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195706 [2016/05/01 17:30] – [Seven Weeks in New Zealand Part 1V] kennettj195706 [2016/05/05 19:18] (current) – [The Fed. Reune and Epilogue] kennettj
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 The first light of dawn lit up the ragged patchwork quilt of snow thrown over the sleeping shoulders of the Remarkables. It awoke the sleeping waters of Lake Wakitipu to blue life. It crept down the hushed hillside, through the eucalyptus and native trees, into the pavillion of the Queenstown sports ground. Three sleeping bundles stirred to life: "What's the time George?" Half past five. Time to get up. Remove the barricade of form we had erected at the shed entrance as a safeguard against possible grazing animals, roll up the 30f. of coir matting (the covering for the cricket pitch) which had been our bed for the past three nights - dip the face under the gushing tap among the white hemlock flowers - on with the boots - tuck in the shirt tails and tighten the belt - cook up a hasty breakfast on Snow's primus out on the grassy bank under the paling stars - stuff sleeping bags into packs, then off we dash to the bus terminus down by the lake for now we are away on the first leg of our real mountaineering adventure - a fortnight at Mt. Cook. It is a long journey hence the early start. The first light of dawn lit up the ragged patchwork quilt of snow thrown over the sleeping shoulders of the Remarkables. It awoke the sleeping waters of Lake Wakitipu to blue life. It crept down the hushed hillside, through the eucalyptus and native trees, into the pavillion of the Queenstown sports ground. Three sleeping bundles stirred to life: "What's the time George?" Half past five. Time to get up. Remove the barricade of form we had erected at the shed entrance as a safeguard against possible grazing animals, roll up the 30f. of coir matting (the covering for the cricket pitch) which had been our bed for the past three nights - dip the face under the gushing tap among the white hemlock flowers - on with the boots - tuck in the shirt tails and tighten the belt - cook up a hasty breakfast on Snow's primus out on the grassy bank under the paling stars - stuff sleeping bags into packs, then off we dash to the bus terminus down by the lake for now we are away on the first leg of our real mountaineering adventure - a fortnight at Mt. Cook. It is a long journey hence the early start.
  
-Old memories followed me as the bus.sped'oVer,the familiar ground I had traversed some half dozen times before.- the well remembered pattern of green slopes and sheep and gorse - the'same age-old wilderness of rock and worn-down tussock covered hills - the same dry heat-- the same empty sky. And now at last the recognised lunch time stopp-f ing place at Lake Pukaki. Very soon now we would get our first glimpse+Old memories followed me as the bus sped overthe familiar ground I had traversed some half dozen times before- the well remembered pattern of green slopes and sheep and gorse - the same age-old wilderness of rock and worn-down tussock covered hills - the same dry heat- the same empty sky. And now at last the recognised lunch time stopping place at Lake Pukaki. Very soon now we would get our first glimpse of the Mt. Cook range, its peaks a sight to catch the heart, rising clear against the cold blue sky, its pure snowy beauty mirrored upside down in the still waters of the lake.
  
-14, +We got out with relief and to stretch our legs went down to the lake to have a look at the huge impressive dam construction. We had to wait for the Christchurch bus to come in with its quota of passengers for Mt. Cook, including the fourth member of our party, Whaka Newmarch, a New Zealand Alpine Club member who was obligingly devoting his annual leave to taking us Aussies in tow. At length the bus arrived and there was a great bustle of activity as passengers and luggage were off loaded. Our driver said something about moving off at 2 o'clock, that is in half an hour's time. Whaka and Snow and I were reclining under the shade of a little bush eating ice cream and fruit when the bush driver signalled that he was ready to move off, so we got in. But Goodness! Where is George? We called, but no answer. We sought him in all the likely places - I looked in the dining room and Whaka looked in the bathroom, and Snow was despatched to investigate the Gents to see if he had got locked in - but no sign of our missing one. We shouted "Hey Georgenorth, south, east and west while the bus driver looked serious. An then we spotted him half a mile away down the Mt. Cook road photographing the dam! With relief we got aboard the bus and told the driver to shoot past George at great speed just to teach him a lesson. The driver was happy to co-operate so we sped down the road and passed a startled George in a cloud of dust and scattered stones with Snow and I leaning out the window and waving him goodbye. The driver at length pulled up and George came sprinting up the road like a flushed antelope and leapt aboard muttering that he had thought the driver had said he would be moving off in 2 hours. 
