Monday, January 24, 2011

being the adventures of A Chocolate Orange....

so, to recap. i was walking past a shop when i noticed they stocked Terry' Chocolate Oranges. i know, i thought, i'll get my Dad one of them. he loves them.

"thanks son", he said. "i know, i will take it over to New Zealand and share it with Gillian," he further mused.

much of what follows is something that i believe i might have brought upon myself, for the first idea i had was for James to give this magnificent confectionary to Grandad and have him say "here Grandad, stop being grumpy for a bit".

here, then, are the latest, and possibly not final, adventures of a young Chocolate Orange visiting the fine land of New Zealand.

first off, it seems to have gone on holiday with the family, to a place that i call Mount WikkiNikki, but keep getting pictures of the proper name for it. anyway, as there was no space in the car for the Chocolate Orange, there is no place for one of those pictures of the proper name on this blog.





nice to see that they at least put it on top of all that lovely ale!

not that the safety and security of the Chocolate Orange seems to be a priority for them in New Zealand. observe, if you will, the following pic of Dad taking it up for a ride on one of those "luge" thingies.





yes, your eyes do not deceive you. whereas Dad gets to wear a crash helmet on the ski lift thing, is there one for the Choccy Orange? oh no. what if you dropped it, Dad? well, i think he did actually, as it's looking distinctly battered in some pics.....





...and as great as coffee is, i don't think a cup of it, which seems to be served in a bistro which has taken the name of one of the finer modern authors, is going to make it feel better.

and i am not falling for "let us take a picture of Gillian with it to distract from the damage when Grandad dropped it", either.





the poor Chocolate Orange must have been rather hungry after the incident with the luge lift - it takes an awful lot of emotional blackmail to get Grant to share his lunch with anyone!





now then, back in the Victorian era, it was not uncommon to be prescribed a trip to the seaside if you had fallen ill. clearly they had this in mind when they decided to take the Chocolate Orange to the beach for a little while, to see if that would help it recuperate and feel better and, well, less dropped off a ski lift.





a more left-field, esoteric form of health remedy would of course be building statues and the like in celebration of those who had fallen ill. this is, i presume, what Katie is doing here.





at least i hope that is what she's up to - if in fact she's proposing to bury the Chocolate Orange in the sand, the mind boggles at the state of entertainment and education in New Zealand if torturing citrus-based chocolates is considered the norm.


speaking of statues, sculptures and the like, it seems that New Zealand has a fair few of them, and the Chocolate Orange, presumably "channeling" through Grandad, wished to see as many as it could. here it is checking out a rather splendid sculpted surfer dude.





and here it is checking out one of those midget-dwarf things from that most famous series of films made in New Zealand; those ones where the dwarfs walk across a field for nine hours to toss a ring into a bonfire.





blimey, how many more pics do i need to write for? believe me, not as many as i could be, this is less than half of the pics i have received thus far. anyway, moving on, and one of the more interesting, in the sense of question raising, places they took it to.





i confess to never having partaken in the pleasures of a salted pool, hot or otherwise. if i did wish to go to one, however, i would like to think it unlikely that i would wish to either take a Chocolate Orange in with me, or leave it out in the sun whilst i had a bit of a dip.

now would i, sober, think it a good idea to place it on the dashboard of my car whilst taking a spin on a lovely hot day.





i am really wishing that i had remembered to give Mum that condom in a tin that Dad got at the World Cup and thought was some mints, really. i am sure it would have admired this magnificent view as much as the Chocolate Orange.





it does, however, seem that they are taking a shine to the Chocolate Orange in the sense of it seeming to be part of the family. not that we eventually/hopefully eat members of our family (often), but that they appear to be somehow grooming it, in the non-predatory internet sense of the word. why else would they take it for a haircut?







i don't think, to play along with whatever it is exactly they are up to in New Zealand, that the Chocolate Orange has shabby hair. i do think, however, that my Dad will have tried to argue that he is not a "proper pensioner" (he isn't in any sense) and thus presumably qualified for some sort of discount.

oh dear, it seems that the Chocolate Orange has had enough, and is either trying to phone me, or the proprietor of the store whom foolishly sold this item to me.





why would it wish to come home all of a sudden? well, have a look at where Dad found to take it.





if, as unlikely as it seems that this would happen, someone asked me if my Dad would seriously try and make a bet via presenting a Chocolate Orange as legal tender, i suspect the quizzer would be disappointed with my answer. Gillian obviously shares these concerns, and snatched the Orange of Citrus to make a dash for it to the only place where such items can be free, safe and at one with nature - Hamilton.





well, that's it. for now. and i fear i really do mean for now. Dad has some more time and an awful lot of space on his camera to further fanny about with this item that was meant to be eaten, ooooh, a couple of weeks ago. unless those in NZ have wrongly taken offence at the comments here (and i really can't believe i have come up with so much to write about it, frankly), i would imagine more (and more) pictures will follow very, very soon.



be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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