Sunday 13th January Palmerston North and Taranaki

Leaving Martinbough we drove through the wine areas of Carterten and Masterten which although much smaller that Martinborough itself are in the same Wairarapa valley and clearly have great potential. We had arranged to have lunch in Palmerston North with Rosemary's aunt Joan and cousin, Caroline and met them at a restaurant called The Cooperage just on the outskirts of town.

Joan is 90 in February and all there mentally although she has some difficulty walking now as a result of a spinal problem.  I was reminded once again (as on the last occasion we visited Joan in Palmy) of what a big decision it had been for my maternal grand parents to leave England (and two of their daughters) in the 1940s for New Zealand in the likely knowledge that they would never see them again (which indeed turned out to be the case) or any grandchildren of those two daughters (of which there were seven).

I asked Joan whether there was ever any discussion of the Hurrell's and their children following as I could not recall it ever being a topic which was seriously discussed.  At this point Joan said that my grandmother had never really adjusted to New Zealand (she must have been about 50 when she arrived and lived well into her nineties) and always hankered after England.  It may be that this was why there was no suggestion of us going out - who knows.   However, it does bring a tear to one's eyes to think of her setting off on that boat journey of a couple of months with my grandfather (an allegedly difficult husband - now of course I would know nothing about that!) into a very unknown world from which there was likely to be no return.  I think it would make a real tearjerker of a movie.  The contrast with today could not be greater with David who has probably been back to the UK every year since he arrived in NZ and both Hilton and Anne, Ali and Jo, Helen and Richard, as well as Ray and I and no doubt other friends of his have breezed through on more than one occasion, and mobile, texts, emails and Skype are a good way of keeping in touch on a daily basis.  The days of the wait for that airmail letter with the pretty, colourful stamp are over.    

After lunch we headed north west towards Taranaki and its very impressive Mount Taranaki (also called Egmont just to confuse intrepid travellers). Our overnight was New Plymouth which appears to be a thriving town but not particularly memorable.