-of the Mt. Cook range, its peaks a sight to catch the heart, rising + 
-clear against the cold blue sky, its pure snowy beauty mirrored upside +About a mile from the Hermitage is situated the Alpine Club's Unwin hut. Here the boys got off, about sundown, while I went on to the Hermitage to check up on our fortnight's provisions which Donnie had been asked to mail through from Queenstown on his way home. I also wanted to renew old acquaintances with people I had known and worked with there many years ago. In his little Swiss Chalet among the flowers and trees I found dear old Duncan Darroch who had been a guide with me during the war years. Duncan is an artist too, and when I was working there every wall of the Hermitage was hung with his oil paintings of the surrounding peaks. Now frail with the weight of years, his wide set dreamy eyes still light up with their sudden gentle passion when he speaks of the hills and the sea. Duncan undertook to track down our food. The two boxes were found all right (Chalk up a good mark to dependable Donnie), also Snow's tent which we had baded on to Don at Glenorchy to get rid of its weight, but he had forgotten to leave his/my boots, which meant I would have to wear mine/his for the rest of the trip. Perhaps this sentence needs some elucidating. Well, Don and I both take size 5. We had two pairs between us, kindly donated by Marie Byles, one of which was too narrow at the toes and let the water in, and the other pair though waterproof was too short. So Donnie and I had been taking it in turns at having dry feet and bent up toes, or, conversely, wet feet and pinched toes. Mad how many times have I stressed to trampers and mountaineers that their footwear is THE MOST IMPORTANT item of their gear: There is a moral in this somewhere, I'sure, for those who care to look for it. 
-down in the still waters of the lake. + 
-We got out with relief and to stretch our legs went down to the +For old time's sake I wandered through the Hermitage. It had changed beyond recognition. The homely interior has been streamlined and modernised and now has the atmosphere of a hospital clinic. All Duncan's pictures (except one) have been taken down and the bare walls stare back at one with clean, blank, glazed, aseptic indifference. Gone is the crackling log fireplace around which guests and climbers milled and crowded together in the old careless days. Instead the room are manacled with steam heated pipes which keep the guests decently and sterilily spaced from one another and keep the temperature oppressively high. (As one Alpine Club wit was once heard to remark, as he vainly sought relief by leaving the dining room and adjourning to the equally heated foyer - "Out of the frying pan into the foyer) In keeping with the clinic atmosphere, the waitresses are now all shining blondes in spotless white linen uniforms, who never put their thumbs in the soup. Ah me, for the days of Fat Nellie the Cook and the plump little back-country waitresses who would serve you in their socks like as not, and the battered tattered mountaineers who now would feel self-conscious and ashamed if projected into this well dressed throng. Ah well, I wasn't staying at the Hermitage - and I went off in search of Mick Bowie, the chief guide, for information. There he is, good old Mick with his giant frame so honestly built, his little rabbity moustache, the slyly humorous twinkle behind his eyes. 
-lake to have a look at the huge impressive dam construction. We had to wait for the Christchurch bus to Come in with its quota of passengers for Mt. Cook, including the fourth member of our party, Whaka + 
-Newmarch, a New Zealand Alpine Club member who was obligingly devoting +"Conditions in the mountains are good," said Mick who is possessed with an acutely sensitive instinct for the weather'tricks, "Everything is climable." This good news was received with the enthusiasm it
-his annual leave to taking us Aussies in tow. At length the bus arrived and there was a great bustle of activity as passengers and luggage +
-were off loaded. Our driver said something about moving off at 2 ofclock, that is in half an hour's time. Whaka and Snow and I were reclining under the shade of a little bush eating ice cream and fruit when the bush driver signalled that he was ready to move off, so we got in. But Goodness!Where is George? We called, but no answer. We sought him in all the likely places - I looked in the dining room and Whaka looked in the bathroom, and Snow was despatched to investigate the Gents to see if he had got locked in - but no sign of our missing one. We shouted "Hey George V' north, south, east and west while the bus driver looked serious. Pald then we spotted him: - half a mile away down the Mt. Cook road photographing the dam! With relief we got aboard the bus and told the driver to shoot past George at great speed just to teach him a lesson. The driver was happy to co-operate so we +
-sped down the road and passed a startled George in a cloud of dust and +
-scattered stones with Snow and I leaning out the window and waving him goodbye. The driver at length pulled up and George came sprinting up the road like a flushed antelope and leapt aboard muttering that he hadthought the driver had said he would be moving off in 2 hours. +
