Mourning Mediaworks’ Muppet Muting

sesame

“Sometimes you’re crazy
And you wonder why
I’m such a baby, yeah
‘Cause The Muppets make me cry”

Paraphrasing “Only Want to Be With You” – Hootie and the Blowfish

Someone told me a while ago that I “suffer from nostalgia”.

I thought it was an odd expression, as rather than “suffering” from nostalgia, I find it far more “comforting”.

“Nostalgia is learned formation of a Greek compound, consisting of νόστος (nóstos), meaning “homecoming”, a Homeric word, and ἄλγος (álgos), meaning “pain, ache””

I did, however, feel a great deal of pain when I learned that one of the best television shows of all time, Sesame Street, will be leaving NZ free-to-air television screens from the end of June when Mediaworks’ “Four” channel is rebranded “Bravo” and degenerates into wall to wall “hyper-reality” television.

Some shows have already been given new timeslots on Four’s network sister channel “3”, but notably absent was Sesame Street.

Perhaps the network is still a bit grouchy that an almost 50 year old children’s show out-rated their much-vaunted “current affairs” breakfast venture

This coming November, Sesame Street will have been a friend and teacher to billions of children across the globe for 47 years – that’s one hell of a feat in the fickle world of television!

Launched in 1969 by Joan Ganz Cooney and Lloyd Morrisett one of the things that made so many people love Sesame Street has been its cast centrally featuring Jim Henson’s Muppets, puppets and Monsters.

Often zany and silly but never condescending to its young audience, Sesame Street has become the inspiration and benchmark by which many people judge not only children’s television, but all television since.

While teaching pre-school basics like the alphabet, counting, colours and opposites, it also deals with making friends, manners, feelings and other important social and personal issues.

One particular Sesame Street piece has burned itself into my memory (have a box of tissues handy):

When Will Lee, who played shopkeeper “Mr Hooper” (“Hooper’s Store” still bears his name as a memorial) died in 1982, rather than recasting the role, or saying Hooper moved away or retired, Sesame Street’s producers decided to deal with the issue head-on and created an episode that taught their young audience about the difficult topic of death in an honest and straightforward way.

I would have been five when the episode originally aired and some of my earliest memories are of going to the funerals of elderly grandparents and relatives, while not fully understanding what was going on.

That episode made things much clearer and easier to understand.

I cried watching it.

I still cry watching it today.

I wasn’t the only one – Legend has it the piece was shot in one take and there wasn’t a dry eye in the entire studio, in front of or behind the cameras, once it was done.

Jim Henson’s work and his creations blossomed from Sesame Street, as did the world’s love for them.

When he died in 1990, leaving behind a legacy of Muppets, movies, Fraggles, Sesame Street and many other beloved shows all his creations got together for one last show called “The Muppets Celebrate Jim Henson”.

Whilst the special centred around Henson’s other most well-known creation – “The Muppet Show” for the finale – a song called “Just One Person” almost all his creations appeared to sing a gorgeous eulogy to the great man, the amazing talent from where they came.

I cried watching that too, because being an only child, television had been one of my biggest inspirations and windows on the world before I started school.

The Muppets, Fraggles and Sesame Street characters had become more than just puppets to me – they were my friends.

I saw what Henson could do on multiple levels – Not just cute, fluffy, talking toys, but almost sentient beings with a drive behind them – to teach, to care, to love.

I believed in them.

And I believed the words to that song – That “Just One Person” can make a difference.

There will, of course, still be access to Sesame Street videos and episodes online from July, but internet access can be an expensive, unaffordable luxury for many.

This availability of Sesame Street on free to air television has had wide reaching benefits with studies showing it has just as many developmental and educational benefits for children as going to pre-school which some cannot afford, or be geographically able to attend.

So, when Toddler in Frame and I watch Sesame Street for the last time on TV Four this weekend, she may wonder why Daddy is crying.

It’s because I’ll be pitying the next generation that isn’t getting to see it the way so many grew up with.

The genius, the love, the knowledge and empathy they will miss out on – replaced by cheap, commercialised, fake rubbish.

Future generations deserve far better.

Post Script: The Muppets do remain on Free to Air television in New Zealand in case you were worried: Mediaworks’ opponent, TVNZ, picked Sesame Street (and a new series “The Furchester Hotel”) some six months to a year after it was removed from Mediaworks screens, so its genius still remains to inspire young kiwis 😀

Dis-Carded

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When I saw it crumpled up on the floor of that hall, maybe I should have just given up there and then – Saved myself 20 years of work, stress, time and pointless hope.

