An extra helping of Pavlova Paradise

Jo and I arrived in New Zealand as immigrants on the 6th of January. I had a New Zealand passport by descent thanks to my Dad, and Jo had marketable skills, with which she had already secured a plum job. We were escaping from the rat-race in London, looking for a friendlier and easier environment to settle down and start planning a family.

It is now the 14th of May. While a scorching hot summer has turned into a wet and windy winter, we have spent time settling in and getting to know the nation that plan to call home. I have managed to secure myself employment, by the simple expedient of turning up at the university and hanging around, until, out of embarrassment, they had to start paying me. We have also done some touring, and reintroduced ourselves to my extended family out here.

However, these things are only peripherally the subject of this blog. We moved to Auckland knowing that for the same price as our tiny two-bedroom home in Southwark, we could afford something quite special out here. Since the first weekend that we arrived we have been looking for a place to buy. The idea was to get some privacy, a little land, and some spare room for visitors. After many adventures, of which more later, we finally bought the house of my dreams. Turns out, my dreams are pretty scary, featuring as they do, a seven bed 1960's farmhouse on six acres of land, clad in asbestos and sorely in need of renovation.



Jo and I are going to be keeping this blog to document our trials and tribulations making a home for ourselves. It will be part 'A Year in Provence', part 'The Good Life' and part 'The Silence of the Lambs'. I hope you enjoy it.