Category archive: Viewpoint

Encounters… with a flying pot

So you’re  at the kitchen bench and  acting like a 16 year old  –  though you know that was  half a century ago.    You   plonk a  heavy pot almost  playfully and… misjudge. Its rim heads with relentless accuracy to  the  one  part of your  foot not covered by slippers.

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Letter to a Mayor…

It’s autumn so it’s timely to let a weathered leaf from the  season of our life drift into the summer of another’s – in this case New Plymouth Mayor, Neil Holdom.

Some time ago he described baby boomers as ‘ the most selfish generation’. And then on Facebook and presumably a few other places,  he apologised.  His j’accuse was similar to comments  by any of the critics of boomers, some so young they could pass for the grandchildren of the first boomer cohort.

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My friend – the earwig

Let me start with tomatoes. My home grown tomatoes have thin skins and flesh as dense and true  as wild meat. I have red, orange and pinkish heritage type with a variety of wonderful favours. But we have a short growing season and my toms are just about finished, which is why my wife bought some supermarket tomatoes.

I ate half of one.

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Who Really Owns Cadburys, Dunedin?

Property is a commodity, a possession, which may be sold or disposed of as the owner sees fit. After the transaction is legitimised by a legal document, justice and all democratic and economic requirements of fairness to all parties is served. It’s simple really.

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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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