I like my tea like i like my ladies..

H town's autumn pose

West Brom Vs Saints (bonfire night 2012)

About as enjoyable as picking up a spent sparkler by the wrong end.

("gone to the bonfire, you should have gone to the bonfire" [to the tune of guantanamera] was the witty chant from the baggies fans.)

Grow a mo to help a bro

ding dong, i say chaps, what ho.

Our house has been an arena of the unwell..

So i therefore have a backlog of photos to post.

And i will begin posting them.........now.

And here's a review of Argo..

By the Observer film critic, Philip French.

Can I recommend a film?

Argo

Back in the day, N and me used to go to the cinema all the time. Living in Brum with any number of decent cinemas to choose from, we'd quite often decide to go to see a film at the last minute and just pick anything that coincided with when we wanted to go.

Sometimes it was a good film, sometimes it wasn't.

With having kids and living in the cultural wasteland that is H town, the chances of such cinematic spontenaiety is limited.

Last night my folks (who were up visiting) suggested that they didn't mind looking after the bairns if N and I wanted to head out. Where to go? Where to go?

Worcester Vue.

Decided to go at half 6.

Booked it.

Drove up the Worcester road.

Settled into our comfy seats at about 8.20.

And the verdict on this act of spur of the moment film viewing?

A firm thumbs up. Highly recommended. Good acting, interesting story, a sense of tension that builds well. At times a bit cliche but hey, its no big problem. I do not think you will regret seeing this film. Take my advice, it's an evening well spent.

And here's a trailer..

More Taharoto 'faces'

Cape Reinga

The Taharoto 'faces'...No.4

Johnny Mah

Not the Smiths guitarist. (and not his full name)

A fine member of the ICU team.

Family back in Rotorua.

John was very welcoming. He very kindly offered to show us round his family's place back in Roto Vegas. His mum worked in the Maori centre and he gave us a tour and introduced us to his family. Rotorua is known for its natural hot springs, bubbling mud pools etc and also for it's strong maori heritage. The well known maori way of cooking is the hangi. Rocks are heated up on a fire and then buried with wet sacking and parcels of food. The food is then steamed over several hours.

In Rotorua they've modified this tactic. John's whanau are all based around this area with loads of the bubbling pools. They've altered the flow of the water over the years to create communal baths and cooking vents where hangis are done in covered steam pits rather than the usual hot rock method. John went out of his way to prepare one of these meals and we called by to pick it up after we met his mum.

Tidy.

The three T's. Three monkey 'see no evil etc' shennanigans in evidence.

The Taharoto 'faces'....No.3

Bonzerelli.

Provided a very warm welcome when we had just started working at the unit.

Born in Lincoln, grew up in NZ. 

Accent mixed.

Married Jane.

Visited us in Hereford.

Now living somewhere in the north of NZ.

A very friendly and approachable guy.

The Taharoto 'faces'... No.2

Noni.

An original. Great sense of humour.

Kind, caring.. but ruthless with a water pistol.

The Taharoto 'faces'...No.1

Tim G.

One of the three Tims on the ICU.

Owner of a fine moustache.

One of the finest nurses i've worked with at talking down very unsettled clients, got the real gift of the psychiatric gab this chap.

This photo was taken at a bonfire night party at his place out in the sticks near Auckland. Most of the Taharoto crew were there.

I seem to remember that they'd rigged up the bonfire with some petrol and ran a line of petrol leading out from the fire so that it could be lit in a dramatic fashion.

He drove a big Holden Commordore.

He liked to smoke.

He had esoteric musical tastes (Rammstein and Alabama 3).

And if he ever starts telling you a story that begins "ten years ago"then you're in for a treat. Also recommended are his tales from working as a nurse in a prison (the chicken story and the chocolate cheerio story).

He pitched up at Auckland airport to say goodbye when we were getting the plane to move home without us knowing he was going to be there. I cried like a baby (there was something in my eye).

NZ