Election Night

Well here we go again. It’s election time in NZ. Yes again. We have one of the shortest parliamentary periods in the world. Three years. Yes three. No sooner have you got your feet under the table and your readying for the next election. No time to get owt done.

So MMP. What’s that all about? Well for those who have misplaced my handy cut-out-and-keep guide from 2017, MMP is New Zealand’s democratic process that’s what.. and according to Wikipedia... 

“Under MMP, New Zealand voters have two votes. The first vote is the electorate vote. It determines the local representative for that electorate (geographic electoral district). The electorate vote works on a plurality system whereby whichever candidate gets the greatest number of votes in each electorate wins the seat. The second vote is the party vote. This determines the number of seats each party is entitled to overall – in other words, the proportionality of the House.

There are two thresholds in the New Zealand MMP system. The first is that any Party which receives 5% or more of the Party vote is entitled to a share of the nominally 120 seats in the House of Representatives – even if the Party does not win a single electorate seat. For instance in the 2008 elections, the Greens failed to win any electorate seats but won 6.7% of the party vote and thereby earned nine seats in Parliament.

The second threshold is that any Party that wins one or more electorate seats is entitled to an additional share of the nominally 120 seats in House of Representatives based on the percentage of the party vote – even if it doesn't win 5% of the vote.“

Well I'm glad that’s cleared that up then. Let's see if I can do any better....

Simply put, the number of votes cast for a particular party determines, more or less, how many seats they get in the House of Representatives but the minimum entry is 5% of the vote. 

See, wasn't my version much easier to understand!

Anyway it’s election night and we’re sat outside at our local bar watching the live feed on TV. Democracy, beer and the goat outdoors. Could this be the perfect combination? To be fair, it’s fairly quiet. Just us, a couple sat a few tables away deep in animated conversation and a birthday party table. Well I assume it’s a birthday party judging by the balloons and other celebratory paraphernalia. I could, of course, be wrong and but I think my instincts are right on the button. 

It’s been a funny old election campaign. Postponed by a month by the pandemic but still somewhat overshadowed by it all. Polls were published, talked about, debunked and praised. Charts, tables and what-ifs dominated the pages of New Zealand’s media. Had the Jacinda bubble burst?  Would Covid-19 be kept at bay until Election Day and could Judith Collins keep on message? No. Yes and god no.

On that latter point, Judith Collins seemed to really go off the rails in the last week, accusing fat people of being lazy and having a pop at Tasmania. No-one really knew why and it remains to be seen whether this had any impact on the outcome of the election. Actually it probably won't. Not because the remarks were offensive, because they certainly were, but because voting actually started two weeks ago. You see, rather than ask the entire population trudge down to a polling station on a single day, the polls are open for two weeks in New Zealand. It means that you can pick a day that suits you best, including weekends, and fit the democratic process around whatever hectic schedule you undoubtedly have. Or wait for the weather to improve. Who said democracy had to be hard work. 

And it seems to work. As of yesterday, 1.7m had voted in advance. Okay that might not seem a lot but to put it in perspective, it represents nearly half of all registered voters. And it's not just the early voting that is helped by a longer polling period, it also helps overall turnout. Last year nearly 80% of eligible voters made their mark.

I hope this is all making sense so far. I'm two pints to the good so I'm not so sure anymore. Not that I make much sense at the best of times....

Back home and the chilli is on and the wine is chilling. A chilly fest if you like. It's been a while since we watched live TV and it a revelation. Plus we don't know the outcome yet. But really we do. It all seems to be going really well for Labour with the numbers far exceeding both expectations and the polls. It could be a disastrous night for the National Party, or so the pundits in the studio tell us. Only time will tell.....

Well that was a bit one sided and not at all exciting. Being a Boro fan I'm much more at home with a nail biting finish, and one that usually ends in crushing disappointment. Leading from the start and finishing even further in front when the whistle goes just doesn't seem right to me. What happened to the mid-game slump? Where were the unforced errors? And how come no-one got sent off? Not at all satisfying. 

Never mind, with the New Zealand election cycle only being three years, there will soon be another opportunity to experience the thrill and excitement of Election Night. 

