Another Spectrum

Personal ramblings and rants of a somewhat twisted mind


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Hacked router follow up

I was hoping for an interesting episode this morning following yesterday’s fake Spark call regarding a hacked router. It was rather a let down.

The call didn’t come until 10:30 am – an hour late. The caller seemed to be unaware of yesterday’s call, while I stuck to role playing a continuation from yesterday. I kept interrupting their prepared script to tell the caller that I was fully aware that why they were calling and could they just cut to where they could fix it. Eventually I got put through to the “national router specialist” who would help me. As he started through his script, I continued to interrupting to virtually repeat what he was about to say. This would totally confused him and he would start off from the beginning again each time I fell silent. I’m sure his ability to understand what I was saying was almost zero, but hey, I’m an elderly guy with a strong Kiwi accent and I played the role of a bloke that is rather short of patience. He struggled for around 15 minutes to make headway, but it was blindingly obvious that he was not able to deviate from his prepared script. I reminded him that someone from Spark called yesterday, which he denied, so I asked how I knew what he was going to say before he said it. Then he hung up.

I’m sure they’ll call again in a few weeks. and I’ll try to play a more patient personality. Today’s effort only wasted little more than fifteen minutes of their time. I do hope it was sufficient to keep at least one person out of their grasp.

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Oh no! My router’s been hacked!

Or so says a Spark (my telco and Internet provider) technician who phoned me a short while ago. I’ve had several phone calls a day over the last week from a variety of South Island phone numbers, but invariably, either the caller hung up as I answered, or did within a few seconds. Today one of those callers made a successful connection. The call went like this:

Tech: hello sir. I am [name unrecognisable] from Spark technical support.
Me: Hello. What can I do for you?
Tech: We are calling you because there is a problem with your router. Do you understand?
Me: I understand what you are saying. Why do you think it has a problem?
Tech: I’ll show you. Look at the lights on your router. Are any of them blinking?
Me: Just a minute while I go look. It’s in the next room. Hang on a mo. [pause of around 30 seconds] Yes, several lights are flashing.
Tech: Can you tell me which ones are blinking?
Me: Hang on a bit will you, I didn’t note down which ones. I’ll just grab a a pen and paper and be back in a jiffy. [Quietly] Now where’s a pen that works? [short pause, then louder] Got them, Back in a second. [40 seconds of silence] Are you there? The lights that are flashing are Internet, W L A N, L A N 2, L A N 3 and L A N 4.
Tech: OK sir. Do you know what the WLAN light is for?
Me: Please, tell me.
Tech: WLAN stands for “Wireless Local Area Network”. Someone is using your wireless connection without your permission. That blinking light is an alarm saying that the wireless network has been hacked.
Me: Oh dear. How do I fix that?
Tech: That’s why we’ve called sir. I’ll just transfer you over to one of our router specialists who will lead you through some simple steps to solve the problem. Just wait a minute while I transfer you.
[30 second pause]
Tech2: Hello sir, I’m Gerald [or perhaps Gerard?] from the Spark specialist support team. Do you understand why we have called you?
Me: I think it’s because someone is using my wireless router without my permission.
Tech2: That’s right. But I’m here to help you fix that. Someone has hacked the router so that they can do all sorts of things without you knowing about it, and that flashing light is a warning. You should have reported it you know. It will only take a moment to fix if you follow my instructions. Can we go ahead and do that now?
Me: Sure.
Tech2: As you may understand, a router is digital appliance, and as it doesn’t have its own screen or keyboard, we need to communicate with it by using another device such as a computer or laptop. Do you have one of those?
Me: Yes I have a computer.
Tech2: Good Turn it on please.
Me: Just a minute. [Another 30 second pause] Ok it’s on.
Tech2: That’s great. Is it a Mac of a Windows computer?
Me: How do I tell?
Tech2: There should be a brand name or logo on the computer. Can you tell me what it is sir?
Me: It says “Dell”.
Tech2: It’s probably a Windows Computer, but just to be sure, do you see a button with “CTRL” nearest yo you on the extreme left of the keyboard?
Me: Yes.
Tech2: Does the button to the right of it have a Microsoft Windows logo on it?
Me: What does the logo look like?
Tech2: It looks like a wind with four panes of glass.
Me: Yeah. It does look a bit like a window.
Tech2: That confirms it’s a Windows computer. So this is what I want you to do: Hold down that Windows button and hit “R”.
Me: Done that.
Tech2: Did a window pop up?
Me: Yes.
Tech2: OK. Now type in C for Charlie, M for mother, D for Doctor.
[pause while I type s.l.o.w.l.y.]
Me: Done that.
Tech2: now hit Enter and tell me what you see.
Me: Exactly the same as what was there before I pressed Enter.
Tech2: Can you tell me what you had typed?
Me: C for Charlie, M for Mike, D for Delta.
Tech2 [with some hesitation]: Um… That’s right. [pause] And you say nothing happened when you hit enter?
Me: Well, I didn’t exactly hit it, but I did press it firmly.
Tech2: I see. It looks like the hackers have done more than hack you router. We’re going to have to get into this more deeply. But don’t worry, we’ll put an end to those hackers, although we will have to do a bit more at our end first.
Me: I see. What do I do now?
Tech2: We’ll make some preparations, then would it be OK to call you back between 9 and 9:30 tomorrow morning?
Me: Sure, I’ll make sure I’m here.
Tech2: That’s great. I’ll call you back between 9 and 9:30. Goodbye, sir.
Me: Goodbye.

