So as some of you may have noticed, petroleum prices have gone up a wee bit. This means that the oil fields in the waters around NZ are actually worth doing something with.

That, in turn, has brought my friend Tim — an old friend from the semester I did at Edinburgh — down to New Plymouth, to teach the people working on the off-shore drilling rigs useful life skills, like how to get out of a helicopter that has just ditched in the sea, without drowning or being decapitated by the rotors. This involves strapping your victims students into a mock-up helicopter chassis and tipping them into a swimming pool. Apparently, the training used to feature a wave machine, a firehose, and a strobe-light as well, but someone decided that much verisimilitude was “mean”.

Anyway, in the course of trying to find something to do with his weekends in New Plymouth, Tim spotted my name on one of the local SCA websites, and got in touch. We finally managed to have him down this past weekend. Yay ! Thanks, Peak Oil !

We lucked out with the weather, so he got to see Wellington in the sun, with the boaties out doing their thing, and when the weather turned horrid Saturday night, we had the usual suspects over board games. We established that despite lots of stuff happening to both of us in the more-than-a-decade it’s been since we saw each other last, neither of us has had any radical shifts in personality or tastes. I’ve been assured that New Plymouth compares favorably to Yemen and Nigeria (although the architecture in Yemen makes up for a lot).

Sunday, Stephen and Tim went to Te Papa, while Emily and I oggled at astrolabes built into finger rings and accoutrements for your stint as Galactic Empress at the jewelry show. (Aside to so-called “avant garde” artists: taking random bits of rubbish and presenting them as “art”, or “a statement” has Been Done. A lot. It’s not clever anymore.)

Yes, I completely failed to get photos. But Tim’s promised to come back down for the mid-winter party next week, so I’ll try to get some then.