Birthday--- I was tempted to take the day off!

When your birthday falls on a weekday, it can be tempting to take the day off. I thought about it but then, what the hell was I going to do? My friends and family were all at work, so apart from spending the day with Perdy, it didn’t seem like the right thing to do, so off to work I went. I brought some cakes from the bakery for my tutor group and I had also purchased a real flash ‘Mud Cake’ from the Cheese Cake Shop.

The word soon got around that it was my birthday so kids kept trying g to guess my age. They were way out, at both ends of the scale. It’s funny how bad they are at judging the age of oldies, eh. I fed my tutor group right at the end of the tutor time and they seemed happy enough.

Then, it was the turn of the workmates I hang out with in our kitchen and teaching area. The cake was huge. We cut it up and quickly realized that it was so rich that we could have halved the portions. There was still some over after our session, but I can tell you that no one wanted seconds.

It’s at times like this that you really appreciate the collegiality or your workmates. We laughed so much we didn’t even realize that the bell had rung. I’m sure if the students heard our comments they may have had quite a different picture of us.

I will head home, happy in the knowledge that my workplace is supportive and fun.

Now, what does the evening hold? I shall save going out to dinner until the weekend. I hate late nights now, except for the weekend. Age!

Thanks to all my Face book mates for their kind words.

I shall be watching RT (Russian TV) to see how----

I want to get a handle on what is happening in Russia re the position of The Russian Orthodox Church and Putin’s Government. Are we witnessing something that looks like an ‘unholy alliance’ between Church and State, or is it that I am watching Western sourced TV news reports that are not telling us the full story? Come on Russian readers--- tell us what is happening. ‘If you can’t, then I assume that you are frightened to express your opinion online. It is not a ‘brave new world’ after all. Tell me I am wrong.

We have seen other countries where the religious parties are basically in control. I would not have believed that possible in Russia. What a turnaround from the old Soviet Union.

MMM—it seems that power corrupts and that sometimes strange bedfellows are the order of the day in order to maintain power.

What say you my Russian friends?

Asset sales--- where to from here?

John Key looked decidedly uncomfortable as he fronted the cameras on TV last night. No amount of posturing could camouflage the fact THAT HIS Government has at least suffered a reversal in his plans to partially sell off State Assets.

There has been a good deal of opposition to his plans but it finally took the actions of the NZ Maori Council to slow down the process. JK says that he needs time to ‘consult’ with Iwi but the fact remains that now he is in a position whereby he may be trying to sell assets in election year.

All this means that the opposition to the sales process can now gather its forces and forge alliances between like-minded ‘end-result’ groups to stop the process altogether.

One way to go will be to acquire enough signatures to force a ‘non-binding’ referendum. That needs to get a move on because we want it before the 2014 election. If the result of the referendum clearly portrays a high level of opposition to the sales, then no government can comfortably proceed without ‘electoral fall-out.’

Now is the time to build momentum and to keep the pressure on. That is when the cracks will appear (read Peter Dunne) and the ship will sink.

Maybe there’s hope yet. Keep these State Assets. My Granddad would be turning in his grave.

Queen Street--two very different worlds.

Whether you are a tourist or a local, you need to treat Queen Street as two very different worlds. It is all about the timing as to when you decide to visit the ‘golden mile.’ During the day it is busy with workers and shoppers and it feels safe. The behaviours of the people are fine and the police hardly need to show more than a presence. Sure, the street is not quite the quality shopping experience we associated it with the past, but it is doing its best to reinvent itself with up-market shops scattered along its length. For a more ‘label-fuelled’ shopping excursion, maybe you should head to New Market or some of the better malls in the suburbs. Still, it has the advantage of ‘kissing the harbour’ and promises the outer Gulf just past Rangitoto Island.

After dark, most of the people on the street leave for the suburbs, but an increasing number head for the apartment belt that now inhabits the fringe (or even on the street) of the main district. Whether they hang around, way below their tiny apartments is anyone’s guess. Perhaps they don’t, for a very good reason.

As the shadows deepen and most of the shops close, a transformation occurs. Yes, some visitors eat their fill in the restaurants and movie-goers wander around before and after their chosen offerings. Gradually, and then with a growing momentum the nature of the crowd changes. The age of the newbies goes down and feeling changes as the alcohol partaking increases. After mid-night, there are less elderly faces, and those who remain move around cautiously with visages showing disapproval of what they are witnessing.

