It was with great regret that we learned of the passing of Lesley's Aunt Sheila during last week, peacefully after a short illness. I will remember Sheila as having a ready smile, an inquisitive mind as to my well being and work, and just a very amiable lady. The Gilberts will be in our thoughts this Thursday the 26th when her funeral takes place.

This sad news overshadowed our immediate plans, of which the first was a flight in a biplane to Mount Cook. The weather seemed promising for Friday 20th, so I phoned Chris the pilot who runs the operation a couple of days before. We were keen to take the opportunity of forecasted sunny skies for this adventure, as with our time in Twizel running out there may not have been another decent day. We turned up at the agreed time of 9am and Chris told us that it would be best to wait for an hour our two until the cloud around Mount Cook burnt off in the steadily increasing heat of the day. While we awaited Chris (who was not short of one sided 'conversation' - he is probably used to sitting for hours with clients while the weather clears) told us of how he came about to be doing this flying for a living, and that he had written a couple of aircraft related books and a novel. So that's what pilots do when the weather grounds them. I picked his brains a bit about that sideline. Mind you, it seems like a great life, but he actually lives in a room in the hangar during the week and travels back for weekends to Christchurch and his family. Even then as his wife is a cabin attendant for Mount Cook Airlines she is required to work odd shifts he doesn't see her all of the time back home. Such is the life of aviators.

I cannot begin to do justice in words to the experience we had, of which most folk just dream about. It was absolutely spellbinding, from the moment Chris eased back on the stick to lift us up from the airfield, to the landing an hour later. We had seen Mount Cook and the adjoining mountains from land level but to fly so close that you felt that you could reach out and scoop up some snow, or just step out onto the glaciers was thrilling. All this in an open cockpit, the two of us tightly packed into the forward seat, kitted out with flying helmets, leather jackets and a blanket for our legs. Chris was seated a couple of metres behind us at the controls. Every now and then he would bank the plane towards a mountain or snowfield to let us have a good view. The measure of the day's clarity was that Chris took a number of pictures himself. It was good to hear afterwards that he had enjoyed it, I can see that you have got to be a real enthusiast to do this flight time and time again. What makes his day is to hear that his clients have had a great time and that the trip was something special. Yes, indeed it was!

The greenest grass in New Zealand at the moment are cricket grounds where World Cup matches are being played. Hagley Oval in Christchurch has been nurtured to perfection in anticipation of Pakistan vs West Indies on Saturday 21st. Our trip to Christchurch has been timed well, as Lesley's second cousin Kirsty has arranged to drive from their home Te Reinga near Hastings in the North Island with two of her daughters Rosie and Evie and get them established in their flats for the start of the new university terms. While the four girls have a lunch and a banter I attend my first international game of cricket for 45 years. The last time was at The Oval in London, to see a day's play in the Test match between England and West Indies. My father took Mum and us three boys. I do remember a great sense of occasion that day and am keen to see if I can relive the feeling after many years of wanting to go to such a match.

For quite a reasonable price you get a seat all day in the sun. For a few dollars you can have coffee and a chicken curry. The entertainment is non-stop - plenty of singing and chanting from both team supporters.....not long after the game has started the West Indians belt out the one liner 'Peter, row the boat ashore, hallelujah', the tune being all they need to convey their delight at their team pounding the opposition who at one point are 4 wickets for 1 run. Not to be outdone, a daft Kiwi dressed up as Batman (see the connection?) leaps his way around the ground to much laughter; many impromptu games of cricket are being played on the sidelines. Groups of youngsters, who would be hard pressed to watch eleven fielders and two batsmen pitching their skills against each other down a 22 yard strip of grass all day, are let loose by their parents and organise their own little games playing on their knees so as not to prevent the adults seeing the main action. Such enthusiasm for the game! The entertainment does not stop there, as at the end of every 5th over or when a wicket is taken the big screens play interviews with the crowd, music fills the ground and a buggy with big bold adverts does a round of the pitch. When a four or six is scored, two huge flaming flares in the stands are ignited and shoot into the sky. Stumps and bails hit by the ball flash red making for watchable TV. They didn't have rechargeable stumps and bails in 1969. The whole event is a world away from the sleepy village green cricket game, or even the protracted 5 day Test matches with players dressed in pristine white outfits. Kerry Packer, the game has a lot to thank you for!!

