It Must be Leap Year by Trevor Plumbly

Rebirth There’s a spring in my step of late, and I have regained the name I was christened with; the anonymous grumpy old git with a white cane tapping along the street has gone, and I now stride as a man of some import should. It is, of course, election time in NZ and I, along with countless other nonentities, have been released from the standard sentence of ineffectual opinion. I am no longer ‘the man in the street’; those competing for my favour feel it’s important for me to see the… Read More