There were widespread scenes of disbelief and panic across Auckland over the Easter break as we were plunged headlong into a storyline not amiss in a series of Doctor Who. Hundreds of thousands of mild mannered Easter holiday goers had their plans thrown into disarray due to a sudden bout of involuntary time travel. Overnight bags filled with long pants and pullovers, car boots packed to the brim with board games, DVD's and gaming consoles - these were all rendered obsolete as people ran screaming from their houses, baches, tents and holdiay rental accomodation into the warm, inviting arms of sunshine. How can this be?? they all shouted to one another. We were told to brace ourselves for thunderstorms, heavy rain, late autumn temperatures! We must've been crudely transported back in time to January 2007. There are boats on the harbour! Children building sandcastles! Shit films on at the cinema! Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (the orginial) on telly! Don't tell us its the Easter break you morons, time travel is the ONLY logical explanation.

All these people have a point you know. The weather report is never wrong so there has to have been a vast rift in the space time continuum open long enough for the population of Auckland to tumble backwards 4 months to the early January we were robbed of. At least that's my theory and I'm sticking to it. The Guzzwells (having laboriously prepared for adverse weather conditions) stuffed the boot with every conceivable attention-diverting plaything for James, some hefty reading material for the grown ups and well, Chili's bed. Sorry Chili - you were always going to be morose couped up inside, there's nowt much we can do about that. We were off to Waiheke Island. And not just a flash in the pan, ooh-look-Oneroa's-quite-a-nice-beach day trip but a serious, 4 day, pretend-we're-locals, stay on the island that many people (Waihekians at least) call the jewel of the Hauraki Gulf. Well they're hardly going to call it the MacDonald's Happy Meal Toy of the Haurkai Gulf, are they? We were house sitting for our dear friend Dallas, who was off up to Whananaki with his whanau. And all was going according to plan until we too fell victim to that bloody involuntary time travel I mentioned earlier.

Imagine arriving on the island with all the appearance of a family setting off for a snowboarding adventure only to be slapped in the face by a wall of heat ambling across the mainland with the unstoppable momentum of a front row forward, his eye on the tryline and only a midget fullback between his hamhock thighs and try-scoring glory. Yes, we were a family of midget fullbacks, with no choice but to step aside and let that wall of heat crash through us, over us, on its way to covering the island for the next four solid days. We surrender! we cried, although our cries were muffled as we desperately shed our wintery gear in favour of Ye Olden Summery Clothes.

That most pure of optimists, the person who put last year money on the Black Caps to win this World Cup, yes even he could not have predicted the balmy climes bestowed upon us over Easter weekend. Even the weather was unprepared and the fleeting low pressure system that peetered out across the top of New Zealand managed to feebly fart a Friday afternoon's worth of southwest raspberries. It was enough to ruffle the pages of my book and scuff up the sand above the high tide mark on the wee beach at the foot of the garden. Still weary of the sun (it couldn' last) it was also enough to send us off on a famous Guzzwell Family Explor-a-thon. I was working on the premise that I needed a decent land-based fishing spot for I planned to head out early on Sunday morning. Everyone kicks a goal. Oh and did I mention how beautiful the island is? It makes up for a distinct lack of native bush with eye-popping coastlines, sweeping vineyards and olive tree plantations. Legend has it that if you squint carefully the vista can be mistaken for somewhere in the mediterannean. The drive was a perfect way to ease us into the long weekend and a great way to keep James from the autumnal waters of the Gulf.

The wind lost its game of cat and mouse with the sun however and by Saturday morning a tranquil hush had descended over our patch of coastline; pleasure craft gently rocked their moorings out in the bay, accompanied by vague splashes as anchors dropped and people swam. Louder splashes and relaxed shouts of happy children were heard closer to shore with only the occasional drone of of an outboard motor suggesting anything so energetic as actual movement. The most relaxed shout and loudest splashes of all were coming from our own firecely burning sun, James, to whom the words sitting and still are part of an ancient dialect he has no desire to acquaint himself with.


A keen exponent of 'kicking the ball' and 'digging the big hole' (his words not ours), it was a herculean task to get him to stop even for food. Such are the great pleasures of this life and I can honestly say that if I thought hole digging and ball kicking was fun when I was tiny, its a different universe of good times now. This is how we spent our Easter. And when holes weren't being dug and balls weren't being kicked wee ate well, managed to read in fits and bursts and were asleep by 9.30pm every night. You gotta love that sea air..

Oh and I caught a backpack full of snapper at Opopo Bay, a decent walk at the Eastern corner of Waiheke. Sweet, sweet icing on an Easter bunny cake.