I’m looking forward to tomorrow. What they don’t know:

  • For 35 years, I was an engineer for a major international I.T. Company, and for most of that time specialised in networked systems in the banking and retail sector.
  • Our home network consists of Linux and Android devices only (plus a Kindle). There isn’t a Windows device in sight, and hasn’t been for more than 10 years.
  • I know they are scammers.

If I’m in the mood, I like to string these pricks along for as long as possible. The last few times, I haven’t been, so I’ve asked them to quote my Spark account number, and of course they were unable to do that. I invite them to call me back when they have it, but for obvious reasons they never do.

In (Not) Windows Support Desk I relayed a similar incident, although this time I look forward to my role play as a less than savvy senior Internet user. After all, they are role playing at being support personnel, so it seems only fit and proper that I play an appropriate role for them. I am impressed with their apparent courtesy. Being addressed as “Sir” all the time, might be flattering to some people, but I know it’s simply because they have no idea what my name is. I wonder what term they’ll use when they eventually discover I’m playing with them.

I’m not confident that they will call back tomorrow morning, but I really hope they do. The longer I keep them tied up, the less opportunity that have of doing real harm to someone else. It’ll be my good deed for the day.


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Aging sucks

“I didn’t mind getting old when I was young. It’s the being old now that’s getting to me.” – John Scalzi Old Man’s War, 2005

I agree with Scalzi. Well, in the mornings anyway. Once upon a time I could spring out of bed, but these days it’s a monumental effort to do anything but breathe, and even that takes some effort. My head pounds as though I had a great time imbibing to excess the night before, and when I finally get to my feet, the best I can do is shuffle, dragging my feet a few centimetres at a time across the floor. Every joint hurts when it is moved. I really do look like a very old man – much older than my actual chronological age.

No doubt this is due the the effect of aging, combined with being on the autism spectrum, suffering from chronic migraine, and the co-morbidity of these two conditions of numerous other ailments, ranging from Raynaud syndrome and restless legs syndrome to Neuroinflammation and other immune disorders. In the developed world, the life expectancy of people on the autism spectrum is around 20 years less than for neurotypicals, so I’m grateful to have exceeded that by around 10 years.