Around the Sun

In just a few hours, I will be 50. Actually, I'm lying. Knowing the time it takes me to start and finish a blog, by time you read this I was probably 50 a few weeks ago. But hey, you can't rush the creative process. Which is a good job because being creative against a deadline doesn't work. To quote the great Douglas Adams, "I love deadlines. I love the whooshing noise they make as they go by."

Anyway, I digress. Which in it's own way probably explains why it takes me so long to finish writing them. Blast there I go again. At this rate I'll be 51 by the time you read this and you'll have wondered what all the fuss was about.  Where was I? Oh yes, my upcoming birthday.

It's always struck me as a bit odd the we congratulate each other on the arrival of another birthday. It's not like we had that much to do with. It just sort of happens. Yes, I have had the odd near miss over the years when out mountain biking - collisions with gates, rocks and a bread van come to mind. Oh and a particularly startled sheep when I was once forced to take evasive action by jumping over the stupid animal. But other than looking both ways when I cross the road and curbing my cheese intake, I've got here pretty much by default. Now I've written that, I'm suddenly all too aware that I may have counted my chickens too early and a sudden sense of dread has descended. Maybe I should've left this until I actually do wake up in the morning. 

Which brings me to another point. When actually is my birthday. No, I haven't gotten that old that I've forgotten already, but it's a question innit? When is it really? The reason I ask is that I was born in the northern hemisphere pretty and in Greenwich Meantime. So when it's my birthday here, it's not in the UK. And as I was born around lunchtime, technically, I'm not 50 until sometime on Monday morning. I don't suppose anyone is going to mind if I open my cards a day earlier but let's keep this between you and I just in case.

Ten years ago, we rented a large property in the middle of nowhere, somewhere in the Yorkshire Dales, and celebrated by inviting friends from the four corners of the UK. Well mostly from four corners of the top half actually. It was a great event and far exceeded expectations and I'm still amazed that we managed to get a take away Indian meal delivered, although it was a bit of an ordeal for the delivery driver. Ten miles or so down a single track path in the dark is probably something that he wasn't expecting on a blustery October evening. He did well, especially as he had a phobia about sheep, so I'm sure we tipped well.

If you'd told me then that I would be celebrating my 50th birthday in New Zealand I'd have thought you'd lost your mind. In fairness, I didn't expect to be celebrating my 50th here even five years ago. But that's life. If we knew what was up ahead then some days we wouldn't bother getting out of bed.

Which brings me onto another point. 2020 is sure one hell of a strange year to have hit 50. Plans that we had at the start of the year have been thrown out, re-written, thrown out again, and finally put on the proverbial back-burner. Even in New Zealand, where the pandemic has been relatively under control, there was a reluctance to plan too far in advance, just in case. That's why tonight, we're having a low key celebration at the local pub rather than risk anything too grand. In hindsight, we could've hired a venue, booked a band and had a right good knees up, but the risk of getting stuck with 200 sausages on cocktail sticks was off putting. Having them for lunch the day after would have been novel but I'm not so sure I could stomach two weeks of them. Wow, my stomach literally just turned at the thought. 

Meat-based snacks aside, I appreciate that I am really fortunate to be able to celebrate with some friends - it was unthinkable just a few weeks ago - as it still is in many other parts of the world. So in some ways, although we can't celebrate with family this year, being in New Zealand does give me some opportunity to mark the occasion. In about an hour I will be toasting my success at getting to the pub in one piece and counting down the hours until the big 5-0.

And the best bit is that we can do it all again next year in the Northern Hemisphere, once the travel restrictions are lifted and getting around becomes a little easier. Who is up for that? Cool. I'll bring the sausages.

A Bridge Too Far

I know I'm generalising here, but Kiwi's aren't overly fond of thinking ahead and much prefer just see what happens. Living in the moment does have its attractions; never be late, never be disappointed and and always have things turn out exactly as you planned. Sounds great. But in direct contradiction to the way that we run our life. Whether it's because we're Engineer's and Project Managers or because we don't mind being disappointed, we need to think ahead. 

We have tried on several occasions to live life on the edge and just wing it, but alas it didn't turn out well. A few years back now, we were on holiday in Colorado and were travelling around the state for a few weeks checking out the sights and attractions. For some inexplicable reason, we just couldn't relax. The holiday just refused to get going and we spent each day wondering what was up with us and why we weren't enjoying ourselves. It wasn't the place. Admittedly, the sight of a gun counter in the first supermarket we went in did put us on edge a little but we were over that. The people were super friendly and the scenery was fantastic. 