Because it was right – A portent of things to come.

No matter how hard I tried or what I did, it wouldn’t be enough. I wouldn’t be good enough to achieve the goal – the DREAM it symbolised.

It was 1997 and I was volunteering for the Hawke’s Bay Cancer Society as a “Youth Health Promoter” – particularly aimed at Smokefree initiatives – the “cause célèbre à la mode”.

I had been doing it for a couple of years, having decided I didn’t want to go to university upon finishing high school, I instead worked at a local radio station for six months and when I saw the Cancer Society’s “proper” health promotion lady in a community newspaper promoting some event, I thought I’d like to help out.

So I did.

I’ve always had great promotional / “sales” skills (though I much preferred “selling” ideas rather than the unrealistic, ever-increasing “sales goals” variety) and, like radio, I got a kick out of the performance aspect of promoting stuff – being unconventional, finding different, memorable ways of doing things.

We gave presentations in schools, held a camp for high school leaders to help spread the Smokefree message, went to Wellington to film a segment for a youth TV show called “Get Real” (that never made it to air because the “tape got lost”) and held Smokefree Speech Contests.

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I had even been selected to be a (expenses paid) New Zealand representative at an Australasian youth health conference in Sydney (my first overseas experience) – So I must have been doing something right.

I was having a great time. I enjoyed the work (although I also had to work part time in a supermarket for income). I did interesting things and got to meet great people.

I was meeting so many people I wanted to learn from and keep in touch with that I made up my own “business cards”.

Inkjet printed on green cardboard, they weren’t the pinnacle of professional imagery, but I was merely a volunteer and it was all I could afford.

That is when it happened.

I had only just made them the week before one of the speech contests and handed two out at the event. I can’t remember who I handed them to, but I remember seeing one in someone’s diary – used as a bookmark as they left.

Then I saw the other one.

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It was scrunched up, lying on the floor close to where I had given it to whoever it was.

The purpose of the card dead before it hit the ground.

I felt a bit crap and hurt about it at the time – That what I was doing had been discarded so thoughtlessly, but I moved on.

The compulsion behind throwing the card away didn’t.

It persisted – An origami albatross around my neck.

I had been doing this work voluntarily for two years and loved it so much I wanted to make it my career – to make a living out of it.

I asked those involved professionally what I should do and was told I had to get a tertiary qualification in marketing or something similar.

So, combining my volunteer work and an actual paying job, I added a one year, full time “Diploma in Marketing” course from Napier’s own Eastern Institute of Technology to my work schedule.

I passed, acing the communication aspects of the course and graduated with an A4 certificate, a few thousand dollars’ worth of student debt and, as it turned out, nothing more.

I applied for well over 50 marketing-type jobs in the years immediately after my graduation and equally got well over 50 rejections.

Many years later I was asked to do a short video for Baybuzz on what I thought Hawke’s Bay needed – in a take that ended up on the cutting room floor I symbolically crunched up and threw away a copy of my marketing diploma – that was what it is worth to me.

I still volunteered for the Cancer Society. They were great and very supportive, but being a charitable organisation they couldn’t afford to pay me.

In 1997 I had been to the (“Smokefree” it was at the time) “Stage Challenge” at the Hastings Municipal Theatre.

I fell in love with it.

High school students perform a piece of theatre on a (usually social or historical) topic of their choice to music over eight minutes.

It was loud, energetic, colourful and amazing – If you haven’t seen a performance before, it’s basically a Baz Luhrmann musical movie amped up to 11 by teenaged hormones, pheromones and whatever the loudest, most energetic music of the day is.

So in 1998 I made direct contact with the company who ran it at the time from rural Victoria Australia and offered to help and went around Hawke’s Bay high schools getting as many as I could involved in the event.

The previous year two HB schools had taken part; I managed to up that number to five, with another two schools I had approached joining in the following year.

Our local DHB’s Health Promotion Unit was the “official” local supporter of Stage Challenge in Hawke’s Bay. So I approached them to see if we could team up promoting the event – going around schools, getting stuff in the paper and on the radio.

In the end it was just me that ended up doing those things – The DHB set up a table with some health-related pamphlets at the theatre on the day of the show. That was pretty much their entire involvement.

The 1998 Hawke’s Bay Stage Challenge was a high energy, feel-good success and enjoyed by almost all involved.

I say “almost” because I was the exception.

I loved the performances, the energy, the music and the passion the teams put into and got out of their performances. The school teams thanked me for my help and input.

