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.
All Black Ali Williams was in town recently plugging "a humorous book". My head sunk into its hands.
Running an eye over the past year's columns, I was astonished to see how many ended with fierce resolve.
Who needs doctors when you can study your own diseases on Google? Roy Colbert, no stranger to exotic conditions, becomes embroiled in a teeming subculture.
Fancy dress parties. I keep hoping they will die on the vine like military conscription and Winston Peters.
We went to Christchurch last weekend. I think most rational thinkers would agree that if there was a choice between going to Christchurch and thrusting one's tongue deep into the belly of a raging hot toaster, the toaster would win every time.
Facebook has been a surprise. I was tricked into joining MySpace, and indeed, lurked there for a while. But my heart was never in it.
The jabber seeds are sown very young, when we jabber at absolutely anyoneA friend rings from Auckland.
Most rational thinkers would agree the news that Coronation Street's Ken Barlow is completing his long-unfinished book is the most sensational development in television this year.
I don't think the doctors call us dummy patients.
My father liked jazz. He played jazz records on a music system constructed by his friends from local radio.
On Labour Weekend we were called to Queenstown for a wedding anniversary party.
The two conifers in front of our house came down recently.
Serious sporting minds may disagree, but I have always felt great sporting moments are felt in the heart, not the head; hence my greatest New Zealand sporting moment was the All Whites' journey to the 1982 World Cup Finals.
