When I ask English friends what they are going to be doing for the weekend they say,
‘Going away.’
If I ask where, they reply,
‘To the country.’
If I persist and wonder where in the country, or, to whom, I might get, ‘Wiltshire’, and, ‘Friends’.
I will never get, ‘Mind your own business.’ That would be rude and not, in my experience, the English way.

Here in New Zealand if I ask what someone is doing for the weekend I get the full timetable, hour by hour, every name and address of where they will be and, who with, and even the names of some people they might encounter during the weekend or might not. Perhaps that’s an exaggeration, or perhaps not. Or, I could be told, ‘Mind your own business’. But that would be unusual. Usually it’s the full works. It’s the New Zealand way. Different countries, different cultures.

Walking back from the swimming pool the other day I said, ‘Good Morning,’ To a man working in his front garden. He replied,
‘Morning. Beautiful day. Been to Jellie Park?’
I said that I had and that I tried to go most days, for a swim. We then talked about the issues that come with age and the facilities at Jellie Park. We moved on to local politics, national politics, the state of the economy, and the world at large. We agreed that the situation in Myanmar Burma seemed terrible. He, having established that I lived in London and had served my time in isolation on arrival in New Zealand, he wanted to know what the Isolation Facility was like and how people were coping in the United Kingdom. He thought he still had cousins in the North of England but he wasn’t in touch with them and he had once been to London. He really wanted to know how things were. I answered as best I could.

This was not an isolated incident. On another day, at Jellie Park, when the weather had turned dull, I got into a conversation with one of the receptionists and two other people at the reception counter over whether or not it was ok to leave your washing on the line when it starts raining. Admittedly I had told the receptionist that I’d just hung out the washing and I didn’t want to walk home to take it in, ‘Just in case’. The consensus was that in New Zealand you can, leave the washing out that is, because the atmosphere is comparatively clean but that in London you can’t because it isn’t. And following on from that we got onto how people were coping with covid in the United Kingdom and how good the vaccination programme seemed to be.

New Zealanders talk. And, it seems to me, choose to have time to talk. I know I talk. Too much according to some of my family who tell me when they’ve had enough. That’s fair. But it’s not just me. I’m sure one of the reasons New Zealanders have a reputation around the world for being friendly is because of this readiness to talk. Generally, I think, we’re interested in other people and are prepared to listen as well as talk. I wonder if it’s partly because of our geographical isolation and our heritage. In the early days of the European settlement people longed for visitors and for news from outside. In 1900 the population was under one million and even now, New Zealand, approximately the same size as the United Kingdom, has a population of only five million.

And then I remembered back to 1963 when my mother came to London and stayed in my flat in Notting Hill. We were going to Oxford Circus on the London Underground and my mother knew perfectly well that you don’t speak to people on the Underground. Further down the platform was a tall African man in tribal robes and a feather headdress – not a common sight in those days. My mother asked me who he was and I told her that I thought he was Prince Monolulu and that he was a racing tipster.
‘What’s that?’ she asked me and when I said that I didn’t know she said,
‘I’m going to ask him.’
‘You can’t,’ I said. ‘You don’t speak to people on the Underground.’
‘We’re not on the Underground,’ she said. ‘We’re on the platform.’
She knew perfectly well that the same rules applied but then a train came in and we got on. So did Prince Monolulu. And into the same carriage.

I went down the other end of the carriage and my mother went up to Prince Monolulu who had found a seat. She said, ‘I’m Mrs Acland from New Zealand. My son, who’s there down the other end of the carriage, tells me that you are Prince Monolulu and that you’re a racing tipster. What is that?’
Prince Monolulu told the person sitting next to him to get up and to give my mother a seat. He did. My mother sat and Prince Monolulu began to tell her about being a racing tipster.’
‘Isn’t that fascinating!’ My mother said to a person sitting opposite. Someone else said that her sister had emigrated to New Zealand some years earlier and wondered whether my mother might have met her. By the time we reached Oxford Circus you would have thought everyone in that carriage was at a cocktail party only without the cocktails. When we got off the train people called out, ‘Enjoy london,’ and, ‘Have a good time.’ And we’d been on the London Underground where no one talks to anyone. But New Zealanders do talk.

POST SCRIPT MARCH 16th AN EDITORIAL DECISION

On March 16th a Service of Remembrance was held in Christchurch to mark the second anniversary of the terrorist shootings at the Christchurch Mosques in which 51 people were killed and 40 injured. The Prime Minister spoke as did Muslim leaders and survivors. Representatives from all political parties attended as well as local community leaders and the families of those killed, survivors, and members of the general public. On the television news that evening. The first item was a race, not the final, in the America’s Cup. The remembrance of the Christchurch shootings was the second item. An editorial decision.

