Growing
Up
Born in 1961 the eldest son to a master butcher from Petone and a
5# pohm hailing from the east end docks of London ( depression and blitz survivor )
1960
Life started out on the Kapiti Coast where my father ran his own successful
business.A proud father he took me everywhere with him; including the pub.
April 1967
A sea change in the late 60 s saw us moving to the sleepy town of Matata in the
Bay of Plenty where my parents became publicans purchasing
the Horse Shoe Inn.
Matata
The Garden Bar sign indicating the hotel.
This was my own Disneyland.
A mother pre occupied caring for a new born as well as a handicapped
sibling and a father juggling a mushrooming business.
Left me to my own devices much of the time exploring the hills,creek beds
beaches and lagoon of the township.I wandered everywhere.
One of the few pale faces in the classroom at the primary school with
maori teachers born locally.The centenary of the school was a big deal.
I can recall learning the haka till my lilly white pakeha thighs turned blood red.
Remember the All Blacks version of the time was nothing short of a disgrace.
The sight of a pakeha kid thumping away at the celebrations seemed to
amuse my fathers maori mates to no end.Boy did they let me know !!
Mrs Fauwacer was on my case big time.But I just didn't have that aggression
in me to tap.Corporal punishment involved a screwing of the ears administered
by one of the pet kids ;with a visit to the headmaster Mr Nelson where the
strap awaited any miscreants.He was good - one visit was enough for me !
Just to put this in perspective - my father never laid a finger on any
of us no matter what we got up to and my mother was easily navigated.
An early type of immersion before it became trendy.
Of course in hind sight I now realise a long branch of my relatives
may have also attended the school over the century.
Roots Page
I am reasonably sure my father had no idea of the possibility
of the family connection to the site of the hotel before purchasing it.
Business boomed as he developed the sale of draft beer in mini tankers
supplying Tangis throughout the Bay.
The Garden bar rocked to Prince Tui Teka
Bunny Walters ; the Maori Volcanics ; Tom Sharplin ; the Yandell Sisters
Captain Fog Pocket & a long list of RotoVegas wanna bes
I had a ring side seat to these performances , perched atop of a huge stack
of empty ABC crates that were stored alongside a fence line of the garden bar.
As the seating in the garden bar filled I would hand down crates to people to sit on.
My mother was horrified when she caught me but I was out of reach.
I do have a distinct memory of Tui Tekas wheels.
A new white Falcon 500 station wagon with a maori wooden carving
embossed to the door.I talked to him briefly before he clambered
behind the wheel - burning off back to Roto Vegas.
He would bust into a perfect pitch rolling vibrato of the John Rowles classic
cher ro moana marrie
share a banana with me
Fantastic comedic cabaret, Of course John & Frankie Rowles ,Bay locals.
I also have a distinct memory of getting sprung along with my sister smoking by
the eldest son of our back door neighbor. Marc Williams.We thought we
were well hidden deep in the bottom of a sandpit.He came striding up to
the edge of the pit atop an old grey nag they kept. Sworn to
secrecy if we gave him a couple of ciggys.
The same flamboyant solo vocalist of the late 70 s & TV talent quest contestant??
Yesterday ( was just the beginning of my life )
& currently the Marc Hunter replacement in Dragon.
Barry Crump was known to wet his whistle in the public bar and
at this stage of life I thought I would be a writer. I had no idea who he was
nor why my father had insisted on introducing him to the family.He was extremely
cordial and I do remember him taking an overly keen interest in my mother which seemed
to rile my protective feathers ! That distinctive wisen face with the craters and
character lines reflective of the erosion lines of the back country farmland he had spent
so much time wandering. Almost as if he had absorbed it somehow.
The living Kiwi version of Mt Rushmore of the Black Hills U,S,A.
Then when he opened his trap - that bellow of a voice.His words of encouragement fell
on deaf ears ; he was just some geezer flirting with my mother.
With a little help from my sisters - Horse Shoe Inn
Sept 1970
It was here that my parents marriage fell apart.
The hotel was sold and my father took on the lease of the Hydro Grand in Timaru.
My mother moved to Waikanae back to the Kapiti Coast & close to whanau with the kids.
My sister and I were shipped off to boarding schools and the pair
of us gravitated to careers within the hospitality industry.
I completed a hotel management diploma at C.I.T. in Heretaunga
while my sister completed the receptionist diploma at the same institute.
It was while attending this course that I became estranged from my father.
His world seemed to implode - I believe the long arm of the tax man may have had a strangle hold
on him as he watched his success circle the drain pipe. I can't be sure as it was never discussed.
Returning from overseas I saw him briefly before he died.
Was it Jeckel or Hyde ?