Yet the holiday was heading towards being a huge waste of time and money. Suddenly, whist relaxing, or at least trying to relax, in our room in Breckenridge the cent dropped. We needed to plan the trip. As soon as it was said, it was obvious. Staring us in the face really. Up to this point we were doing  what everyone else did and just set off in the morning and see where the road took us. 

Sure we ended up in some interesting places - the most notable being a particularly rustic hotel in Ouray. Not sure what we were expecting for $15 a night but it was an experience. Why? Well put it this way, we weren't alone in our room - there was definitely an uninvited non-human guest sharing our space. And the communal bathroom? I still shudder at the thought of having to wade through four inches of water to get to the sink. So we sat down on the bed with the maps and planned the rest of the trip. Once done, it was as if someone had flicked the 'relax' switch. Now we were on holiday.

The historic Western Hotel is the oldest hotel in the state. And no doubt the cheapest!

Since then, everything has been planned and nothing left to chance. Unable to travel outside the country, next month we're hiring a camper van and doing a tiki-tour of the North Island. I did suggest that, as it was off-season, we could just head off and see where we end up.  There was a long silence and before we both broke out in laughter at the ridiculousness of the suggestion. Even in a place as laid back and safe as New Zealand it wasn't going to happen. 

So we're planners and we know it. I do sometimes envy those who can just see where life takes them but that's not me. Jealous? Well a little bit but it can have it's disadvantages. 

Take an example a few years ago. I happened to note casually to colleagues that we were off to see the All Blacks play Australia in the Bledisloe Cup that evening. They were astonished. What? How? But it's sold out! I had a cunning plan, I told them. I noted when the tickets were being released and....well here's the cunning part.... went online and booked them! I know. Flippin' sneaky or what. The cheek of it. I mean, it's not like I queued up at the ticket office for hours. No instead, coffee in hand, I sat in my PJs and just bought them. Strewth, whatever next. 

Lack of planning in New Zealand is not a new phenomenon. The Auckland Harbour Bridge, often noted as one of Auckland most iconic features, is a case in point.  

The bridge took four years to construct and was opened in 1959. Before then,  the quickest way from Auckland to the North Shore was by passenger or vehicular ferry and this was simply not acceptable to the few commuters. By road, the shortest route was via the NW motorway, which was only partly completed, with an overall distance of approximately 50 km.

The recommendations of the design team and the report of the 1946 Royal Commission were for five or six traffic lanes, with one or two of them to be reversed in direction depending on the flow of traffic, and with a footpath for pedestrians on each side. Nonsense, said the National Government of New Zealand, what poppycock. The Northshore was a rural area with a population of only 50,000, few jobs and a growth rate of less than half of the rest of Auckland. They're country bumpkins so what would they want with such a large structure. Obviously I'm paraphrasing there but my guess is I'm not that far off the verbatim discussion.

So with a cry of "austerity measures ahoy!" the pedestrian and cycling facilities were dropped and the number of lanes reduced to four. That was plenty for farmers and their animals. 

The bridge took four years to build (fun fact bridge fans - it was built by Cleveland Bridge and Engineering Company from Darlington in the UK) and was completed in April 1959, three weeks ahead of schedule, and opened the following month. To mark the occasion, 106,000 walked across the new structure and I'm sure the irony wasn't wasted on some of the assembled crowd that this would be the last time that people could actually cross the bridge on foot.

Auckland Harbour Bridge under construction

Owing to the rapid expansion of suburbs on the North Shore and increasing traffic levels, it was soon necessary to increase capacity – by 1965, the annual use was about 10 million vehicles, three times the original forecast. In 1969, only ten years after opening, two-lane box girder clip-on sections were added to each side, doubling the number of lanes to eight. The sections were manufactured in Japan so, inevitably maybe, became known as the 'Nippon clip-ons'. And, surprise surprise, the cost of the adornments far exceeded the cost of building a bridge with enough capacity in the first place. Austerity ahoy indeed!