Having spent several months going around the region, promoting the event and almost TRIPLING the number of local schools competing I had to ask the show’s producers for any form of thanks. Even then it wasn’t forthcoming

For their table of pamphlets, the DHB got a framed gold disc as a sign of appreciation.

I got nothing.

It was the beginning of the end for me.

With the promotional and entrant numbers success (but appreciation fail) of Stage Challenge added to over two years of voluntary work experience, promotion, publicity and interaction, as well as my “tertiary marketing qualification” I applied to numerous local and national health promotion and similar, youth-orientated, agencies to try and get a foothold in paid employment at something I enjoyed doing and had been recognised (by a few at least) as being very good at.

The response: Nothing.

I gave up.

It wasn’t easy – When you dedicate all your free time over several years to something you believe in, enjoy and are good at, only to be shot down at every opportunity for advancement or even thanks it gets very physically and emotionally draining very quickly.

I packed up all my Smokefree things, returned them and walked away.

I went back to working for money, rather than enjoyment. It was all rather capitalistic and soulless.

I eventually found a job I loved in a bookshop. In that job I met someone I would go on to love and be loved by and end up marrying.

After some struggles the two of us would have a baby girl who we both love VERY much.

Love inspires – It encourages hope, it rekindles dreams, it makes you want to be a better person.

I started writing and promoting / “selling” ideas again – so I could be a better inspiration for my daughter, like my dad was for me.

But the shadows of an origami albatross started circling again….

Owner of a Broken (but not Lonely) Heart

heart

When last we saw our ruggedly deluded protagonist he was in the Coronary Care Unit of Hawke’s Bay Hospital having been defibrillated after having Ventricle Tachycardia for over 12 hours.

The day after I was admitted to hospital, the cardiologist visited to check up on me and let me know what was going on.

The news was good and bad.

Good in that I was alive and very fortunate to still be here after such a long cardiac event.

Bad in that I would be in hospital for about a week or so to ensure the VT didn’t make a reappearance, and if it did, I would be in the right place for immediate treatment (so technically “good”).

I would likely end up being fitted with a mini pacemaker-like device called an ICD (“Implantable Cardioverter-Defibrillator”) that would shock my heart back into line if it started miss-firing again.

So that was kind of bad (operation, pain, more recovery), but also good in that I would then have new awesome cyborg parts!

But more shockingly to me, I would not be allowed to drive for six months.

SIX MONTHS!!

I love my independence and my work is a 15 minute drive away, with un-flattering hours, so not being able to drive anywhere for half a year was a bit of a blow to say the least.

Hell, not being able to bugger off out of the ward and go home to my wife and daughter for a week was a big enough blow.

The driving ban was mainly precautionary. If I was driving and had another VT event I could blackout / die at the wheel, crash and cause untold carnage – hardly the sort of picture NZ’s health system would like to paint – so while crippling it was understandable.

I was scheduled to have various tests over the following days, so the main thing I had ahead of me was lots of waiting.

In Coronary Care “Waiting” is practically a competitive sport, because everyone is doing it.

But the gold medal is for Humility and everyone in the ward deserves a medal for that, and not in a wishy-washy NCEA, “Everyone gets a prize” way.

In Coronary Care the level of humility is a wonderful thing.

There are people needing stents to open blocked arteries, new heart valves, pacemakers, heck, even multiple bypasses – medical conditions that so little as 20-30 years ago were still largely lethal.

But rather than focusing on their own problems, the constant theme and saying amongst patients is: “There’s someone out there worse off than me”.

That is quite something.

The other thing that being in this situation opened my eyes to is the kindness of others – There’s a lot of help, love and chocolate out there.

My wife and daughter visit regularly, of course, which is a necessity for my sanity, but also bitter-sweet because then they have to go again and I’m once again alone.

I was only in the ward for a day before my work colleagues sent me a gift basket full of goodies – fruit, sweets and a crossword book to fill in time with.

One of my wonderful nurses sensed I was getting cabin fever and offered to escort me down to the cafeteria while she got some lunch. It was only a short trip, but just being able to re-enter the “big, wide world” for a bit was gloriously refreshing.

My wonderful Facebook and Twitter friends – many of whom I have only met 140 characters at a time were offering their good wishes, help and more food (I like where this is heading!).

Attitude and positive vibes are a large part of being in a situation such as mine, so these well-wishers have certainly been a big, positive part of the process.

And I would need it, because there was more news on the horizon and it wasn’t too good.

