It's been a weird week here in Mordor.
We went to a Lantern Festival at the weekend which was part of the Chinese New Year celebrations. Though I felt somewhat robbed that the actual show lanterns were lit by electricity rather than naked flames, it made sense considering that the weather has been quite dry of late and the park is an accident waiting to happen.
Also, the sight of burning animals might well have traumatised some of the children attending.
There was Chinese fare in the form of Cantonese, er, Japanese, Vietnamese and Thai. I dunno, maybe they run out of wontons or something and had to get the neighbours in to make up the numbers.
In sympathy, the music was a blended mishmash of Swedish and Chinese as I remember hearing the heavily accented Chinese choir singing Dancing Queen as we queued up for spring rolls. That reminds me, I must rent out their recording of the soundtrack to Crouching Tiger, Hidden Fernando first chance I get.
Anyway, here's a picture of some of the lanterns that brought excitement to many a Kiwi male (not to mention at least one Yorkshireman viewing this blog).
On the way to the event we were passed by silver Mercedes convertible with the licence plate IM POSH. A more accurate plate would have been MUNTER or I FUGLY, but there you go. I'll have to stop looking at these plates, so will exorcise the demons with a final plate update soon.
Lord Sauron has decreed that the minimum age for drivers in the country should be raised to 16. This puts the sequel to an event I witnessed recently in serious jeopardy.
Near the Vector Arena is a row of shops set back from the road and with plenty of car parking. At night, most of these shops are closed apart from the Subway, Hell Pizza and a convenience store. So, at weekends, the local boy racers use this area to park up and admire each others' wheels. On the night I witnessed this grand event they had a lot of cars there including modded Mazdas, Ford Falcons and a couple of Lowrider Utes. Which isn't in the slightest bit like showing your mates your penis. Oh no, not at all. I mean, they probably have girlfriends and everything.
Eventually the police cruised past, turned around and stopped by for a chat and the party quickly began to pack up and depart.
Unfortunately, a lot of these souped up bangers are quite old and so aren't really built for the continuous revving and occasional burnouts put upon them by the cast of Fast and the Furious 5: Auckland Ballbags.
One such vehicle backfired loudly then died as soon as it hit the main road and the toddler driving it had to get his posse out of the car to push start it. Sadly the vehicle was a hell of a size and it looked like none of them had lifted anything heavier than a spray can or a teething ring. Needless to say it failed to start and as I left to get on my own Loser Cruiser (or as it is better termed, the Panmure Shops Bus) he was on the phone to mummy and daddy to come and pick him up as his passing Top Gear buddies showered him with horn abuse. There's the friendship of the road for you.
All of last week there was a saxophone playing near our house which has coincided with a jazz festival going on down at the local beach. Now the festival has ended the sax has mysteriously gone too. Was it one of the locals getting back in practice? Was it a visiting saxophonist staying with a friend? Were they actually recording the music for a soft porn film? Were we being visited by the spirit of Kenny G (yes, I realise he isn't dead, but give it time)? These questions may never be answered.
However, what will be answered is what the Indiana Jones theme sounds like when played on a saxophone at 8am on a Saturday morning.
F@cking annoying.
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