It was last Sunday, five days into 2025, and old Norm was, as usual, playing his part as the local comedian with his dig at those poor devils at service stations who are trained to ask, "How’s your day been so far?" when you fill up with petrol at 7 in the morning.
"Pretty busy, Norm. Mowed the lawns on Thursday and had a beer with George on Friday. What about you?"
"The wife’s relatives turned up on New Year’s Day, so I’ve been fishing by myself most days. Good people, I suppose, but I just can’t stand them."
"Yeah, that’s often the way. She’s a great lady but the relatives aren’t her fault. Where are they from?"
"Up north."
"Say no more. Plenty of cribbies about this year."
"Yeah. Lots of them escaping from Queenstown and Wanaka. They probably find it a wee bit quieter here."
"You’re possibly right there, but there’s plenty happening. Bumped into an interesting couple in the middle of the road yesterday."
I should explain that parking in the middle of the road to have a yarn is an old Patearoa tradition.
Drivers of horse-drawn carts did it years ago and modern motorists keep it up. Cars simply edge around on the grass verge and go on their way.
The driver was an older bloke and his passenger was a woman of Chinese appearance who was busy talking to a local lady, holding down a top job in Australia but back home for Christmas, who was answering questions about Patearoa.
The passenger was impressed by this new-found tourist gem and spoke of giving the place a plug on her website.
"Too many tourists from China just stick to a day in Queenstown and a quick trip to Mt Cook and think they’ve seen New Zealand. I’d like to change that and get them going to more adventurous places."
Well, good on her, I thought, but wondered how we’d handle a busload of Chinese visitors. Such groups have visited the nearby gardens at Clachanburn, but perhaps also show them George’s giant pumpkin or the stone shelters built beside the Sowburn by Chinese miners 150 years ago.
The car driver had been told Naseby was worth a visit. I agreed and I beguiled him with tales of St Bathans, Hamiltons and Cambrian.
"Hell," he muttered, "How come I’ve never been to these places? Never been south of Timaru in all my years."
In the end, his day trip to Maniototo may have become a three-day adventure but, even then, he’d have missed Hayes Engineering at Oturehua, the Styx and Danseys.
As he and his lady prepared to set off, I commented on the colourful cap he was wearing and he bowed his head to reveal the name of a Christchurch bowling club on the peak.
"Hey, you’re a bowler?" I shrieked.
"Absolutely. Club singles champion three years running back in the day."
"Ever thought of retiring to Patearoa," I asked enticingly.
"You’ll get a game here all right. We’re down to our last dozen players. I’ll show you the green. It’s just up the road."
"I’ll think about it, but it’s time we were away just now,"
Norm, never one to give praise, muttered, "There’s more to this place than bowls, mate. We need a few more tennis players, too. Flash courts vastly underused."
Anyway, all looks set for busloads of Chinese bowlers and tennis players descending on Patearoa, so the mid-road chat was a useful boost for the tourism industry.
Sadly, our Christchurch visitors missed the Crockery Bob sale, the long-running highlight in our social calendar.
Locals donate oodles of stuff like old furniture, crockery, books, kitchen utensils and this year, a fondue set and an unused foldaway exercise machine. Most of them sell and some turn up again at the next Crockery Bob sale.
Certainly, the exercise machine will be seen again as it’s been a regular at the sale, never used, but a sentimental favourite, as each time it changes hands a few more dollars go into the community funds — over $3500 this year.
Best bargain was a cuckoo clock snapped up for $40 by a lady who’d seen the same thing for $120 elsewhere. Bags of books for $10 and no dealers queueing up to grab the best books as happens in big places like Alex.
There is a cafe which makes those city places look like soup kitchens. Don’t rabbit on about Boxing Day sales, give me Crockery Bob’s every time.
Then there’s the barbecue where locals and cribbies mingle as equals. The locals, of course, feeling just a bit more equal than the part-timers, who will soon be back in the rat race, traffic jams and unaffordable housing.
So, here, the year so far has been much as normal.
Long may it last.
— Jim Sullivan is a Patearoa writer.
