Living the dream?

John McCombe

Our fantastic editor, Yvonne Martin.

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Editor’s Corner

Living the dream? Bring on Cup Week The 1st issue in The Press Looking forward What happened in July? June's welcome May's editorial April's news A word on March What happened in February?

Yvonne talks about her love for Banks Peninsula, as echoed in one of our features.

I have to admit the Canterbury Plains are not for me. When I'm flying into Christchurch, it's not the green and brown patchwork quilt, with the crazy braided rivers running through it, that gets my pulse racing. What makes me feel glad to be home is the sight of the mighty Southern Alps, although I hate the air turbulence they cause.

In a similar way, Banks Peninsula does for me what the city and its surrounding flat earth fail to do. I like the fact I live in the Banks Peninsula electorate, on the mid-slopes of the Port Hills, but I dream of living way, way out on the peninsula, awaking to the dawn chorus and seeing the ocean grow bigger on the drive home. 

The people in our feature on Banks Peninsula do just that. They've given up the high life for the good life, or been born to the land, in the case of a fifth-generation farmer. They have chosen "Banks Pen" as the place to fulfil their dreams, be it wine producing, jam making or animal raising, and have a strong sense of belonging. 

It's a place where people still serve fresh pikelets and jam, homemade of course, and have time to talk to guests. They plant large vegetable plots, tend rambling flower gardens and grow competition pumpkins, just for the sake of it.  

My partner and I came within a donkey's bray of buying a farm in Motukarara a decade or so ago. The ramshackle farmhouse had a thriving population of borer and was deemed at risk of flooding from neighbouring Lake Ellesmere. It put us townies off the rural dream at the time, but the house still stands and the flood never came. We pushed the "snooze button" on the dream and land prices soared beyond reach. 

Instead, we bought a quarter-acre property up the hill, with a peep of the sea (when wearing high heels), and minutes from walking tracks we don't have to maintain. We awake to bellbirds and sometimes the neighbour's chooks, yet we live within five kilometres of Cathedral Square and work. We followed head over heart and that's why it's exciting to read about people who took the other path, lined with foxgloves, elderflowers and rosehips.  

Colombo Street, our other theme this month, is inescapable, whether we're driving to work or heading out of town. I've had a love-hate relationship with it for years. I enjoy its quirks, such as the Elvis butcher and the array of restaurants and heritage buildings. I hate trying to turn right from Brougham Street into Colombo Street in rush-hour traffic on week nights. Stuck in gridlocked traffic, watching the signals blink green and red like Christmas lights, my mind turns to wondering how life panned out for the people who bought our eight hectares of Motukarara heaven. Maybe next time paradise calls, we won't put it on hold.

Enjoy your Avenues.