Fast forward to present day and the bridge now carries 180,000 vehicles per day, and it has to be said, not a single farm animal. To help with the management of the flow of traffic, a moveable concrete safety barrier has been installed to allow more lanes for the inbound morning traffic and similar for the evening return home. Two specially designed machines move the barrier by one lane four times a day. It was the first in the world and a true example of Kiwi ingenuity.

Unfortunately, the clip-ons have been plagued with problems. Several major rounds of repairs have been completed and in 2007 a report surfaced that noted "the clip-ons were at risk of catastrophic, immediate failure in circumstances such as a traffic jam trapping a large number of trucks."

A second crossing has been discussed but has remained on the drawing board for the time being.  With a design life of 50 years for the clip ons, time is indeed running out for the structure. 

This hasn't been helped any by recent antics. Last month, a rogue gust of wind (or rouge winds according to a report in a local paper - now that I would have loved to see!) caused a heavy goods vehicle to tip and crash into the bridge structure inflicting significant damage. The bridge was closed whilst inspections and testing were carried out and commuters asked to stay at home. Or get the ferry. Just like the old days. The lorry had collided with one of the supporting struts and had proper bent it (sorry for the engineering term there but I'm sure you get my drift). A replacement wasn't on hand so one had to be made. 

As I type, the bridge is still closed during the evening and traffic is limited during the day. Despite many working form home due to the Covid-19 restrictions, queues are huge and calls for the construction of a second crossing are getting louder. 

In all honesty, I'm not sure a second crossing is needed. At least not in the form that is currently being suggested. I'm not going to get into specifics but pumping more cars per hour into the city centre is not going to be good for the city. Or more importantly the people who live and work there. Instead of a knee-jerk reaction to give cars yet more space in our city, how about we plan and think about what we really want for Auckland of the future? Like what? Oh, I dunno. Maybe sort out the public transport connections and get a train service into the North Shore and allow people to cycle and walk across the bridge and we'll be sweet. Heck, maybe even allow a cow or two to cross. 

5am Tuesday morning

5am on a Tuesday morning and an audible reminder that New Zealand is back to normal. Almost.

Oh my word, why is the alarm set so early? In fact why is the alarm set at all? Our post-lockdown routine doesn’t demand such annoyances. Ah of course. I have a meeting in Wellington. Face-to-face was requested so that’s my day. Or two. Fly-in-fly-out was out. Or FIFO if you are into the whole brevity thing. A night away just adds to the joy. An unwelcome break in routine. I know it’s only a short trip but I judge the day by the place I rest my head at the end. Suddenly wish lockdown hadn’t ended so I wouldn’t have to do this. Feel guilty at that thought and blame tiredness.

Reluctantly I slip out of bed and head downstairs to the kettle and caffeine. I am a morning person, always have been, but remark to no-one in particular that this would be a whole lot easier in the summer. And if rain wasn’t lashing at the windows. Sure the days are now getting noticeably longer but there’s little evidence of this at 5:05am.

Doing my best not to disturb my partner - she wisely opted for relegation to the spare room - I make my coffee and head back upstairs to gather my thoughts. Having to travel by air is casting a dark shadow over my day. Haven’t done this for so many months. Haven’t missed it. Haven’t needed to. Welcome back to the modern business world. The convenience of air travel. Yeah, right. I’ll snap out of it. Or at least I hope I will. 

A warm shower eases my melancholy revelries a little. Warm water and a hot drink. Is that what keeps society going? Feel lucky. 

Dressed now and downstairs. Can’t face breakfast but I know that it’ll be a few hours before I’ll get another chance. Cereals. Fuel. That’s all. It’s 5:30am and a little closer to a more civilised time. Fleeting thought for those who have to work at night. The day-sleepers who’s nights are coloured headache grey. Like the taxi driver who is hopefully on their way to pick me up. Airport drive in sleepy silence no doubt. 

Work phone already airplane mode. Not looking at you mate until I land. You can wait. Whatever news your carrying can remain your secret. At least until it gets light anyway. 

Final check of the bag. Laptop. Wallet. Boarding pass. All present and correct. I know I put this all in there last night but I’ve slept since then so need to double check. Could’ve fallen out during the night. Maybe I dreamt the whole thing and didn’t actually pack this stuff. Best to check. I know I’ll check again before I leave the house. 