Some time late morning these symptoms start to disappear, most by themselves, and some, such as the migraine headache, by medication. And by early afternoon I feel as fit as I did at fifty. By early evening, I feel like a twenty year old (well, as best as I can recall being twenty), and come midnight, I find the world as amazing as I did as a child, although at that time of night, there’s no one to share it with.

That “reverse aging” during the day (along with and abnormal circadian rhythm) probably goes a long way to explain why I’m reluctant to go to bed at night, especially with the knowledge that when I do wake up, it will be as an old man again.

However as some unknown authors once quipped, “Do not regret growing older. It is a privilege denied to many”, and “Growing old isn’t so bad when you consider the alternative”, I’ll suffer the mornings so long as I can enjoy the rest of the day.

If, what Gayla Reid wrote in All the Seas of the World is true –  “Old folks live on memory, young folk live on hope” – then I am still very young! It’s time to go and explore what’s left of 2018.


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Christmas is over for another year

Christmas Day has ended and we’re an hour into Boxing Day (well, in Aotearoa New Zealand, at least), and I’m thinking “Thank goodness it’s over for another year!” As I get older, I find family events such as Christmas are getting more exhausting, although no less enjoyable. Both migraine and being on the autism spectrum seem to be affecting my ability to cope with sensory over-stimulation more and more as I get older. For those who understand the spoon theory, I have fewer spoons than I had even 5 years ago, that I can use to pass as being “normal”.

This year was somewhat different than in previous years for several reasons. We hosted neither lunch nor tea (That’s dinner/evening meal to non-Kiwis) this year. Instead the whānau gathered at our daughter’s home for lunch, less than 10 minutes drive from our place.

Unfortunately, my wife has been a bit crook (Kiwi slang for being ill) over the last few days, so the ham is still sitting in the fridge, unglazed and uncooked. And everyone’s favourite trifle is yet to be assembled. Last night we were unsure if she would be well enough to join in the festivities, but this morning she felt well enough to brave the noise and commotion that normally accompanies such events.

Lunch was a typical Kiwi Christmas do, with a variety of hot and cold meats, plenty of salads made from seasonal vegetables and fruit, cold soups, and a few hot dishes for those who really want it. As usual, most of us ate more than we should, but hey, it’s only once a year.

Dessert was also typically Kiwi except that the pavlova was deconstructed, as one younger member of the whānau dislikes whipped cream that usually tops it. The pav was accompanied by panatone, fresh berries and melon, brandy snaps, fruit mince tarts, plenty of whipped cream and assorted other goodies I can’t recall offhand.

The weather had been deteriorating all morning, and just as lunch finished, the sound of thunder could be heard in the distance. As the exchanging of gifts commenced, we could hear the thunder getting ever nearer, while the sky became so dark that it was necessary to turn on the lights. Before long, flashes of lightning would light up the room followed by ever more loud crashes of thunder. As the gift exchanging was drawing to a close (it’s a long drawn out affair), a particularly bright flash of lightning was immediately followed by the lights flickering out and instead of a clap of thunder, we heard what can only be described as very loud static.

An hour later, and still no electrical power. Many of us were longing for a cuppa, but of course there was no way to heat the water without electricity. I checked the website of the local lines company (thank goodness the mobile phone network was still up) and discovered that over three and a half thousand households in the our town (population 14,000) were without power.

Many other towns in the region were similarly affected, so obviously the electrical storm was  widespread. It seems that such events are becoming more common, I daresay due to the effects of climate change.

The wife and I called it a day at around 4pm and drive home through a very heavy downpour. As the car came to a stop under the carport, the concrete flooring, dry a few seconds earlier, was suddenly inundated by a torrent of several centimetres of water that began cascading down the steeply sloped pathway. I had to back the car out into the open (where the rain was still coming down in buckets), so that the wife could safely exit it without water rushing over her shoes.