They dare not say anything because any respect that the imbibers had for old people rapidly retreats to another place in their minds. The said minds operate with less and less functionality until by the wee small hours, an entirely different world has taken hold on the street.

If anyone unlucky enough to be heading for an early start to their work day or someone wanting a kick-start to their day, having risen from one of the apartments, then they need to watch their step. They will need radar-like vision, because the street will be strewn with sleeping bodies, sometimes in bus shelters and in alcoves or on the very footpaths the ‘walkers’ are traversing. They will need to avoid the vomit, some of which is produced live, in front of their eyes and God knows what other substances.

Some of the revellers have not finished their ‘city-visit.’ Indeed they are intent on destroying one another, over some imagined or perhaps real insult, thrown casually from an inebriated mouth. Fights are common, most not too serious, because the low-lifes are incapable of anything of substance. The police may differ in their view about the fights. They have had to clean up the human wastage from the fights and vomiting and general flotsam that inhabits the street.

Even after the sun has made an appearance, the streets have to attempt another transformation. As workers and sober visitors arrive, for a while the two worlds coexist. The night people slink away and the street cleaners do their thing. Queen Street almost looks normal.

Is this what we want for what should be our premier shopping and entertainment area in Auckland?

 www.authorneilcoleman.com

Spooky billboard brings one complaint so down it comes!

PC bullshit--- What else can I say. Spookers is a ‘horror’ theme park in South Auckland. It is very popular and some even say there is ‘more there than meets the eye.’ I don’t know about that but what I do know is that the company has had a billboard in Parnell for a few months and it caused no problem. It is sort of graphic but how would it get the point across if it didn’t. It was even R16 but I don’t know if that was just a harmless ploy to get people to read it.

It seems that one [person found the billboard so offensive that they could not drive down the road and that it upset kids. If that was true, how is it that we have not had more complaints?

Let’s wrap our kids up in cotton wool. Hell, I’m not talking about stopping kids’ from climbing tress here, just a picture on a billboard. I am sure that comics and cartoons on Disney Channel are probably just as graphic.

Why is it that the Complaints Authority upheld the complaint? Why are we allowing such a wimpy response? I feel for the kids in the family of the complainant’s family. They must live a boring life, shielded from all potential harm, mollycoddled to the extreme. Of course I don’t know that. They may be just a normal family with values that they hold true.

 But come on--- give us a break. They will be banning KFC adverts soon because the chickens get eaten!

Cheesy nutty delight--grilled in heaven

I love weekends. They are a time when you can try something special and easy for a snack type lunch. Try this cheesy nutty delight.

Toast some bread---any sort---brown, white, in between, you choose.

Turn the grill on. I use one of those bench-top ovens--- they use less energy.

Now, place some peanuts and cheese in a food processor.  Now, this is where you can use your imagination. For those who have none--- keep it simple.

You can use the roasted peanut variety of you want a salty addition. I prefer to use raw peanuts and then add the salt later to taste. If you want ‘heat,’ add chilli flakes. Oh, go one--- try herbs and any other spices if you want but for the plain Janes—stick to the programme.

Spread the mixture from the food processor over the lightly toasted bread and grill. I hope I don’t have to tell you how to do that!

When the toasted cheesy/nutty delights turn brown and bubbly, take them out. This is when you add the salt of you want.

PS. Try aging finely sliced onion to the mixture after it has been ‘processed.’

ENJOY! I was going to take a picture, but I ate them too quickly. (Perdy, my Jack Russell and star of my latest book—‘Talk To Me’, just licked the mixture off the toast).  

 www.authorneilcoleman.com

Once upon a time in in a land very near to where you live----

The sky was grey, threatening a rain that the farmers loved but the townsfolk found annoying. Wives rushed to gather their washing before the deluge made mischief with fluttering clothing, displayed colourfully on the lines. Of course the quality of the clothing was quite different in the yards of the rich compared to that of the poor in the southern parts of the town.

Two wives from the two parts of the city wondered how their husbands were fairing in the tasks they were pursuing. Both husbands had left quite early in the morning, the rich one in a carriage and the poor one on a donkey. The latter had loaded his beast up with produce he had been working on for the past two months, while the better endowed citizen sat contemplatively in his carriage, ruminating on how he was going to deal with his business partner and satisfy his wife’s request for a larger share in the profit of his venture.

The poor husband was well respected in his street and had only come to the notice of the authorities once, for the late payment of his taxes. His counterpart in the central part of town was friendly with the same authorities and had dealt with them in the business world on many occasions. He had profited much through these endeavours. Another difference between the two men was that of their origin. The rich man claimed that his forefathers had been instrumental in the early settlement of the town whilst the poor man was the son of an immigrant.

