But back to Gore

It's the first day in a long time that I have been home during daylight and I have discovered that my windows have developed their own insulation courtesy of the stock trucks. It won't be a case of washing the windows as chipping away the mud.

But back to Gore, which is now a week ago - sorry about my slackness but Nat Com is all consuming :-)

First things, for those of you who have not driven out in the countryside for a while, this is pretty much what you see - the back of a Fonterra milk tanker and in the South Island you get that view for ages cause it's hard to find passing lane.

And when you get to Gore after six hours of driving you feel like this

because even though the locals are wandering around in t-shirts, it is cold and you can tell cause they have the heating on already. Lovely toasty warm cafes and country clubs - mmmmmm.

So whats Gore famous for and why should you go there?

there's the Creamoata factory with Sargent Dan

and Sam the Ram

To be fair Southland has a proud history of settlement, farming and moonshine. They are our hillbilly's and what's great about them is that they have a strong sense of community and place. They are rightly proud of Gore.

Gore is a special place....with special people who roll their 'r's'

Look! Here is one of those special people now.

Can you see her, there on the left.

I was having a zen moment taking photos of flowers in a wee park when this woman came up to me to ask if I was aware that I had captured her image and she was worried about her security.

Fair enough.

I explained to her that I was aware of her kind of concerns and that I didn't put photos of people faces on my blog unless they knew I was going to - just in case they are mass murderers and I wouldn't want to blow their cover, y'know how that can be.

She went on to tell me that she had been grabbed by a stranger (please note: all scary strangers are men by default) and he wrenched her arm quite badly and pushed her into her friend.

I'm not sure how she equated being on my blog and being attacked by a stranger. All I could do is encourage her to hurry home before dark, at least hurry away from me so I could go stand on a Main Street corner and wait for Wazza my undie contact.

No I didn't watch out for strangers who might give me a random bash - I figure there are enough people who have my back that karma would make life very difficult for him if he did.

Gore can be quite a strange place.

It will be stranger still come July when the Young Farmers come to town.