You Tube - Conkijoe Moana - Horse Shoe Inn Link
Return to Profile page
Return to Home page
Born in 1961 the eldest son to a master butcher from Petone and a
5# pohm hailing from the east end docks of London ( depression and blitz survivor )
1960
Life started out on the Kapiti Coast where my father ran his own successful
business.A proud father he took me everywhere with him; including the pub.
April 1967
A sea change in the late 60 s saw us moving to the sleepy town of Matata in the
Bay of Plenty where my parents became publicans purchasing
the Horse Shoe Inn.
Matata
The Garden Bar sign indicating the hotel.
This was my own Disneyland.
A mother pre occupied caring for a new born as well as a handicapped
sibling and a father juggling a mushrooming business.
Left me to my own devices much of the time exploring the hills,creek beds
beaches and lagoon of the township.I wandered everywhere.
One of the few pale faces in the classroom at the primary school with
maori teachers born locally.The centenary of the school was a big deal.
I can recall learning the haka till my lilly white pakeha thighs turned blood red.
Remember the All Blacks version of the time was nothing short of a disgrace.
The sight of a pakeha kid thumping away at the celebrations seemed to
amuse my fathers maori mates to no end.Boy did they let me know !!
Mrs Fauwacer was on my case big time.But I just didn't have that aggression
in me to tap.Corporal punishment involved a screwing of the ears administered
by one of the pet kids ;with a visit to the headmaster Mr Nelson where the
strap awaited any miscreants.He was good - one visit was enough for me !
Just to put this in perspective - my father never laid a finger on any
of us no matter what we got up to and my mother was easily navigated.
An early type of immersion before it became trendy.
Of course in hind sight I now realise a long branch of my relatives
may have also attended the school over the century.
Roots Page
I am reasonably sure my father had no idea of the possibility
of the family connection to the site of the hotel before purchasing it.
Business boomed as he developed the sale of draft beer in mini tankers
supplying Tangis throughout the Bay.
The Garden bar rocked to Prince Tui Teka
Bunny Walters ; the Maori Volcanics ; Tom Sharplin ; the Yandell Sisters
Captain Fog Pocket & a long list of RotoVegas wanna bes
I had a ring side seat to these performances , perched atop of a huge stack
of empty ABC crates that were stored alongside a fence line of the garden bar.
As the seating in the garden bar filled I would hand down crates to people to sit on.
My mother was horrified when she caught me but I was out of reach.
I do have a distinct memory of Tui Tekas wheels.
A new white Falcon 500 station wagon with a maori wooden carving
embossed to the door.I talked to him briefly before he clambered
behind the wheel - burning off back to Roto Vegas.
He would bust into a perfect pitch rolling vibrato of the John Rowles classic
cher ro moana marrie
share a banana with me
Fantastic comedic cabaret, Of course John & Frankie Rowles ,Bay locals.
I also have a distinct memory of getting sprung along with my sister smoking by
the eldest son of our back door neighbor. Marc Williams.We thought we
were well hidden deep in the bottom of a sandpit.He came striding up to
the edge of the pit atop an old grey nag they kept. Sworn to
secrecy if we gave him a couple of ciggys.
The same flamboyant solo vocalist of the late 70 s & TV talent quest contestant??
Yesterday ( was just the beginning of my life )
& currently the Marc Hunter replacement in Dragon.
Barry Crump was known to wet his whistle in the public bar and
at this stage of life I thought I would be a writer. I had no idea who he was
nor why my father had insisted on introducing him to the family.He was extremely
cordial and I do remember him taking an overly keen interest in my mother which seemed
to rile my protective feathers ! That distinctive wisen face with the craters and
character lines reflective of the erosion lines of the back country farmland he had spent
so much time wandering. Almost as if he had absorbed it somehow.
The living Kiwi version of Mt Rushmore of the Black Hills U,S,A.
Then when he opened his trap - that bellow of a voice.His words of encouragement fell
on deaf ears ; he was just some geezer flirting with my mother.
With a little help from my sisters - Horse Shoe Inn
Sept 1970
It was here that my parents marriage fell apart.
The hotel was sold and my father took on the lease of the Hydro Grand in Timaru.
My mother moved to Waikanae back to the Kapiti Coast & close to whanau with the kids.
My sister and I were shipped off to boarding schools and the pair
of us gravitated to careers within the hospitality industry.
I completed a hotel management diploma at C.I.T. in Heretaunga
while my sister completed the receptionist diploma at the same institute.
It was while attending this course that I became estranged from my father.
His world seemed to implode - I believe the long arm of the tax man may have had a strangle hold
on him as he watched his success circle the drain pipe. I can't be sure as it was never discussed.
Returning from overseas I saw him briefly before he died.
Was it Jeckel or Hyde ?
You Tube - Conkijoe Moana - Horse Shoe Inn Link
Return to Profile page
Return to Home page