PETER FROST on holiday in New Zealand meets a mystery women.
I was filling our rented New Zealand motorhome with diesel, half the price of back home when with a squeal of brakes a dark red pick-up pulled into the next pump.
The metallic paint job, huge chrome wheels, shiny bull bars and knobbly tyres said ‘money’ and ‘Kiwi style’ and said it loud. The driver got out and she said ‘money and style’ too.
The car, the nails and the soft leather cowboy boots all matched. And they all matched the colour of a good vintage Hawkes Bay Colraine Cabernet Merlot, something perhaps from the Mata Winery.
She was friendly – all New Zealanders are. She said “hello” and asked how I was enjoying the motorhome and the holiday.
I tried to work out just what she was. The boots, tight denim jeans and bright check shirt were all western in style. But she had no hat, the tight blonde curls made me think one of her parents must have had Merino DNA.
I started guessing. Line dancer? No, to young. Jillaroo – as the Aussies call cow girls?
No, far too clean and with those nails?
No it was obvious really, she was clearly a New Zealand Country and Western diva.
Then she went in to pay and as she moved away I saw the discreet gold lettering on the pick-up door. It said it all:-
New Zealand Cyanide Specialists
WE KILL EVERYTHING!
I had just met my first Professional Possum Pest Poisoner.
This article first published in 2012