Duncan Garner: “I like change. I like challenge. This is just another one on the roller coaster of life.”
Well, I’ve finally done it. After years out of the market — years of uncertainty, of worry, of sleepless nights and wondering if I ever would again — this week, I moved into a house I’d bought.
Actually, it’s more than a house. It’s a real piece of land. And
it looks like hard, hard work. They call that a lifestyle block — house, barn, sleepout and a whole lot of lawn I’m now responsible for. The ride-on is still on the shopping list.
The lawns are, in fact, paddocks, and I’m taking advice on whether to get a few sheep. We have an underground septic tank, no sewer, three water tanks, a water pump, and Wi-Fi is likely only via Elon Musk’s Starlink.
But the best part? I didn’t do it alone. I bought it with my 78-year-old mum; my teenage son, Buster, is right in the mix, too — already claiming his prized spots in the barn and house, laying down carpet, planning out his home gym and dismantling shelves and things in his way.
We lit the fire on Thursday night for the first time. It already feels like home. As I went through the woodpile a black bird nesting in there flew at me and took off. It gave me the shits; Buster laughed at me.
This wasn’t a carefully laid-out plan. It grew out of necessity, love and a shared refusal to do things the “normal” way. Because life hasn’t been normal for a while. Many Kiwis feel like that, I guess.
This is about getting back on the horse after the rough and tumble of life. I’ve been determined to survive a relationship failure and the work knocks, and this week it felt like the hard work and refusal to die paid off.
When my marriage ended, I didn’t rent a flash apartment. I moved back in with mum. At nearly 50, which was hard, but she didn’t flinch. It was meant to be for only a few weeks, until I found my feet. But the ground kept moving from under me in the media industry and I stayed on and on. She was so supportive, so caring, and this is about, hopefully, me showing mum I don’t want to stuff her into a retirement home and visit once a week.
At 78, she certainly has no intention of being labelled old or living in an old folk’s home. She could take the easy route and stay where she was, but mum loves a challenge and she’s a fighter. She overcame a massive seizure when she was 52, beat breast cancer 10 years later and lost her husband, my dad, 15 years ago.
She gets up every day, she’s positive and refuses to fade away. And now we’re co-owners of a rural lifestyle block that looks like hard work the moment you come through the gate.
She made room for me and Buster when I was vulnerable. Now we’re making room for each other. You can plan life all you like, but things happen. You can’t control that, but how you get up off the canvas will define you.
I expected mum and dad to live forever but my dad was gone at 62. Naturally, our family changed, and it’s never been the same. Then the curve balls continued, and the question became: What now? The answer was to buy a house together. Mum started looking and found this place. We went to the open home, then the auction. We sold her apartment, nailed the deal, and boom! We’ve moved in.
This is about me saying families come in all sorts of configurations; this is ours and we’re doing this our way. Our parents put so much into us in our formative years, and I’ve never understood why some kids find their parents a chore later in life. Actually, I find it selfish, and with dad gone, isn’t this my responsibility? But more than that, it’s my choice, my honour.
So we started looking. She drove the search and found this place. Got me hooked just before the auction. Luckily, it’s a buyers’ market. We were competing with no one. I feel for those selling property. The carnage in real estate must be awful; well-hidden, but surely dreadful.
Many of us are facing the fact that the certainty we once had in our jobs and professions has gone. So, given everything — personal and professional — felt as if it was slipping, this house has become an anchor.
The lawns are daunting, and I’m clueless about much of rural life. But I like change. I like challenge, and this is just another one on the roller-coaster of life. It keeps you alive!
This was about us doing life differently, building something new. Shared, but separate. I’ve got space; she’s got space and Buster’s got everything — which is the part that really gets me. For the past few years, Buster’s been asking, “Dad, when are we going to get a house?”
It wasn’t just about bricks and walls. It was about belonging. Having something to be proud of. Having somewhere he could invite his mates over and say, “This is my place.” He couldn’t say that for a long time. It affected me badly; the feeling I had failed him.
I cannot tell you the weight that lifted off my shoulders when I told him the deal was done – we’d bought the place. It’s massive, and it means everything to me. Hopefully, he stays here for a long time, too.
So, here we are. A teenage boy, a middle-aged man, and one very determined grandmother building a home together. It’s not a lifestyle block. It’s a life block, maybe a life lesson. Never give up, always keep your mind open to what life might look like.
I feel that we’ve landed exactly where we’re meant to be. And I reckon Dad is looking down on us approvingly – but saying get on with the lawns before they get impossible!
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