A day of ups and downs

Yesterday was a day of ups and downs. Literally.

The downs were finding oneself slamming into three separate potholes. In all my 50 years of driving, I have never encountered roads as bad as our main road that takes us into Kerikeri was, yesterday.

Not only was one having to concentrate on the oncoming vehicles and corners etc, but one was also having to take the eyes a metre in front of the car to scan for potholes. And these were big ones. After hitting two with the left-hand tyres, both while trying to avoid holes on the right-hand side of the road, I gave up and handed the driving back to Stephen. Driving was too stressful for me. It wasn’t long before he crashed into one, this time on the righthand side. And this one caused some damage, a ruined tyre and bent rim.

I will be writing a letter of complaint to Waka Kotahi, although on our way home from Kerikeri we did see a truck that appeared to be filling in some of these holes, but by no means all of them. Why are our roads left to get into this condition? I know damn well that the closer one gets the Wellington, the better the roads are. Are we too far geographically from the big wigs sitting in their Wellington offices for them to care?

Now the upside of yesterday, the reason we were travelling on that road in the first place. Willow, my seven-year-old granddaughter, was competing in her first gymnastic competition. We were told that the event started at 11 so made sure we were there about 10.30. I was unsure of the format, but thought it probably take about an hour. Stephen dropped me off to visit town. It soon became obvious that my timing was way out, especially when Willow’s round didn’t even get underway until 12.30. I texted Stephen to tell him this and fortunately, he decided to make the 30 km journey to visit his brother to kill some time. Luckily he did this as it was actually 3pm before we finished.

I loved gymnastics as a child but hadn’t started until I was 11. I had always thought I would start my own children much younger but there wasn’t any in the remote regions where I brought the kids up. It was pleasing when Genevieve said she was enrolling Willow in the local classes. She was very good and it was a proud Nana afternoon watching Willow and her fellow team members compete. Not only was Willow the youngest in her team, but she scored the highest marks overall of the four, passing her Stage One competition.

So much has changed since my days of gymnastics. Now the girls’ marks are entered onto a computer, with parents able to scan in and view both their own child’s and others’ scores after each event. It was nail-biting for both Genevieve and I, believing 13 was required to pass each of the four events, when in fact it was a total mark of 50 for the four, meaning an average of 12.5. Willow scored 12.95 for her first activity and totalled 50.95 (I think) for the day.

I was impressed with her skills, particularly on the high bar that she had to be lifted well off the ground to reach and I could see her father’s determination in her eyes as she concentrated on what she had learned for each activity. Genevieve tells me it was the first time Willow had managed the splits, something she executed perfectly, but also something she’d practised hard for. Well done, Willow. But even if she hadn’t have passed, the fact that she took part and did her best, matters more in the long run. Life is about facing our fears and having a go. Positive results are a bonus.