Cracker by Damian Christie


Lundy and Me.

Some years ago, probably close to a decade now, I was working as a producer on Sunday. Somehow, a story ended up on my desk – the story that Mark Lundy was innocent.

The evidence was compelling. Almost nothing in the Crown case added up, especially as presented by Mark Lundy’s answer to Joe Karam – although perhaps that’s an unfair comparison to make about the quietly personable Geoff Levick – who's spent far too many hours delving through the minutiae of what did or didn’t happen that night in Palmerston North.

There is so much that doesn’t make sense about the police case, it’s actually scary it was not only put forward, but found compelling enough by a jury to find Mark Lundy guilty. For several weeks, months even, I read everything I could about every questionable aspect of the Lundy case, tracking down some of the most qualified experts I could find in New Zealand and overseas, engaging their services to re-examine scientific evidence, while applying my own mind to the non-specialist areas of dispute.

The drive to Palmerston North and back, for instance. The police could never replicate it in the time Lundy was supposed to have made, let alone leaving Petone at rush-hour. And why you’d be trying to break a land-speed record on your way back from committing a homicide defies even basic logic.

At the Lundy house, there’s odd things happening too. Both Christine and daughter Amber are apparently in bed asleep at 7pm, even though that’s never remotely the case for Christine, and the light’s on outside, and the computer doesn’t appear to be shut down until much later. The only conclusion the police can offer is that Lundy had tampered with the computer.

There’s an eyewitness though. It’s dark, but she sees a man who she identifies as Lundy, dressed in a blonde wig, running down the road where he’s obviously stashed his car. Ever better luck, she’s a psychic, and uses her powers to draw a picture of the murder weapon. Case closed.

You can go through the elements of the case one by one, and pull them to bits. We did. The story was looking good. We used the OIA to get full disclosure from ESR and other agencies including police notes and so forth, provided it all to our experts, and waited.

Problem was, every person we furnished with the information, every scientific opinion we sought, from a forensic pathologist to an expert in immunohistochemistry said they agreed with the findings presented by the prosecution. (We didn’t ask about the stomach contents evidence, and I agree it seems pretty weak).

I’m sure there are experts who’ll disagree. My point is, we didn’t find them, and with no real way forward the momentum petered out. We could’ve done a story on those proclaiming Lundy’s innocence – as Mike White did (and a very good job he did too) for North & South, but all the experts we had on tape said otherwise. I didn’t feel comfortable telling one side of the story and ignoring the others we’d interviewed, and “Mark Lundy may or may not be guilty, although our experts say he is, which is probably why he’s in jail” wasn’t the strong lead my boss was looking for.

I also wasn’t 100% convinced by Geoff Levick. He was a smart, genuine guy, but it seemed to me he’d spent so long looking for inconsistencies with every aspect of the case - we had a great conversation about paint flecks from a variety of tools -  that he’d started to see patterns where there was none. I can’t recall the precise details, but this is close enough to illustrate what I mean: Someone had anonymously posted in a newspaper clipping. There was a number written on the clipping, which corresponded closely to a license plate of a car which was registered to an address, just down the road (but completely unrelated) from the address of a business that had a connection to another possible suspect. To Geoff, that was something. He couldn't say what, but something.

Every journalist has probably experienced that moment – the moment when you realise the person you’re talking to isn’t quite making any sense at all, but you smile and nod, and try and turn the conversation back to more solid ground. And in Geoff’s case, most of what he said made perfect sense – the real shame for Mark Lundy was Geoff Levick wasn’t there for his first defence

Not long after I let the story go – I moved on to another show – I was out with a camera operator who’d been there at the funeral, who’d filmed Mark Lundy and claimed there were no tears behind those hysterical sobs. He’d sat through much of the trial, and had clearly spent a bit of time mulling over the same issues I’d been dealing with. He said one sentence to me that saw everything click into place.  “I reckon he just did it later.”

If it wasn’t for Margaret Dance, the psychic witness, maybe the police wouldn’t have had enough to convict Mark Lundy. But they wouldn’t have needed to construct the questionable timeline and evidence that came after – the stomach contents, the miraculous trip, the early bed-time, the lights on, the computer hacking and so forth. Mark Lundy might have slept with the prostitute – establishing something of an alibi – then driven in the wee small hours at a cautious pace to Palmerston North, where his wife and child had gone to bed at their normal time, after having shut the computer down and turned the lights off, as you do. They would have been fast asleep when they were killed in their beds, and Lundy, on those facts, could have been back by sunrise.

