The day the oil ran out (13)

My patience was being tested. I had one day to find a new job, and the day was coming near to an end. The bills were piling up. We weren't winning lotto. And Slowy was so slow, she would never eat the grass to a good enough standard to get to the minimum 300 millimetres required by Auckland Transport to be a serviceable berm. And the oil had run out. Did I mention the oil had truly run out?

I looked at my options. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Option 1. Sell up and move Dad to the Waitakere Gardens, where I could live as a guest squatter as long as I kept my profile low. 

Option 2. Ring my ex-boyfriend in rehab, and become his accountability person. I will stop him from taking dangerous drugs, and be paid as a support worker. As long as he acknowledges he has a problem that will never get better. 

Option 3. Run away and join the circus. Shortland Street needs more people all the time. I could act as a kooky mental patient, and make a tonne of money on the long running series, as long as it continued to be on air. Perhaps even more if I had a special kind of illness that meant I could play multiple characters. 

I was in the process finding out the number of the Waitakere Gardens retirement village when I heard a familiar ringtone. It was my Facetime. My sister! What could she want, plus it was 3 in the afternoon. Why would she be calling me all the way from London in the early hours of her morning? 

The day the oil ran out (12)

The Lotto app did a magic sound and told me congratulations you have won! A bonus ticket!
"Dad you won Lotto again" I yelled.

Dad grumbled "Not again!".

"You have got to stop winning bonus tickets. Or you'll never finish the game". 

Dad just went back to the computer where he was downloading the latest old records on You-tube. He was up to record 4875902 Dot label circa 1954. 

"Look at this, uploaded just this morning! Only three views." 

I pretended to be interested, and then announced I better check on Slowy. She might have finished the front berm grass by now. Then she can get onto the hedges. I needed to train her to chew them straight and flat, so they don't end up looking like corncobs. It's buxus after all and has to be a nice, even, lego brick shape. If she could do that, we could make more money trimming hedges than lawnmowing, in fancier suburbs too. 

I went outside and there was Slowy the donkey still chewing away. But man, she was slow! She had only done half, and was looking distracted by the butterflies. 
"Come on Slowy, time's a ticking! Those bills won't pay themselves you know!" Slowy just looked at me blankly and then smiled at me as if to say me going bankrupt was never going to bother her. After all it wasn't her place. She was just the hired help.

I sighed. Being the breadwinner wasn't a piece of cake after all. 

The day the oil ran out (11)

I made plans to ride Slowy home and decided I would ring the Massey Pony Club and come up with the money once I made 400 bucks lawnmowing the neighbourhood berms.

Buffie had offered to express deliver a latte to the receptionist as thanks for all the horse manure she had taken over the years.

"How are you going to express deliver the latte when we can't drive our cars anymore?" I asked.

"Don't worry I've got some mad cyclists onto it," she replied. And sure enough one turned up right on cue in a racing lycra outfit.

"At your service, mademoiselle" said the mad cyclist.

It was Gilles from Woodside Garden! So this was his secret business. Gilles took the steaming hot latte and placed it in his pannier.

"Au revoir" he said, and rode off. He looked like he was training for the Tour de France.

Slowy and I started the trek home, while I kept a look out for my pink bike. I thought of ringing the police, but then thought maybe it will come back after it's been borrowed, like a good library book. I had taken the precaution of writing on it in a permanent marker "Selina's Bicycle. Please return to 41 Riverpark Crescent, Henderson. God Bless" just in case.

As we turned into my driveway, I saw dad waving a piece of paper and calling to me. "Can you check my powerball ticket on your ipad?" He said.

"Hold your horses, I mean donkeys" I said. "One thing at a time". I tied up Slowy to the gate and instructed her to nibble only our part of the 'berm' up to the box hedge. Then I went inside, dumped my library books, and reached for my ipad.

Dad was an incurable gambler, and spent $16 every week on these useless tickets that only ever won bonus tickets to buy more numbers. He was forever asking me to check them now I had this app on my ipad which meant we wouldn't need to go cross eyed hunting for numbers. He had been playing this silly game for over 30 years and we were always disappointed. I wish he could see that Sudoku was a much better numbers game and not one to give him false hope.  I placed the ticket under the scanner.

The day the oil ran out (10)

I named the Donkey 'Slowy' because she was slow.

She was obedient and stuck to the path but by the time I reached Korero Cafe it was near closing. Buffie was at the counter.