Grab a jacket from the chair and stuff it

in my bag. Wellington will be an overcoat colder than Auckland. Possibly two if the wind is blowing from the south. One will do. One is better than nothing. I’ve made that mistake before. Only an Aucklander would forget to take a coat to Wellington.

5:40am and my phone screen lights up. Taxis’s arrived. A little early but that’s okay. One less thing to have to think about. One less thing to go wrong: Plan for the worst and expect the best. Right, game face on. Door open and off we go. 

Dirty Politics

WARNING - This blog contains political views!

Still reading? Then I'll continue.

They say a week is long time in politics so if that's the case then the fortnight at the start of July must have seemed like an eternity for The National Party, the official opposition party in New Zealand. Quite how a political party could shoot itself in its own foot to such an extent that they nearly lost both legs is worthy of further investigation. Intrigued? Well let me explain.

Although the Covid-19 pandemic is still raging around the world but thankfully New Zealand, so far at least, appears to have it under control. Partly this is because we went into lockdown at a very early stage but also because we have strict border restrictions in place - to the extent that anyone arriving is placed in government assigned hotel and is required to remain there for two weeks. After which time, assuming that they test negative for the virus, they are allowed to leave and join the rest of the country. 

It's all gone rather well, much to the annoyance of the opposition party. With an election on the horizon, and facing a competent and popular Prime Minister, the only option available was to poke holes in the border controls. Pretty soon stories began to emerge about systems and procedures under strain, detainees being allowed to mix with general hotel residents and people allowed to wander out at their own will. The government's position wasn't helped when two women were given a compassionate exception to leave to visit a dying relative but someone forgot to test them before letting them travel across country. When tested later, one of them tested positive and revealed that they had lied about their condition to ensure that they would be allowed to leave. This irresponsible behaviour put the once firm-footed government on the back foot. The opposition and press were having a field day. There was even a case reported where a homeless person was able to join a queue and enjoyed a two weeks vacation in a quarantined hotel - all expenses paid. Good on him I say but it did cast doubt on the strength of the controls at our borders, even if we were talking about a handful of such cases in tens of thousands of arrivals. But the borders were clearly under pressure. Arrivals we doing what they we meant to and arriving and quarantine hotels in Auckland were reaching capacity. Time then for the rest of NZ to help out. Cue NIMBYism . How dare they put people in hotels in <insert name of city here> without consulting me? 

With tensions running high Hamish Walker, a National MP, noted "It's absolutely disgraceful that the community hasn't been consulted on this. These people are possibly heading for Dunedin, Invercargill and Queenstown from India, Pakistan and Korea". Quite what he thought to achieve by these racist comments is hard to fathom. Thankfully they were condemned from all quarters for what they were. 

National Party leader Todd Muller said: "I've spoken to Hamish, expressed my disappointment and I certainly don't condone what he has said". Todd Muller, I should note at this point, was the newly elected leader of the opposition and had been in post around 45 days at this point after successfully ousting the previous leader on the back of poor polling numbers. 

It's a good job then that Walker decided to clarify what he'd meant. "Calling me a racist is Labour's default tactic when they are unable to defend their blatant failures, this isn't about race it is about the countries these Kiwis are coming from," he said.

Well that clears that up. Not! And it wasn’t even accurate. According to a Reuters tally, US and Brazil have the highest number of Covid-19 cases followed by Russia, India and UK. But who needs accuracy when spreading racist misinformation.

The furore was just about dying down when the news came that the opposition party had been waiting for. Someone had leaked the names and addresses of the residents who had tested positive for the virus to the national media. This was not good news and no matter which way you looked at it, it cast doubt on the governments grasp of the controls at the borders. Our last line of defence against letting Covid-19 back into the general population seemed to be crumbling.

Muller said the breach was "quite staggering, it talks to a government that's slipping off the side of a cliff, in terms of managing this issue, the border, the information pertaining to it.”  He went on to say “If they can't manage personal information, bluntly, they can't manage the border and they can't manage the country." He wasn’t finished. Is it a deliberate leak or is it accidental? It doesn't really matter at a level ... it's loose, it's shabby and it's a reminder these guys can't manage important things well - they need to step aside and let a competent government take over."

Ouch! Can’t say that the government didn’t deserve it. It was a serious breach of security and only the professionalism of the press had stopped the details being published.

