Mincing words by Trevor Plumbly

Z is for zombie It struck me the other day, whilst ruminating over the Glenlivet, that language has lost a lot of value since the folk at Silicon Valley decided we needed electronic assistance to resolve things that a reasonable education equipped us to cope with. Sure, life and language evolve and some stuff needs to go; I, for one, don’t want to revisit the formality of the 19th Century, but where most of the population’s concerned, the ability to express themselves clearly seems to be taking a dive. I notice that… Read More

No laughing matter by Trevor Plumbly

Hubble bubble By general admission mainstream news is a bit of a witches’ brew of late. Despite wearing my ‘Pennies from Heaven’ (PFH) raincoat, I’m finding it hard to avoid dampening spirits. Sight loss (mercifully) killed off the newspapers as a source while the radio seems pre-set to dollop out hourly doses of depression. Sure, there’s heaps of the bad stuff out there that all of us need to be made aware of, but despite the relative insulation of life down here in NZ, the willingness of half-baked hacks to trumpet the… Read More

Pennies from heaven by Trevor Plumbly

‘Every time it rains’ It was one of those corny old songs I caught on the radio the other day and it struck me that one of the advantages of age is that you can afford to let others do their heads in worrying about the future of the planet. I’m not what I’d describe as smug about things, more calmly observant; it would be nice to report that I’ve achieved this semi-tranquil state by some form of self-discipline or religious experience but sadly, that’s not the case. Water on stone is… Read More

Pride, prejudice and old lace by Trevor Plumbly

Iron ladies Much of my early education outside the classroom came from the afternoon teas where Aunt Phyllis presided over her genteel kangaroo court. Maiden aunts, as a social force, drifted into extinction around the1950s; mine was formidable and possessed of three major traits: an endless store of borrowed quotes, the capacity to consume more gin than a music hall tart and the ability to terrify me. The table was her high court bench and, during tea, dialogue was pretty much restricted to, ‘Sit up please’ and ‘Chew your food properly child.’… Read More

As good as a play by Trevor Plumbly

They bore him barefaced on the bier Let’s not get overdosed with regret over the departure of Aussie PM Scott Morrison; these people come and go, it’s the nature of the beast. We’re taught from infancy that forgiveness is a virtue but when it comes to the odd politician I wonder if that concept might need a re-think. Lots of countries draw a wild card from time to time: Thatcher, Muldoon, Johnson and so on. It seems to me that after a period of relative stability, the punters get lulled into comfort… Read More