"Hi Selina fancy seeing you again!". Buffie was smiling as usual. But it might have been extra wide because she had another customer - me.

"I'm sorry Buffie there were no horses in the paddock. Will this donkey do?"

"I'm not sure about that" said Buffie "But don't worry, I found an even better mulch and fertiliser for the garden"

"What's that? Don't tell me you are installing a composting toilet."

Buffie reached behind the counter with a large sack. "As long as I have customers who like coffee, I will have a never ending supply".

She opened the sack.
Inside was something that looked like sawdust.

"It's coffee fluff" she explained. "It's wonderful! I throw it over everything and the plants really like it! Anyhow what can I get you?"

I presented Buffie with my hot drink voucher. "It's a latte for the Massey Pony Club lady. She won't give me a job unless I join up. But it costs like $425 to join".

"Really? Oh, stuff that. Come do some gardening, and you can work for free".

We both burst out laughing.
Slowy brayed. "It looks like Slowy's hungry" I said.

"By the way have you seen anyone riding off with my pink bike?"

"That might have been one of my PD workers. They like to "borrow" things".

We chatted for a while longer but I figured by the time I had got the latte back to Massey Pony Club it would be cold.  Buffie made me a hot chocolate instead while I pondered my next move. Slowy started nibbling the geraniums.

My next brainwave came along as I watched Slowy nibble. I could hire out Slowy as an organic lawnmower! And then my dad could use the petrol in his lawnmower to drive his car.

The day the oil ran out (9)

I didn't want to become a member and then have to pay to work as I had no money, and I wondered if this was it. I looked in my bag and there was my 'Horses for Dummies' book. Were all the horses out? I hadn't seen any on my walk toward the reception area.  I would have to tell Buffie no horse and no manure and she would be disappointed.

But I did have one thing, and it was a voucher for a free hot drink at Korero cafe.

Seeing I had nothing to lose except my dignity, I got the courage to say again to the reception lady, I can run and get you a coffee you look like you need it.

She looked a bit shocked but I said, for being so welcoming while you are so busy it's on me. What would you like - cappucino, flat white, latte?

Oh, latte if you don't mind.

One latte coming up. Be quicker if I had a horse but it's only down the road.

She said sorry all our horses are out but...there is a donkey in the far paddock you could ride.

I'll take the donkey.

The day the oil ran out (8)

Are you a member?
A lady eyed me suspiciously at the reception desk. She was sitting behind a computer, and it looked like she had just finished scrolling down a Facebook page. She had a squint in her eye and itchy fingers.

Um no..I'm here about a job.

Not another job hunter. The circular file is now full. She muttered.

I didn't understand what she meant by the circular file. I pressed on..can I see your manager?

No, she's out. You didn't park in the leased carpark did you? That's for members.

No, I walked. um..hey, you look like you need a coffee break.

Tell me about it, she said. But I must get this work done.

Well, I could make you a coffee and bring it to your desk? I suggested.

The reception lady gave me a look like I was mad.  She was now debating whether to employ me so she could do more work. But instead she changed tack and said if you want to be a member it's $425 a year, the forms are over there. Fill out an application form and we will get back to you. Then you can join our working bees.

Then she went back to her Facebook page.

The day the oil ran out (7)

Not to be outdone by a thief I stowed my books into my bag and trudged onward to the Massey Pony Club. 
I don't understand why the Massey Pony Club is in Ranui, I thought to myself. Shouldn't it be named Ranui Pony Club? There better be some ponies there. 

Upon reaching the entrance I hiked over the turnstile. Did it matter I was not a member? And that I only came here for the free horse manure? I was not in the age demographic to be taught pony riding skills. However sometimes children mistook me to be their peer, disbelieving me when I told them how old I really was. Perhaps, like me, one of the ponies had grown up and been put out to pasture. 

I looked around at the idyllic scene. Green fields and shady pine groves, with jumping bars and steeples dotted around the place. No ponies to be seen. I walked on to the stables and hall.

I had put in my CV my stint looking after animals at the Swanson Veterinary Clinic. That I was a long term member of the SPCA, and SAFE, and fundraiser for Lonely Miaow. Granted, none of these were pony related but I thought it might be more relevant than saying I had worked at my Uncle's Chinese Takeaway, feeding the masses who were too lazy to cook their own dinners. 

Dear Lord, I prayed. Please let there be a job for me here. My Dad cannot live on chips and ice cream forever. Also, whoever took my bike either repent or you have a special place reserved for bicycle thieves in hell!