The golden past by Susan Grimsdell

It seems to be a human tendency to look back on the way we were in the past somewhat fondly, through rose-tinted glasses in fact. A variation on the age-old “things were better in my day!”  can be heard wherever and whenever a group of oldies gets together.  This enhancement of memories of how good we were compared to how ghastly the current generation is, has been going on since the beginning of recorded history. Back in the day In the 8th century BC  Hesiod said: “I see no hope for the… Read More

Voting Frights by Trevor Plumbly

I reckon sitting on a committee is more fun than phoning Vodafone, but only just. I’m not really the collective type. I do get on pretty well with most folk, but I dislike the process of group decision. To me committees are the bastard offspring of the democratic system; they intermarry to reproduce untold social dross, and are a haven for people who can’t make up their own minds. Even those trumpeting the cause of the individual get castrated by sheer tedium and end up agreeing to ‘joint compromise’. Genteel bullying at… Read More

Three score and 8/10ths by Trevor Plumbly

78 this month; shit that’s old! Maybe it’s time to quit the intellectual musings and accept that the old ‘get-up-and-go’ has finally gone. I could do the escape route, and scoff a couple of ‘goodbye pills’. I would, of course, croak, but at least senility wouldn’t be an ongoing worry. There is a bill in progress to make that legal, but to pass into law it requires a conscience vote, which in turn requires being counted and some MPs have a problem with that. Others dribble on, to the extent that makes… Read More

Three score and ??? by Trevor Plumbly

I’m staring down the barrel of 78; old age has arrived and I’ve been collecting wisdom to compensate. There’s lots of theories around; for example, someone said (I don’t know who), “The thing about old age is that you can see the good in people more easily.” My research suggests that that’s a load of bollocks! That sort of sanctimonious crap belongs in Christmas cracker mottoes, or to old fogies wanting to clock up a few brownie points before the bloke with the scythe visits. It’s a bloody mysterious caper this age… Read More

Huff and puff by Trevor Plumbly

Grumpy old git part 2 It’s cold and wet in Auckland and I’ve got all reflective about a couple of law changes in the offing. Odd things in life seem to matter at my age; even so, at the risk of contradiction from my fellow bloggers, I regard myself as a pretty normal sort of bloke. It wasn’t always thus, but age tends to water things down a bit. In my formative years you were either the sort of boy your girlfriend invited home to meet mother, or useful as a cudgel… Read More