Memoir Monday - Wandering with a Wise Woman

After a couple of more serious Memoir Monday's I am reverting back to type... And so here is the tale of the Wise Woman and Madmother Other Worldy Adventure.

For those who do not know Wise Woman is my now 90 year old mother, the matriarch of the Madmother family. In 1990 I was invited to a friend's wedding in Wanaka, South Island,  New Zealand. Wanaka, no Wanaka... not WANKER, WANAKA!

Anyhoos, Wise Woman and I decided to make a real adventure out of the trip and booked a hire car for two weeks to explore both North and South islands. Now not many people in their late twenties would relish a trip trecking around with their mother, but for me it was a great opportunity to share the joy of travel with someone as warped in humour as myself. As it turned out it is lucky I was with her because anyone else would think I was completely crazy-nuts-lost-the-plot insane.

All was going well as we checked in for our first night in a Golden Chain motel in the outer suburbs of Auckland. Have I ever mentioned the poltergeist who follows my mother and I around playing rather impish but embarrassing tricks on us? No? Ah well, I will now.

Several incidents had preceded this trip: walking past a table of handbags, not within touching distance, we both looked askance as one by one each bag dropped off the edge of the table. Sorta like watching a big stack of plump dominoes fall if you get my drift. Or handbag suicide.

And then there was the time a glass cube covered shoe display (you know, one of those on those tree like things all fancy, schmantzy, looking artistic, balance beamish set-ups) decided to fall apart. Not the glass bit, but the shoes. Falling in a heap, looking decidedly unglamorous lying forlornly on the bottom of the stand. Neither of us touched the bloody thing either. Of course, as the shop assistants looked on scowling we pair dissolve into hysterical giggles. Making us look all the more guilty.

Oh, and the Christmas wrapping debacle. Standing in K-Mart, in the stationery section looking at wrapping paper. Unbenownst to us we are under a whole large group of kamikaze rolls. We look up as dozens of tubes flow like a bunch of logs in the rapids off the shelf and onto our heads, and then the floor. Damn those nasty sprites. Some mischievous spirit took great pleasure in that one.

But back to our travel tale. So, there we are, relaxing after our flight and drive, short as it was, when Wise Woman needs to use the amenities. No issue, we are in our room, shouldn't be a problem. Then, as I sit watching TV, she flushes the toilet.

Ever heard the noise an old truck makes as you stuff up the double clutch changing gears? Sorta like a grinding, groaning, put your teeth on edge moan? Well, increase the volume tenfold and then draw it out for about ten minutes, add in a sound similar to a waterfall in the wet season and you have the cacophony which enveloped our room. We didn't know whether to run for our lives, ring the desk for help, or dissolve into slightly hysterical laughter. Of course we chose the latter, and by the time we had ourselves back under control the noise had ceased. After much deliberation and mirth, we came to the conclusion that this was how New Zealand toilets sounded.

Our next incident was in Christchurch. Same sorta scenario. We settle in to a quiet night, deciding to have some toast for a late night nibble. Put bread in toaster, push down lever... Pow - room descends into darkness! Cue giggles as we fumble around in the dark, stumbling over each other in our attempts to find the door. Open door, to more darkness, whole motel is blacked out. Oh crap, only us.

Then we realise that as far as we can see is in pitch black... Uh-oh. At this point the manager comes out to chat, and tells us that a transformer has blown and blacked out the whole area. Whew, didn't think a little toaster could blow the whole street, even with the help of the WW/MM poltergeist.

I could mention far more, but then this post would go on forever. But you get the idea. Most of our trip was spent in laughter, and it passed all too quickly.But now you see why I prefer to travel with the WW. After all, only those close to you really get it when you are a slightly twisted person with your own family spirit...