The National Party's spokesperson for health, Michael Woodhouse, waded in and said this was "yet another serious failing that showed the government was not capable of managing Covid-19. This is unconscionable and unacceptable that those suffering from the incredibly dangerous virus now have to suffer further with their private details being leaked," Woodhouse said in a statement.

The Government was taking this seriously, as well it should, so launched an official inquiry into the matter. Mike Heron QC was appointed and, under the State Sector Act 1988 and the Inquiries Act 2013, was given powers of the State Services Commissioner "That will give Mr Heron the power to, if necessary, require the production of documents, summons witnesses and question parties under oath," the Prime Minister noted. If found to be deliberate, criminal charges could follow.  Make no mistake, this was being taken very seriously and the government. It was not looking good for the Government. But something was about to change all that. Big time.

Just two days later, with the outrage still building in the media, Todd Muller revealed that he had been told by Walker that he was responsible for passing the private details of Covid-19 patients. Holy cow you couldn’t make his stuff up! After all that indignation, the National Party were behind the leaks in the first place. But why do it?

Walker admitted that he was extremely upset to be labelled "racist" after issuing a press release raising concerns about an influx of people arriving from India, Pakistan and Korea. So to prove he wasn’t, he sent on the list of names to the three main media outlets, under the promise of anonymity.  Two slight problems. Firstly, the media didn’t publish the names, or disclose the origins of the people on the list. Secondly, the information he sent to media did not prove that his initial press release was factual or not racially motivated.

The spectacular own goal was about to get a lot worse for the National Party. Shortly after Walker's statement coming clean, former National Party president Michelle Boag put out her own media release saying it was her who had passed on the information. And it didn't stop there. Shortly after, it transpired that Michael Woodhouse had also been sent the information but had done nothing about it, opting instead to criticise the Government for the not being able to handle sensitive information. The irony meters broke that day. Yes there was no doubt that dirty politics were back and in full swing.

Not surprisingly, Walker and Boag resigned from their posts immediately. The National Party leader Todd Muller soldiered on, answering questions about what he knew about the leak and, more importantly when he knew it. Had he known before the leak was made public? Why didn’t he notify the government as soon as he realised that sensitive information had been released to the media? It perhaps wasn’t a surprise when he folded under pressure during an interview and it became clear that he’d lied to cover up the other lies. Why did he lie about what he knew and when he knew it? Oh, it wasn’t a lie “I just wasn’t a clear as I perhaps could have been.” Well I don’t know about you, but I’m convinced.

The inevitable happened After just 53 days in the post as the National Party Leader, Muller resigned with immediate effect, stating "It has become clear to me that I am not the best person to be Leader of the Opposition and Leader of the New Zealand National Party at this critical time for New Zealand.”

I’ll stop there, that’s enough politics for one blog. There is more to tell, such as the return of Judith ‘Crusher’ Collins and a crash in polling numbers but I’ll leave you to seek that out yourselves. 

And the inquiry into the leak? The report was quietly issued at the end of July and concluded that the leak was "deliberate and politically motivated". Well that’s that then. Only time will tell if the National Party continue to operate their dirty politics campaign. You would hope that they have learnt their lesson and spend the next month on the run up to the General Election trying to win back the trust of the New Zealand electorate. History teaches us otherwise.

Tales from the Borderlands

I’m not sure if there is actually a world record for this, but if there isn’t, there sure should be. If only Norris McWhirter were alive. He’d know.

What am I talking about? I often think that myself, but on this occasion there might just be something in it. You see at the moment, with our borders tightly closed, although admittedly not as tight as some would like, New Zealand must hold the record for the world’s largest lock-in. But, rather than hunkering down in a dingy pub with the curtain closed and doors locked for fear of discovery, we have a whole country to run amok in. We just can’t get out.

That’s actually not strictly true but it’s as good as. We can leave, it’s just that on return we have to go to a Government managed facility and spend two weeks in quarantine. Maybe that’s not as bad as it sounds, but I’m sort of imagining Faulty Towers but with infectious clientele.  

