Category archive: Nostalgia

Going off the rails…

Were we supposed to go WOW!  when the Government announced it  would  build a rail  link to Auckland  airport by… 2030? Maybe 2050?

TV3 news (sorry,  Newshub)  carried the story  last month.   And it  featured something  so familiar  that it  felt  like déjà vu,  yet there it was on  our TV screens.  

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Memory Road…

There’s dark green bush all around us; I can see it through the windscreen. I’m sitting between Mum and Dad in the Land Rover and I’m frightened. That’s my first memory and, for a long time, I didn’t know its origin. Was it a ‘false’ memory from the family’s stories of our baby days we loved to hear?

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Joining the hordes

I decided to visit my daughter in Christchurch via the Haast and Arthur’s Passes. Not the easiest route on a bike, even with my friend (electric motor) to help me up the hills.

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Come dancing – or not…

I like dancing – who doesn’t? So, one day after feeling as if I could become footloose on the dance floor again, I enrolled for a ballroom dancing class at the local grammar.A legacy of the Fifties and Sixties was that all of us could rock and roll – and even today if you listen to the original of Honky Tonk, your feel an irresistible urge to do it all over again.

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Beached whales – and bravery…

First, an early morning recollection from the day before: a friend describing a short story which captured the pitiful cries of whale calves separated from their beached mothers.

Then this: on a country road where the occasional car usually dawdled, most now zipped along at highway speeds.

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Charlotte Bronte said it long ago

With hope borne of nothing more than a fresh year, I dream on: That we all woke up to the inequity that has passed for national values for too many years. The reckless obsession with the glittering lights of our economy, dairying and tourism, illustrate how self-interest has overtaken public interest as a legitimate goal. I couldn’t resist showing, with minor deletions, Charlotte Bronte’s view of this clash of values in Shirley, published in 1849:

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Another year, another Waitangi

Waitangi weekend again – and a man was close to tears.  Nothing unusual there.  It’s what the place does to  some.   What was different this year was that the man was Pakeha – no let’s  pass over  that pejorative for another description: he was white.

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My books and other animals…

my-books

Old friends should never be treated like this: interned in sunless corners,  jammed upright  until their spines crumble; bandaged,  but with half their pages  inexplicably  missing.My  books were freed recently by the arrival  of our  exuberant Westie wallpaperer and so ended up in piles all over the  house.  But in them  we  found   reunions everywhere. 

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Food, glorious food

rationing orangesIf you don’t know what food to buy or how to cook the food the advertisers tell you to buy, newspaper and magazine articles will tell you all you need to know, and television food shows will make you wonder if it’s all become a bit too much. So let’s go for a trip back down the years when food was less colourful and certainly less plentiful. Do you remember what you were eating when you were ten years old?

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