Chapter 2

Dunedin is ... crowded. Our space was most of a block but across the street was tiny, dumpy, low housing full of unruly misbehaving college kids. They have very little sense of personal space and they don't like us.

They don't like us because we have consistently refused to have a second weekend party. The first one nearly destroyed the garden. Grace and I have our moments but we respect the property of others and these kids don't.

They don't like us because America saved the mother country but at an enormous cost ... in gold. When American industry sold the implements of war to the Home Country, it was cash on the barrelhead. When Roosevelt lifted the restrictions on exports to the war zone, America went to work.

The University wanted our land, the businessmen in town wanted our warehouses, Mosgiel wanted our airfield and they all wanted it free ... or at tremendous cost to us.

"I don't like living in town," I said to Grace. "Remember how much we liked Pentwater? We've been living elbow deep in neighbors, I want some room."

"What about our jobs?"

"I don't know, we're supposed to take over at the break," I said. "Now the Professor who has the class is having a think about retiring."

"I didn't know that. When did you talk to him?" Grace remembered the break, "That's five months away. What have you got in mind?"

"Well, gasoline is so expensive here. 2 shillings an imperial." We complained when the price went up in Berkeley ... from 17 cents to a quarter. We don't get the greatest milage with anything we drive.

"I've found two Anglia's, a 1949 two door sedan with the ten horsepower 4 and a 1948 two door panel van with the 8 horsepower 4. They're old, slow and reasonable and they both get 36 miles an imperial. There's a 1956 Anglia that I really like the looks of but they want the earth for what is pretty much a dustbin."

"Can we go look?"

"Sure, I'll just ring through then."

"David?"

"What?"

"Ring through?"

"I'll call."

"We have already been here too long ... you are losing your english."

"What do you mean?" I asked, "Losing my english?"

She started ticking off on her fingers, "Imperial, want the earth, ring through, then, dustbin. And that's in the last minute."

She was right. The next mo I'd be saying ... Whoa ... the next mo? moment.

I called, organized the necessary, and we went to look. It was within walking distance. So we took our Hoe-Lee She-It bicycles; the cats came along for the run.

One of the mysteries of New Zealand roads was solved for us when we took the Drivers Course. GIVE WAY evidently means YIELD in NZ English. It seems that the international roadway signs convention holds sway in New Zealand.

The Motor Vehicle registration people would like it if you took the Vehicle Identification numbers of a prospective purchase to have them checked because once it's yours, you are responsible for past infringements and they'll jerk that puppy right out from under for ass and leave you walking if it's stolen. If it was stolen and reported before you bought it they won't haul you off too.

So ... we looked ... found the numbers and bicycled off to the NZMVD and had the numbers checked. They were clear. That took three days ... no internet and plenty of written documents. The search cost £4.12.6 each. We had insured our vehicles as required and simply added the two Anglia's ... we did buy them.

Whilst this was going on, one of the über riche college kids sent his MP father to buy our Chevrolet Bel Airs. When we said No, he mentioned his position and wealth and how he could make our continued existence as guests of the Crown extremely uncomfortable.

"We might be convinced," said Grace. "What was your name again?"

As soon as he left we radioed our Consulate in Auckland and played our Ampex 601 recording of the conversation. This resulted in a CIA run sting. The MP was arrested and convicted of intimidation by an elected official. We preferred to eliminate the harassment rather than simply kowtow to the pressure.

However, the pressure from the University to relieve us of our Leith Street property continued unabated. Finally, we named our price ... four times what we had in the property.

"Totally unacceptable," spluttered the barrister for the University. "We are thinking more along the line of this much," and he passed a folded paper to Grace.

She burst out laughing...

"Sir, I suppose you'll find it out eventually: We hold diplomatic credentials and the property is leased to the United States as a secondary diplomatic mission. We are simply it's representatives."