I’m not surprised at the decision by the Privy Council. Whatever happened that night, I’m just not convinced Mark Lundy did it the way the prosecution would have us believe. But not guilty is not innocent, and at the moment he’s neither – he’s accused of murder and awaiting retrial. But so was Bain when he and Karam emerged from court to a hero’s welcome from the waiting media. Here’s a few of my favourite questions [I transcribed them here at the time] courtesy of our supposed top broadcasters on that heartwarming occasion:

“No jersey David?

Are you guys going to live together?

Which one’s the tidy one?

Who’s going to do the cooking?

You don’t like prison food?"

Stunning. Let the circus begin.


We Haz Talent?

I probably don’t need to read anything more about Lorde, ever.

Not for any negative reason – I still haven’t listened to the whole EP, let alone the new album, pretty much only ‘Royals’ so I don't have much of a musical opinion either way – it’s just, to quote an old Irish God of Rock, “there’s been a lot of talk about this song, maybe, maybe too much talk.” 

With a flurry of recent articles, the good, the bad and the downright bizarre, I find myself in the position of knowing more about Lorde than I do about my own long-standing musical heroes.  I have no idea how many books Lennon & McCartney have read – Lorde had read 1000 by the time she was 12.  What did Ian Curtis’ dad do? Fuck knows, but Lorde’s dad’s an engineer.

I reiterate: I say this without any ill-feeling. In fact, having read the Sunday magazine piece by the prodigal singer herself, I’m pretty damn impressed by what I see. It would seem that Simon Sweetman’s “I’m sure she doesn’t even know what she wants” could be the least accurate sentence ever written in rock ‘n’ roll history.

Which is not to say that what Lorde wants right now will be what she always wants, and that’s as it should be for a 16 year old – or anyone of any age really. When I was 16 I wanted to be a lawyer. Then I was. Turned out it was nothing like Jimmy Smits had lead me to believe. I’m much happier now. And it seems Lorde is pretty happy right now, for now, and that’s a good thing.

ANYWAY. Having just added 250 words to the sum of Lorde-related writing, no more. Because I have other talented 16 year old musicians to write about.  I have no idea how many books they’ve read either, or what their parents do, but it in no way detracted from my being washed away on a wave of awesomeness.

On Saturday night I went to the Smokefreerockquest national finals. I’ve never been before, which considering it’s been going 25 years, is a bit like when you meet that guy everyone always says you “must know” because you’ve got a million friends in common. Smokefreerockquest is a bit like that.

But this year I’ve been working with SFRQ on a music video competition as part of my student media site  The idea was that bands would upload their songs, and young film makers would find a tune they liked and run off and make a video for it. And it worked – sort of – but we’re all happy and will make it bigger and better next year.

The winner, a Year 13 Auckland Grammar student by the name of John Bu, created an enchanting work for a song by North Shore act Ludo, all in his spare time, after school – although I’m reliably informed his teacher didn’t see him for a few days (oops). When creativity meets skill like this, I’m equal parts proud, impressed, and scared of my impending redundancy. Click on these, they work:

But back to the night.  Eight bands, and two solo acts, whittled down from hundreds. Winning a regional champs isn’t enough to guarantee you a spot at the finals, and it must be tough for the organisers to narrow it down to single figures. You only have to look at a great band that didn’t make the nationals – Nelson’s Paper City – to see how tough the competition is. [This was also an entry to our competition]

It’s proof that New Zealand’s Got Far More Talent than silly TV shows would have you believe.  I’m not sure what his juggling’s like, but Harry Parsons is definitely one to watch, and he took out the top prize in the solo/duo category with his performance.

It’s hard to compare his against his ‘competition’, Khona Va’aga-Gray from McAuley High in Manukau.  “I wrote this song for a dear friend of mine,” she began, “who just celebrated her 40th wedding anniversary.”  Her Nana? No, a primary school teacher, “and this is about the journey that love takes.”  I have chills remembering those words, followed as they were by a soulful, heart-felt original piece.