There was also the strange spectacle of little fountains jetting up between some of the joints in the concrete driveway. None of them were very high, perhaps only 20 centimetres at most, but there were dozens of them, and it did look impressive. Not sure it’s caused any damage underneath the concrete, but as there is little in the way of silt on top, I’m hoping for the best. Time will tell.

So that’s my Christmas for 2018. As I write this, some of my readers will only just be getting up and the sun is yet to appear above the horizon, so to you I wish your Christmas day goes at least as well as as mine!

 


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Flowers

Flowers are a delight when they’re like this:20181104_143551x1200
But a real pain in the arse when they’re like this:20181104_141758x1200
Literally!

First it was the camellias, then it was the flowering cherries. Now it’s the rhododendrons. Traversing the pathway with its 4 metre (13 ft) rise from the car parking pad to the front door means taking one’s life in one’s hands. At this time of the year it sees no direct sun and after even a little rain becomes extremely slippery. It takes skill to manoeuvre one’s way through this pretty hazard without taking a tumble…

 


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Celtic Illusion

Last night the wife and I went to see a show in the nearby city of Palmerston North.


I missed most of it.

The problem is that being autistic and a migraineur is incompatible with watching modern shows. Bright lights, strobe effects, pyrotechnics and loud noises are not only very unpleasant for many autistics, including myself, they can also trigger a migraine attack. Over the years I’ve learnt how to minimise some of the ill effects by closing my eyes, blocking my ears and even covering my eyes with my hands to filter out strobe effects when eyelids prove to be inefficient.

So I spent more than half of the show with my eyes closed and hands over eyes, and tried to ignore the fact the my sternum was vibrating unpleasantly due to the volume of the speakers. Consequently I missed most of the illusions incorporated into the act. I also missed the moment when one of the dancers slipped/tripped/fell, although I did see her being assisted off the stage. I hope her injury isn’t serious.

So what did I see? Our tickets were for seats in the front row, although both of us thought we had booked seats a few rows back as we are aware of how modern productions can overload my senses. Being so close, there were opportunities to observe the footwork of the dancers. All I can say is that it is incredible. The speed and precision is something to behold. I wouldn’t be surprised if injuries are very common to the performers.

By keeping my view to floor level, I avoided the worst of the spotlights sweeping over the auditorium, and I tried to convince myself that as it was Irish dancing, the only thing that matters is footwork. But as the show combined dance, illusion, music and song, there was an awful lot that I missed visually.

We saw another Irish dance show a few years back, and I was disappointed when I realised the the sound of the footwork was not coming from the dancers, as occasionally the sound got slightly out of sync with the dancing. With this show however, there was no doubt where the sound of the footwork was coming from, especially when I noticed tiny floor mounted microphones around the stage.

I was exhausted by the time the show ended, but the wife was in her element. She’s the kind of person who loudly and vigorously supports a performance with clapping, frequent standing, shouts of surprise, gasps and anything else that displays her pleasure. As a group of women who were sitting behind us commented afterwards, watching my wife was as enjoyable as watching the show itself.

There was I slinking down in my seat trying hard not to become a nervous wreck and wishing the torment would end soon, while she was practically standing on her seat yelling for more! Talk about contrasts. It’s not the kind of antics one expects from a tiny grey haired 70 year old Japanese woman. If there’s anyone else in the world that can beat her enthusiasm, I’d be very surprised. She’s probably the reason they did four (or was it a hundred?) encores. But I wouldn’t swap her for the world 🙂

As for the show, would I recommend Celtic Illusions? A definite Yes! But if you’re on the spectrum or prone to seizures or migraine attacks, I suggest it might be more sensible to stay away.


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Why we need police

On a recent blog, Makagutu made mention of  supporting the abolition of the police and prisons. While, in principle, I support abolition of the latter, I don’t feel the same about abolishing the former.

The police do much more than just being enforcers of the law. For example, it was the police my wife called when she locked herself out of our home. On the rare occasions when a migraine attack leaves me confused and disorientated, not knowing who or where I am, it is typically the police who help me out by either transporting me home, or if they are concerned about my health, by taking me to the emergency department of the nearest hospital.

