Endings can also become beginnings. And as we head into 2021 we’re closing Kiwiboomers simply because it’s time to move on.
We’ve published KBs for twelve years but now in the confronting glare of computer screens sight dims (oh for typewriters!), and technology outpaces us with among other things, its unending updates.
So, thanks to our many contributors and readers over the years - we hope you have shared the fun we have had producing Kiwiboomers.
Paul and Melita Smith
Much has changed between my occasional visits to Christchurch in the last four and a half years.
On my first post-earthquakes visit I was awed by wrecked buildings, broken roads, tell-tale see pages that told of cracked water-pipes, portable toilets in the streets, tangles of steel reinforcing on what looked like bomb-sites, barricades, soldiers, and silence in a city echoing sorrow.
In Nelson, the City Council has appeared hell-bent on introducing shared pathways – where walkers vie with bikes.
Hell-bent? In February 2015 the editor of Nelson Mail in Don’t get carried away over cycle ways appealed for common sense.
I should begin by saying I am but a beginner beekeeper, so these are just my observations. I don’t keep them for honey, but for pollination, though my kids would tell me the joy of sticking their heads under a giant honey tap in harvest season is a hard reason to beat.
Tens of thousands of Kiwis out in the rain over the weekend to protest against the TPP which many thought had been killed off in the last, failed round of talks. But no. In the collective race from commonsense and responsibility to their peoples and institutions, governments are expecting the deal to be finalised later this month. Meanwhile some Ministers have already dismissed the protests.
Funny… it just didn’t seem like Greece. We’d been dazzled by the blue and white on Santorini, subdued by the mainland Greek’s grey and shades of olive and now Corfu looked like Greece’s bohemian cousin, in her green, orange and pink. But then maybe it was Corfu Town’s shabbiness, its charm and its palette of ochre that gave it the taste of Italy.
I grew up in a village called Balmoral where we wished, without a hint of masochism, that the dentist’s drill would shriek; where we knew we were half-way to Hollywood when the cinema doorman took our tickets – dressed in a tuxedo.
Now here’s a fishy one…
This last summer, a friend came down to Nelson from Atlanta USA to fish for trout with a fishing guide, Zane Mirfin.
Lost and….?
Spotted in Auckland’s burbs, last week: a child’s favourite bunny – tied firmly to a lamp post to make sure Big Ears returns home…
Bad news for the managerial clones at TV3: John Campbell’s spirit lives on.