Memories of Patrick Swayze

Sadly Patrick Swayze has lost his long battle with pancreatic cancer. The Telegraph has a pretty good obituary.

On the flippant and shallow side, this is also sad because there will now doubtless be endless re-runs of Dirty Dancing. I was way too cool for this sappy and sexist Mills and Boon for the ’80s but set in the ’60s twaddle, but it is an iconic film nevertheless.

Ask a group of women to name their favourite film of the ’80s and at least one of them will invariably say Dirty Dancing (for blokes it’s Top Gun by the way). They love the unlikely girl gets the boy story and the blossoming of a wallflower and, of course, the dancing. Let’s not go into the reasons that blokes like the homo-eroticism, testosterone-fuelled pumping music, and thrusting weaponry of Top Gun.

Back to the dancing – it was considered highly risqué in 1987 – hence the name. That lift was practiced by wannabe dancers and gymnasts everywhere. It was like Torville and Dean got their skates off. Now the supposed-raunchiness is decidedly mediocre compared with Madonna’s aggressive gyrations, the confrontational posturing of the Pussycat Dolls, or the skanky-ho-bag antics of the ludicrously titled ‘Lady’ Gaga.

When I co-directed Scene Stealers in Arrowtown in 2006 I wrote a sketch comprised entirely of cinematic one-liners. I asked all the cast and crew to nominate two of their favourite filmic lines. I was surprised by the number of people who suggested ‘Nobody puts Baby in a corner’ and ‘I carried a watermelon’. One bloke even suggested, ‘Oh, come on, ladies. God wouldn't have given you maracas if He didn't want you to shake 'em’ but I think he had ulterior motives.

Scary Sis was a fan of the big cheesecake – as we referred to Patrick Swayze. She preferred him in Road House however. It was, if possible, even more naff but there was a scene in which he gets out of bed and the camera lingers lovingly on his behind. She watched that a lot. I think the pause button may have broken on her video.

My mum liked him in the miniseries North and South that we watched in the States. Everyone seems to have a Patrick Swayze moment.

Ghost was another much-feted film that was a pile of pants, quite frankly. It was nominated for an Oscar and in fact Whoopi Goldberg won one for best supporting actress. You may be forgiven for surmising that 1990 was a bad year for film – Dances with Wolves won seven Oscars (including best picture and best director) so you might well be right.

I didn’t like the evil spirits that came and dragged the bodies down to hell. In fact, I was going through a bad time with some personal bereavements and I’m not ashamed to admit that they gave me nightmares.

One of the worst films I've ever seen is Red Dawn. Yep, he’s in that too. However, my favourite Patrick Swayze film would have to be The Outsiders. When I was 12, I did think this was cool. I’d read the book by S.E. Hinton and then saw the film directed by Francis Ford Coppola. It starred people of whom I’d never heard and had no idea would become so famous – Matt Dillon; Tom Cruise; Emilio Estevez; Rob Lowe. Patrick Swayze played Darrel Curtis, the oldest of three brothers, with a brooding sexuality.

It’s the age you were when you saw these things that reflect what remains with you, but I still think of this as his best role ever. That’s how I’ll remember him.

Cat care

Chester has hurt his tail. We have only been back for a week and he has got in a fight. I suppose boys will be boys, and cats will be cats, and boy cats will fight in your back garden. He came in all subdued and smoochy, which is a sure sign that he has done something wrong, got hurt by it, and now wants comforting (see what I mean about boys?).

So I took him to see the lovely people at Remarkable Vets. He has been a kitty client of theirs before. They were pleased to see him. I think this was because they genuinely think he is a cool cat but the fact that he keeps incurring vet fees can't do him any disservice.

He was less pleased to see them. They injected him with anaesthetic, shaved off his fur, sliced and drained an abscess and patched him up with a poultice bandage. As you can see, he is unimpressed. The vet tells me that as the injury is to his tail, this probably means he was running away. Wounds around the head are more likely to indicate that the cat was the aggressor. I always knew he was a lover; not a fighter.

The bandage was meant to stay on for 24 hours, but he was relentless until he had chewed it off. I guess it lasted about 20 hours though, so that's not too bad. He is now on a course of antibiotics which, fortunately, we can disperse into his food. Have you ever tried to give a cat a pill? It's not easy. They don't understand it's for their own good, and they are damn sure that it is going to hurt you at least as much as it hurts them.

Chester is not quite a million-dollar moggie, but he's getting there. In his short life he has been savaged by a dog, hit by a car, sliced a tendon in his paw and now been in a cat fight. I expect there will be more. I keep telling him that his behaviour is unbecoming to a pedigree, but he's not having any of it.

