You kept the key

You're home again, glad you kept the key

You're home again
My journey to Nelson was somewhat of a blur. Literally. I had woken up with a runny nose and itchy eyes so I assumed I must be suffering with hayfever. It took me a while to reach this conclusion, my head telling me that it couldn’t possibly be hayfever in December as it was winter. To make matters worse I had been rubbing my itchy eyes so they were now bright red and streaming. I had picked up some hayfever tablets and eye drops just before I boarded the bus. At least that had been a little easier than when I had been trying to buy them in Buenos Aires and I was not sure I was asking for the right thing. I popped a pill and put some drops in my eyes. I spent most of the bus journey wearing my sunglasses (despite a lack of sun) and tears streaming down my face. It meant that I got a double seat to myself though as nobody wanted to sit next to the strange guy who appeared to be crying.

  

I arrived in Nelson and headed to Ah House, where I would be hosted by my next gay, Mark. Having found the place and met Mark I was introduced to the dog and to his mother, Dot. His husband, John, was off working overseas at the moment. Mark was another ex-pat Brit who had moved across to New Zealand just like David, my first NZ host. They both had a mother called Dot too. I was shown to my room, which was downstairs round the back of the house and overlooked the garden. Mark told me that I was more than welcome to make full use of the garden and enjoy the weather as the sun had now made an appearance. He said that he had to go out with Dot to do some shopping. I headed to the supermarket up the road to get myself some provisions (mainly nibbles and wine) before heading back. I was still feeling a bit rough so I decided to have a little lay down outside and close my eyes for a while. I woke up nearly two hours later, the imprint of the sun lounger across the left side of my face and a small string of dribble hanging from the corner of my mouth. So attractive. It's a wonder I am still single. Luckily there was nobody around to see. It was early evening so I headed indoors to get myself something to eat and have an early night.

The next day I was up and feeling better. The tablets seemed to be doing the trick. I got myself ready and was in the process of faffing around when Mark knocked on the door. He asked me if I was ready for some breakfast and we headed up to the kitchen. I settled in at the dining table and poured myself a big cup of coffee from the pot that was already waiting on the table. We chatted while Mark cooked some bacon so that I could have a bacon buttie. I spied a bottle of HP sauce and couldn’t wait to have some – my first taste since back in Isla Mujeres when my sister had brought a pile of sachets of the stuff with her from Manchester Airport. It was such a reminder of home for me. It didn’t take long for Mark to pick up on my slight northern accent, something which a lot of British people miss. He asked me where I was from and I told him that I was born and bred in Sheffield. He asked me what part and whether I knew Eccleshall Road. I did, having been out drinking at various establishments on it on several occasions when I was at university. He explained that his mum, Dot, used to have a hairdressers on Eccleshall Road. Mark had grown up in Wakefield. I had managed to travel to the other side of the world and was now having breakfast with someone who grew up just up the road from me. 

Mark asked me what plans I had for the day. I told him that I would probably head out for a walk as it was a nice day, hit the “centre of New Zealand” and then back through town. Mark told me that I should aim to be back in town early afternoon as it was the Nelson Santa Parade that afternoon. Having seen the centre of New Zealand, which was at the top of a bloody big hill I headed back in to town for the Santa Parade. I found a spot in the sun near the start of the parade route. I felt a little awkward standing there with my camera, a single grown man, surrounded by families. As the parade started the children of the family next to me pushed there way to the front, having been versed by their mother in how they should stand with both their hands out to get the most sweets from the people in the parade. It was good to see the Christmas spirit alive and well. One of the first groups in the parade had a real donkey with them which proceeded to stop and do a massive poo right in the middle of the street, much to the amusement of everyone. The entire parade that followed had to make a detour round the large steaming pile, the people nearest the poo having to warn the people in the parade on numerous occasions of the hazard.

Glad you kept the key

The parade was a great place to people watch. I watched crowds as much as I watched the parade. I didn’t understand the relevance of all of the floats but appreciated the effort that everyone had clearly put into them. The parade was rounded off by Santa and his reindeer. Mark had told me that the parade had been delayed by a week as the Santa float was used in another parade and someone had driven it into something, damaging a couple of the reindeer. They didn’t look like they had just been in an accident though. After a walk through the town I headed back up to Mark’s. On reaching the place I opened my bag and rooted around for the door keys. I pulled a set out but the didn’t look right. I had another look through my bag and pulled a second set of keys out. Why did I have two sets ok keys? I suddenly realised that the first set were for Shane and Damien’s place in Picton. After nearly six months of travelling I had finally done the thing I had feared and had left with someone’s door keys.

I got straight on to the computer to send a message to Shane but already had one from him asking if I had his keys. I apologised and asked the best way to get the keys back to him. Luckily my bus the next day would be via Blenheim where I had about an hour to kill before continuing on to Christchurch. Shane said that he would be working in Blenheim the following day so he gave me directions to his office so I could hand over the keys. I had been determined not to walk off with anyone’s keys so I was really annoyed with myself. I drowned my sorrows with a glass of wine and watch a Sandra Bullock film on tv. By the next morning my hayfever was gone. I packed my case and headed upstairs. Mark was in the kitchen and asked what I wanted for breakfast. We had a good chat about all things Yorkshire before he and Dot dropped me down in town for my bus to Christchurch via Blenheim. In Blenheim I had enough time to go meet Shane, hand over the door keys, apologise again and be back at the bus stop in time for the next bus down to Christchurch and my next host, Bruce.

“You're home again, glad you kept the key” 
Lyrics from Fallen Angel from the musical Jersey Boys