Of the bands, there was a great diversity, all of the highest quality: Aasha Will & Cullen had a touch of the Lumineers in their alt-folk stylings and with Dave Dobbyn’s manager Lorraine Barry now working behind the scenes for them, these 15 year olds won’t be disappearing soon.

Aftershock, from Rotorua, amused and delighted with their heavy metal stylings, complete with synchronised hair-twirl-moshing (I don’t know if there’s a better term, but you’ll know what I mean); while my personal favourites were Sunday Best and All of a Kind.

 Which is to take nothing away from the overall winners, A Bit Nigel. With a hint of Kings of Leon in the singer’s voice, the trio from Taupo-nui-a-Tia College and Rotorua Boys’ High have made the national finals three times – finally in Year 13, this was their last opportunity, and they took it out with a slick performance:


The funny thing is, when you look at these bands on stage, such as their talent, such is their swagger, you forget they’re just high school kids. Backstage with the finalists I’ve just seen perform, waiting to present the award for our music video competition, I don’t recognise many of them. They look so young, smaller, quieter; many with acne and braces and the other trappings of adolescence. This disconnect makes me even more admiring of them – full-strength talent in pint-sized containers.

I’m not naïve enough to equate talent and potential with eventual success, not in that industry, not now, not ever. It irks me when a TV talent show judge whose claim to fame is a 9-month marriage to J-Lo tells someone with a sweet voice “you’re going to sell a lot of albums”. It’s meant as a compliment I guess, but it’s basically a lie – or at best incredibly unlikely, even if that person does eventually win the TV talent show.

Whereas here’s the list of those who’ve tread the Smokefreerockquest stage before:

“Kimbra, Midnight Youth, Opshop, Evermore, Ladyhawke, Minuit, Kids of 88, Die!Die!Die!, Pistol Youth, Bang!Bang!Eche!, Ivy Lies, Cairo Knife Fight, Cut Off Your Hands, Luke Thompson, the Datsuns, Zed, Brooke Fraser, Anika Moa, Anna Coddington, The Electric Confectionaires, Steriogram, Aaradhna, Spacifix, Phoenix Foundation, The Feelers, The Black Seeds, Nesian Mystik, Bic Runga, The Checks, Julia Deans, Pine, King Kapisi, Kingston, The Naked and Famous, Autozamm, The Good Fun, The Peasants, and Elemeno P.”

It’s probably still literally ‘unlikely’ any given Smokefreerockquest entrant is going to crack the big time, but the hard work, originality, talent and perseverance it takes to make it to the national finals sets them in good stead. And I won’t be surprised if any of the ten acts I saw on Saturday night are added to the list of those who’ve ‘made it’ in a few years time.


Johnny Foreigner & the Auckland Property Market

A few weeks ago, in the make-up room above the pub for Back Benches, I asked each of the three MPs there for the show – Louise Upston (Nat), Jacinda Ardern (Lab) and Holly Walker (Green) – what they thought of restricting the sale of residential property to foreign investors.

I’m not claiming any kind of credit – it’s hardly an original idea, and it’s already Green policy – but the point is that it’s an idea I’ve been kicking around for a month or so, trying to find the upside, the downside, and most importantly, whether it would have any impact on the ever-escalating Auckland property prices.

I’m part of the problem.  Having bought a fairly modest house four years ago, which is now worth probably $200,000 more than we paid for it, there’s equity to spare. We’d been offered the option to purchase an investment property from relatives cashing out for retirement and we’d taken the opportunity to look at what else was out there for the same sort of money.

 A pre-approval from the bank had given us access to the QV site; a supposedly reliable tool based on recent sales data from the surrounding neighbourhood, factoring in house size, land size, sales history and so forth. It gives an expected sales price, and a lower and upper range. It's very different from the CV price, which we all know in Auckland is well removed from reality. 

We looked at three places. A brick and tile unit in Onehunga and a couple of small 3-bedroom places in New Lynn, both on half sites with some degree of cross-lease. They all returned approximately $400 in rent, the expected sales figure was around $380,000, the upper limit around $420,000.  Each went in excess of $460,000… one didn’t reach reserve at $470,000 and was re-listed for $499,000. The owner had bought it a year earlier for $330,000.

