Today, I went for a walk ..

 

Mock not. This is not an easy thing for me to do. But, last night, I looked out from my twilight balcony, and the old adage came to mind ..

Red sky at night, shepherd's delight ... 

At the far end of Ocean Street (thus called because the Ocean is few metres out to the left), there is a Rotary-donated bench. Paulie photographed me sitting on it in the first year of Winter Palace Wonderland. Then again five years later. Yes, I could walk pretty well in those days ... we don't mention the waistline!

In 2024, I wondered, could I make it that far? I have been here two months and have every week found an excuse -- too hot, too cold, too tired, too far, too hobbly, got a chill -- not even to try. But today ...

I had Paulie's arm to hang on to, so didn't need to take the encombrant walking stick. And I was promised home-cooked pasta with Woody's tomatoes, Yamba market garlic and courgettes and chorizo at the end of the hike ... so .. off we set. 

When you go ever-so-slowly, you do take in the glories of the sea and scenery.

From my back door, you pass along Ocean Street and Convent Beach. Yes, there was a convent there a century ago, before the million-dollar buildings moved in ... that hairy bit of steep green terrain behind FEX-91P was on the market for $4m a few years back. A perilously precipitate flat in the building behind it was $3m plus. The terrain has clearly not found a buyer! I don't know about the flat: it was built for maximum fabulous sea view, and mountain goats!

So Convent Beach remains much the same. And if I can no longer clamber down to it (though I may try) I can look lovingly out over it ..

We made it to the bench. I sat down briefly, but forewent the photo. The contrast with those of former years was a little too depressing. I photographed the view instead.

And Paulie snapped the most delightful little visitor!

Mission accomplished, we were about to turn back (the next bit of road was always a bit ... errrm) when I noticed something new and different. The council has installed a wonderful bit of metal walkway to allow folk to continue the promenade along to the next beach, Pippi Beach. It would have been ungrateful not to have tried it. Magnificent! Five gold stars (yet again) to out Council. Knocks Waimakariri (NZ) into the depths!

Pippi was calling, but I and my game leg knew my limits, and we turned back ... 

The pasta was calling. And, bambino! was it superb ....

Oh, I should I guess define the 'Winter Palace'. It is in a building of 28 holiday apartments of a very superior but unassuming nature. That's it, the yellowish one (soon to be repainted in a more Mediterranean shade) in the shadows (phew!) at the centre at the back. Corner of Ocean and Ritz. No, it's called Ritz not because I live there, but because it was once the site of the burned-out Ritz Hotel.

I bought a 1-bed flat on the ground floor before prices skyrocketed in our town. That's it on the the front corner. Under tree number four. Yes, I know the higher-up ones have more view, but I and my leg -- as you will understand -- don't do 'higher up', even though there are lifts. And the honeymoon couple on the top floor in the Ritz fire perished.

It proved a blissful buy, and since -- in those days -- my books were selling, my horses were winning and we were threatened with a inflatory Labour government in New Zealand, I had the bright idea of buying another as an 'investment'. So the Winter Palace now consists of two nicely-sized flats and a wee studio. Pretty much the same configuration as Gerolstein. And, as at Gerolstein, I have my bolthole in the quietest part; from time to time, Wendy and Paulie-mit-Musik (and occasionally a well-behaved family member!) use the sea-facing apartment ... and when we ar'n't here, they are let out, to try -- not hugely successfully, right now -- to pay the expenses. 

Middle one, on the -- of course -- ground floor!

Oh, Yamba ... I am so grateful to have found you. Yes, I who have lived in Mayfair, London, in Monte Carlo, in St Paul de Vence et al, during my nearly 80 years ... 

How lucky was I to end up in my hoppled years in Yamba and Gerolstein ...

Gerolstein, Sefton, NZ