-About a mile from the Hermitage is situated the Alpine Club's Unwin hut. Here the boys got off, about sundown, while I went on to +
-the Hermitage to check up on our fortnight's provisions which Donnie had been asked to mail through from Queenstown on his way home. I also wanted to renew old acquaintances with people I had known and worked with there many years ago. In his little Swiss Chalet among the flowers and trees I found dear old Duncan Darroch who had been a guide +
-with me during the war years. Duncan is an artist too, and when I was working there every wall of the Hermitage was hung with his oil paintings of the surrounding peaks. Now frail with the weight of years, +
-his wide set dreamy eyes still light up with their sudden gentle passion when he speaks of the hills and the sea. Duncan undertook to +
-track down our food. The two boxes were found all right (Chalk up a +
-good mark to dependable Donnie), also Snow's tent which we had Jaded on to Don at Glenorchy to get rid of its weight, but he had forgotton to leave his/my boots, which meant I would have to wear mine/his for +
-the rest of the trip. Perhaps this sentence needs some elucidating. Well, Don and I both take size 5. We had two pairs between us, kindly +
-donated by Marie Byles, one of which was too narrow at the toes and let +
-the water in, and the other pair though waterproof was too short. So Donnie and I had been taking it in turns at having dry feet and bent up toes, or, conversely, wet feet and pinched toes. Mad how many times have I stressed to trampers and mountaineers that their footwear is THE MOST IMPORTANT item of their gear: There is a moral in this somewhere, Ifm sure, for those who care to look for it.) +
-15, +
-For old time's sake I wandered through the Hermitage. It had changed beyond recognition. The homely interior has been streamlined and modernised and now has the atmosphere of a hospital clinic. All Duncan's pictures (except one) have been taken down and the bare walls stare back at one with clean, blank, glazed, aseptic indifference. Gone is the crackling log fireplace around which guests and climbers milled and crowded together in the old careless days. Instead the room are manacled with steam heated pipes which keep the guests decently and sterilily spaced from one another and keep the temperature oppressively high. (As one Alpine Club wit was once heard to remark, as he vainly sought relief by leaving the dining room and adjourning to the equally heated foyer - "Out of the frying pan into the foyerr) In keeping with the clinic atmosphere, the waitresses are now all shining blondes in spotless white linen uniforms, who never put their thumbs in the soup. Ah me, for the days of Fat Nellie the Cook and +
-the plump little back-country waitresses who would serve you in their +
-socks like as not, and the battered tattered mountaineers who now would feel self-conscious and ashamed if projected into this well dressed throng. Ah well, I wasn't staying at the Hermitage - and I went off in search of Mick Bowie, the chief guide, for information. There he is, good old Mick with his giant frame so honestly built, his little rabbity moustache, the slyly humerous twinkle behind his eyes. +
-"Conditions in the mountains are good," said Mick who is possessed +
-with an acutely sensitive instinct for the weatherts tricks, "Everything +
-is climable." This good news was received with the enthusiasm it+
 deserved. deserved.
-An entertaining evening was spent at the Bowie's house with Mick and Mrs. Bowie and the children and several other guests, but now + 
-Good Night good people - one must get some sleep, and leaving the +An entertaining evening was spent at the Bowie's house with Mick and Mrs. Bowie and the children and several other guests, but now Good Night good people - one must get some sleep, and leaving the 
-small cosy lighted dining room, in one step one was out into the velvet shadows and the night. With a rush the mountains suddenly seemed to shoot up on all sides. The sumMits gleamed with a soft white radiance casting the lower slopes into a vast immensity of shadow, and over all, remote and far, was the arching dome of the sky spangled with summer stars. The old enchantment stole over the heart - one felt strongly the stillness and mystery of the place - in the deep silence one could hear one's own heart beating, counting off the seconds as they fell drop by drop into the deep pool of eternity holy ground. +small cosy lighted dining room, in one step one was out into the velvet shadows and the night. With a rush the mountains suddenly seemed to shoot up on all sides. The summits gleamed with a soft white radiance casting the lower slopes into a vast immensity of shadow, and over all, remote and far, was the arching dome of the sky spangled with summer stars. The old enchantment stole over the heart - one felt strongly the stillness and mystery of the place - in the deep silence one could hear one's own heart beating, counting off the seconds as they fell drop by drop into the deep pool of eternity holy ground. 
