Bumpy Roads

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Dedication

Foreword

Acknowledgements

Preface

Bumpy Roads

PART ONE STORIES BY BRIAN WILSON

Shaky Grounds

The Tree

Just Water Under The Bridge

A Case In Time

The Journey

The Roadman

Uk Road Rage

Happy View Hospital

Three Granddads

Up The Garden Path

Zimbabwe—Land Of Disappointment

The Past Revisited

On A Crusade

Solomon’s Gold

Sydney Adventure

Garage Sale

PART TWO STORIES BY RACHEL COOP

Memory Lane

Flatting Dramas

Flight 00Xyzk2

The Flight Of Life

Sprinkleening

First Date

PART THREE STORIES BY BRIAN WILSON

The Bully

All On A Sunny Day

A Memorable Sermon

Wedding Worries

The Three Passes

The Gold Coast

A Day In Shanghai

Home Alone

Baby Day

Death In The Family

The Gardener

Love Conquers All

An Anxious Moment

Beneath The Ice

Crowded House

Move On

Authors Biographies

185 white chairs—an artwork by Peter Majendie. A temporary memorial to those who died in the Christchurch earthquake

of 22nd February 2011.

Peter, (posing in the picture), has been responsible for many clever artworks over the years in Christchurch and overseas. These chairs represent the age, race and gender of those who died. They are set out on the site where Oxford Terrace Baptist Church stood prior to the earthquake.

DEDICATION

WE WOULD LIKE to dedicate this book to the people of Christchurch, New Zealand, who since 4th of September 2010 to August 2012 have experienced over 10,000 earthquakes. On 4 September at 4.34am an earthquake of 7.1 struck Christchurch, and on 22 February 2011 an earthquake of 6.3 destroyed much of Christchurch taking 185 lives.

Since these catastrophic events and the amazing resilience displayed by Christchurch people, the city and its people are now faced with rebuilding and change.

FOREWORD

I AM VERY excited that at last and as promised, Brian Wilson has written another book of entertaining short stories.

At times in our lives we all experience difficult albeit challenging times; referred to by Wilson as ‘bumpy roads’. These are experiences to look back on and see the funny side of life, and hopefully to learn from. Brian Wilson and Rachel Coop’s short stories are entertaining, sometimes humorous, and often thought provoking.

Although Wilson and Coop’s writings comprise stories in a number of countries, ‘Bumpy Roads’, is cleverly Wilson’s play on words reflecting not only those difficult times in life to which we can all relate, but also the experiences following over two years of earthquakes in Christchurch, New Zealand. How best could one describe post-earthquake Christchurch and the challenges citizens have had to face? Everywhere around Christchurch there are bumpy roads caused by the earthquake of 22 February 2011 and resulting liquefaction. The streets are characterised by potholes, humps and dips. As these roads over time get repaired, so also do the people’s lives. ‘Bumpy Roads’ sums up both the ongoing challenges Christchurch people face as well as their day to day travelling experiences.

While the author delivers delightful glimpses into the lives and times of the various characters, the stories are believable and thought provoking. The reader may recall some of the same characters which appeared in his previous book, ‘Moments in Time—a collection of short stories’.

As a bonus, we are introduced to several stories by Coop. Initially, I was apprehensive when told there would be five stories written by another author. This is a risky move for an author who is getting good reviews. However, Coop’s contribution is not only complimentary, but also provides a younger person’s perspective on life. Her masterly approach to descriptive writing and metaphor makes for good reading.

This book is a great father-daughter effort. I have enjoyed reading the variety of stories and I certainly hope that others will too. So whether the reader is curled up comfortably in an easy chair at home or waiting impatiently for a flight at an airport, ‘Bumpy Roads’ is a great book to pick up and enjoy.

David Moore

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

IN WRITING A second book I have been encouraged by the ongoing support, and positive feedback from family, friends and other readers. I would like to thank my wife Karen, family, friends and readers for their support.

Secondly, I would like to thank Rachel for her contribution of five stories. I enjoy her style of writing and look forward to reading more of her work in the future.

I am pleased that David, once again was keen to write the Foreword. In the course of writing both books he has been very supportive and has offered good feedback. His Foreword appraisal has been more than generous and it is my hope that the reader will share the same sentiment and enjoy these stories.

PREFACE

LIFE TRAVELS MANY roads. Some are bumpy and may be unwelcome experiences, but they are also often the funniest times in our life. These are the times to cherish, reflect on, build upon, and are sometimes a catalyst for moving on.

Bumpy Roads, reminds us that life is unpredictable and change inevitable; new faces, places and unique experiences. Life can be embarrassing, demanding, challenging, yet rewarding. We largely decide our own destiny by the directions we decide to take.

This book sets out to entertain the reader, yet provoke thought. It is my hope that you, the reader, will enjoy these stories.

Brian Wilson

"Life is a journey that must be travelled no matter

how bad the roads and accommodations."

Oliver Goldsmith

BUMPY ROADS

Sometimes we travel down bumpy roads

With dusty baggage and tiresome loads.

Potholes; flat moments and other strains,

Life travels seldom down fast lanes.

Some roads are gravel and slow us down.

Others—well let’s turn around.

Those windy roads of procrastination

Seldom lead to satisfaction.

The narrow roads of sheer frustration;

Beware of head-on confrontation.

Shortcuts over precipitous faces

Put our lives in dangerous places.

And when we reach life’s intersections

The problem’s choosing which directions.

