Thanks!

Although I’ve used these lines before, it seems decidedly relevant again. “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” is the opening sentence of A Tale of Two Cities, a novel set during the French Revolution. It is a very well-known novel, but unfortunately I can’t remember who the dickens wrote it. I thought of it this week, as the lines very appropriately and accurately describe the events of this weekend in Aotearoa/New Zealand. But before I tell you why, I thought I could regale you with some best-of-times, worst-of-times tales of my own.

Many, many years ago, I was having a couple of drinks in the renowned establishment known as the Poenamo, in Northcote, Auckland, with a couple of mates. Eventually, one of them, who shall be known as Stew, decided it was time to go home. My other mate, who shall be known as Barry, and I farewelled him and not long after, decided we should hit the road too. But then, a most extraordinary thing happened. As we headed out of the bar, we noticed a wallet lying on the floor. We picked it up and to our great surprise, discovered that (a) it belonged to Stew and (b) it contained a $20 note. We immediately took this as a sign from the universe that it was our undeniable duty to return the wallet to Stew the next day, but also to accept the universe’s offering of an extra $20. We knew that Stew wouldn’t mind; he would be so very happy that we had found his wallet, so we ordered another beer each, plus a Southern Comfort chaser. I had never been able to afford such luxury in the pub before and it was all very jolly. Indeed, it was the best of times.

Sadly, when we returned the wallet to Stew the next day, in an extraordinary feat of observation, he immediately noticed that the $20 was missing. We chuckled, explained the situation and discovered that Stew was somewhat miffed but, even worse, his wife was even more miffed. A jolly little session the night before had nearly caused the worst of times. We all made it a learning experience, however. Stew never lost his wallet again and we never drank Southern Comfort chasers again.

Some years later, after I’d finally finished my far-too-many years carousing as a student, I was sitting around the dinner table with my lovely wife and our first two kids, one nearly two years old and the other nine months. We were very happy and life seemed well and truly firmly on the road to the best of times. Then the six o’clock news began on the radio: “Former Beatle John Lennon has been shot in New York.” I was stunned but hung on to the hope that he’d be ok. The news bulletin then concluded with “Former Beatle John Lennon has been shot and killed in New York.” When my mum died when I was only 21, it was the worst of times and Lennon’s death wasn’t much better. Death seems to do that.

Fortunately, NZ’s best of times and worst of times this weekend don’t involve death but the signs are certainly ominous, nonetheless. The best of times is that Winston Peters will cease being Deputy Prime Minister, I am hopeful that now he will concentrate far more on his position as Foreign Minister and spend most of the time out of the country. That would definitely be a great positive. The worst of times is that david seymour will become Deputy Prime Minister. No matter where you sit on the political spectrum, it’s reasonably easy to find a number of politicians from the past who have occupied the position with dignity, humility and honesty. I find it impossible to see how seymour will do the same and given his anti-Maori, anti-worker and anti-anyone who’s not a white, cisgendered, privileged, wealthy, sorted male, I suspect we may be in for a very rocky ride.

Lastly: when I started writing this blog, it was to help me vent at the crazy and appalling actions of this present government. I now find myself writing almost the same thing every week, succinctly summarised as “Screw them all, the bastards!” So I’m going to change tack a bit, move away from a regimented every-Saturday-morning-routine and instead just write/vent when the spirit (hopefully not always from a bottle) moves me. I imagine it’ll be a bit briefer and less regular and as an unintended consequence, I’ll also have more time to focus on some finer, non-political aspects of life, like sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll (well, at least one of those).

Thanks for reading!