Interestingly, the vet bill was broken down into individual costs for the drugs, surgery and care. None of this stuff comes cheap. I'm not suggesting we should pay for health care as humans, but sometimes I think, if it weren't for the administration costs, it wouldn't go amiss to actually see how much each hospital visit costs. Someone has to pay for all that, and it comes out of your taxes. It might help to know what you're paying for, and perhaps we would make better, and more appreciative, patients, who take control of our own recovery - Chester will certainly be keeping his wounds clean.

And maybe, just maybe, teenagers would think twice before hurtling drunkenly towards each other at speed if they knew how much it costs to deliver them from each smouldering car wreck. But then again, maybe not. After all, boys will be boys...

Winning and Losing

Well thank goodness for that result. Liverpool beat Burnley 4-0 so harmony remains in our household and I can afford to be gracious in victory with Him Outdoors. It was a fantastic result for Benayoun scoring his hat-trick and Stevie G played brilliantly in his alternate position. Him Outdoors admits that his boys played well, but Liverpool are simply a class above, and I’m not exactly going to argue.

Meanwhile the All Blacks lost to South Africa allowing the South Africans to take the Tri Nations title. There is a lot of kicking and chasing and precision penalties in the South African game. Kiwis complain that this is boring – they prefer running the ball from the backs. Both of these versions of the game are equally exciting to me although at the moment, only one is proving effective. Guess which?

The All Blacks are the Man Utd of rugby – beautiful to watch when it’s going well, but ‘they don’t like it up ‘em.’ The penalties they gave away were often for ill discipline, brought about because they were frustrated on the field. Whether you like it or not, if you know you have the best kicking boots in the game, that’s a good tactic by South Africa.

The Weevil was waiting for her bags at the carousel in the airport when the All Blacks turned up, returned from their unsuccessful campaign and looking somewhat sheepish. She said she was excited to be in their midst and found herself grinning, although everyone else was looking away. No one had turned up to welcome them home.

‘Can you imagine being surrounded by the England football team?’ she asked me. I assured her I would have no self-control whatsoever if I were in touching distance of Stevie G, no matter what his recent results. She asked the husband of a friend, known to be a rugby fan, if he weren’t excited by the presence of his sporting idols. He replied, ‘Nah. I might be if they’d won.’ I think that’s indescribably sad.

Are our heroes not allowed to have bad days? Are we so capricious that we turn our backs after one tiny letdown? The All Blacks were beaten by the World Champions in formidable form. I don’t think that’s a disgrace. The only shame here should be attached to the fickle response of the so-called fans.

L’Arté Café and Gallery

At Café L’Arté in Acacia Bay, Taupo, everything is made from mosaics. In the ‘mosaic room’ is an armchair, sofa, fireplace, table and standard lamp in shining stone fragments.

A sign, made out of mosaic pieces itself, announces that the splintered steps are slippery when wet. It’s bright, quirky, colourful and fun.

It’s also a gallery where there are insects, birds and flowers on pottery spikes among natural blooms. Wooden ruru, kerepu and kingfishers perch on benches.

Piles of gaudy individual painted stones are threaded together to form pebble pillars. Clunky jewellery incorporates sparkling mirrored spiders. Bullrushes with leaves of corrugated iron provide a cool contrast to the soft furry buds of the real things.

Inside the café even the counter is decorated with colourful collages. Nothing will go to waste here. I indulge in a hot strong milky cappuccino, which is the best I’ve had in Taupo, and a deliciously rich passion slice. It's so good, I'm in bits.

What is it with water?

I love the sea. I love all its moods from the calm nuzzling at the shore to the pounding on the rocks and the rattling of the shingle. I used to take my cup of coffee down to Seatoun beach and sit and think – working out stories, dilemmas, work related issues, or just clearing my head after a heavy night. Him Outdoors isn’t as much of a fan, unfortunately, so he could bear to be parted from it.

We have moved back to Arrowtown – slap bang in the middle of the South Island of New Zealand. For a country surrounded by water, this is one of the furthest places you can get from the sea. I have been back here for five days now and I miss it. I miss the sound and the sight and the smell. I miss that horizon. Mountains make me feel hemmed in – oceans open vistas before me.

We have lakes here – beautiful, stunning lakes fringed with blazing poplars and reflecting surrounding snow-capped mountains. They’re spectacular, but they don’t have the same personality. Maybe it’s the movement and the unpredictability? Having said that, we were made homeless for six months when Lake Wakaitpu flooded its banks and the hills slipped down the valleys under torrents of rain – so they’re not entirely staid.

