Dialogue: A sanctuary amid noise and haste

By GARTH GEORGE

"Write about your city," invites an advertisement in yesterday's paper edition of the Herald, kicking off an essay competition with a prize of $1000, sponsored by this newspaper and the Auckland City Council in support of the Auckland Writers Festival to be held next month.

"We want to hear about your favourite corner of our city," says the ad. "Tell us a story about what makes Auckland unique for you. It could be a tale from the past, a vision for the future, or just something you see every day. Most of all we want to see the city - as it was, as it is, or as it could be through your eyes."

Well, that's a wide enough brief surely for all you budding writers out there - and there must be thousands, considering the number of letters and phone calls we get every month telling us what stories we should or shouldn't have published and how they should or shouldn't have been written and displayed.

Because I'm employed by the Herald I'm not allowed to enter, so I thought I would get in first.

Mind you, I'm not an Aucklander except by adoption and I reckon that to write a prize-winning laudatory essay about this sprawling metropolis you would have to be born here.

Which could present problems because finding a born-and-bred Aucklander in Auckland is like trying to find a polar bear in North Queensland. Most of them are in Sydney, Melbourne or Brisbane and points farther west and north. They got out while the getting was good.

But all that's by the by. Let me tell you a story about my favourite corner of this city, taking it for granted that "Auckland" in the context of the essay competition is the area that extends roughly from Papakura to Albany and Howick to Piha.

My favourite place isn't very big - just 559 square metres to be exact - and is described officially as Lot 5, DP 158028, in the City of Waitakere. Upon this plot of land is a unpretentious but comfortable three-bedroom home with a double internal-entry garage, a large deck and embedded therein a 10m swimming pool, plenty of concrete off-street parking and a lawn that takes 15 minutes to mow.

It's the place I call home, my sanctuary from the noise and haste, the hassle and bustle of Auckland life, the place to which I retire each day to be refreshed, a place where, on all but the rarest occasions, the spirit of peace and serenity reigns.

Outside my front door are eight other houses lining a 200m-long drive which spills on to a major suburban road. But the beauty of it is that our little enclave is well masked by mature trees from that street and only those who know we're here know we're here.

When we moved 2 1/2 years ago, we had been in residence only a matter of hours when the first of our neighbours had made themselves known and offered any assistance we might need. Within a fortnight all the neighbours had introduced themselves and welcomed us into their midst.

Since then we have become very much part of our little community - a rich mix of friendly and unassuming folk, including one or two real Aucklanders, ranging in age from 4 to 85. It adds much to my sense of sanctuary to know that they are the best of neighbours, for they have proved that time and again - always there if you need them but never intrusive.

The children are a real blessing, for the drive echoes most days to the ambient sound of children at play and in the time we've been here they have become, as children will with unthreatening adults, more and more friendly and always ready to share with us the latest incident or development in that great adventure that is childhood.

We have come to share our lives with these diverse folk, and they with us, in all sorts of ways. True neighbourliness is a rare and precious gift and we are blessed to be able to receive it and give it without hesitation or embarrassment.

When we came here, the other two sides of our plot were surrounded by open land, but it wasn't long before the noisy, dirty developers moved in to create their minimum-sized plots and plant almost identical ticky-tackies.

Now we have on one boundary a house whose eaves all but overhang our deck; and on the other an unoccupied spec home, into the windows of which we gaze from our kitchen and bedroom.

We mightn't be able, as some Aucklanders are, to shake hands with the neighbour through the window, but when someone moves in we'll certainly be close enough to hold a conversation without raising our voices. Thank God for fast-growing hedge trees.

They'll be well and truly mature by the time I retire - and head back to civilisation somewhere in the South Island.

* garth_george@nzherald.co.nz
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