My last words on sheep- on the Southern Shears competition 2016

I am spending my last weekend in Gore working.

No mountains, lakes or forests to explore.

Confined to quarters, with only my laptop to amuse me between work based activities.


I tried making some scones.

The locals asked the other day what a cream tea is, and I had hoped to show them the real mackoy.

But I didn't have the right flour, or proper scales or a tablespoon to measure the sugar. The brushing of egg yolk on the top looked more like an omelet; such is the golden richness of Henny and Penny's eggs ( not my choice of names I would like you to know).

free range egg yolk

They rose in the oven and were then thrown in the bin.

So I had to go out and find something else to do.

Nothing much happens in Gore on a Saturday afternoon. Most of the shops are closed.

So I went to the sheep shearing competition. As you do.


Sheep arrive in trucks.

When they are unloaded they look like this

before shearing

These sheep have already been 'crutched' so the shearers remove the fleece in one piece.

Crutching involves a bit of tidying up around the rear end; if you look carefully you can see that they have very little wool on their posteriors.

Many a farmer has seen me in my professional capacity and advised me of injuries sustained while 'crutching' . I won't tell you what I thought they meant.....

I'll be an expert by the time I leave.

shearing in action

This is a very serious competition. Shearing is a very macho culture, and pay depends on speed and skill.

Each competitor has to shear 9 sheep as fast and as skilfully as possible, in front of a crowd of enthusiastic locals.

Southern Shears 2016

This video shows you how it is done. The commentator does a star job.

Its a bit like watching a horse race, but without the track, and I didn't see any signs of betting. Just cups of coffee and cigarettes.

The fleeces are compressed in a baling machine.

wool baling machine

And the finished article looks like this.

shorn sheep

badly shorn sheep  (not in Gore)

So that is that. I will say no more about sheep.

sheep

Probably.

Everything is coming up roses...... Christmas in Gore

this is Gore

Here I am, in paradise.

Well not really Paradise; I went there last weekend, and it was. Paradise is near Queenstown, in LOTR country.

I am in Gore , Southland , New Zealand South island. A small town surrounded by spectacular options for landscape photography.

Dairy farming country.

Where cows are plentiful, along with green grass and plenty of rain.

cows in a meadow

Where the roads are quiet and wide, and I can walk to work.

my daily commute

Tractors are a popular mode of transport.

on the road

And bulldozers are handy for tidying the garden.

The local hills are gentle and rolling

sundown

And the gardens are full of roses

Christmas roses

Roses filled compost heap

As you can see I could wax lyrical for some time.

But it is Christmas ......

and I have work to do.

My other half (OH) and youngest child are arriving on Christmas Day for a holiday.

And obviously Christmas dinner is first and foremost on OH's mind.


Hams and salads, strawberries and pavlova are the local favourites for the Christmas feast.

But we are ENGLISH

and must do things properly.

I mentioned to OH that I couldn't find a turkey, and that maybe a chicken would do.

SILLY ME

Of course it wouldn't do.

I mentioned that I couldn't find Christmas pudding either, and immediately OH volunteered to bring one, having only the day before muttered about  the extra weight of carrying a lens filter that I needed and asked him to add to his luggage......

PRIORITIES PLEASE

Food first.

I was getting worried.

But then I struck lucky.

I found the ENGLISH section in the local supermarket

English foods in New World Supermarket

Well never has a photo that I posted in Facebook engendered so much discussion and amusement.

I shall stop posting landscapes and post pictures of food instead....

Sandwich spread; 'sick in a jar'

tinned haggis; ' yum yum' ( ironic of course)

Branston pickle; sold out.........

Creamy Reeses? what on earth is that. certainly not ENGLISH

It was suggested that most of these foods were last normal fare in England when ration books were still available.

So we could feast on a tinned steak pie and some Birds custard......

Or I could cook a real meal, which I will endeavour to do ...........and not a chicken in sight.

