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Email to NZ: Jan 2005
My dearest and cheapest Padre and Nutter...and closet frenzies,
It seems like a wife time since we strolled together sniffing the Uhu Glue in Woolworths in the Nelson Riddle Supermarket. The Nelson Seagull's Council Cafe with big numbers by the no passport canadian eastenders beach in the high ultra violet mirage of carrot cake mountains.
We're still savouring the smell of the fish friers armpits down at the Nelson Boat Shed Cafe. The Yellow Shirt Trio ff..ff.ffarting down the high street on their Fahrrads, slinking under the musky high white ceilings of Lambrettas for a flat tire piece-of-pizza served by a bonnie lass from Bolton with a lisp and broken finger nails from scraping the missed tips up from the street bin full of war and peace veteran miner's dentures and chinese cameramen's joss sticks 
The buxom chemist assistants in high street serving special sarsparilla and incontinence pads to recent blind visitors of the flatulence winning Curry House "Hydrogen sulphide on Rice." Recommended by David Blunketts world war 2 Vet with clear polythene blackout curtains. The smell of the gorse and the bark of the ducks. Wriggling, giggling, jiggling, mingling, diddling eels with gobfulls of bread desperate for a can of macs gold pilsner to share with a wife swopping friend in the sparkling clear rapids in the cable bay moonlight whispering "Nelly - eel be back in a few shakes - get your kit off and slip into something more comfortable" - "Ok fish-face - dip your bread in when I say glugg glugg glugg gohhh".
The ranch style early start pubs with pint supping Sheilas and 7 foot tall TWIN unshaven window dressers in classic burberry novacheck socks caressing a photo of a female traffic wardens backside and both repeating in harmony - "Your round - and so are you - you fat bar steward..."
The lost campervans bumper to bumper searching for their layby of love on Picton's Queen Charlotte Drive.
Memories of the bitter sweet joy of conversation, sniff, slurp and swallow in the amazing sample room of the Mudhouse Vineyard - "You hum it - we'll sing it" "The Marlborough Cloudy Bay Baby Blues". "Will yee have a wee dram while you cut your long story short Baldilocks or do you want a T Towel to gag your wife as she plays her last winning rubber gloved hand of Snap." "No thanks" I replied - "She's only half scot, half lancashire and half yorkshire and doesn't think Pinot Noir adds up to much.
So many lovely memories come and go and in the long cloud moonlit evening when we dream of Whales flying helicopters in All-blacks sweatshirts with white piping and the sound of a drum beating British Missionary Army in red kilts and possum lipstick and a hungry honest lawyer splurting and playing the bugle through a kiwi fruit pudding in sight of a low cut waitress with see through nighty and the innocence of a back-packing nun with waxed legs reading a habitat catalogue upside down with two holes in it.
You must remember to look in your letterbox in five or six days from now. Kiwi ????
Things are looking up said the gynaecologist to the taxidermist
Bust Regards from us in Huddz to you darling buddz in NZ.
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