Australia has just funded Trikafta, and Cystic Fibrosis NZ is urging Pharmac to negotiate with manufacturers to agree a ‘fair and reasonable’ price for what an Otago teen calls "a magic drug."
It was the juxtaposition of Serious Concern for The Markets with a segment about Ukrainian women home-making Molotov cocktails that really got me this week, writes Liz Breslin.
I’ve been writing this column maybe eight years now and I’ve written about a lot of the things and the places and the people and the ideas that affect me, writes Liz Breslin.
I'm too sentimental. I can find myself thinking, legs flapping either side of my board, that the ocean doesn’t have the water for even half enough tears. But there’s always the next wave and the occasional sea lion, writes Liz Breslin.
I used to tell the time by dandelion. Blow the filaments tactically while holding the kind of juicy, kind of slimy, kind of sturdy stem. One stubborn star would hang on making it later and later and later as I blew.
I have just had my second Covid vaccination and I am lying in bed watching Wild, Wild Country, a documentary about Bagwhan Rajneesh’s commune in Oregon, a tale of devotion, salmonella and blended beavers, writes Liz Breslin.
A beach is an excellent thing to have in a day. A beach and a walk, so much the better. A beach and a walk and coffee and stories. Well then. Kind of the best.
When you’re tired, go to the beach. When you’re happy, when you’re bereft. When you’re hopeful. Go by car, go by bike, get a bus, go on foot, writes Liz Breslin.
Someone made a week for me last week. Well, it was more like some LOTS - the organisers, volunteers, actors, directors, costumers... everyone who came together to make Dunedin Fringe Festival, writes Liz Breslin.
"They called you ‘Famous Hawea Writer Liz Breslin’," said my girlfriend. Who did? Am I? After I got off the phone I got under the duvet and stayed there a while.