During one of my scans they noticed two things:

1/ My heart was a bit bigger than usual – I wasn’t too surprised by this, because I’m 6’8” tall, so a slightly larger heart made sense in that there was more body to pump blood around

But, more concerning:

2/ A growth had been picked up on or near my heart – they couldn’t quite tell its proximity, but it was obviously of concern. This could explain an increase the size of the heart and the dysrhythmia, from the heart being irritated.

I couldn’t feel anything different – in fact I felt (and still feel) fine, which added to a general sense of detachment in not knowing it was there at all – The tachycardia might have been a good thing after all.

The growth is unlike anything my cardiologist has seen before which, believe it or not, I take as a good thing, because it means its not something he knows is immediately bad.

I was the headline act in HB Hospital’s weekly teleconference with their Wellington coronary specialists, who are equally intrigued – at this rate I might be the Mr April centrefold in the next edition of The Lancet!

But mainly I just hope I survive.

So I’m on a bit of a roller-coaster at the moment – Ups and down, highs and lows and even the odd corkscrew.

I don’t know what to expect, other than next week I will be flown down to Wellington Hospital by Air Ambulance (My own private plane, Woo-hoo!) undergo more tests, a biopsy and.. who knows?

Sometimes in quiet, dark moments the bad things and possibilities creep in. Other times I just miss my family, or being able to simply get out into the big wide world that I can see through the window next to my hospital bed.

But I’m keeping positive as much as I can.

There are others out there worse off than I am.

Mr Cello-Frame

Old Shub

Old Shub

You’d think it would be hard to ignore someone who was intelligent, witty and stood at a towering 6’8” of chiselled delusion.

Apparently not.

I love social media and spend a fair bit of time on it.

Late last month Mediaworks, in their latest fit of infinite wisdom, rebranded “3 News” as “Newshub”.

It took only slightly longer than the speed of light before Twitter lit up with comments and witty observations.

Most, like Michele A’Court, wondered what a “New Shub” was.

Being a veteran of the 1980’s I knew precisely what it was, because my parents had one in our old home – In fact, it’s still there! (see above).

So I told her:

Shub 1

She replied to me, which was cool, because I’ve been a fan of hers since she was one of the hosts of “What Now” in that golden era of New Zealand Children’s television.

A couple days rolled by, which saw me working around the house and trying not to melt playing cricket, so it wasn’t until Sunday morning that I had the time to see what the Twitterverse was up to and read some online news.

It was then I noticed an article posted on Stuff the day after the “Newshub” / “New Shub” Twitter debate.

“Hey, look!” I thought “They mention Michele’s tweet that I replied to!”

I read on further.

“Hey, look!” I thought again “They even use capital letters the same way I did to describe “SHower-bathtUB” to Michele and her reply to me!”

Shub 2

But something was missing: Me!

While I had provided what would appear to be reasonably crucial information that helped form the basis for the article, I somehow didn’t matter enough to get a mention.

I thought that was pretty stink.

So I asked why.

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While fellow Twitterer Mark Reynolds provided a suitably tongue-in-tweet response, I’m still waiting for a reply from Stuff or the article’s author.

I’m all too used to being ignored but I’m no longer putting up with it.

And editing me out like that was pretty bad “Netiquette”.

My writing has been good enough to feature on Stuff Nation a few times before and the comments on those articles were thoughtful and made for good discussions, so why should a couple 140 character messages be any different?

Especially when my response was, like I said, pretty central to the article.

While I may not be as famous as Michele A’Court (yet), I too am a “commentator and comedian”.

What I write or say might not be as the earth shattering as the holiday snaps or relationships of people who somehow qualify as “news” these days, but I like to think I’m at least trying to make a difference to problems that effect Hawke’s Bay and New Zealand.

I think that deserves some attention.

To paraphrase Amos Hart from the musical “Chicago” – “It’s time you stopped looking right through me, Walking right by me and never knowing I’m there!”

For once Napier in Frame deserves better…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WKHzTtr_lNk

R.I.P. DSE

DSE

The knives are out over the carcass of Dick Smith Electronics.

And, surprisingly, it has nothing to do with their completely confusing advertising campaign last year that featured “The Mad Butcher”, Sir Peter Leitch.

At least they didn’t advertise “55 Inch LED TVs – only $9.99 a kilo!”

A couple nasty viruses called “Greed” and “Private Equity” fried DSE’s circuit boards and the damage seems irreparable – our memory files of Australasia’s most well-known electronics stores have been forever corrupted.

I remember going to Napier’s first Dick Smith store with my Dad in 1980-something-or-other.

It was a tiny shop on Latham Street, just a couple hundred meters towards Marine Parade from and on the opposite side of the road to McLean Park.

