kumara pits. This before extensive quarrying in the area reduced it to the
pyramid shape it is today, when it was left just big enough to support the
summit water tank for Papatoetoe. The tank was finally removed in 2010 when the
land was passed over to the Department of Conservation.
This small cone and nearby Wiri Mountain are collectively
known as Matukurua.
Closer examination of our map shows that we should be able
to access the reserve area, the Puhinui Reserve via a side road off the major
access to the airport. This will at least give us access to the 199 hectare
reserve, if not to the wee mountain itself.
According to the information finally gleaned from the
internet, there is a variety of rare or endangered species of birdlife, including
the black stilt, New Zealand dotterel, fernbird and wrybird, all sharing the
coastal flats with flocks of migratory birds. We should also be able to see
oystercatchers, godwits and less knots if there are not crowds of vocally delighted
children about, and with this in mind we should call on a week day rather than
the weekend. But then this is obligatory, given that we have to be about to
prepare the house for Open Homes on the weekend; ventilation, dust spotting,
ambient lights to be turned on, leaves and litter to pick up and generally attending
to our security role. 
Despite this weekend duty, we did get up to West Auckland for a couple
of part days not long ago where we spent time doing stump removal work. When
our youngest and his partner purchased their home just over a year ago, there
was a charming maple near the front entrance, a tree that did not endear itself
to Jess. Finally they had cleared the stones and other plantings from the
garden, cut the tree back to a mere sad stump and started with its removal.
They thought we would enjoy helping them, which is true indeed, but apart from
the social aspect, it was a fruitless exercise. The tree would not be budged by
rope or chain, man, woman or 4WD, so we finally departed agreeing that they
should employ a stump grinder chap to save the day. We have yet to learn the
outcome.
We have also played host to our daughter and her family more than twice
since being here, but these were the days when her father was busy, busy and
available only for mealtimes to pass the time of day. I was free to accompany
her on a few retail therapy trips and with them, discovered great “barns” of
beautifully presented second hand clothes for sale. There is absolutely no need
for anyone living in this city to be poorly dressed, what with this “chain”,
the charity shops and the plethora of Australasian chain stores no further away
than the nearest Westfield.
And here, even if a little out of context, I should mention that we have
employed a “home staging” company to “dress” our house, and that they have, up
to the nines! In fact our modest little house almost looks overdressed! The
rooms could grace a fancy interior design style magazine with pride, and as such
looks far grander than anything I have ever lived in. But still no sale as yet.
Since our days have been more about security and presentation rather
than hard graft, Chris has taken back dinner duties; he is therefore no longer
subjected to my preferences. Today he is enjoying the second day of the cricket
test between the Black Caps and their across-the-Tasman rivals; perhaps it is a
reluctance to leave the screen that has prompted his suggestion we go out to
dinner tonight? Or perhaps it is a subconscious realisation that it is Valentine’s
Day tomorrow and we did not get to celebrate our wedding anniversary in January
due to our busy-ness? No matter the reason, I am always open to a dinner
invitation!
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