I like rivers too. I have taken to running daily down by the Arrow River – it rushes greenly past and the sun glints deceptively like flashes of gold in the pan. The flinty pebbles are tart and I imagine a dry Reisling whenever I am there. When we performed Rush! here in 2004 we did a photo-shoot by the Arrow. It was freezing as the lads splashed through the water and the women drank coffee on the bank.

I remember reading a book by Colette in French when I was about 13 – yes, I was that precocious. There was a passage about growing up by the Marne – the children thought that Marne was the word for river – there was no other river as far as they were concerned. For me it was the Thames. It was the backdrop to my childhood – from The Wind in the Willows to the Marlow Regatta.

We used to laze on the banks, collect tadpoles in jars and sneak off to swim by the islands on hot summer days – don’t tell mum! I got married on the banks of the Thames and we crossed the river in a launch to have the reception on the other side, walking through a park ornamented with a statue of Sir Steven Redgrave. I think water may be in my blood.

When we watched the results of the last American presidential election it was wonderful to see the map turn blue – finally! Coming from England and refusing to ever vote Tory (don’t get me started…) it was a little odd to be supporting the blue side, but it makes sense. It seems that in the States the thinking and creative types are on the edge, literally as well as metaphorically. If they are not on the fringes of society, hugging the coast lines, they are nestling up to the Great Lakes. It’s got to have something to do with the water.

A favourite of T-shirt companies (particularly in New Zealand) is the anonymous, but oft claimed, quote, ‘If you’re not living on the edge; you’re taking up too much space.’ I’m not entirely sure that I agree with this, but it’s certainly something to think about – maybe with a cup of coffee down by the beach.

Beervana 2009: Tasting Notes (Part Two)

I am able to try an IPA from Nøgne Ø, of which we have never heard before. I find it has notes of varnish and isn’t overly drinkable – I can just taste alcohol rather than beer. Him Outdoors claims it’s ‘flowery’ – maybe jonquils then, as their fragrance gives me a violent headache. He has got an Imperial Stout so we swap – this is very, very nice; black with dark brown froth.

The boys turn up with a none-too-fresh-looking chilli in a beer glass. It’s a gimmick lager which bites your tongue from Mussel Inn. Why would you do that to a beer? It’s just silly. To be fair, when the Weevil arrives (two hours late) and wants to catch up, she aims immediately for something she knows she likes, the Monkey Puzzle Extra Strong Ale from the same place, which she announces is ‘a good starter’.

There are talks throughout the evening on such topics as ‘beer and cheese matching’, ‘brewing organically’, ‘the right glass for your beer’ and ‘women and beer mythbusters’. An announcement over the public address system keeps reminding us that these talks are on, but although I would like to listen to Neil Miller and Martin Bosley talk about food and beer, I don’t feel that now is the right time to do so when I am too busy sampling the delights myself – I’ll get a curry later; that will do for food and beer matching tonight.

I am bought a random beer which turns out to be an IPA from the Twisted Hop. My notes at this point read ‘Lovely. I like it. More of this sort of thing’. I am finding it increasingly difficult to balance my pen, programme and camera, and also to write coherent notes evidently.

As Him Outdoors talks to strangers he finds a long-haired ale-lover from Stockport. He actually lives in Auckland and has come down this weekend especially for the beer festival. He is in raptures over the Great End ESB at the Peak Brewery. We try it and I can see why. It is cask conditioned and served via a hand-pull it tastes like something I would expect to find in Coniston. It claims to be ‘extra strong and extra bitter’; my notes read ‘very strong, very fruity and a little bit extra.’ The Weevil reckons it tastes like a Scottish Cal 80, Bellhaven; she’s all for her comparisons.

When we try the Old House ESB from the Townshend Brewery, she decides it is like a Tetley's Mild from Haddon Hall. Just in case I don’t realise how high praise this is, she adds, ‘This is the best beer I’ve had in New Zealand’. The brewing chaps are a little concerned when she asks for ‘more of your finest flattest beer please’ until she bats her big brown eyes and tells them she loves it. I’m impressed too (by the beer rather than the eyes – I’ve seen them all my life) and although it smells slightly of cabbage, it is flat and fulsome and English-tasting.

We head back up to the Arrow Brewing Company for Some Wee Heavy Scotch Ale which is pleasant and sweet and, well...heavy. The chaps provide tasting notes which claim it contains flavours of toffee and orange brandy’. At this stage I think we should probably take their word for it. The Weevil notes, ‘Another flat one – but more fruity Kiwi style’. Him Outdoors has finished noting things. In fact, I think he has misplaced his programme but he has appointed himself chief photographer, hence lots of blurred shots of drinkers’ feet.

We save the best until (nearly) last and savour a drop of Pot Kettle Black from Yeastie Boys. It is still the best beer in show, and they have pretty smart t-shirts too. It’s like a Terry’s Chocolate Orange with hops and alcohol: very tasty indeed!