And the result? A win for the Windies, not that the majority of the crowd really cared. They had a day's entertainment provided for on and off the field. It was great to see the third man in full reach taking his first catch from the fourth batsman, fine leg sporting a square pair of shoulders on the boundary rope signing youngster's autographs, the slips diving left and right, and silly point being exceptionally brave.

After a second night in our Christchurch accommodation we know what 'boutique' means. It is a bit like the shops - the chain stores sell much the same goods at the same price across the land, and boutiques on purpose are more individual and a bit dearer. The particular guest house that we stayed in was advertised as 'boutique', and in fact was a good deal cheaper than many motels, which had virtually no availability. This particular place, while being well presented and clean, was so individual that it did not have a roadside sign and we drove past it twice at dusk, having to 'phone the owner; the room was pretty small; they only had Earl Grey tea resulting in Lesley raiding their kitchen while they slept; the cups did not have handles, they were more like vessels (arty influence?) with a cooling strip around them - my coffee was still so hot I couldn't hold it and ended up holding the hot 'cup' with a pair of boxer shorts wrapped around it; the TV was not hooked up to TV (you could watch the owners choice of films though) and the shower ran slow when the toilet was flushed.

No lights were on, even though it was only 9.30pm. I guessed the owners were out at a dinner party or something of the sort. Curiosity had got the better of me to look into another couple of bedrooms to see if ours was really any different. Leaving our bedroom while Lesley was enjoying her English Breakfast I crept across the passageway, this wing of the house being in complete darkness. The floor creaked a little but it was ok as there was obviously nobody around. Gently pushing open a couple of half open doors revealed a broom cupboard and a bathroom much like ours. A bit larger maybe. Through the ajar third door an eerie fluorescent glow illuminated hundred year old wooden panelling. No sound came from that ghostly room, and pushing the door further I peered through the half darkness into the bedroom. To my absolute surprise a couple were sitting in the bed, she draped over his bare shoulders and both watching their laptop. I hastily muttered 'Oh sorry' and retreated. The couple gave no reaction at all, their concentration entirely on the screen content. That saved me, either that or they are used to folk coming into their bedroom at night!! We got free unlimited internet though - that was most definitely different to motels.

The owners were amiable enough, it has to be said, but how can you tell them all these niggly things when are about to leave their house with a smile and a handshake?

So now we are at Sunday morning, our third day away from Twizel. No two days are ever the same with us. We were recently asked by one of the Twizel nurses what was the worst thing that had happened to us on our travels. Nothing immediate came to mind as we tend to take the view that it's all an experience! Lesley thought that getting dressed in front of an electric fire in the Whispering Sands Motel in Gisborne last September was pretty bad. I thought that reversing into a pillar in Dunedin, denting the car for a second time, deserved a mention. But we are up for whatever the day brings. Not that we are expecting Sunday to be exceptional or difficult and we have no preconceived notion about what going into a cage with another 18 folk and being driven through a lion compound would be like! The Orana Wildlife Park on the outskirts of Christchurch provides a unique opportunity to get the feel of being thrown to the lions and getting out safely again without being devoured. The park is of an open safari type, with lots of space for the four hundred animals. The van with the cage on the back containing the humans is driven through the lion enclosure with the keepers in the cage offering lumps of red meat through the bars, taking exceptional care to keep their hands on the inside. Male lions, who we are told are larger (they are enormous a metre away) and without manes after castration, stand on two legs and climb on top of the cage waiting for the keepers to push the meat to them. I look up with trepidation at the lion on top, not in case he chews through the bars, but in case he lets go a huge pee. Of course, all this is great entertainment to the non-paying observers a few metres away and safely outside the perimeter fences. But to do it, well, it's an unforgettable experience. We've never been on a safari….sounds very genteel compared to the Orana experience!

Look out for our blog again next week when we'll have left Twizel and in a motorhome returning to the Queenstown area again and further afield in The Catlins and Fiordland.