Then of course, there are all those friendly tips and life hack that help make life more pleasant. Take opening a jar for example. The modern vacuum sealed jar might be a miracle as far as health safety goes, but they’re an absolute sod when trying to open them. The police, knowing that a large section of the community have a problem opening said jars, and knowing that we can’t all wait until a friendly constable can be summoned to open the jar for us, have issued a Life Hack video to help us out.

Here, courtesy of the NZ Police is their very helpful guide to opening a jar:

But it’s not only do they provide practical tips, they also provide tips in enjoying life to the full. Here’s their guide to getting the most enjoyment out of eating a doughnut:


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A visit from HELL

The word Hell conjures up different images, depending on the culture one is most familiar with. In many cultures the concept of hell does not exist. Within our indigenous Māori mythology there is no equivalent place. The spirit of everyone, regardless of deeds or thoughts, return to Hawaiki, which is the mythical place from which the ancestors of the Maori set sail to Aotearoa New Zealand in the twelfth or thirteenth century.

Among some Christians, Hell is a place of torment. There does seem to be some disagreement about the finer details of the place, including such trivia as who ends up there, why, and for how long. However, those Christians who do believe in the existence of such a dreadful place (approximately 10% of NZ Christians, or less than 5% of all Kiwis) agree that it is somewhere that is best avoided at all costs, and that they should attempt to save others from ending up there.

For most societies where the Christian concept of Hell is or was prevalent, Hell lives on in a metaphoric sense, being a place or event that causes one extreme anguish or distress. So one can talk about a job from hell or a hell of a town, and everyone knows what is meant.

That concept of hell is understood by most Kiwis, and of course, it’s also used to add emphasis such as in Hell, yes! or Hell No! and Bloody hell! But for most Kiwis HELL is a real place we like to visit from time to time, and if we can afford the extra cost, have HELL come to visit us instead.

I’m a fan of HELL and have an account with them. According to their records (I just checked on their website), I have visited them three times this month, where, among other things, I have purchased some of the seven deadly sins: Gluttony, Envy (twice), and Lust. I have also tried Greed, Wrath and Pride, but I’ve never seen Sloth listed, so I haven’t been able to try it. I’ve also tried Pandemonium, Mayhem, both of which I enjoyed, but their description of Mischief doesn’t appeal to me. There is access to HELL in 66 locations throughout Aotearoa New Zealand, and the closest one to me is only 1.5 kilometres (1 mile) away.

The last time I visited HELL, I was given a voucher, which meant I could order my sin of choice and whatever else I wanted, and they would deliver it to my front door. Today I didn’t feel like leaving home to partake of a sin (a case of Sloth?), so I took advantage of that voucher, and had a small serving of Gluttony delivered to my home. Just in case you find it difficult to accept my word that HELL delivers, I’ve included a copy of the receipt somewhere on this page.

Hell_Feilding1

This is where I go to HELL

 

For those of you who still believe HELL isn’t real, have a look at their Website hell.co.nz. Unfortunately they only deliver a short distance from an entrance to HELL, so those of you not fortunate to live in Aotearoa New Zealand, you’re just going to have to take my word for it that HELL is absolutely divine!

 

Selection_072


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Now for something different

Unlike my father, who was an avid sports enthusiast, and who in his younger days was selected as an All Black trialist in the late 1930s, and later in life participated in golf and lawn bowls, I showed little talent or interest in sport. My father was also very fond of horse racing, and on most Saturdays, he had his ear glued to the radio listening to the live race commentaries from the various race meetings around the country. When major race meetings began to be televised, my father could often be seen watching races on TV with the sound turned down and the radio turned up as he much preferred the racy fast paced style of radio commentary over the more laid back style of television commentators.