But what’s the point? Where is there to go? With New Zealand being one of the few countries that has the virus under control, spending two weeks on holiday in a country that hasn’t doesn’t seem like the most relaxing of times. It's not as much fun as it should be sitting in a beach bar if you're worried about catching a potentially deadly disease. Even Australia, that was just a few weeks ago being touted as the country with the model response to Covid-19, is now back into lockdown, or at least part of it is. . Only last week Melbourne went back into lockdown. Over 5m people, just about the population of New Zealand, back into their homes. Having felt freedom my heart really does go out to them. But they've done it before and will do so again. It's only six weeks and the middle of winter. Crack open a bottle, put your feet up and watch telly.

Yes there are still those who clamour for our borders to be re-opened, suggesting clever solutions to a problem that doesn't need solving. Not yet anyway. It would be fantastic if we could come-and-go across the ditch as we please, or jet out to a Pacific island for some much needed sunshine and warmth but not if it means putting either ourselves or others in harm's way. 

When I was planning this blog yesterday - yes I know it's hard to believe but I do actually plan them (well a little bit anyway) - I was going to mention the opposition party's stance on the Covid-19 response. But, as they say, 24 hours is a long time in politics - or in the case of their departing leader Todd Muller 54 days. The hows and whys behind his departure less than three months after toppling the previous party leader is the subject of a whole blog so I'll leave it there. Maybe next time. 

I for one, and I’m sure there are many others, are happy with way things are at the moment. Borders closed except to those who have a legal right to be here and a mandatory quarantine in place. Sort of like a huge Jurassic Park but with less dinosaurs. Actually, I think a much better analogy is zombies. We’re all tucked up safe inside whilst the hoards of infected are banging on the window trying to get in. At least that's the way that the media and the opposition party are playing it. Pitting Kiwis against Kiwis. Stirring up fear and resentment when it really doesn't have a place here. Or at least they were until 07:30am this morning when their leader went and quit. Have I already mentioned that? I might have done but I think I got away with it.

Unfortunately not all zombies are content with room service and satellite TV. Some, and it is a very, very small proportion, decide to make a run for it and break out of quarantine like some half-arsed Steve McQueen. Except for them its a trip to the nearest supermarket to stock up on essentials and not escape from an evil and murderous regime that spurs them up and over. Or through. One person resorted to cutting a hole through a wire fence. He didn't get far - as far as the local Countdown supermarket where he was caught on CCTV buying toothpaste. Honestly, what is it with these people that personal hygiene is a more urgent than super-strength lager? The shame of it. If you're going to get caught 'on the lam' at least make it worthwhile. I hope they get to keep their ill gotten gains - if only for the benefit of their fellow detainees. Needless to say the press were outraged. How could this be allowed to happen? Wasn't somebody watching the perimeter. Where were the dogs? Well it's not a prison, the perimeter was fenced off until someone cut a hole in it and dogs would only find something more interesting to do. 

I don't really have that much sympathy for those being detained at a border facility. Firstly, the facilities are pretty nice hotels in Auckland, Christchurch and Rotorua. These are not barracks or hangers, which is where some other places I won't mention would put people, Secondly, all this is paid for by the Government...or us tax payers. Yes it's not great but please make the best of an awkward situation. Thirdly, these are the rules and the price of entry into a Covid-free country. You knew this before you arrived so suck it up buttercup. Fourthly, think about your fellow Kiwis. You're not doing this for your own benefit, but for those five million or so people who got us to this point. We all stuck at it, stayed home, didn't see relatives or friends for over two months and hardly touched a drop. Well not much of a drop anyway. All we are asking for in return is for you to stay inside for two weeks. Get your show gel delivered to the door if it's that important. And then fill your boots. Go to the pub, catch a movie, swim in the (very cold) sea, eat in a restaurant or shop in a mall. It's a small price to pay.

Right, time to valet park my high horse. There's a lot of news to catch up on - there is a blog to plan after all!

A Footballing Disaster

“You should get your eyes tested ref” was the oft quoted but rarely heard chant from the terraces. I can honestly say that in all of the years I’ve watched football I never heard that infamous insult shouted once. Sure I’d heard a lot worse, so bad that I won’t repeat it word for word, but let’s just say ithe comments questioned the validity of the person in charge's parental heritage. 

Not that I have seen a football match for some time. Watching European football is just not really practical from this side of the world and I haven't plucked up the resolve to go and see a live game here. I know I should but it just hasn't gotten high enough up my list of things to do - it’s hovering somewhere between going to see an opera and wild camping in the Waitakeres. Sounds great in theory but just not practical.