It was packed full of the “latest” 1980’s innovations – Car radios with cassette tape players and the most basic of digital watches not to mention shelves full of plugs, switches, wires, diodes and solder.

The epitome of tech DIY!

There was so much stuff in these small shops you almost expected Arkwright or Steptoe to pop their head out from around the counter corner and try to sell you half their stock.

But they didn’t.

Instead there was a small, quiet man – almost certainly wearing glasses and a sleeveless knitted vest that answered your questions and pointed you in the right directions to get just what you needed.

There were no bells and whistles (unless you were looking at wiring up an early home security alarm) because the shop manager was an electronics hobbyist himself – he knew where each gauge of wire, light emitting diode and self-returning switch was and exactly what they did.

They weren’t rocket scientists, but by 1980’s provincial New Zealand standards they weren’t far off.

We purchased our first ever computer, a Sinclair ZX81, from that shop.

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You had to plug it into the TV via the aerial lead and tune it in to get a picture. With no on-board memory, programmes were loaded and saved via either plug-in cartridges, or a cassette tape recorder that also needed to be plugged into the tiny keyboard / motherboard unit.

While there appears little doubt these private capital chumps are guilty of killing Dick Smith Electronics off financially, it could be argued that advances in technology had been undermining the chain’s original core customer base for many more years before that.

As technology developed it got considerably smaller, phenomenally cheaper and required far less input.

Where once, back in the 80’s, someone would spend weeks and hundreds of dollars building their own computer or some other type of electronic timesaving gadgetry, today you could pick up the same item for $10-$20 at any one of hundreds of discount electronics stores, who bought the item in bulk from some massive production facility where workers are paid five cents per item produced.

When that item breaks or stops working, do you try to fix it like my father’s generation did? No, you just buy a new one at an equally cheap price.

There has been a generational attitude change from “Do It Yourself” to “Cheap and Nasty”, which is a great shame. Because not only does it enable those who pay a pittance for the production of electronics and then make massive profits themselves, it also detracts future generations from investigating just how things work, thinking up ways of improving them and making improvements themselves – we’re wiping out a skill set!

Dick Smith himself lamented the change in culture. When Supermarket chain Woolworths bought him out they steered away from core basic electronics into these dangerous waters of cheap, premade electronic goods.

The service in the stores seemed to echo an equally cheap supermarket mind-set.

Gone were the studious, knowledgeable old men. In came fresh faced teenagers – cheap to employ, apparently not worth training much beyond cash register usage or incentivising in sales – just as disposable as the goods they sold.

In the last few years I went into Dick Smith stores several times and am still waiting for anyone to ask if I needed any help finding what I was after – I did, so left the store empty-handed and found what I was after elsewhere.

The loss of Dick Smith Electronics is a sad one, especially for those who are now left out of pocket and potentially jobs by those who blew smoke, erected mirrors, took the money and ran. But it was not unforeseeable – just like the demise of the video store.

Perhaps if someone could make a time machine we could travel back thirty years into the past and warn those in charge of Dick Smith to focus on their core products and put passion for what they do ahead of profit.

If only there was still somewhere we could by the parts for a Flux Capacitor..

Twelve Days of Christmas Deliciousness 2015

For Seven years now, Mrs in Frame has composed a special menu for the “12 Days of Christmas” – alternating between the traditional (Partridge in a Pear Tree) and New Zealand (“Pukeko in a Ponga Tree”) versions each year.

This year it was the turn of the traditional version.

Wherever possible she tries to tie in part of the carol lyrics to the dish – i.e. “Partridge in a Pear Tree” will usually contain pears to some degree, or there is some sort of alliteration or similar tie-in.

When all else fails, a fair chunk of artistic license is brought in. It really takes a fair bit of dedication and imagination to pull off!

I’ll do my best to explain the theory behind each dish as we go.

So sit back and enjoy as I reveal what my true love made for me over the Twelve Days of Christmas Deliciousness for 2015:

1 Partridge in a Pear Tree

Day 1 – A Partridge in a Pear Tree:
Meal: Pear and Blue Cheese Tart
Reasoning: The Pears for the pear tree, but also serve as PART of a RIDGE atop the tart.

2 Turtle Doves

Day 2 – Two Turtle Doves:
Meal: Chocolate & Pecan Turtledove Bars
Reasoning: Straight forward and VERY delicious!

3 French Hens

Day 3 – Three French Hens:
Meal: Chicken Cordon Bleu
Reasoning: Again., pretty straight forward – Chicken with a bit of French flair!

