Ten Four Rubber Duck

The following story appeared today in the Dominion Post. Photo credit Phillip Johnson



GRILLED DUCK: The duck lodged in the grill of Phillip Johnson's car.

An indestructible duck hit by a car at almost 100kmh survived with bruises after getting stuck inside the vehicle's grill for a day. Wellington man Phillip Johnson was driving on State Highway 1 near Levin on Wednesday when two ducks waddled onto the road. He braked to avoid the pair, but heard a thump and thought he had clipped one.

"I looked in the rear view mirror and it was walking. I thought the other one had flown away."

Mr Johnson forgot about the incident till the next day, when he thought he should check the car for damage.

"I saw some feathers, then I saw the whole duck was still there, and it was still alive. I was surprised more than anything, then concerned about how badly was it damaged."

The duck proved quite unflappable however.

"It was just sitting there looking at me the way ducks do. It was quite curious. It looked like the grill had bent back and it had gone straight in."

Mr Johnson left the duck where it was, and drove to his local vet Allan Probert.

"He said he had never seen anything like it."

The two men plus duck then drove to a local panel beater.

They bent back the grill to extract the female bird.

"It got a bit agitated so we let it go for a bit. It went straight to a puddle, I think it was pretty thirsty."

Mr Probert said the duck had bruising and a damaged wing.

It was expected to make a full recovery.

"It's one of the most unusual cases I have come across.''

Sushikaashvili?

It has been a day of randomly wonderful encounters.

On my walk to the station was the bunny. A small black and white chap hopping around close to the neighbour who works for the SPCA (a great charity working for animal welfare). This little fellow was breakfasting on the “over the road” verge, revising the age old question to “why did the bunny cross the road?” – obvious really; the grass was more plentiful. He would have dodged cars, bicycles and the recycling collection to get there. When we introduced ourselves, I noticed he had a long scar running between his ears. Oh mercy - a vivisection rescue! That made me want to cry and smile. Here he was, large as life, being given a second chance to do bunny things.



The next encounter was a bright green neural pathway on the pathway – a massive bunch of wild fennel leaning against the bridge over the stream near our railway station – a herbal computer sending important messages up the line.

At lunchtime on the way back to the office I almost dropped my sushi when I randomly spied President Saakashvili of Georgia! He was being given a traditional Maori Powhiri, complete with warrior challenge and much shouting and aggression in front of our Parliament building. It was all softened by the friendly smiling soldiers of the NZDF and the RAF band playing cheerful music as he walked up the red carpet. I'd like to think he was planning to recruit a few Maori warriors to help him with a few issues "back home".

Me, I got back to my desk all of a flutter and didn't know my Saakashvili from my Sushikashvili.

Bring a Plate

Everyone stumbles with cultural differences when they settle in a new country. I am currently living in my sixth country, and even though it is English speaking I have made some serious bloopers.

The first was the misunderstanding of the word "supper". Where I come from it means a main meal. Not here; it means a drink with a piece of cake (or something similar). So I hadn't eaten a main meal when I arrived at 7.30pm at the house of my new friends. Needless to say, I was still hungry when I went to bed that night.

The other mistake was responding to the "bring a plate" request. Usually, this is mentioned for large gatherings, so I assumed it meant "bring your own crockery". It actually means bring a plate of food to share.

A book was published a few years ago called "Ladies, a plate" and features all the marvellous home baking recipes of NZ. I have just finished baking Afghans from it (these are biscuits which have NOTHING to do with Afghanistan).

So, here they are. I don't put the traditional chocolate icing and walnut topping on them - far too sweet for my taste. I highly recommend the book if you enjoy well tested recipes that work and don't involve exotic ingredients.

The Final Coffee

Not long after this "silhouette" coffee was served, the coffee machine had a meltdown, so we had to leave without our coffee shot. What a thing to happen on a busy Saturday afternoon.
Finc Cafe, Wellington

Royal visit

Is it time to go shopping?

Only if you wash behind your ears first.

Pussy cat pussy cat where have you been? I've been to Wellington Central to see the Queen.
Finc Cafe, Wakefield St, Wellington.

Fashions that age?

A cousin recently sent me this photo of my dad and grandparents, taken in 1949. It just dawned on me that my grandma is the same age in this photo as I am now. She looks so much older - or am I kidding myself?

They don't feed me you know

Cumin's recent favourite snacks include stamps and wisteria buds.
Is this normal?