Rainfall Record a journey of the imagination
26th June 2010

In January 1958 - the month of my birth - a man living in Geraldine bought a simple school exercise book. On the cover of the book was a pen-and-ink illustration of a Greek temple, the name ‘Classic’ in flourishing cursive and a small template stating it met the New Zealand Standard.

He opened the book and ruled twelve columns across the first two pages. Above the columns he wrote the months of the year and in the margins he numbered the days of the month. On the cover he wrote, in block capitals as crudely drawn as the stones of the Greek temple, the words ‘RAINFALL RECORD.’

Thus began a momentous undertaking, a private odyssey that spanned a working life. When the final page of the book was completed in December 1996 this steadfast chronicler had recorded every drop of rain that fell, firstly upon Geraldine (until 1973) and then upon Woodbury, for 38 uninterrupted years. He began his measurements in points and inches – 100 points to the inch - and kept faith with this system as the world turned metric.

This was not a man who wielded a pen with ease. The numbers are heavy, often overwritten several times until the blue ink is a black gouge upon the paper. The occasional notations (“dry gales all Jan.” “Hurricane 110mph”) are written in block capitals.

Though the writing is clumsy the maths is pinpoint accurate. The figures for each month are totalled at the foot of the column and the columns collated to produce a “Total For Year,” recorded with a small flourish at the bottom right hand corner of each annual spreadsheet.

The author’s diligence is breathtaking. In the entire record there are only two noticeable slips: a two month period in 1979 when the entries are in a different hand and a moment in late October 1982 (Labour Weekend?) when he compressed three days of rain into a single figure – and noted the lapse of form.

At first and second glances the Rainfall Record carries no hint of the author. The columns of numbers stand mute upon the pages. The pages gather like a deck of bizarre Housie cards.

But look closer and you find small, tantalising glimpses of identity. On 5th April 1979 the rainfall – 17 points – is bracketed by the initials FS written in both red and blue ink, with the words “left from London Vic” beneath. Wedged into the spine of the book in 1983 is the stub of a baggage label with the name H. Simpson and a rusty stain that may have been a watermark. On the front cover, in small cursive writing in a style different from the hand of the recorder is the name M. Simpson.

Slightly more revealing – and infinitely more mysterious – is an inscription on the inside cover: “La Donna Mobilae (sic), Women are Fickle. Riggaletto By Verdi. Arnold’s 1933 musical memory while travelling to Rarotonga on RMS Makura.”

This unique document has fallen into my hands and I am captivated. The numbers are enormously powerful. They have the effect of a strange crystal ball that enables me to predict tiny details from the past with unerring accuracy. I can tell you that between 1973 and 1996 it never rained in Woodbury on 7th January. I can tell you that 8 inches of rain fell between the 12th and 17th of February 1986, followed by another 7 inches in a single day on 13th March, with the word “floods” like the toll of a bell.

I am captured too by the uncanny parallel with my own life. As I read the Record I picture myself as a child, a youth, a young man. The final entries were written just a month before I moved to Mid-Canterbury. By then I had lived in 16 or 17 homes in my 38 years while the quiet collector of the rainfall had lived in just two.

And that’s the greatest fascination – imagining the life of the author. Who was he? Indeed, was it a ‘he’? Could it have been a woman who went outside each day and checked the rain gauge nailed to a fence post or hanging from the end of the verandah? Who is “FS”? Why was Arnold travelling to Rarotonga in 1933?

Should I search for the facts? Or has the Rainfall Record always been, ultimately, a journey of the imagination?

Punter predicts Tri-Nations trifecta at the World Cup
12th June 2010
On the eve of the football World Cup the Ashburton Guardian’s sports team has been joined by soccer commentator Ronny Tillard. Ronny, Immediate Past President of the Hinds Football Supporters Club, will provide expert analysis throughout the tournament. Our reporter caught up with Ronny in his y-fronts – sorry, in front of his wide-screen TV - primed and ready to go.

So, Ronny, what are your predictions for the World Cup?
Wouldn’t know, mate. Not interested.
Not interested?
Nuh, couldn’t give a monkey’s
But aren’t you in the Football Supporters Club?
Yeah, rugby football.
Oh geez, that bloody sub-editor! Look, Ronny, help us out here, we’ve got nobody else.
Why not, there’s heaps of people can talk about soccer.
Yeah, but they’re all talking to the big papers. Come on, give us a break.
Well, it’s against my better judgement, but if you want my opinion it’ll be New Zealand, South Africa and Australia in the final.
Er, you can only have two teams in the final, Ronny.
So one of ‘em will come third, but it’ll be a Tri-Nations trifecta, you wait.
How come you’re so confident?
Stands to reason. Look, it’s the first time they’ve played the tournament in the southern hemisphere and there’s only three southern hemisphere nations playing, so who’s got the local knowledge?
Local knowledge?
Yeah. You know how water goes down the plughole the other way in the southern hemisphere? Well, it’s the same with how a ball behaves through the air. When you kick a soccer ball in South Africa it curves the other way. All those northern hemisphere players won’t know where to turn.
How do you know this?
It’s all over Facebook, mate.
Anyway, what about the South American countries?
What about ‘em.
Brazil, Argentina, Chile – they’re all in the southern hemisphere.
Fair buck?
Yes.
I thought the equator did a sort of u-turn around South America.
No.
Well, that’s odd. Because they’re not real southern hemisphere people, are they?
What do you mean?
Well, y’know, they’re not like us. They’re sort of like, girls, eh?
Er, moving on, the All Whites have a real David and Goliath battle if they’re to win any games. How are they going to do it?
I reckon David and Goliath is the clue to success. You know the real lesson of that old story?
Tell me.
David broke the rules. You see, Goliath was out there with his sword and his shield and he was playing by the rules. The last thing he expected was some little snot-nose to pull out a slingshot. The Alrights-
All Whites, Ronny
They’ll be All Rights if they follow my advice. What they’ve gotta do is the unexpected, break a few rules.
Such as?
Pick up the ball and run with the bloody thing for a start. Pile in at the break-down, get a bit of go-forward and chuck it down the line. Watch those Slovakian faces when that happens.
Yeah, but the difference between us and David is the referee. We’ll get caned.
So you do it quietly. Stuff the ball under the jersey, get a couple of mates to shepherd you, dive over in the corner, ref’ll never notice.
Do you reckon our boys have got the star quality to pull off a few upsets?
I dunno. Who’s in the team?
Well, there’s Ryan Nelsen and, er...
Oh, I know, there’s that guy who broke his shoulder last week, he’ll be a big asset on the field. Then there’s Dan Carter.
He’s a rugby player, Ronny.
I know, but imagine if he played soccer. He knows which way the ball curves in South Africa.