Sometime, somewhere, you wake up to life. You are going along in life and then either gradually or very suddenly the axis on which life was moving completely changes.
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.
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.
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.
When this wacky titled book, turned up – some new age novel I thought.
Not so. This is a true story about the jihadist takeover of the real Timbuktu and the remarkable story of one man’s finding, collecting and then saving hundreds of thousands of priceless manuscripts in Timbuktu.
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.
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.