There was a lot packed in to 2011. Earthquakes, an election, a world cup. A new baby and family stuff. Work. Here’s a summary in mobile phone photos, an idea I’ve pinched.

Update – here’s even more.

Our office moved to Victoria Street, and I’m lucky enough to have this view – I spent a lot of time staring out the window at the bustle of the harbor. It’s beautiful. I’m lucky.

A beer in the sun at Tauranga’s Harbourside restaurant on my birthday.

This was Telecom’s ‘war room’ table on the 2nd or 3rd day after the 22 February Christchurch earthquake. Work wise, I love crisis communication. The downside, of course, that to experience and develop your crisis comms skills, there has to be a crisis.

I haven’t been to Christchurch for years, and like most people not there, can’t imagine what it’s like to live with aftershock after aftershock – I have the greatest admiration for a mate living there with his young family determined to be part of the rebuild. It’s hard enough having a young family up here in wussy stable-ground Auckland, let alone among seismic uncertainty. For what it’s worth, I hope for a better 2012 for Canterbury.

Double Zs while in Hawke’s Bay

AA Gill

Thomas The Tank Engine gave me a new channel to express anal retentivity.

My fav street photo I took this year.

I took quite a few photos of what I was eating this year – looking through, it seems to be bacon and bread that I was moved to photograph the most, so this is representative example.

2011 was an excellent year for Pizza.

There was a world cup on – that’s me on the right. Extensive coverage, of course, can be found over at sportreview.net.nz. It was a great year to be a sport blogger.

The wee fella – I don’t like to share much about my kids in public online. Just know I love the crap out of them and my partner. We are very blessed.

The finish line – I’ve never been so ready for a holiday / alcohol.

Santa makes a slow, silent and ultimately doomed bid for freedom

Lunch

A tugboat doing a wee, for the easily amused

Sneaky bollard is sneaky

Oceanside

Update on pizza notes.

Roast hogget stuffed with honey, mustard and breadcrumbs from Donna Hay.

Scalloped potatoes from the Edmonds Cookbook.

Important to point out, these were two separate meals.

You know gang, if something’s worth doing, it’s worth doing stupidly. And so, whenever I have two and a half minutes to spare (insert your favourite “too much time on hands” joke here), I like to take this photo of me serving wussy milky drinks *on a boat* and make a new Twitter avatar.

I’m actually quite glad these don’t show up full size on Twitter itself. Ah har.

Chief Brody

A Bruckheimer production

Hemingway- the old man and the idiot

#redandblack for Canterbury

One bad Photoshop deserves another

Aero helmet for the Tour De France

Boyhood hero

All Whites at the Football world cup 2010

Best left

Clearing out my phone’s photo gallery.

If you look at this photo while standing next to the oven on 230 degrees on fan bake, you’ll get an idea of how hot it was this day, but with less cooling breeze.

This thing made us move out of our fishing spot in the Tauranga harbour channel.

Mine charming lunch companion who granted a couple of fan bois an audience.

The wee fella tries to run away from his old man’s architecturally unsound creation.This took ages!

It was very tempting to just stay there for the day, let me tell you.

Queenslanders are nice, goddammit. Walking around Brisbane during the day with my son in his stroller, I couldn’t so much as approach a set of stairs without someone immediately stopping what they were doing and helping me out. People in cafes and shops were breezy and interested, in a way that only people with the twin luxuries of living in a lovely city and a lovely climate can be.

The most extreme politeness I saw, however, was the young man who was violently sick on the pavement in broad daylight then, instead of running away as quickly as he could, asked sheepishly at the nearest cafe for a bucket of water so he could clean it up. He did a great job.

Brisbane is hot, easy to get around and has beautiful buildings, old and new. It offered plenty to do for a two year old and his dad, including the museum, Southbank beach & fountains and hiring a bike with a child seat for a spin around the river paths. We enjoyed it a lot.

I’m often told our family beach stomping ground is turning into the Gold Coast. This is bullshit. The Gold Coast proper boasts miles and miles of shopping malls, theme parks, cafes, restaurants, sports clubs and golf courses, every one of which packed with men in shorts, jandals and impressive moustaches talking real estate, before climbing onto their Harley and roaring off very fast. The rule seems to be that if your vehicle doesn’t produce at least 120 dB, then in all likelihood, you’re a homo. Mate.

We stayed in the amusingly-named Labrador, and had a great time. You couldn’t walk anywhere without hitting three or four awesome kids’ playgrounds. Seaworld was a real highlight, as were the cafes conducting a price war on the ‘cheapest bacon and eggs’ front. No-one loses in a war like that.

We took a car to Byron Bay, a fantastic little place that gave the impression of being a laid back sleepy beach hideaway, but was actually packed to the gunnels with impressive shops and cafes. It was populated mainly with Canadian backpackers lazing on the beach swapping notes on where to score pot.

The day we went to Byron Bay, the storm the size of Australia was due to hit – but didn’t show up, leaving us to enjoy our day. Turns out that if you live in the lucky country, storms like this don’t bother turning your life into a cold, rainy, depressing mess for weeks on end like they do back home – they just pass harmlessly out to sea. They are lucky over there.

My great uncle Alan, when he left his architecture practise, wanted one thing – this quote from his boss’s wall. He got it. You can click it to make it bigger.