As part of our desire to get into the Gizzy way of life, and not remain in the sweet but unvibrant community of Wanui, Lesley has been to the Gisborne West Rotary Club for the past two weeks. It may be the norm, but she'd forgotton that a visiting member is required to give the next week's talk. That's a whole lot better than buying the club a round! So we spend a couple of evenings on the computer, picking off from Wikipedia a few photos relevant to Lesley's life in Scotland. They are a sociable bunch, as we find out in the bar beforehand, and during the requiste Rotary meal before the proceedings (lamb shank and roasted veg).

The talk goes well, and I guess the measure of how much interest they've had is by the questions. They want to know a bit about her experience in Gisborne as a local GP, and of course about Scotland. The President chips in, showing that he reads the papers and watches TV, but is well behind in his history when he asks about what the situation is in Northern Ireland and their relationship with the rest of the UK. A question comes from the floor :

'How did that St Andrew's flag you've just shown us come about?'. Lesley glances over to me and I decide to blag the reply as it's not something I really know. 'Take the flags from the rest of the UK out of the Union Jack and you are left with ours' is my reply. Right or wrong, it keeps them happy. The question of flags out here is very much on the agenda, and when we meet New Zealanders (say in the hot tubs at Morere) I take the opportunity to ask them what they think of the proposals to do away with the traditional NZ flag with Union Jack and stars and replace with a black flag with a fern. None seem particularly concerned one way or the other. However, in the press the critics say 'Black flag = outpost of ISIS'.

Past president and sergeant at arms (isn't that a lovely old fashioned term conjuring up images of genteel and well meaning men and women being compelled to stand outside for holding their knives and forks the wrong way) Gary Hope takes me to one side after the meeting. 'Roy, what are you doing this weekend?' Hmm, strange question to ask from someone you have just met for the first time. 'We're going to the Wine and Food Festival on Sunday', I answer, wondering if his question could be a sound out for an invitation of some sort, but no, how could it be, we've only just been introduced that evening. 'What's your e-mail address', Gary persists, and I write it down carefully for him. Everybody parts the meeting amicably and we return home.

That evening an e-mail pings into my inbox. It is Gary, inviting us to his home for dinner on Saturday. Now this is a surprise, and you know, that is in the real Rotary spirit. I comment to Lesley that's what her late Dad, a Rotarian, would have done.

Saturday we arrive at the requested time. Gary and Mary Hope's house is up a 400 metre driveway, through woodland. Their house is perched atop a hillock, and what a palace! I'm not very good a descriptions (or it will take too long), but suffice to say that the front room has a picture window running its full length, with a stunning view over woodland to Gisborne and Poverty Bay. The Hopes have invited a couple of friends and in the company of them and three of their four grown up daughters we all have a chinwag and exchange views and stories about this and that. Inviting us to step outside onto his rear deck, he leads us down to his deer feeding platform. The deer are fairly tame, if a bit hesitant to approach us, and thrive on the bread he throws down to them. He explains that they are possibly reluctant to come near us as he shot two of them last week. Short memories or trusting creatures, take your pick!

Gary farms for a living, and as well as the farm he lives on, owns another couple of farms nearby. He has sheep and dairy stock and woodlands and deer. Shooting wild pigs and deer provide excellent sport when the freezer supply runs low, and we are provided with a graphic description of his dogs killing a pig. He butchers all his own meat, deer and pigs alike. Hunting and fishing are popular pastimes here and we can't help feeling that the explorer/settler legacy is still inbuilt to the people's everyday lives. On a slightly different but connected note, there is definitely an acceptance of risks that we in Britain are protected from by legislation, rules and the 'Nanny State'.

Glancing at Gary's fingers as he answers our many questions, I've seen rougher fingers and nails than these in farming, and think that possibly he's moved on and at the stage where he pays others to do the dirty work. He is also a man of off-farm talent, having been a Gisborne councillor for years and stood for Mayor a couple of times. His charming wife Mary comes from Minnesota. Altogether we have a great evening, full of hospitality and we are to meet Mary again the next day where she would demonstrate another skill she has apart from cooking

The Gisborne Wine and Food Festival is an annual event, supposedly to showcase the area's wine and food talents. We'd pre-purchased our $65 tickets and wondered where you would fill an event from a local population of 45,000 with 50% Maori and no families with children as they have a law barring anyone under 18 attending an event where drink is sold. Considering only wine and beer are sold, we think that it's a bit of dark ages legislation, particularly as ID is required for the around 18 years old attenders (at $65 a ticket, and $ 5 for a small glass of wine, you'd hardly be a 14 year old on a mission to get hammered).

And basically that's what a lot of folk are here to do. Now, I'm very cheap to entertain these days, and Lesley likes wine, so it's a great event to be at, it's all about being there and taking part. This year the festival is in the Awapuni Stadium, not a football stadium as we know it, but with a grass pitch and embankments. The photo was taken a couple of hours into the event when it was quiet (ish), honestly, the girls positioned themselves in front of us, not the other way around. The main stage is much bigger. The live bands are well worth watching and one of the acts includes last night's hostess Mary Hope playing ukulele. Of course it's really the people that make it. Gradually, under the sunshine, the festival turns into what feels like the last ever social event before the Earth shuts down. The throng of partygoers graduate from wine and beer tasting to wine and beer drowning. New bands come on, thrashing out ever popular hits, exhorting folk to dance. After a couple of hours, no such encouragement is needed as folk throw themselves around the spacious grass which fortunately is a soft landing for the legless. Sandals are hurled through the air. There's a fair bit of bum feeling going on. In front of the main stage, some socialise, some dance to the beat, and the MC comes on to encourage you to use the toilets as peeing in the surrounding hedges kills them. A couple of glowering earphoned Maori security men in orange jackets, as wide as they are tall, are positioned, these guys look as they could be mean opposition if they ejected you from the ground.

The Mad Hatter, decked out in green togs, top hat and cane is over there, moving around the party, as are re-incarnations of the Ninja Turtles. There are another few outlandish garbs - Avatars in blue skin tight suits with painted faces, dragons in furry outfits - and all are getting into the spirit of the party. The last number is announced, bar closing time (6pm) is called, the band throw all their effort into the last song, jamming and jumping, the crowd rocking and rolling, then it's all over as the MC announces hope you all had a great time, thanks for coming and see you next year at the Gizzy Wine and Food Festival!.

And I can hear your questions, folks, did we have a blockbuster of a time? You bet we did, right in there with the twenty somethings and having a Sunday afternoon fling like the rest of them. And oh, almost forgot about the wine tasting.......Lesley did make a few notes, I'm sure she was well in the minority! It's been a real Gizzy weekend, and the next blog will be from Northland, so watch this space folks!

(Phone rings)........hang on a minute.....a late entry for the blog has just come in.......let's see if it's worth publishing as the deadline's almost on us. Fish, do we need to write about fish..........yup ok, we can run that one but make it snappy:

Q What is a pikelet? A a type of pancake found in New Zealand

Q What is 'spear piking'? A where your 'mate' picks you up, turns you upside down and rams you into the ground headfirst - ouch.......courtesy of a patient in considerable pain attending Lesley's surgery (only 3 obscure references in Google for that one, must be a Gizzy phrase - Ed).