The rain finally unleashed its bullets from God, pelting those unprepared or lacking suitable clothing, causing them to head for whatever shelter they could find. The rich husband observed the scurrying citizens, smugly reflecting on his good fortune. His driver pulled his woollen coat tighter about his body in an attempt to ward off the worst of the probing rain. He also increased the speed of the carriage by whipping the four horses cruelly. Two would have been sufficient, but the rich husband liked to display his wealth as he believed any citizen of good standing should do.

The poor husband struggled to keep his donkey from panicking and at the same time kept a watch on his produce as it tilted towards one side. Just when he thought he had seen an alleyway that offered some protection from the rain, a shop keeper barred his way as he unloaded a cart on front of his premises. The donkey had sped up as he too sensed that his master strove for the tiny oasis in the middle of the storm. The husband became annoyed at the antics of the shop keeper and made his thoughts clear by swearing, something that he usually reserved for those moments he was alone. His wife did not countenance such utterings.

On hearing the husband’s words, the shop keeper responded in kind and the husband pulled his donkey to a stop. The loaded produce on the donkey had a mind of its own and did not stop; instead, if flew off the donkey’s back and landed heavily on the shop keeper. Screams of pain filled the air and fellow shop keepers came to his aid, while someone called for a doctor. In the meantime the husband was detained roughly by the neighbours and was taken struggling to the nearby cells in the guardhouse by the walls of the town. He was cast inside the dingy cell which was already occupied by two drunkards, arrested the night before. At least they had a dry place. The screaming of the shop keeper was audible through the barred window in the cell. He was carried to the home of a doctor who had just opened his rooms for the day.

In the meantime, the rich husband was nearing his destination. He yelled at his driver and exhorted him to increase his speed. He was impatient and wanted his business over and done with. The driver resisted but the rich husband would not listen. He threatened his driver with dire consequences if he did not comply. The coach was soon careering along the cobbled street.

A bend in the road appeared and unfortunately, a young woman with a baby was trying to cross the road. The driver saw her but too late. The rich husband was still shouting at him to increase the pace of the carriage. The horses saw the young woman but it was too late to stop, even though the driver pulled violently on the reins. The young woman and her baby were lost under the flailing hooves. A small miracle occurred. The baby was flung into the air where a passing guard reached high and caught the baby. Those watching the scene from under the shelter of the shop eaves called out in approval.

The young woman did not stir as she lay in on the rain swept road. After a few seconds the pitiful sound of her pained voice stirred the bystanders into action. The coach remained still as the driver held the horses by their halters. The rich husband angrily left the shelter of his coach and began to yell at his driver to continue. Under the orders of his master, the driver finally continued the journey while the onlookers muttered that someone should report the actions of the rich husband to the authorities.

The rich husband must have had a change of mind because he reappeared and enquired after the health of the young woman. By now she had being cared for and taken on the back of a cart to a nearby monastery where the nuns would take care of her. A shop keeper had seen the incident and someone had told him how the rich husband had more or less forced the driver into the dangerous actions that led to the incident. He told the guard of this.

Two weeks later in two courts, there were two very different results. The poor husband, accompanied by his wife and neighbours heard the judge announce that he would forfeit his donkey, go to prison for a year and be fined the equivalent of a year’s toil; the said amount being awarded to the injured shopkeeper. The poor husband was beside himself with worry. Who would look after his family? They were destined to a life of poverty, dependant on the charity of others.

In the court near the centre of town, the rich husband, represented by the best lawyer that money could buy heard that he had to pay the young woman an amount similar to that paid by the poorer husband. He did not receive a prison term because the judge announced that being a citizen of ‘high standing’ in the community such an outcome was not warranted. Despite the statements from the witnesses, no other action was taken. The rich husband left the court while the young woman continued to be helped by the nuns. Her future was in question, the money she had received quickly gone as the nuns had to use it to purchase medicines and treatments that they could not otherwise provide. The baby was looked after by a sister.

Those who had heard about both cases shook their heads in wonder.

In another land many years later, an upstanding citizen also received lenient treatment because he too was smiled upon by the legal system. Those nearer the South in his city would not have been so lucky, especially if they were the sons of immigrants.

www.authorneilcoleman.com
 Go to the New Zealand Herald for 1st September, 2012 and you will the meaning of my story.