Here I am in New Zealand, with my new car! I am now the owner of an automatic 1992 Mitsubishi Galant, with a 2L engine and some other bits and pieces (four wheels, windscreen etc.) But how, you may ask, did I get here? To explain that, I will have to have a short flashback to Sydney, because it wasn't exactly as planned... On Monday night in Sydney I met up with Mary, one of the Irish sisters on the Great Indochina Loop (who lives in Sydney). We drank a few beers and exchanged stories about some of the people and places we had encountered in Asia. Then on Tuesday I did some of the usual tourist things (Harbour Bridge, Opera House) about which any further description would be pointless - you all know what they look like, they look just the same in real life (very impressive, though). On Tuesday night I sampled some culture, and went to a performance. Not at the Opera House, though, it was at the Gaelic Club - a small venue near the hostel. I had just happened to see a poster which revealed that We Are Scientists were playing there on my last night in Australia (for anyone who's not keeping up with popular culture, they're an American band). Time is running out on my internet credit, so I'll keep the gig review short: main band: very good; support band: unremarkable. After that, I went to the pub to meet up with some of the other Oz bus survivors, and had a few drinks until the early hours. I went to bed having set my alarm for 5:13am, which would give me plenty time to make my way to the airport for my flight at 8:30. When I woke up and saw the sunlight streaming through the gaps in the curtains, I knew immediately that something was quite badly wrong. I don't know if my alarm hadn't gone off or I hadn't heard it (my left ear is totally blocked with wax just now, and Antipodean Waxsol drops aren't as good as the UK version). It was 9:30am. Not having much else to do, I checked out and went to the airport anyway. After explaining the situation to the woman at the Quantas desk, she arranged passage for me on a Jetstar flight leaving that afternoon. To my surprise - and delight - it would only cost me a charge of $25. Then it got better... she explained that since Jetstar didn't serve meals on board, and I would have to buy my own food, I could forget about the $25. I suppose everybody should sleep in and miss a flight at some point in their life, although getting another flight for free probably doesn't happen very often. On arrival in Christchurch I booked into Base Backpackers in Cathedral Square, and fell asleep. The next day I had a look around and e-mailed Steve, the Kiwi from the Great Indochina Loop (who, ironically enough, is currently in Scotland). Through Steve I got in touch with a guy called Brent, who is friends with another guy called Brent who owns a car yard (yes, there are two Brents - do try and keep up). After a bit of wrangling with the car (the exhaust started spewing blue smoke when I took it for a test drive, and the radio didn't work) I took delivery of it on Friday afternoon. I didn't want an automatic, because I don't trust a machine to decide what gear I want to be in, but it's a lot harder to get a manual here. First use of the car had been arranged earlier in the day. My inaugural passengers were Julia, Jenny, Laura and Mark, who were staying in the same dorm room. We had a drive down to the supermarket to buy ingredients for chicken fajitas, came back and ate them, then went out in Christchurch with some other folk from the room - two French blokes, and - coincidentally - Becky, who was on my first Oz bus and who I'd run into again at Noosa. I haven't really seen much of Christchurch yet, my days have been spent either nursing a hangover or buying a car. The other big bit of news to report is that I no longer own 207 Broomfield Crescent, the sale went through on the 1st (the same day I bought the car). I am now officially homeless. Two things to ponder - why do I keep meeting people whose names begin with J, and what name do I give my car? Answers on the message board please...