There was an earthquake on Thursday night. Well really it was Friday morning at 2.27am to be precise. And I know that because when the house stopped shaking and the doors stopped banging and the lights stopped swinging I looked on my iPad to see what was going on. There had been a magnitude 7.3 earthquake off the coast of Gisborne not too far from where I was staying in Hawkes Bay and certainly close enough for the house to shake etc.

This was the first earthquake I’ve experienced since I was a child and I didn’t like it at all. I know it was nothing in comparison to what many New Zealanders have experienced in recent years. After this earthquake there were two more quakes near the Kermadec Islands to the North of New Zealand. They were later and were followed by tsunami warnings. People on the coast were evacuated to high ground.

I found it difficult to get back to sleep and, for the rest of the night and much of the day, I followed what was happening on the iPad and on the television news. There seemed to have been little damage to property. More than anything else I noticed how good humoured everyone who was shown on television appeared to be. They had been woken up by sirens warning of a possible tsunami. They were required to move out. A lot of people were interviewed and most seemed calm and rather philosophical. Some were nervous and a bit fearful. Most were smiling and relaxed. When the all clear was sounded they simply went home to continue whatever they’d been doing. Everyone seemed positive and understanding of the disruption to their lives.

On reflection I wonder as much about the television presentation as the events themselves. The television presentation on this occasion was very positive and calming. I’ve always known that when people are interviewed on the spot during an event like this there are far more people interviewed than the few we see and hear on the television. Some people are more articulate than others. Some pull funny faces or don’t get the drift of the questions. Selection is necessary and the selection of who we see and what we hear is made by the reporter or by the editor. There is the key to it all.

And I remember when I was a Cadet Reporter on the Christchurch Star newspaper, my first job on leaving school. I was sent to cover a meeting. Thank goodness I can’t remember what it was. It can’t have been too important or someone more senior would have been given the job. Another reporter was there from the Christchurch Press, the morning paper. The woman who was chairing the meeting made it quite clear to us that she did not like reporters, (in those days we were called reporters not journalists), and that we were there on sufferance.

In the course of the meeting she made seven or eight very sensible and quotable comments and one that made her appear rather stupid. After the meeting I went back to the office to write up the story – quite a short piece – and left it in the sub editors’ tray. For my shame I had included the woman’s one stupid comment and none of the sensible ones. Well, it was accurate reporting. She had said it. The Christchurch Press came out first. Their reporter had included the stupid comment in his account of the meeting as well. Not that that justified anything.

Last Saturday evening in Christchurch my mobile phone suddenly buzzed loudly. It wasn’t any of its usual ring sounds just a rather insistent buzz. When I looked at the phone I saw a Covid Alert message. It stated that Auckland was to be in Covid Level 3 from 6.00am the following morning and the rest of the country at Level 2. Level 3 basically means that everyone must stay at home. From what I could work out Level 2 means that there are some general restrictions such as gatherings of more than 100 people not allowed and restrictions on businesses, restaurants and bars. However I could fly to Hawkes Bay as planned.

During the week more details have been revealed both of the cause of the change in Levels and the results. It seems to me that the New Zealand government’s policy from the beginning of the Covid outbreak was to have one serious and strictly enforced general lockdown, which happened for six weeks last March, so that there would be no need for a ‘Stop, Start’ approach to dealing with the pandemic. Also that there would be different Levels of Lockdown enforced as and when needed. The comparative freedom that I am enjoying today is because of this approach. I am in Hawkes Bay, Level 2.

Not so for the people of Auckland nor for any of those who had organised or were taking part in events involving more than one hundred people. The Auckland Theatre Company has had to abandon its tour of ‘Two Ladies’, not to mention the America’s Cup postponed, a ‘Round the Bays’ run involving thousands cancelled, along with hundreds of events, a ‘Lantern Festival’ especially for the Chinese community in Auckland, a ‘Holi Festival’ for the Indian community and others in Christchurch, and so many other sports events, charity events, community celebrations throughout the country, all cancelled.

The ‘Horse of the Year 2021’, a major event involving not just months but years of planning has been cancelled. The event, due to take place in Hawkes Bay from March 9th to 14th, attracts over 45,000 spectators, 1900 horses and 1500 riders. But not this year.

And all this because of the actions of three people. A woman who had tested positive and was meant to be in self isolation went for a walk with a friend. That was a mistake. The friend, unwittingly of course, passed the virus to her son, an intelligent young man (well, he is in tertiary education), who did not wait in self isolation for the results of a covid test despite having minor symptoms. That was a mistake. Having had the test he went straight to the gym, his university and various other places. That was a big mistake. His Covid test result came back positive. I think that was the scenario. Certainly the mistakes made by these three people have caused the change in Levels. Now New Zealand waits for evidence of possible further transmission.

