94 LISTENER MARCH 14 2020
THE GOOD LIFE
T
his is what we do for
fun in the country: try
making donkeys jump
over hurdles at the donkey
and mule competition at the
A&P Show. This is not what
donkeys regard as fun, and being
donkeys, they mostly resist any
attempt to go over the hurdles.
Sometimes, just to oblige the
humans, a donkey will sigh
heavily and walk over the jump.
It is fair to say that donkeys
are not naturals when it comes
to showjumping. They prefer
carrot-eating competitions.
Pru’s donkey Portia won a red
ribbon, first prize, in the trotting.
She didn’t even trot; she didn’t
even attempt to trot. “Pru relies
on Portia’s good looks,” said a
fellow competitor, hardly bit-
terly at all. We will consign to
the shameful closet of best-forgotten
cock-ups my attempt to get Lacey,
another of Pru’s donkeys, to trot. One
spectator compared it to watching an
inept fisherwoman attempting to reel
in a whale.
Lacey wasn’t supposed to be in the
donkey show and neither was I. I just
pinched her from the sideline and
entered her. We won a yellow ribbon,
third – Lacey’s first ribbon! – in best
presented. The handler is supposed
to dress up for this class. You are
supposed to wear a hat. I was notCity dwellers
venturing into
rural New Zealand
should expect
the unexpected.
Up the country
wearing a hat. I was wearing daggy long shorts and
a gingham top. Let us just say that the judge was a
very charitable chap.
Pru, who is the chair of the Donkey and Mule
Protection Trust and the caretaker of nine rescued
donkeys, looked very fine in her hat and polka-
dot blouse with a pussycat bow. She will not be
offended if I say she also looked unrecognisable.
She is a farmer and does not much go in for
dressing up. On one memorable occasion, when wehad a big outing to town to partake in yum cha at
Betty’s, she made an effort: she dragged an old pair
of sandals from the back of a cupboard. Said sandals
exploded at the table, firing perished rubber all
over. Pru’d had the sandals for only about 30 years.
She should really have taken them back.S
ome other things that could only have hap-
pened in the country:
A kind reader sends a card addressed to:
Michele Hewitson, Lush Places, Masterton, and it
gets delivered.
I am in a taxi on our rural road and I spot awandering dog. I ask the driver to
stop so I can see whether the dog
has a tag. If it does, I can phone the
owner to let them know their dog is
loose. I open my door and the dog
gets in. I put the dog out – it appears
to have no intention of paying its
share – and we drive to the nearest
property where the joker we buy our
firewood from is chopping away.
Has he lost a nice shaggy black
and white dog? He hasn’t, but
he knows that dog. It lives on a
farm across the way and is always
wandering. “See that house over
there?” he says, and points. “The
woman who owns it came home
one day and found that dog
asleep on her bed.”
We are in Moore Wilson’s; we
often are. It is only partially true
to say that what made us settle
in Masterton was the fact that
Moore Wilson’s has about 10
varieties of bacon, but it was a
factor. So, here we are at Moore
Wilson’s buying yet more bacon
when one of the staff says, “Hello
Michele and Greg.” She says she
has a gift for us from Graeme
Moore, the owner. She peers into
a bag, quizzically, and says she
wasn’t sure why he had chosen
this particular present: a bottle of an
eco-friendly degreaser and deodoriser.
Did we, we wondered, smell of
bacon fat and require degreasing
and deodorising? After reading the
accompanying card, we figured it out.
Graeme, the third generation Moore
to run the business, turns out to be
a follower of this column. He had
read Greg’s account of our septic-tank
woes. In the bottle is a magic fix for
stinky septic tanks. This may be the
best surprise present we have everG received. l
RE
G^
D
IX
O
N
The judge eyes up Lacey, left, and Portia.The fact that
Moore Wilson’s
has about 10varieties of
bacon is only
partly whywe settled in
Masterton.MICHELE
HEWITSON