If he wasn’t listening to horse racing, he’d be listening to rugby in winter and cricket in summer. As a game of cricket can last up to five days, that was almost all we heard on the radio during summer. At least once a month he’d be off to watch a sporting event or to attend a race meeting. His “excuse” for purchasing our first colour TV was so that we could watch the Christchurch Commonwealth Games of 1974 in “all its glory”.

Of course my father was not very different to most men of his era when it came to sports. They were all sports mad, and it is still true that as a nation we have an obsession for sport. Often times, you’ll hear the comment that sport is the national religion of Aotearoa New Zealand. As an example, with a population of about 4.7 million, one broadcasting network has 2 television channels and 32 radio stations dedicated entirely to thoroughbred and harness horse racing, and greyhound racing. And that’s just one network.

My interest in sport tends to be the occasional watching of sporting highlights during the evening news bulletin, although I’m glued to the TV during America’s Cup events and to a lesser extent I enjoy watching Olympic and Commonwealth Games.

But occasionally a sporting moment piques my interest, and one of those happened last weekend. A rider fell off his horse at the first jump in a steeplechase, yet was able to remount and win the race! As the event happened only a few kilometres from where I live, and has been shown numerous times on TV, I couldn’t not be interested.

Here’s the fall:

If you’d like to watch the race from beginning to end, here is all seven and a half minutes of it in “all its glory”

As the title says, this post has been somewhat different from my usual fare. Normal transmission will resume eventually (when this series of daily migraines eventually runs its course).


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Freezing!

I guess the term freezing is somewhat of an exaggeration. It’s actually 7°C (44°F), but as it’s close to that temperature inside my home office, and I’m sitting at my computer, it feels fricking cold.

Why so cold? We are replacing the windows and ranchsliders [Nu Zild for a fully glazed  sliding door with a moving panel that slides behind a fixed panel] on the the main floor with double glazing. Huge gaping holes where the glass was doesn’t do much for keeping heat in and cold out. However we are looking towards cheaper power bills and a more evenly heated home when the job is completed hopefully by tomorrow evening.

Our house was built in the mid 1980s and apart from a regulation requiring  minimal ceiling insulation, little consideration was given to keeping homes warm. What heating there was was on a room by room basis. Central heating was unheard of and it is still very much a rarity. It wasn’t until early this century that double glazing, wall, ceiling and underfloor insulation became mandatory for all new home construction. Why? I could claim that were are a hardy lot, but the large immigrant population are a namby-pamby softies, and can’t stand a little cold.

The truth is that compared to much of the rest of the world, we have a very mild climate. Summers are not overly hot, and winters are not extremely cold. Where I live, anything below 15°C (59°F) is considered cold and it’s bitterly cold if it drops below 10°C (50°F). We get between 5 and 15 frosts per year and a smattering of snow once per decade at most. It’s hot at 25°C (77°F) and insufferably hot at 30°C (86°F). So artificial heating and cooling is not necessary for survival – it’s a luxury to make life more pleasant.

However, cold homes are also damp homes. Dampness brings in mould and mildew, which is now acknowledged to be a serious health risk. We have a very high rate of respiratory illnesses in this country. Hence the the warm home regulations. Existing homes don’t need to be insulated to new home standards, but the government is looking at mandating all rental accommodation be brought up to the modern standard.

A few years ago, we took advantage of a government subsidy on underfloor and ceiling insulation and that made a big difference in reducing the daily extremes of hot and cold and eliminated mould from much of the house. Our sole form of heating was a woodburner, which made one end of the main floor cosy to too hot while the rest of the house remained cold. It was also somewhat expensive to run. Even lighting it late afternoon and not feeding it after 10PM cost us close to $700 per year for firewood and cleaning, even though we only used it for the coldest three months of the year.