The government’s policy depends on the cooperation of the people and the Prime Minister has been very reluctant to lay blame for the occasional and contained outbreaks so far. This time however her frustration has showed. The danger is that if individuals are pilloried for their mistakes others will be less inclined to tell the truth about their contacts. Truthful cooperation is key in all of this.

Over recent years the calls for individual rights and freedoms to be recognised have increased. I have not detected a corresponding call for the recognition of individual responsibilities nor of the rights of the community. Events here this last week have shown the patience and forbearance of most New Zealanders, some greater awareness of just how much the actions of a few can affect the lives of many, and a degree of frustration.

Rarely, I suspect, can the words of John Donne’s Meditation 17, ‘No man is an island, entire of itself;’ have been so obviously realised.

I knew I must be able to find something to complain about in Christchurch in Covid free New Zealand, and I have. As I walked to Jellie Park for my regular swim, just ten minutes from where I’m staying, I had to negotiate my way past cyclists, scooter riders and skateboarders, all school children, all using my pavement. Of course it was just after three o’clock in the afternoon and it seems local schools get out at three.

It quite reminded me of walking to church along Kennington Park Road only there it’s usually adults on bicycles etc, not school children. And there was another difference. Here all the children smiled at me quite happily and said, ‘Afternoon!’ The ‘Good’ being understood, I think. However, like Kennington Park Road there is a cycle lane, clearly marked, on the road itself. It’s just that the cyclists prefer to use the pavement. I wonder where I should lodge my complaint?

Jellie Park is a wonderful surprise. There can be no complaints there. It was given to the City of Christchurch for a Park by a Mr James Jellie who had a market garden on twenty six acres of land. It was ‘Prime Real Estate’. He wanted it to be used by the people of Christchurch for recreation and was very reluctant to have the park named after him however the City Council’s will prevailed.

Within the park there is a recreational centre that includes a gym, two twenty five meter indoor pools, one for recreation the other for teaching, a toddlers pool, another teaching pool and, outside, a fifty meter pool, a diving pool, and a pool for ‘aqua jogging’. There’s also a bubbly spa pool, a sauna and a steam room. There may be more that I haven’t discovered.

Today I used the fifty meter outdoor pool and swam 500 meters, then sat in the bubbly spa, then swam another 200 meters in the indoor 25 meter pool. I have neither dived nor aqua jogged and I don’t intend to. All the pools are heated. Thank you Mr Jellie and the Christchurch City Council.

LOCKED DOWN IN LONDON AND OTHER STORIES

Last evening I gave a Talk, ‘Locked Down etc’ to over eighty people in the St Barnabas Church Hall. It is near here but in the other direction from Jellie Park. I’ve been giving talks in Retirement Villages and in sitting rooms to raise money for the Christchurch Cathedral Reinstatement Project. This is to restore the cathedral seriously damaged in the earthquake ten years ago. Last night’s talk was the first to be open to the general public.

People have been appreciative and generous. The Cathedral is at the centre of Christchurch, a planned city. I’ve come across another planned city from the same period, the middle of the nineteenth century, also with a cathedral at the centre. It is La Plata in Argentina. There they wanted the cathedral at the centre ‘so that all might be reminded that every person is of equal worth before God’.

In Christchurch in the 1860s they already had a bishop and it was assumed the city would have a cathedral. It was part of the tradition of the first European settlers. The motto of my old school is ‘Bene Tradita Bene Servanda’. I finished my Talk with a quote from Thomas More,
‘Tradition is not the worshipping of the ashes, it is the handing down of the flame’.
I believe the Christchurch Cathedral is part of that flame.

It was back to the Eye Clinic today for more lasering, an injection and another experience of friendly, calm and, from all I can tell, extremely skilled service and treatment. I arrived early. My family will not be surprised. Once I was so early for a flight I arrived twenty four hours early. The trouble was the flight left at 00.15. You will understand my problem with that.

Anyway early at the Eye Clinic, having updated my details, I was told that the cafe on the ground floor had excellent coffee and very good cheese scones. I returned to the ground floor and enjoyed both.

Later as I was waiting for some eye drops to take effect the nurse volunteered that she was from the Philippines and we talked about covid there and in the UK. We both felt very concerned for friends and family and talked about them.

After I’d been scanned and photographed, my eye that is, the Professor who looked after me told me and the two interns in attendance about working in an eye hospital in Jerusalem and how enthusiastic and joyful his Muslim friends had been for him when Easter approached. He told us that they, good Muslims, knew the meaning of Easter. He wondered, how many New Zealanders knew that Easter was about more than a long weekend in Wanaka.

All this and treatment. I’m seeing far more clearly out of my left eye than I have for months. Everything is brighter. I’m back again in four weeks. Watch this space.