4 Calling Birds

Day 4 – Four Calling Birds:
Meal: Seared Lamb with Couscous
Reasoning: Ok, this is where we delve in to the “artistic license” category – Originally the line was “Four COLLY Birds” (Blackbirds in ye olde England) and has since evolved to now resemble sparrows with cellphones.
Mrs in Frame took it as “CULLING” birds, so we had lamb – which is culled and couscous – Why? Just be-couscous! XD
I’m more inclined to say it’s because the couscous looks like bird food…

5 Gold Rings

Day 5 – Five Gold Rings:
Meal: Panko Deep-fried Origin Earth Camembert
Reasoning: The cheese is round like a ring and fried till it’s a delicious golden brown.

6 Geese a Laying

Day 6 – Six Geese a Laying:
Meal: Roast Goose and Potatoes
Reasoning: Simple one again – This goose was well and truly cooked!

7 Swans a Swimming

Day 7 – Seven Swans a Swimming:
Meal: Baked Eggs with Truffle Oil
Reasoning: Swan-white eggs cooked “swimming” in a bain-marie.

8 Maids a Milking

Day 8 – Eight Maids a Milking:
Meal: Steak and Roast Veges with Herb Butter.
Reasoning: Reasonably straight forward from the butter perspective, the steak, however, was from less lactose tolerant cows.

9 Ladies Dancing

Day 9 – Nine Ladies Dancing:
Meal: Duck with Cherry Glaze
Reasoning: Dancing ladies, just like ducks, love to “shake a tail feather” 😉
(I actually made this one, because Toddler in Frame was having a bad day and only Mummy cuddles could fix, so my wife was indisposed.)

10 Lords A Leaping

Day 10 – Ten Lords a Leaping:
Meal: Baked Terakihi in a Rice Salad
Reasoning: Fish, especially those on the end of lines on TV fishing shows, apparently love to leap out of the water. Lords (allegedly) also like leaping – though the lords are more likely to be on the other end of the fishing line.

Eleven Pipers Piping

Day 11 – Eleven Pipers Piping:
Meal: Scotch Eggs.
Reasoning: Pretty straight forward again – Pipers, especially the bag-pipe variety are from Scotland. We shall ignore the fact Scotch Eggs were apparently an Indian-inspired dish first made in London and, instead focus on the fact Scotch whisky is from there instead – Slangevar!

Twelve Drummers Drumming

Day 12 – Twelve Drummers Drumming:
Meal: Biltong and Mushroom Creamy Pasta
Reasoning: The Biltong represents drumsticks, while the pasta bowl looks not too dissimilar to a drum!

So there we go, another year of deliciousness done and dusted! Many thanks to all the Facebook and Twitter friends and followers who liked and commented on the dishes!

Wherever possible, we sourced ingredients from our own garden, the Napier and Hastings Farmers’ Markets, local greengrocers, butchers etc.

For the more specialised ingredients, we went to Gourmet Direct and Vetro – any Napier foodie’s best friends!

Have a Merry Christmas and a safe and Happy New Year!

Summer Time in Hawke’s Bay – the Song!

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I was listening to the radio in the car the other day and one of my favourite Christmas songs – The Pogues’ “Fairy-tale of New York” came on, so I started singing along to it.

But then the unthinkable happened – and no it wasn’t that I started singing perfectly in tune.

I happened to be listening to a “Middle of the Road” station, so THEY CUT OUT THE ENTIRE VERSE of “You’re a bum, you’re a punk…!!””

Heresy!!

Sure it’s a “family-friendly” radio station and this was the “radio edit” of the song, BUT COME ON – you can’t play Fairy-tale of New York without the rude bits!!!

It’s what makes the song so Christmassy – There’s always than one friend or relative who has a bit too much to drink at Christmas and gets a bit… “Opinionated”…

Taking out that part ruins the whole song 🙁 

So that musical travesty inspired me to get writing – My own version of that song!

Using the same backing music / tempo, I came up with my own Christmas song – a special Hawke’s Bay one called “Christmas Time in Hawke’s Bay”!

I sent it to my friend at the offending radio station, who thought it was great. They were going to record a version using my lyrics and play it in the lead up to Christmas, but that never happened – which is a great shame and waste of my fabulous lyric-writing skills!

But I am adaptable and with only very slight changes, please feel free to read along, while humming “Fairy-tale of New York” to:

Summer Time in Hawke’s Bay!

(If anyone would like to help me record this, please get in touch!)

