When moths collide

Excuses are OK sometimes.

If the offspring ever get organised enough to write the damning story of my mothering, school lunches are bound to feature.

Will it go, or will it stay?

When my watch inexplicably stopped nine and a-half hours into New Year’s Day, I could sympathise.

There is something about this time of year which has me pondering the big questions.

By the end of my correspondence with the man from the outfit calling itself the leading property data, information, analytics and services provider in New Zealand and Australia, the First Born was...

In recent weeks I have been reminded you can take the girl out of Murchison, but you can’t take Murchison out of the girl.

I am blaming the fabulous Tami Neilson and friendship for my hypocrisy.

When I heard normally mild-mannered former district health board chairman Richard Thomson speak of punching politicians, I didn’t feel quite so embarrassed about the T-shirt I was concealing at...

At last, some Donald J. Trump news our family can use.

The fourth former in me longs to run away to join the coalition Cabinet, preferably as a New Zealand First or Act New Zealand minister.

The green-topped wheelie bin has been the highlight of my year.

Nobody, least of all me, can explain what I was thinking.

Over the past week I have been trying to channel my inner Joe Biden.

Everybody knows what a fuddy-duddy I am.

Privacy was on my mind when I was plunged into darkness in the Dunedin Railway Station women’s toilet this week.

Just because that’s the way it is, was my answer.

It surprised me to learn wokedom may be alive and well in my old hometown.

Rushing in where winged haloed ones might fear to tread, I have been devoting time this week to the prime minister’s reading list.