Frost

A couple of weeks back on honest dave’s morning rant, I proposed that FOG could be the zietgiest, the very spin that takes Hamilton into tourist dollars unmatched since Denmark launched LEGOLAND. But I fear I have merely sold half the story, robbed the diary from little India, and asked too much of FOG.

Monday’s FROST was nothing short of pristine. Nothing moves. The air seemed to just dance it’s little cold jig in slo mo. FROST is not an ugly cold – it’s polite, it has manners, it says please and thank you. Monday’s frost was a classic – there’s something about the big fresh, the smoke of breath, the virgin crisp that just reeks of being born again. It’s as if, once in a while the rain takes a sickie and buggers of to the beach with some loose clouds and the wind would like to too but just can’t be fagged and……..?

Mr FROST then silent like a white ninja kicks ass on glass and makes moves on grass. It’s very pleasing.

FROST can of course be mean. Last year’s FROST killed 3 out of 4 of my small green plants I called family. They were outside plants, but still family. They never made it to the deck, never once entered the potted hallowed sanctuary of the lounge where FROST has a trespass order and tv is sometimes on. No, the lower caste plants were bitten in the a.m. and gone by lunch. Who knows the ways of the FROST. People, - it’s a garden out there!

But on Monday, FROST was forgiven. I would have swam in that frost if it was a tad deeper….…..or if I didn’t have breasts. FROSTBATHING is under-rated.

There is something magical about FROST that says all can be redeemed, that the past can be waived, that history need not be repeated. FROST sparkles a second chance even if your on your fourth husband.

FROST whispers to mud – harden up. FROST whispers to water – slow down. FROST says to naked people – put your clothes on.

It is time for HAMILTRON to embrace nature’s taonga in all it’s guise’s. There so is a bone in the marketing cupboard my friends. So what if Ngai tahu have kilo’s of greenstone? And who cares if Huntly has black gold formerly known as coal?

Let’s not be shy!! A winter in hamiltron is absolutely the north island equivalent to a winter in Queenstown or Wanaka – we just don’t have skifields or snow. But we do have FOG and we do have FROST.

I am booking an interview with the mayor, Michael Redman..and I’m walking into his probably not oval office, and I’m gonna wear my white t-shirt emblazoned with our city’s new slogan:

HAMILTON – FOGnFROST

And it will have a picture of 2 very cold shrivalled testicles….. but it won’t be offensive because you won’t see them because of the fog strategically placed over top.

Oh yeah, and then I am going down to patent a new drink. If paeroa can get mileage out of a humble piece of yellow citrus, then Hamilton could bottle it’s FROST, something edgy like that ‘crush’ and I say let’s affiliate with the mandarin. Let’s bottle our frost, add some manda, and launch a tour-de-force crush for the local market and beyond:

…….wait for it

…….drum roll

……..TA DAAAAAAA


‘ICE MANDARIN AND HAMILTON’


lemon and paeroa will be merely an exhibit in te papa that we’ll show our kids. The tron’s new taste will be labeled with 3 juicy images of peeled mandarins dipping salaciously into a white field of FROST tinged with the green of grass, cows in the background.

Genius.

FROST is our friend Hamiltonians – let’s milk it like we milk everything else…

You have not been listening to Honest Dave on the Generator