strange times in Aglionby

When I left the house on Sunday, I was aware the baby was going to come soon and I noticed, aside from the state I was in from the evil demon in my stomach mixing bad elixirs out of KFC, that other things were going on. I was feeling, I have to admit, quite tearful and emotional and my normal ability to think logically was tenuous to say the least. I first went to the party hire place and picked up the tea urn, then I went to the Warehouse in Petone and tracked down the big cheap pot made in China. As I did so Bridget rang on the cell phone. We had a quick conversation and she said she would be around early evening to check on Sicily and drop off the birthing pool.

After that I drove to Lower Hutt, passing through Alicetown. I have driven through Alicetown many a time but for some reason, this time as I drove through, I felt like I was seeing Alicetown like I had never seen it before. There was an odd light about and I felt like neither I nor Alicetown existed in time. It was an odd feeling and still retains that oddness in my memory. I figured at the time it was a combination of sleep deprivation, bad stomach elixirs and the straight dope of the baby coming.

Several days after Zap was born I took a book off our shelf called “The Hunt Family - 150 years in New Zealand, 1840-1990” about my maternal side of the family. Charles Hunt, my ancestor came to New Zealand on the Adelaide which left London on the 18th September 1839 and arrived in Pito-one in March 1840. According to the book,
“...the Hunt family moved to Aglionby (pronounced Allenby) now Alicetown.” after the Cornish Row fire in may of 1840.

I did know the family had been active in the Petone settlement and and in setting up the Methodist church but I didn’t know they had settled in Alicetown. Now this is pure speculation and hardly something we can test with litmus paper, but what if, during that period of birthing, these chemicals, this straight dope the body releases in such quantities, have the effect of activating one’s ancestor consciousness and those ancient blood songs begin singing in the brain? All they require is some trigger. Which is what was happening to me as I drove through Alicetown, I was responding, almost atavistically to my ancestors who had also given lived, breathed, died and given birth in that area. Maybe. Interesting thought. Move on.