Farah Palmer

One of my favourite quotes is: "Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction."

In the blink of a snow-blinded eye, the 2010 Winter Olympics in Vancouver have been and gone.

Watching the courtship between the Phoenix and Hurricanes teams in Wellington was just as awkward as witnessing Tiger Woods publicly apologise for something that was a private issue.

The tragic death of Georgian luger Nodar Kumaritashvili and the recent terrorist threats directed at sportsmen in India have quashed any thoughts that global sport is just a game.

From afar, the Wellington sevens tournament looked like another raging success, not necessarily for the New Zealand team which was convincingly beaten by Samoa in the semis, but definitely for the sevens version of rugby, for the Fijian team, for the capital, and for the fans.

Watching tennis on TV always puts me on the edge of my seat, and I was a nervous wreck by the time Roger Federer and Andy Murray faced off in the Australian Open final.

I experienced a bit of intimacy in the weekend and thought I'd share it with readers.

It has been 29 years since John Minto was the king of sport protests during the 1981 Springbok tour.

The hot weather has finally kicked in as people drag their post-jandalled feet and sun-kissed bodies grudgingly back to work.

When midnight strikes tonight the noughties will be over and another decade will begin.