Thirsty Thursday: Checking in from Auckland
Sarah McCarthy’s Thirsty Thursday column is brought to you each week thanks to Invercargill-based law firm Mee & Henry Law.
Sarah McCarthy’s Thirsty Thursday column is brought to you each week thanks to Invercargill-based law firm Mee & Henry Law
THIRSTY THURSDAY
I’m sitting in front of a giant mirror in a room in the old Farmer’s Building, the one that had the scary Santa on it, in the heart of Auckland City.
I’m still shaking a bit after the adrenaline rush that comes of rainy day motorway traffic with two kids in the back seat that have been in the car too long, with one who lost his absolute shit as I was being let in to the other lane by a nice person in a flash car, and the car smelling like egg farts from the vile quiche we got from Peppers Café in Wellsford (if you are avoiding responsibilities please read the reviews and also join me in asking who in the actual shit gets a quiche to eat in the car. CRUSTLESS quiche).
So when Mr mr came back from the loo just now and found me lying on the bed with my face in my hands after telling the boys to stop playing with the door for the hundredth time he offered to take them to the pool so I could at least write my column and catch up on a bit of work. However, now that I’m sitting in front of a mirror in a nice old-fashioned, well-lit room I realise my hair isn’t the beach-chic I had imagined and is in fact a greasy straggly mess and I look like I’ve been through some kind of traumatic event so I’ll have to factor in a shower before they come back to drip all over the carpet and declare that they have no clean clothes. This part is true. When we were staying at this cute place in Paihia I went to do a big load of washing and found the room locked up and, buzzed on a warm evening, wine, a boat ride and seeing exotic plants growing in every garden, I decided it would be fine.
It is not fine.
We had to stop in at the Dargaville Warehouse today to buy at least clean pants and t-shirts for the boys (sale sale sale, but Mr mr still looked askance at a $5 t-shirt and I nearly whopped him) and I’m now feeling that creepy crawly post-bogan feeling I get in a big city where I feel like we should be dressed up instead of just throwing the kids into whatever has the least amount of jam on it and calling it a day.
At least I have wine. We stopped in a small, bustling town yesterday to get petrol and, after driving from Paihia to Cape Reinga and then down to wherever it was, chasing the daylight, I declared that wine must be found. The Liquorland was on the wrong side of the road so I used Google to find a tiny bottle shop accessed by friendly left turns tucked in beside a park with a sign that said “No alcohol to be sold to those intending on drinking it in the park” and Mr mr was like “you’re not going to find Central Otago Pinot Noir in there, love (sarcastic)” and lo and behold I did, and so I bought two bottles to spite him.
Northland has been amazing. The east coast was positively tropical but a bit posh and shuttered for winter, but the weather was startling, and we went to Waitangi and Cece was the best tour guide I’ve ever encountered, and we went over to Russell and I got bad vibes in the mission and then even worse vibes in the Duke of Marlborough hotel (we went to spite Winston Peters, but it was too warm to wear my Green Party sweatshirt so I saved it for today so that Tane Mahuta would be proud of me) where I had the worst chicken salad I’ve ever had, which I only got because Mr mr gets cross when I’m faced with a full menu of delicacies and still always somehow choose a chicken salad and some chips. The people there all thought they were pretty important and special and the waiter was aggravatingly handsome and Italian and the kids got progressively worse with their table manners and the small one decided to try and tip his ginger beer into a different glass and he has bruises on his arms from me grabbing him and stopping him from doing one horrifying thing after another, all while the older couple beside us gave us Category Seven evils.
But, wine. And the kids laughed so hard and swam and we did thousands of steps (my phone health app was like wow babes is someone chasing you?) and we saw the end of the world and now I’ve had a second glass of wine and there is a man shouting outside (so urban!) and we are going out for dinner soon and taking the small one to the zoo tomorrow for his birthday. And I feel like possibly my hair actually looks quite amazing, actyually and now the man on the street is laughing and I am the luckiest luckiest luckiest.
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