After retiring from audiology some years ago, Susan’s finding life’s pretty good with lots of time to do what she likes. That includes walking, reading, having coffee with friends, and a bit of activism thrown in. Also, day by day doing her best not to worry too much over the many threats to our gorgeous planet.
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Meet Trevor. He’s had quite a colourful career, from his early days as a pub manager in Tunbridge Wells he went on to become Dunedin’s leading auctioneer. Trevor is a published author and was something of a TV personality in the 1980s as a regular panellist on a show about antiques.
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Emily is very loud, and has really bad taste in cheesy pop music. When not at work flogging goods to the public via advertising and marketing campaigns, she can be found hiding from her partner and children at the local pub. If you’re easily offended or don’t appreciate the constant use of profanities, then you probably shouldn’t read Emily’s posts. You have been warned!
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Angela has had many roles in her life including: schoolgirl, student, daughter, friend, civil servant, wife, lover, mother, manager, magistrate, landlady, teacher, grandmother, blogger, editor and proofreader.
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I really don’t think I’m racist. As a feminist, I’m definitely not sexist, and I’m not age-ist or ??? (what else is there?). But I have now come to realise that I suffer from a different kind of -ist. The other night just as I was getting ready to go to bed, fireworks started up outside my window, which looks out over Auckland Harbour. It wasn’t New Year’s Eve or Waitangi Day or any other special public day, but it was quite a spectacular display that went on for about ten minutes…. Read More
Sometimes I’m struck by the richness of the English language, by how one word can have so many different meanings, arriving as it does by a variety of linguistic routes over the years across Europe and beyond. One such word is chuck which I discover has numerous meanings both as a noun and as a verb. Chuck as a verb means to throw something carelessly or casually: The family was frightened when someone chucked a brick through their window. Some people can make a living out of stuff other people chuck away…. Read More
Jolly jack tars It’s that time again folks; the Circus is coming to town! The world’s wealthiest sporting clique is gearing up to battle for the America’s Cup and already the posturers, promoters and blatant arse-kissers are moving into action along with near-sighted politicians. There’s money to be made here folks and the dollar dung-flies are already starting to swarm. It mystifies me that a few mega-wealthy playlords could succeed in foisting this vanity-driven con job onto a country constantly striving to maintain healthy social and educational services. Press gangs The politicians… Read More
The airwaves here in New Zealand are full of war. Remembrance of war, that is. 25 April marks the anniversary of the first major military action fought by Australian and New Zealand forces during the First World War. When I listen, I always get an uneasy feeling. I hear that it’s all about “honouring” those who were killed, but when I think of all those sad, sad white crosses in the European war cemeteries, I have to wonder if the young men and women there would find any comfort from knowing that people… Read More
When I was a child in the 1950s, we had various ways of passing the acres of unoccupied time, including cat’s cradle, jacks, yo-yos, marbles, plasticine and something involving an empty cotton reel, four nails and some wool which was called French knitting. This produced a long thin snake of woven wool which you could spiral round into little mats or even a hat if you went on long enough. Things were much less sophisticated in those far off days. Progress or not? French knitting is not unlike the recent craze of… Read More