-Next morning bright and early we all boarded the Ball but bus, + 
-quite forgetting our boxes of food, but someone pointed them out to us +Next morning bright and early we all boarded the Ball hut bus, quite forgetting our boxes of food, but someone pointed them out to us at the last minute, so despite our subconscious desire to leave behind the dried apricots and potato powders they came after all. 
-at the last minute, so despite our subconscious desire to leave behind the dried apricots and potato powders they came after all. + 
-This is perhaps the place to tell you about our food. I think I +This is perhaps the place to tell you about our food. I think I can quite safely say IT WAS ALL PETE STITT'FAULT. (It's wonderful how brave I am when he's not around to contradict me). To make a 
-can quite safely say IT WAS ALL PETE STITTtS FAULT. (It's wonderful +short story long, Pete had told us that dried vegetables and fruits were practically unobtainable in N.Z. so we'd better take what we needed from Australia. Accordingly I worked out that we would need dried fruit at the rate of about 2 lb. per person per week, i.e. 
-how brave I am when he's not around to contradict me). To make a +2 multiplied by George, Snow, Donnie and myself, multiplied by 4 weeks in Don's case and 6 weeks in ours, which came to a collossal total somewhere in the vicinity of 40 lb. This rather startled me, but I  
-short story long, Pete had told us that dried vegetables and fruits were practically unobtainable in N.Z. so we'd better take what we +went down to the local grocer's and told the little lass behind the counter that's what we wanted and let us have it in equal amounts of apricots, apples, prunes (although Donnie, after several months in 
-needed from Australia. Accordingly I worked oat that we would need dried fruit at the rate of about 2 lb. per person per week, i.e. +National Service, strongly objected to their inclusion), peaches and figs. From Paddy I bought a quantity of potato powder (I forget now how much but there was plenty - ask George), and lb. of Onion powder which smelt vile, but Snow says a stew is not a stew without onion, so we made him carry it. I packed all this tucker into a beer bottle box and as it was so heavy we decided to send it from Sydney to Auckland with Snow on the Oronsay so we other three wouldn't have to pay surcharge on the plane. On the day of departure Snow and Pete and I drove down to the wharf with the luggage. The cop on duty wouldn't let us park in a perfectly good vacant place on the wharf, so we had to go round about half a mile and park in a back street. Then we set off in procession to the liner, Snow wearing a huge pack and carrying an overnight bag and an ice axe and a parcel of boots or some such, then myself with a 60 lb. box balanced on my head trying to pretend it was nothing and we do this every day of the week, and a rather uncomfortable 
-2 multiplied by George, Snow, Donnie and myself, multiplied by 4 weeks in Don's case and 6 weeks in ours, which came to a collossai total somewhere in the vicinity of 40 lb. This rather startled me, but I +Pete swinging along in the rear with his plaster leg and his crutches and my red handbag with the green feathers clutched in his mouth like a retriever with a mouthful of macaw, muttering muffled threats against the cop, and he had no right to stop us parking on the wharf and there he is, will we have him on, the sod: The cop was rather apologetic as we staggered past him, and whatever remarks Pete made were muffled through the red cloth of the handbag, so the peace was not disturbed and I dumped the box of food in Snow's cabin and that's where we leave it till a week or so later when we unpack it at Wellington and find that the quantity of dried apples, peaches, figs and prunes is practically negligible, but the almost inexhaustible amount of apricots would make a weevil whoop with delight, and as for the potato powder, well everyone should be told now that a billyful dry is the equivalent of a bucketful wet. Whenever we would feel in our packs for some tucker and our fingers would encounter the irregular unyielding torso of an apricot-packed food bag, or a soft sandy yielding bag whose contents were always and unquestionably potato powder - or even at the mere mention of these foods - George would give a hollow groan,
-16. +
-went down to the local grocer's and told the little lass behind the +
-counter that's what we wanted and let us have it in equal amounts of apricots, apples, prunes (although Donnie, after several months in +
-National Service, strongly objected to their inclusion), peaches and figs. From Paddy I bought a quantity of potato powder (I forget now how much but there was plenty - ask George), and lb. of Onion powder which smelt vile, but Snow says a stew is not a stew without onion, so we made him carry it. I packed all this tucker into a beer bottle +
-box and as it was so heavy we decided to send it from Sydney to +
-Auckland with Snow on the Oronsay so we other three wouldn't have to +
