Roy Colbert

Most rational thinkers would agree that the stuff in our dreams is what we really think.

Many of my friends lead shamelessly sedentary lives.

Little things, like what is on the telly, keep them perfectly happy and medically sound.

Yet another international cricket team is here. Australia.

Crosswords have drifted through my life like lamb's fry and American football, things I feel like showing an interest in once every five years, but can probably do without.

I have had some abominable summer holidays in my time, but the holiday I barely survived last month stands alone like a towering scarecrow in a field of wretched.

Of course, being semi-retired, it could be argued my whole year is a holiday.

But when my hard-working wife schedules January for unrelenting joy, I crank my own holiday lust up even further.

Heather rang again last Saturday. She usually rings at weekends.

When you are travelling to the The Hills, spare a thought for the simple Central Otago courses you will find along the way.

There has been some loose talk about us getting a compost bin, specifically, a comment from Worm Farm Woman, to whom we give our food scraps.

Lawn Man is back. As The Grateful Dead once sang, what a long strange trip it's been.

Christmas presents. I'm not an ungrateful man, but I have Christmas presents from two or three years ago that I have never touched.