My family - when I was young, and my parents were very young –
we camped at Martins Bay over the hill from Scandretts,
and my father had spied down the other end of the beach some baches.
And so he found out they were owned by a farmer George Scandrett, then
the farmer told Dad: “Actually I do have another bach at Scandretts Bay”.
And we didn’t know about Scandretts Bay, so Dad took us
and bought on the spot, he bought this bach for £500.
We always would say: “Aren’t we lucky we’ve landed in paradise”
and it really felt like paradise whenever we were here.
As a family we always knew we were so lucky to
have found this little piece of heaven on earth.
So we purchased it in the 1960s, before that
it had been Mr Moon and Mr Light,
and I believe that’s why it’s called the Moonlight Bach.
But we never called it that, we just called it
“The Bach.”
And we always came with friends, so we never came here
just the four children, we always came with friends.
So there was lots of topping and tailing.
And Mum and Dad often brought friends as well
so there would be another couple in the double bed
and their kids strewn around…
there would be kids everywhere in pup tents
and barbeques on the beach.
When we knew we were coming to the bach we were all
so excited, we loved being here.
And I think for me it was a really dreamy space.
I would go out onto the rocks out there, and I would
examine all the rock pools
and I would catch little rock cod, put them in a bucket with some seaweed.
We’d find the odd mussel and cook that up…
we loved finding crabs, and they weren’t that big
but my brother would boil them up on the beach for us.
And we were all young but we kind of did that sort of stuff.
We made fires and we boiled things, we boiled
cockles and every now and again pipis would come into the bay…
and we were always off, up into the farmland,
we were off exploring, going along the cliff lines.
We would go out to Mullet Point and all along there.
We never had homework or anything like that – it was just kind of freedom.
Dad had rod-holders at each end of the deck,
and we would row out with our baited hooks and keep the line in here,
and we’d row into the middle of the bay, and then we’d wind that up in the morning
and have fish for breakfast.
Next door Mr and Mrs Hooper were very elegant.
They were from Remuera, we were from Henderson
and we always felt like we were kind of disturbing the peace.
And Mum was always trying to keep us quiet, we were never quiet enough.
And Mrs Hooper next door
she had these big Butterick pattern books, I’d never seen anything in my life, and she gave them to me.
And I remember looking in them and they were
illustrated fashion books I guess, and
it’s only really recently I’ve kind of remembered that
and went “Gosh!”, you know that was probably one of my very early
introductions into fashion was through her beautiful books
that she gave to me, and let me cut up and scrapbook.
Because this was a working farm when we came here,
the cows were very much a part of our every day life here.
And so we would go to all milkings if we could as kids, and it was the most exciting.
We used to like to help herd the cows in,
and old Tom was the cow herder, and we learned early we had to respect Tom.
And then George and he would milk the cows, and
George would teach us how to milk the cows.
We loved going to the cow shed because
that was when the bull was put in the pen, and
I actually got a very good life sex education from the milking shed –
and so did all of our friends. It would be the thing we’d delight to say:
“you’ve got to come to the milking shed and watch this!”
I was here as a child, then my step-kids came,
so they were four and five when they first came here,
they’re now in their 40s.
And my sisters and their babies came, so my nieces and nephews…
then I had my son thirty-one years ago, and
so he came here as a little guy from a baby onwards.
I think it made our family really a close family because
we spent all of our childhoods, all of our kids’ childhoods,
we all were just in a big tribe.
My father built this.
There was an old, shoddy old bench
with no cupboards and
this came in the 60s, it’s still here.
I used to look up and watch George and Joan up on their terrace… and
I’d watch the kids going around the rocks when I was a Mum
and… I’d watch up in the top there watching people going for walks.
I just loved standing at this bench, it’s the best way to have a kitchen.
And we played board games in the evening, you couldn’t get the TV to work,
there was always snow.
On great nights
we’d all be out on the deck, and we would be having sing-songs and bonfires and
just real old-fashioned kind of family time, and I think
it all stemmed from living communally here in the weekends.
I think the privilege of coming here
as a child and having the freedom as a child, then being able to give that to our children
really shaped who I am.
And it’s when I come back like this even I get it even more clearly,
how that really quite creative space I guess, that
imaginative space - I’ve always felt one with this place -
it really grounds me as a New Zealander.
It makes me feel like I am a New Zealander.