-pay surcharge on the plane. On the day of departure Snow and Pete and +
-I drove down to the wharf with the lugpage. The cop on duty wouldn't let us park in a perfectly good vacant place on the wharf, so we had to +
-go round about half a mile and park in a back street. Then we set off in procession to the liner, Snow wearing a huge pack and carrying an overnight bag and an ice axe and a parcel of boots or some such, then myself with a 60 lb. box balanced on my head trying to pretend it was nothing and we do this every day of the week, and a rather uncomfortable +
-Pete swinging along in the rear with his plaster leg and his crutches +
-and my red handbag with the green feathers clutched in his mouth like +
-a retriever with a mouthful of macaw, muttering muffled threats against the cop, and he had no right to stop us parking on the wharf and there he is, will we have him on, the sod: The cop was rather apologetic as +
-we staggered past him, and whatever remarks Pete made were muffled through the red cloth of the handbag, so the peace was not disturbed and I dumped the box of food in Snow's cabin and that's where we leave it till a week or so later when we unpack it at Wellington and find that the quantity of dried apples, peaches, figs and prunes is pract- +
-ically negligible, but the almost inexhaustible amount of apricots +
-would make a weevil whoop with delight, and as for the potato powder, well everyone should be told now that a billyful dry is the equivalent of a bucketful wet. Whenever we would feel in our packs for some tucker and our fingers would encounter the irregular unyielding torso of an apricot-packed food bag, or a soft sandy yielding bag whose +
-contents were always and unquestionably potato powder - or even at the mere mention of these foods - George would give a hollow groan,+
 Donnie would be patiently philosophical, and Snow and I would burst into paroxysms of laughter and collapse helpless and writhe on the ground, and our ribs and diaphragm would positively ache for half an hour after. Now I'm home again I often think wonderingly, "Why should the mention of dried apricots and potato powder cause such a cataclysm of laughter?" but when I'm in the company of Snow I realise that no other reaction is possible. Donnie would be patiently philosophical, and Snow and I would burst into paroxysms of laughter and collapse helpless and writhe on the ground, and our ribs and diaphragm would positively ache for half an hour after. Now I'm home again I often think wonderingly, "Why should the mention of dried apricots and potato powder cause such a cataclysm of laughter?" but when I'm in the company of Snow I realise that no other reaction is possible.
 +
 Anyhow, there we are, together with said tucker and about 20 tourists, unloaded at Ball Hut at about 10.30 a.m. on 13th Jan. Anyhow, there we are, together with said tucker and about 20 tourists, unloaded at Ball Hut at about 10.30 a.m. on 13th Jan.
-"The Glory of the Open Spaces. There is no life like it, this living + 
-in the clear fresh air of the country. I think it was Thorean who said: 'Truly, our greatest blessings are very cheap', and who among us will dare refute him? Sunlight, water and the rain, the freshening winds and the air we breathe, speech, light, lave, slumber and the starlight night,...all are ours even without the asking. Do we ever give it a thought? I wonder...."+----------------- 
 + 
 +"The Glory of the Open Spaces. There is no life like it, this living in the clear fresh air of the country. I think it was Thorean who said: 'Truly, our greatest blessings are very cheap', and who among us will dare refute him? Sunlight, water and the rain, the freshening winds and the air we breathe, speech, light, love, slumber and the starlight night,...all are ours even without the asking. Do we ever give it a thought? I wonder...."\\
 - From "Sunlit Trails" by Archer Russell. - From "Sunlit Trails" by Archer Russell.
  
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 Always for me, at Euroka, the highlight is the early Sunday walk down the creek to the big water; and with a chosen few it was done a lovely sight was the big waters a water colour fantasy delicately rippled. The look down rock at the track's end is a good spot for awakening sleep echoes. I had the flute and tried four notes of a chord, and lo! Amazingly out of the silence it floated back to me like the song of a stroked harp. In a lifetime of fluting I heard it for the first time in its richest form. Always for me, at Euroka, the highlight is the early Sunday walk down the creek to the big water; and with a chosen few it was done a lovely sight was the big waters a water colour fantasy delicately rippled. The look down rock at the track's end is a good spot for awakening sleep echoes. I had the flute and tried four notes of a chord, and lo! Amazingly out of the silence it floated back to me like the song of a stroked harp. In a lifetime of fluting I heard it for the first time in its richest form.