Whichever ways we choose to take

Our journey’s end will be our fate.

Brian Wilson

PART ONE

STORIES BY BRIAN WILSON

SHAKY GROUNDS

JUST A TRUCK passing, said Alex, laughing.

Well it’s so unnerving. Every time I hear a truck passing I think, hello another one, replied Bruce, as he composed himself and withdrew his hands from the balcony rails. Alex, meanwhile took another bite out of his Boston bun, smacked his lips, then turned to Bruce. Don’t worry it’s just another moment in time. It will soon all blow over.

Bruce reached for his cup and took a sip of tea. This did seem to help calm his nerves. Apart from the fear of another earthquake or aftershock, it was very pleasant sitting on the balcony eating lunch on a sunny day.

It’s all bumpy roads from now on, added Alex.

Yes, I had noticed a lot of road works around the city. The earthquake caused a lot of sags and bumps, as well as broken pipes. Bruce produced a ginger biscuit and dunked it into his tea then bit off the softened biscuit end. He had learned this trick from his parents. It seemed to be an English tradition.

That’s not quite what I was getting at, clarified Alex. I sort of meant it more figuratively.

Like the future of the cathedral after all the earthquake damage?

Yes, and like demolishing most of the tall buildings in the central business district, added Alex. Then there are seven thousand plus houses in the red zone.

All to be demolished?

Yes, I would think so, replied Alex, as well as many other destroyed houses in other parts of the city. But enough talk about the Christchurch earthquake. I hear you’ve been travelling your own bumpy roads.

Bumpy roads! Bumpy roads! More like a dead end road getting him to pay his rent. When we signed up Marty for the flat his partner was a lovely lady, though he was a skinhead with tattoos. But my uncle used to say people shouldn’t stereotype, so I put aside all my preconceptions and agreed to their tenancy.

Bad move?

Say that again.

Bad move, repeated Alex, jokingly.

I meant figuratively, responded Bruce who was not amused.

Anyhow, not long after renting they split up. Unfortunately it was Marty who stayed on. We got the raw end of the deal. His ex, who was the mother of his children, then moved in.

So, she was no good?

No, she was fine. But this relationship didn’t last either. He hadn’t been long back with her before he was once again playing the field. Naturally, when she found out he was having an affair, she left him.

And the flat?

Yes.

Another raw deal?

Very much so. From there on it was all down hill. Bruce took another sip of tea and dunked his biscuit again. He was clearly now agitated, this time having to steady his hand as he held the cup to his lips.

Gee wiz, it sounds rather like the storyline of a TV soap, commented Alex. I have always considered soaps as rubbish and not worth watching, but I guess we live in our own little cocoons and don’t realise how differently the other half live.

Yes, it is hard to believe. Anyhow everything turned to custard. He seemed to mix with the wrong crowd and from there payments ceased despite promises he would pay the rent owing.

So you took him to the Tenancy Tribunal several weeks ago?

I had no choice but to evict him. I can’t afford to have a tenant who doesn’t pay his rent, especially when the bank still expects me to pay the interest on the mortgage. These tenants think we are ripping them off, but they don’t realise landlords have overheads like rates, insurance and mortgage interest.

The Tenancy Tribunal? prompted Alex.

Well quite straight forward; just a lower level court—an adjudicator instead of a judge, and a stenographer to record the proceedings.

Yes, but what happened?

I presented my case and a folder of evidence and the tenant responded. Then the adjudicator asked a few questions and arrived at her decision.

So he turned up then?

Yes, but late. The adjudicator wasn’t at all impressed. At the end of the hearing she issued an eviction notice and an order for him to repay outstanding rents.

And the eviction date? questioned Alex, as he unwrapped another Boston bun.

By midnight tonight, Alex.

So you will be going around at midnight to check out your property?

No, we will go around tomorrow morning and I will update you next week at work.

The next morning Bruce and his wife arrived at the flat. Bruce carefully lifted up the flap of the letterbox and suspiciously peered in.

Sweetie, what on earth are you doing? asked Janice.

Well, I asked Marty to leave the key in the box, but you never know he may have put a mouse trap in there.

Oh, for goodness sake, you are paranoid. We’ve been very good landlords. He is hardly likely to be out to get us.

Well, it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Bruce retrieved the key from the box and both walked down the drive to the house. Bruce tried the front door. It was locked.

There you go a tenant who leaves the key as instructed and locks the door behind him can’t be too bad. Sweetie, if he was going to trash the house then he wouldn’t have made an appearance at the tribunal.

Nevertheless, Bruce somewhat apprehensively turned the doorknob and edged the door slowly open.

As the door parted, they were greeted by a fowl smell of cigarette fumes.

They were told they weren’t to smoke inside, complained Bruce. This smell will be hard to remove. It will have permeated the ceiling, walls, drapes, carpets…

Carpets! My new carpet; they’ve put ink all over my new carpet… . and, and my drapes—my nice new drapes as well.

That’s not all, growled Bruce. The imbecile has put his fist through all the internal doors and kicked holes in the bedroom wall.

. . . . And the mirror where is it? Sweetie, they’ve stolen your mum’s valuable mirror. I did wonder if it was safe leaving it in the house when we were renting it out.

Bruce and Janice spent the whole weekend cleaning up the house. It was a pigsty. The carpets required vacuuming, the fowl-smelling drapes dry cleaning and rubbish scattered over the floors needed removing. Outside, the lawns were just as bad. They obviously hadn’t been cut for