On Sunday morning, I found myself in the perfect place for a Kimberley. I was wearing knee length shorts, a t-shirt, a ponytail and sunglasses. I was standing on squeaky white sand at Onetangi Beach on Waiheke Island while snowy white seagulls hunkered in the sand and waddled on their scarlet legs, their colours so bright they looked like they had been freshly painted. Derek, Andy and Elliott cavorted in the cool (some say cold) waters while behind me, a middle-aged couple sat on their deck looking content as the seagulls drinking cups of tea. There were two houses right on the beach with lazy lawns in front and boats draped at the edge of the sand, and I swear I could hear them calling "Kimpy, kimpy". There was no wind. I was so happy to be in that beautiful tranquil place that when D got out of the water and threatened to hug me while still completely wet, I didn't even mind a bit.
And then on the ferry on the way back to Auckland, I sat and read real estate brochures, wondering which of those million dollar pads that look like rough baches on a quiet beach would be mine.
I can't help but admit that I want to own a patch of New Zealand. Though I've never even made the commitment to buying a television or any appliances apart from a cake mixer and a juicer in brief spells of grown-upness, I want to spend my weekends picking the grapefruit that grow on my trees in my garden, I want to paint my bathroom bright red, I want to put shelves up, and I want to install a cat flap. I want to complain about rates and be a regular visitor at Mitre 10.
But armed only with my paltry $30k a year and debt to my parents, boyfriend and sister, it doesn't look like I'll be visiting Harcourts any time soon. Though I may just pretend and go to open homes anyway. On the other hand, everyone has been so generous with the Cure Kids money, maybe I could open a Cure Kimberley's Need to Nest fund. Got any spare change?
Anyway, the weekend I have just spent at Waiheke Island with Rebecca, Erin, Derek, Bella, Elliott, Andy, Kathleen and Michelle was wucked. We ate, sno0zed, walked, drank, talked, sang, did charades, made stupid jokes and occasionally showered. My first ever cake - a banana cake of extraordinary tastiness - was given the thumbs up by everyone, and I founda spot in the world where, if I had a million bucks, I could paint my bathroom red and install a cat flap.