Plus a flaming pudding along with brandy butter AND brandy sauce. Just like we always do.......

Epic beer

All washed down with some Epic Armageddon beer, and some local wine.


Followed by a walk in the park to see the local reindeer and the Christmas sheep.

Gore's very own stag

Gore's Christmas sheep

Happy Christmas everyone!

I'm off to Paradise.

Paradise, New Zealand

sheep in Paradise

Twelve weeks in Gore - the book

Twelve weeks in Gore

a little book of thanks to all at Gore Medical Centre

with special guest star  - Rupert the Rooster

click the link to read

********

next stop

'Road Trip'

Queenstown to Auckland

possibly not via Haast Pass road

as originally intended

land slip across the Haast Pass road

Countdown to my departure from Gore. Thoughts on a small town in Southland, New Zealand.

another busy day in Gore - Broughton Street

Only 5 days left before I leave Gore and I am getting sentimental about the impending departure.

The image above is of Broughton Street on a Friday mid morning. Hill fog clinging over the town on an autumn day.

There is no litter in this town.

And no dog poo anywhere to be seen. New Zealand is not a great place to be a dog unless you live on a farm. Dogs are rarely allowed off the lead, and there are many places where they are not allowed in order to protect the birds, penguins and other wildlife.

As I walked down the hill a random stranger in her seventies or eighties stopped and offered me a lift into town. I thanked her, and politely declined, for I was out to walk the streets for almost the last time.

a plot of land in Gore

As I strolled I came across a plot of land for sale. I am sure Janine would be pleased if I bought it, but it has no view of the hills, so is a non starter.

I came across a big hedge; one of my favourite subjects for street photography, thinking about the psychology of personal space and boundaries.

Hedges are massive in the countryside here, mainly to act as windbreaks.

the pylon problem; typical farm hedge

But the purpose of this in the middle of town was less clear.

Privacy Please

This one (above) seems a little over the top. A secret garden perhaps?


And these ones (below) appear purely decorative.

Symmetry rules

neat and tidy

A modern home demands a modern garden. I certainly prefer these free flowing native flaxes to the tightly clipped box hedges.

Flax plants ( otherwise known as Phormium)

I am not sure about the colour of this home (below), but you can see their wood pile. Everyone seems to be chopping or stacking or collecting trailer-loads of wood this weekend, ready for the winter. No smokeless zone here.

I prefer orange for my house if it has to be a bright colour. No clipped hedges here.

My kind of garden. Loose and free.

orange

Corrugated metal roofs are almost universal. Some with matching fence. This one will look best on 25th December.

waiting for Christmas

But the best thing about this place is that if you drive for 3 minutes in any direction you are out of town, on a country road, heading nowhere very particular at all.

Unless you are visiting a farmer.

And there are plenty of them around here.


I don't think I was meant to live where I do………  (the depths of suburbia)


I see changes afoot.

the perfect house……...

Another cloudless blue sky day. My plans to disappear into the bush for another attempt at capturing the beauty of the ferns and mosses foiled by the sun.

Too much bright sun filtering through the foliage is distracting. I really need an overcast day, without wind or rain………

…..when I am not working

So I'll show you some more pictures of Gore.




I took a stroll last night with my phone in hand, to look for the perfect property to invest in.

For I am sure I will need to come back here.

Add caption

I met a dog sitting quietly. He didn't move from his spot.

I walked past the house with the chimney hiding behind a tree

And the church tower with an open belfry but no bells.

Down to the centre of town

Admiring the colour schemes of the old shops

Passing by my favourite shop

and the clock tower

So what house would I buy?


A green one?

or maybe a red one?

Old?

or new?

A caravan would be cheap, but a little restricting.

A water tower would be quirky and the view would be to die for.

A metal house might be cold in winter.

Who could resist a house with a rumpus room?

Are you captivated by curiosity ?

No?

Nor me.

I would like this one.

There's just one problem.

It is not for sale.