Books
Waimate
by Dave Armstrong
Continued from page 3...
I couldn’t believe it. “Dad,” I hissed once we were back outside, “you put in $10.”
“I know, but it’s to restore the organ your ancestors bought.”
“But it’s a church – you’re giving money to the Establishment. You said to those guys with name-tags that knocked on our door at home that you’ll never give a cent to the church as long as you live.”
Dad smiled. “I might have said that once, but I’ve evolved. Besides, if I didn’t put in 10 bucks, your mother would have put in 20.”
We walked towards the car park.
“Hurry up, kids,” commanded Dad, “if we leave now there’ll be time for an ice cream and a swim before dinner.”
We all cheered and squeezed into the back of the Hillman Minx for the dusty trip back to the camping ground.
When I looked at this whole scene, I thought it admirable. It was not merely that England was brought vividly before my mind. Nor was it the triumphant feeling of seeing what Englishmen could effect; but rather the high hopes thus inspired for the future progress of this fine island.
We didn’t go back to that beach next year or ever again. Even Mum and Dad wanted to return but the local council decided that running a camping ground was uneconomic. Their priorities were evolving, they said, and providing low-cost camping was no longer one of them. The land was sold for luxury timeshares.
I believe we were all glad to leave New Zealand. It is not a pleasant place. Amongst the natives there is absent that charming simplicity that is found in Tahiti; and the greater part of the English are the very refuse of society. Neither is the country itself attractive. I look back but to one bright spot, and that is Waimate, with its Christian inhabitants.
Dave Armstrong has written for stage (including Niu Sila, with Oscar Kightley, and King and Country) and TV (including bro’Town, Spin Doctors and Seven Periods with Mr Gormsby).
