Tipple till you topple approach lost on me

Who could fail to be moved by such a stunning view of the Canterbury Plains, watched over by Aoraki-Mt Cook in the background, on the Air New Zealand flight to Dunedin yesterday lunchtime? Photo: Paul Gorman

Bit of a flying visit to Christchurch at the weekend.

It was purely unrelated to the end of this year’s Cup and Show Week, which, as I was in Dunedin last week, I had just about forgotten was on.

The week is a huge one for Canterbury and Christchurch. Tradition, and coincidence, would have it that it is often scorching nor’west weather, but this year the events took place under much more benevolent skies.

Saturday, of course, was New Zealand Cup Day at Riccarton. If I hadn’t been aware of that, it would soon have become obvious when we took a walk at dusk.

I could just about make out a couple of large objects lying untidily on a verge in the semi-dark, outside a loud suburban party. On closer inspection, it turned out they were utterly sozzled, barely conscious young women.

I have to admit to enjoying feeling slightly squiffy after a couple of beers or gin and tonics, but the sight of those two, and the boozing going on around them, really makes me question aspects of our drinking culture. I guess I must just be missing the "drink till you vomit" gene that many others seem to have.

The flight back to Dunedin at lunchtime yesterday had on it more than a few punters heading home after the Riccarton races. I presume they were all successful, seeing as they could still afford to fly and weren’t hitchhiking instead.

Horse-racing, like drinking, is not something I have a natural aptitude for. I wouldn’t know one end of a quinella from the other. However, on the few occasions I’ve been to the races, I’ve always thought highly of the horses and their behaviour. I spent 20 minutes in the corporate box at Addington one year in total admiration at how this fine chestnut horse in front of us was managing to stand still for so long. Then I realised it was made of fibreglass.

It was a sunny day at Addington last Tuesday for the New Zealand Trotting Cup. Photo: Getty Images

Back to the flight south. I’m not all that keen on flying, particularly if it gets bumpy. That’s been especially the case since the Christchurch earthquakes. But when you get a day like yesterday, it’s an absolute privilege to be up there. The Canterbury Plains and Southern Alps were stunning, and Central Otago was shimmering in the distance, sizzling in the heat.

As we got towards Dunedin, I was disturbed by the amount of gorse and broom in flower across the browning hills. It looked for all the world like mustard smeared across roast potatoes. Someone had gone mad with the Colman’s on the lump of topside beef that was the Maungatuas. Those flowers are pretty from a distance but a nightmare to deal with on the ground.

You might recall I had a bit of a rant about Australia and hypocrisy over refugees on Friday. Kerry Hand from Dunedin has taken me to task, describing Australia as our "big brother" that is taking the "hard but correct" approach.

"[Prime Minister Jacinda] Ardern makes New Zealand into the spoiled brat/little sibling, kicking big brother in the knee as he tries to stop us running out on the motorway," Kerry says.

"We should not undermine Australia. The ‘kind’ policy (in which hundreds of people travelled in ramshackle boats in an attempt to reach Australian shores) led to many deaths."

Heather Rae, of Mosgiel, praises Australians, saying she "will not knock Dunedin", but when Aussies do things, "they do them right the first time round".

"We went on a great tour in Brisbane. Our coach driver told us so much history of the old buildings, but what amazed me was that these grand old heritage buildings were adjacent to or in front of large, modern high-rises.

"To me they did not look out of place. I could not help but think of the people who have grizzled about mixing heritage buildings in Dunedin with modern buildings."

Meanwhile, I’ve been told by Ann Taylor that "ay up!" should definitely be spelt "eh up!". But Carol Shortt, of Mornington, Dunedin, says it can be spelt either way. Experts also tell me the expression goes back to the days of Old Norse.

I’ve been in stitches with some of the predictive text fails you’ve sent in. I’d love some more.Here are two of the best. Caroline Hunter, of Dunedin, says she accidentally sent a text which ended with "creeps" rather than cheers. And an ODT reporter, who wishes to remain anonymous, still cringes when his original message "I really like boiled rhubarb" became "I really like busty redheads".

Keep the feedback coming.