It’s summer time
In Hawke’s Bay again
The man on the radio says “Another stunning one!”
We crank the music up
And roll the windows down
Smell the fresh sea air
And drive into town.

Gee aren’t we lucky ones?
Having so much fun
Living here in the Bay
There’s just so much to do
Over summer time
We love The Bay, baby!
Can’t think of being anywhere
Than Summer in Hawke’s Bay!

There’s trips to Kidnappers
Art Deco with flappers
Seeing New Years in
At the Soundshell
Hundreds of wineries
Restaurants with fineries
More fantastic cafes
Than anyone can tell

Playing backyard cricket
With a bin as the wicket
Smash a window,
Oh no!
That’s six and you’re out!
Cooking lunch on the barby
Man life is so hard, eh?
Spending summer time
Here at home in Hawkes’ Bay

The weather forecast on the TV
Predicts another stunning day
Just typical summer time
Here in Hawke’s Bay!

Geez you’re naff, urgh!
Such a Jaffa
A regional flaffer
You don’t even think the Magpies are great.
You don’t want a latte?
Just don’t even start, eh!
Then next summer time
Visit Manawatu

There’s cricket on at McLean Park
The Blackcaps are blazing away
And the crowds are yelling out
“Come on the Bay”!

We could live anywhere
But no, it wouldn’t be fair
With all the long summer days
And perfect Waimarama waves
A walk along the Parade
Eating yummy ice cream
Could this all be a dream?
These perfect Hawke’s Bay days!

The rellies have all come round to stay
And Santa’s on his way
Just another stunning Summer
In Hawke’s Bay!

© Andrew Frame December 2015

The Magic of Moe

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“In the Coromandel, on top of Mount Moehau, lives a furry monster by the name of “Moe”!”

If you’ve ever wanted to see a pre-schooler’s eyes light up, mouth drop agape and arms start flapping as they excitedly run towards the television, those are the words that are likely to set them off.

They’re the opening lines to a great, New Zealand made children’s television programme called “The Moe Show”.

Moe is a big, friendly, furry monster who lives in a treehouse, as previously stated, on top of Mount Moehau on the Coromandel Peninsula, along with his friends Fern the fairy, Frank the fantail and Gilbert the gecko.

Each episode Moe encounters a problem which he must overcome.

A letter of the alphabet gives him a hint as to a possible remedy and he ventures from his treehouse to locations all over New Zealand to discover the solution.

Imbued with the same qualities and ethos as the likes of the legendary Sesame Street, each episode involves elements of investigation, exploration, Te-reo Maori, lots of fun and a decent dollop of humour for both children and any adults watching with their kids.

I particularly love Moe’s one liners to the narrator’s “Do you know what you need?” question that sets Moe off on his journeys and the “Moe, Can I be Frank with you?” chats that Frank and Moe have towards the end of each episode.

It’s fun for the whole family!

We just happened to be fortunate enough to meet Moe earlier this year on one of his quests!

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The Napier in Frames were at our regular Saturday morning café when the overheard the manager of Marine Parade’s SK8 Zone, who had come in to get a coffee, mention that Moe was visiting to find out about Skate parks (“Papa Retireti” in Te Reo).

We wandered over to watch the show being filmed from outside the skate park and when Moe saw Daughter in Frame watching in her pram, he came over to meet us!

While Daughter in Frame played with Moe, Moe’s friend Jeremy told me about and showed me pictures of his trip to (someone had told him how to get, how to get to) Sesame Street.

Jeremy and I are around the same age, so we both grew up in the 80’s basking in the golden light of great children’s television like Sesame Street, The Muppet Show, Fraggle Rock, New Zealand’s own Woolly Valley (““Baa” said Eunice”) and, later on, The Son of a Gunn Show’s Thingee.

These are the shows that taught and inspired us. We fell in love with the characters and places they took us to.

To meet and talk about these great shows with someone who was involved in making a similarly great show and had actually walked down Sesame Street, visited Hooper’s Store and even a certain trash can said to be of Tardis-like interior dimensions, made me quietly greener that Oscar the Grouch.

But it also made me extremely happy.

It shows that, at least in the case of Moe and his friends, the future of New Zealand children’s television is in good, safe hands.

The Moe Show is brilliant – well worth a watch for both children and their parents or guardians.

It’s an intelligent, funny, multi-cultured show that not only teaches children new words, facts and things, it also takes them to new places and implores they then get out and discover things all around this great country of ours for themselves.

That’s the magic of Moe!

It’s 2010 All Over Again – A Panda Paradox!

"Minister, have you changed your hairstyle?"

