A sorry state by Trevor Plumbly

Confessionitis It’s getting more and more difficult to find a blog topic these days; there’s too much heavy stuff out there and lots of folk waiting to spread a bit of grief. Take out politics, religion, racism, sexual identity and there’s not much left to debate about with much hope of a result. We’ve become inundated with thin-ice sensitivities; down here in God’s little acre, the days of carrying stoicism to the point of walking rigour have all but disappeared in favour of orchestrated outpourings. As soon as Mea Culpa became an… Read More

Playing the game by Trevor Plumbly

     Due to bodily and financial shortcomings, I never really ‘did’ sport; it required robustness and uniforms, both of which were beyond me. To justify the inadequacy, I formed the theory that sport was bloody stupid and I reckon I’m finally being proved right. It might be unkind, but I believe the rot started with the Italians and it’s been festering ever since. Give a bloke a spear and stick him in the ring with a pissed-off lion was the early Roman idea of spectator sport. Up to that point it was… Read More

There’s no business…by Trevor Plumbly

Showbiz! Pre-Internet, politics was generally left to trade unions and the privileged. Personally, I’ve always voted labour in the hope that someday the goodies of life might be shared around evenly, but age and cynicism reduced that to theatrical fantasy. All the world may well be a stage, but reality doesn’t sell tickets like razzle-dazzle. Down here in NZ, we mightn’t do the flashy Broadway stuff, but we can tap dance with the best of them when it comes to ‘who-done it?’ or, for those currently in power, ‘who should have done… Read More

Tis the gift to be simple Part 2 by Trevor Plumbly

‘If wishes were horses, beggars would ride’                         I’m enjoying simplicity of thought a lot more of late. I’ve reached the conclusion that most of the discontent going round is caused by too much information and not enough understanding; everyone seems to suck stuff up these days. Life’s hiccups used to be a lot more public and whatever it chucked at you somebody had a cliché on hand for verbal therapy and, of course, to let others know that it wasn’t their fault and, more importantly, it wasn’t happening to them. The… Read More

Tis the gift to be simple by Trevor Plumbly

The philosopher’s stoned Yesterday, I was relaxing in the armchair (the dreamspace), sipping rather a nice single malt, contemplating the vagaries of life and it occurred to me that there’s a degree of comfort about things when you’re approaching 80. Time was I used to think I knew it all, now I’m absolutely sure of it. Over the years I’ve read heaps of stuff by deep thinkers, academics, learned clergy and even educated drunks, but nothing tangible emerged from their musings and I’m now convinced I know a bloody sight more about… Read More