So we had a heat pump installed. Typically in NZ they are used to heat a single room, and multiple units are used to heat a whole house. Ours is a larger unit installed in the main floor hallway with the goal of maintaining a comfortable background heat throughout the main floor while allowing some heat to rise up the stairwell to the upper floor where the bedrooms are. Mostly it works well and is very much cheaper to run even though it’s running 24/7. But on very cold days, the rooms at either end of the main floor can drop to as low as 15°C if the curtains aren’t drawn. And who wants to draw the curtains during the day, especially when we have such a great view. (If you view this blog directly in a browser and not via the WordPress Reader, the views in the random image at the top of the page are taken from our home.)

Neither of us are getting any younger, and we are both more sensitive to variations in temperature than we were even ten years ago. So we dipped into our savings for the double glazing. We’re doing the main floor except for the utility rooms (laundry, bathroom, toilet, exercise room) as they are used less frequently and/or have smaller windows. Even so, there’s 30 square metres (320 square feet) of glass to be replaced, and as our children will no doubt say, it has taken a not so insignificant bite out of their inheritance ($19,000 to be precise). Not that that worries me. I came into this world with nothing, and if everything goes to plan, that’s how I intend to leave it.

There’s a few more “big ticket” expenses that are looming on the horizon. Our car is now 12 years old, and while it’s still very reliable, the day can’t be too far away, when its reliability will be called into question. And as all cars are imports (there’s no local car manufacturing), they are not exactly cheap. A new sub 2000cc car such as a Toyota Corolla or Mitsubishi Mirage is around $28,000 to $30,000.

The exterior of the house is due for a repaint. Once upon a time I would have tackled this task myself, but age, injury and a multi-storey home means this is not a reasonable option any longer. OSH (Occupational Safety and Health) requirements mean that the use of regulation scaffolding and safety harnesses etc is mandatory for our dwelling due to its height, all of which does not come cheaply. I’d be surprised if an external paint job sees any change out of $15,000.

Then there’s floor coverings. With the exception of the kitchen, they’re all original, which means they are over 30 years old. In typical New Zealand fashion, most of the floors are covered in woollen carpet. It’s getting threadbare in places and a decision will need to be made soon as to whether we replace all the carpet or only in those rooms showing the worst wear. Re-carpeting the whole house will cost around $20,000 for a medium priced carpet, so it’s more likely to be done in stages.

Some rooms require repainting and new wallpaper – the grandchildren seem to have the ability to locate seams that have slightly lifted and then tearing the wallpaper back to where it is adhered firmly. At least this is one task I’m still capable of doing (I hope), having papered and repapered three previous homes. But If I need to hire a professional, then it’s goodbye to another $8,000 to $10,000. So this is also likely to be a project completed in stages.

And finally, we’d like to become less dependent on the national grid for electricity. Now that storage batteries are reasonably cost effective, we’d like to install a solar power system large enough to allow ourselves to be close to a net zero user of external electricity. How much? Not sure, as prices are still falling. I suspect something over $25,000, but if the Greens get their wish, there might well be a subsidy similar to the one they obtained for insulation (around 25%). Time will tell.

When we built our first home a couple of years after we married, it cost us a grand total of $12,000 for the land, house, fixtures and fittings, and we managed to finance it with a deposit of only $130! Mind you, my weekly pay package back then was around half of today’s minimum hourly wage. How times have changed!

And in case you’re wondering why I used main floor and upper floor instead of first, second etc, there are two very good reasons:

  1. Difference in NZ and US usage. What Americans call the first floor, Kiwis (and many other Commonwealth countries) call the ground floor. So our first floor is the second floor in the US.
  2. Because the house is on a sloping section (Nu Zild for lot) the main floor is the ground floor (US first floor) when accessed from the west, but the first floor (US second floor) when accessed from the east. The upper floor is the first floor (US second floor) when accessed from the west and the second floor (US third floor) when accessed from the east. And finally, the lower floor is the basement when accessed from the west, but the ground floor (US first floor) when accessed from the east. Confused? So am I!