Moving on…
It’s been a year since he passed on, lying in the sunshine of his bedroom, grinning as he pursed his lips and persuaded the ladies watching over his last moments, to give him a kiss.
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Confessions of a coffee addict
I’m going to begin this column with indelicate references, so my apologies to sensitive readers. On Saturday morning I subjected myself to a particularly undignified event.
‘A little discomfort?’
Me and the dentist are strangers but I know I’m in good company there. It’s not the childhood memories – though these linger and range from the scary whine of the drill to the dull ache which often followed. It’s not the money either (okay, it is) – dental work these days is brutally expensive.
Quality TV? Fly to Oz
Friends joke that they knew we’d come home crowing about Oz; how much sunnier it was – and all those beaches.
They were right – and wrong: Eight days in Melbourne and we saw the sun only when our Air New Zealand flight lifted off the tarmac. Beaches? Sort of. Great long strips lacking the intimacy of ours, with their Pohutukawa blossoms and streams meandering their way into the sea.
We did however return with something unexpected – memories of a vibrant public broadcasting industry.
There, but for the grace…
She didn’t wander through the mall and its shops as most people tend to do. She strode towards the supermarket followed by a man who did exactly the opposite.