The adjacent stall is the Green Man Brewery apparently trying to save the world one beer at a time. We join them by starting with an IPA, which is reminiscent of bananas and cloves in a totally nice and tasty, and finishing shortly afterwards with the Strong, which is strong and tasty. I must admit to trying this last time round and not remembering a whole lot afterwards. After a couple of sips of this blend of Dopplebock matured on whisky barrel wood and blended with Best Bitter, a similar thing seems to happen. Is this déjà bu?

So in summation, my top 5 in no particular order are:
Tobin’s Cask Ale – Arrow Brewing Company; Tricerahops Double IPA – Ninkasi; Old House ESB – Townshend Brewery; Great End ESB – Peak Brewery; Yeastie Boys – Pot Kettle Black

Beervana 2009: Tasting Notes (Part One)

Beervana has grown. This year it is almost a victim of its own success. The doors open at 5pm – there has been a previous session from 12-4pm – and the queue snakes back across Civic Square to get into the Town Hall. It is mainly comprised of people who have come straight from work and are looking forward to kicking off their weekend with some decent ales.

Through the doors we are presented with a wrist band a glass – we make sure we get the straight-sided rather than the one with a lip that looks like a vase. It just tastes better drinking out of this one, plus it’s bigger – only one place will charge us more for choosing wisely (Hashigo Zake Limited, since you ask).

The last time I was in this building I was receiving citizenship from the mayor. I suspect this will be a somewhat different evening, although once again I am accompanied by Him Outdoors and the Weevil – both of them are present at most of the major events in my life.

Out of a sense of loyalty, and the fact that they make damn fine beer, we head straight to Yeastie Boys. They are at Beernz Limited/ Bar Edward and have a couple of new beers to sample. I try Plan K (Belgian style; lots of flavor; a bit nutty) and Him Outdoors indulges in a spot of His Majesty (supreme IPA; nice as a first one to try). They are proudly displaying their trophy, and why not? They have won best porter for their Pot Kettle Black, and deservedly so. We determine to return later in the evening when we are ready to come over to the dark side.

We find the boys supping a variety of offerings from Twisted Hop (IPA ‘very bitter, but slightly lacking’) and Tasman Brewing Company (Porter ‘like coffee in a beer glass’; Pale Ale ‘weak tasting with a cheesy aftertaste’), and we take them to find the Arrow Brewing Company. The map is so tiny that Him Outdoors says he can’t read it even with his glasses on, and it is left to me to navigate the corridors of power, and beer.

I discussed the layout with a few of the brewers and they said they generally preferred last year’s more cramped but intimate setting of the Overseas Passengers’ Terminal. There it was all about the brewers and everyone was happy chatting to each other. Here the stalls were more spread out and on the edges of the venue, like blushing wallflowers waiting to be asked for a dance.

The Arrow Brewing Company are tucked away upstairs in a corner with their casks of beer born with altitude. It’s a little early in the evening for the Wee Heavy Scotch Ale, so we opt instead for the Tobins Cask Ale which pours a gorgeous orange/gold colour with a delightful frothy head. It looks like an English drop, tastes like one too and has a long refreshing taste.

We mention that we are heading down there very soon and the friendly chaps invite us to come and visit. I envisage a few sessions on this stuff, not least because the Weevil writes in her tasting notes, ‘sippy session beer – not too fizzy and really nice.’ This makes it into my top five of the night despite the sexist advertising more in line with Tui than the actual decent beer that this is - I suppose most beer advertising is still aimed at men - sigh!

The name Tricerahops from the Ninkasi Brewing Company in Oregon seems to leap out of the page at me, so we make a slightly boozy beeline down to the Regional Wines & Spirits stall where some of the tipple is poured into our glasses. The blokes here are full of patter, ‘We’re the best beer shop in town!’ Him Outdoors has enough of sales talk for a while (he just finished working for a corporate company today) – he barks ‘I know’ and then feels sorry at the crestfallen faces and drinks up appreciatively. I like the hop content very much and find this to be a complex but subtle mix of hops and malt. Only later do I realise it is 8.8%.

We make a point of not visiting the breweries that we know we like because we have drunk their beer before and will do again. Maybe this is a bit unfair (and it means we miss out on Emerson’s Bewitched, a special festive brew apparently) but we simply can’t do justice to them all.

We hear that Epic have sold out of their Armageddon IPA anyway. When we mention this to another brewer, however, he just laughs that is exactly the sort of rumour Luke would put about to create more demand. There’s still some on at The Malthouse anyway and we have a couple of pints later, although we swore we would go straight home after the festival this time.