  
-So back to camp went we bushwalkers, passing many a lovely clean limbed and colourful reuner. +So back to camp went we bushwalkers, passing many a lovely clean limbed and colourful reuner. There seems a tremendous amount of day to spare in wandering from camp to camp so with the Ashdowns we ambled back and found we had 2 hours to kill for the next train. Frank and Jean made straight for the highway to deliberately hitch. I followed in the hope of getting a bus for I can think of nothing more humiliating than standing by the roadside pleading for a lift.
-There seems a tremendous amount of day to spare in wandering from camp to camp so with the Ashdowns we ambled back and found we had 2 hours to kill for the next train. Frank and Jean made straight for the highway to deliberately hitch. I followed in the hope of getting a bus for I can think of nothing more humiliating than standing by the roadside pleading for a lift.+
  
 And then something happened: A sizeable utility going west slowed down, turned and stopped And then something happened: A sizeable utility going west slowed down, turned and stopped
 alongside us. Frank seemed to think it did this for us (brave Frankie) and bold as brass piled on. I shyly asked if it included me - "of course" - and in two ticks on soft cushions we were gliding home at 30 m.p.h. Frankie asked me how I liked being humiliated - I was obliged to agree with this brand. Next, we slowed down, driver got out, asked would we like fruit and the Pommie liars roared out "No"; and even as a non-fruiter I roared out "YES". (Must teach these Pommies how to allow people to be affable). So back he came and thrust the bag at them and soon it vanished. Again, not much later, he stopped and said would we like some chips. Again the liars roared, "Then", said he, "You must.. You are now my guests." And out he came with 3 only bags of hot chips, the scent of which broke down the Pommie resistance; and so, while iggerent S.B.W.'s were waiting on Glenbrook Station we were spinning in a beautiful breeze and delicately nibbling chips for miles and miles. alongside us. Frank seemed to think it did this for us (brave Frankie) and bold as brass piled on. I shyly asked if it included me - "of course" - and in two ticks on soft cushions we were gliding home at 30 m.p.h. Frankie asked me how I liked being humiliated - I was obliged to agree with this brand. Next, we slowed down, driver got out, asked would we like fruit and the Pommie liars roared out "No"; and even as a non-fruiter I roared out "YES". (Must teach these Pommies how to allow people to be affable). So back he came and thrust the bag at them and soon it vanished. Again, not much later, he stopped and said would we like some chips. Again the liars roared, "Then", said he, "You must.. You are now my guests." And out he came with 3 only bags of hot chips, the scent of which broke down the Pommie resistance; and so, while iggerent S.B.W.'s were waiting on Glenbrook Station we were spinning in a beautiful breeze and delicately nibbling chips for miles and miles.
  
-We still don't know where the magic came in - it could not have been any glamour act by Jean - her 74 inches of brake material would see to that: They dropped MB at Parramatta with the warmth usually reserved for rich uncles; a fine cove, lovely wife, and child - +We still don't know where the magic came in - it could not have been any glamour act by Jean - her 74 inches of brake material would see to that: They dropped me at Parramatta with the warmth usually reserved for rich uncles; a fine cove, lovely wife, and child -
- +
-AND+
  
-they were New Aussies: Old Aussies have a lot to learn when it comes to catering for hitchers.+AND they were New Aussies: Old Aussies have a lot to learn when it comes to catering for hitchers.
  
 (As one of the 180 odd Reuners, I echo your sentiments entirely, Taro. It was a friendly and easy Fed, Reune, no doubt about it. The story of your hitching episode runs something like Cinderella and the Fairy Godmother - any chance of a loan of the magic wand sometime? - Ed.) (As one of the 180 odd Reuners, I echo your sentiments entirely, Taro. It was a friendly and easy Fed, Reune, no doubt about it. The story of your hitching episode runs something like Cinderella and the Fairy Godmother - any chance of a loan of the magic wand sometime? - Ed.)
195706.txt · Last modified: 2016/05/05 19:18 by kennettj

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