“Minister, have you changed your hairstyle?”

If you think all the current Panda-monium over a couple of Chinese residents possibly getting preferential treatment and $10mill of taxpayer money is new then you’re barking up the wrong bamboo tree!.

One of the saddest aspects of New Zealand’s current media standards is that they seem utterly unable to remember anything.

This used to be the realm of editors and sub-editors, who would spell and fact-check items before publication. With media cost cutting and profit making, these positions were outsourced, disestablished, automated, or just plain forgotten – and with it went our media’s memory.

Because, had these “Sub-eds” still been in place today, they would have gladly informed us that pandas were all the rage way back in 2010!

Former Wellington Mayor Kerry Prendergast discussed bringing pandas to our capital’s zoo when she met with the mayor of Beijing on a visit to China in June 2010.

That same month newly minted Prime Minister John Key said he had not ruled out acquiring a giant panda for Auckland Zoo.

“Mr Key yesterday told TVNZ’s Breakfast programme he would suggest trading two pandas for two kiwi as a cost-saving measure.
“My idea was, I know people pay $10 million but we’re a special friend of China, why couldn’t we give them some kiwis. Two for two, kiwis are worth a lot.”
He later said the aim was to determine the value of the panda “versus the value of a kiwi”.
“The argument is really to say, look, this is a forming of a strong bond with China and one way is to exchange animals that are of national significance to each country.”
Mr Key said any zoo that took on the pandas would to pay costs, including building enclosures and supplying food. The animals would also require specialist staff.”

John Key, NZ Herald article, June 29 2010

Even Napier was having a go – In July that year local man Max Patmoy proposed the empty Marineland site as a potentially perfect panda playground.

Napier’s concept even made it onto TV3’s Campbell Live! (please tell me you remember that marvellous show?)

None of these bids amounted to anything, of course.

But here we are, five years later, panda-ing to yet another distraction, going through the same hoopla and rigmarole yet again.

If only someone had the cranial fortitude to remind the nation we’ve been here before.

I bet the pandas remember…

Stand-Up…

Photographic Proof! Photo courtesy of Raybon Kan

Photographic Proof! Photo courtesy of Raybon Kan

I keep getting myself into interesting situations.

The most recent happened just last Friday at The Cabana in Napier.

Kiwi comedian Raybon Kan is touring the country with his latest stand-up show.

Being a fan of his, I shared the gig details online and sent him a welcoming tweet offering to buy him a coffee and tongue-in –cheekily saying if he needed a warm up guy, I’d be happy to help – and thought little more of it.

Raybon’s reply was a little more than I expected:

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I like to think I’m reasonably funny – I get chuckles out of friends and colleagues, I’ve performed on stage many times and regularly MC cricket club events, quizzes and the like so doing a five minute stand-up gig couldn’t be too hard could it?

COULD IT????

Cue that sick feeling in the pit of your stomach for a couple days…

I formulated a list of my best, most trust-worthy jokes, but the presentation order – heck the presentation itself was left pretty much up in the air.

Friday night rolled around and I wandered into The Cabana, gently trembling with adrenalin, and met Raybon in person for the first time.

We discussed how things would go – I’d be on for five minutes – there’s no clock or timer visible from the stage and the problem with stand-up comedy is you have no real concept of time up there (If things are going terribly, a minute can feel like five. If things are going great, five minutes feels like one) so either Raybon or the sound-man would wave their cellphone when it was time for me to finish, I’d introduce Raybon and leave the stage.

Simple, really.

Then more waiting – The waiting is always the worst part, because all it does is increase the level of unknown, or time to worry over what MIGHT or MIGHT NOT happen.

Then it was show time – Music played and I made my way onto the stage.

It sounds horribly clichéd, but the worry vanished as soon as I set foot on stage. My brain went “Right, you’ve been here before, just do it!”

And I did

I told jokes.

No-one booed.

PEOPLE LAUGHED!

I didn’t stuff up!

I saw a waving cellphone, introduced Raybon and left the stage.

I’D DONE IT!

I checked the time on my phone and found I had been up there for 15 minutes – not five, so I couldn’t have been too bad.

I sat quietly in the back of the venue and watched the professional do his work – he was great!

At half time he came back and we talked. Raybon said I had been great, but said “Couldn’t you see us waving the light?”

“The one at the end? Yeah I saw that and then introduced you.”

“No, no, that was the last one we used, we’d waved a light at five minutes, but you mustn’t have seen it – we tried a couple”

“Oh.”

Cue that sick feeling in the pit of your stomach again…