Maybe it's about time I come clean. You see I don't really care for football all that much. Not in real terms anyway. Whilst I don't mind watching the odd game or two, and can happily sit through every single game of the World Cup without a bother, if it doesn't involve my team then I'm not interested. Not really. And, and here's the kicker, if I haven't seen my team play for over six years are they really still my team? There was a time when I knew the ins and outs of each and every player in the squad, bedroom walls were adorned with team posters and coveted Panini sticker book albums were covered with autographs. Now I couldn't name a single person in the squad and I only know the name of the manager because the previous manager has just been sacked and replaced with a well known 'old-hand'. Being on the other side of the world, and half a day out of sync will do that for you. 

But they are still my team. The Boro result is still the first result I look for on a Sunday morning, even though I know it's going to cloud the rest of the weekend. Thankfully there's not as much of the weekend left as there used to be. Back in the day I had the slow trudge to the station and melancholic silence on the train back to Darlington to endure. No amount of Castle Eden Bitter can take the edge off a defeat on a Saturday afternoon I can tell you.

That isn't to say that it's all been bad. There has been some ups with the downs. Unless of course you are one of those fans that attaches themselves to a top team and declares their undying support, despite the closest they’ve ever been to the ground is a poster on their wall. To everyone else, the downs are only really there to give the ups some perspective. There's nothing quite like being in your home ground and watching your team score a late winning goal against a bitter rival, or witnessing two miraculous hard fought comebacks late at night in a European cup game. I would happily take every single drab defeat and goaless draw for just one of those electrifying games. Just as its great to experience the exhilaration of a 91st minute winning goal, it’s just as exciting and more nerve wracking to cling onto a one goal lead for the last twenty minutes of a game. Parking the proverbial bus as the opposition fires ball after ball in the your battered box. Time does seem to stop as each second slowly ticks away. "Five minutes added time!!! Where did that come from.....for fu....."

So what does all this ball-based reminiscing have to do with life in New Zealand? Well, on Friday I happened to have my eyes tested. Not for a future career path in refereeing but because I was about to change my prescription sunglasses. As I settled into the chair, surrounded by optical paraphernalia, the optician turned to me and asked "So where about in the UK are you from originally?". Even after is years away from the UK, and despite not have that strong an accent, it was still obvious that I wasn't a local. 

Now it is at this point, I am ashamed to say, that I normally say "Newcastle". I know horrific isn't it but I will quickly clarify before I’m ostracised from my home town. I say "Newcastle" not for any particular allegiance to the northern city but it's the nearest place I assume that any Kiwi stand a chance of having heard of. And at the end of the day, what's 30 miles when I'm 12,000 miles away. Plenty I know.

But today was different. I was feeling frisky. Maybe it was the sunshine, maybe it was the though that I was about to spend $900 on a pair of sunglasses or maybe I had a spring in my footballing step because we'd won mid-week. 

"Middlesbrough" I responded with pride..... shortly followed by "just south of Newcastle". Well better to be safe than sorry.

"Oh, I've heard of Middlesbrough!"

"Really?" I said somewhat surprised at the response of the optician before noting he must have family relations in the North East of England then adding, "You've heard of Middlesbrough?"

"Yeah, wasn't there a footballing disaster at Middlesbrough?" said the optician 

"No, I don't think so" I replied, a little surprised at the claim and half wondering if I'd been away so long that I'd forgotten a piece of footballing history. 

"Yeah, I'm sure of it - didn't the stand collapse or something?" he added.

The penny dropped. He was thinking about Hillsborough not Middlesbrough

"No, definitely no footballing disasters in Middlesbrough, unless you count what happens every other Saturday." I replied, chuffed by my sparkling wit and then adding, "You're thinking about Hillsborough!"

"Am I? Well if you say so, but I'm sure I'm right."

There was no deterring him so I left it at that. 

If you will excuse me a sentimental moment, that is the beauty of football. At the end of the day it's not the winning or losing that matters but the fact that it provides an anchor to a place and people, a connection to family and friends. Shared experiences, both good and bad. Excitement and boredom and every single emotion in between. And all usually within the same half.