Were the new purchasers from overseas? In one case, no, another – hard to say. Because as a number of commentators have pointed out already, in a city where just under a third of residents are ‘Asian’, it’s very easy to get the impression that foreign ownership is a bigger issue than it actually is. No-one seems to have any accurate data on just how many houses are sold to, or owned by, overseas interests. Which you think might be a useful piece of information for a Government to know.

Notable exception to Labour’s new announcement - the biggest overseas group buying our houses, the Aussies. Can’t stop them doing it because it’s reciprocal, apparently. Which doesn’t seem to matter on issues like getting the benefit and other social services, where it’s not.

 Bill English’s reaction this morning was to say it wasn’t much of a problem, it’s a range of issues, building new houses was much more important, and yes, that might be so. But of course Labour has also announced a plan to build new houses (10,000 each year for 10 years, as David Parker repeatedly pointed out on the Nation), and has made the move on Capital Gains Tax – a move which one Government Minister told me made absolute sense, but was ‘political suicide’. So restricting foreign sales (or adding a stamp duty) is just another tool in the toolbox, along with LVR requirements, easing land restrictions and the like.

I must note Don Brash also on The Nation, clinging to the Productivity Commission’s recommendation on land restrictions. It’s a good one for the former Act leader – blame arbitrary council red tape for the problem, people should be able to build where they want, and Howard Roark should design whatever he wants. And yes, land inside the Auckland boundaries costs a great deal more than land immediately outside. But the answer – or at least the sole answer – to Auckland’s low-cost housing issues is not a series of disconnected ghettos out at the extremities.

I can’t see any downside to this announcement from Labour. We are not gaining anything from having overseas investors buying up existing housing stock and keeping out first home buyers. I realise the hypocrisy, coming from someone looking for a rental investment, and I’d happily look at other options if the returns were even in the same ballpark, and if I could leverage off my existing equity to do so – even commercial property is difficult to finance like that.

Also, I’m borrowing at the same rates, in the same market, as the other resident buyers – as compared with some foreign residents able to borrow at lower rates (I’m told this is the case in China, I’ve been unable to find any decent links to this, happy to be corrected or backed up).  What doesn’t make any sense as a rental property at 5%+ is far more manageable below that.

Is it xenophobic? Only in the same sense that all our border controls, immigration policy are xenophobic. Being a New Zealand resident or citizen gives you benefits in New Zealand over people who aren’t. That’s pretty much standard practice in every country in the world. And until we have a completely borderless world society, I’m okay with that.  Which is not to say there won't be some out there who respond to this announcement positively, for the wrong reasons. As we've seen just today thanks to that taxi footage, there are Dickheads Amongst Us.

 Happy to have the downsides explained, and my latent xenophobia unpacked… I for one hope that National comes around on this issue, sees the sense in it, not as a silver bullet, but as another tool in the box, and we can at least start to take some of the ridiculous heat out of the Auckland market without so much as lifting a hammer.


It's urs!

So there’s been something I’ve been wanting to tell you about for a while. But I couldn’t.

I’ve been hiding it for as long as I could. Hiding it as it swallowed up my life savings, hiding it as it began to affect my job, my family life. It’s overtaken my days, and I find my mind in overdrive when I try to sleep at night, obsessing, fretting. I didn’t really know when or if to tell people, whether I should wait a while longer, what people might say, how they might react.  I told Russell about it, and he was cool. But in the coming days it’s going to be all over the media, and I’m going to need your help, your support. So now it’s time:

It’s called “urs”.

It’s pronounced “yours”. I have the domain name for both, just in case.

It’s a website, but more than that, I hope. I hope it’ll be a community, a positive influence, a new way of doing things.

 Who's it for? To quote the Hudsucker Proxy, “you know, for kids.

It’s a site where youth –anyone enrolled in either a high school or a tertiary institution, aged 13-25, but more focused on senior high school and junior university – can submit content they’ve created.  Created in the classroom, or for the classroom, after hours, on the weekends – whatever.  From photos taken for art class or fashion school, documentaries made for media studies, skateboarding videos, music videos, reviews, features, new tunes, short stories, short films… you get the idea.  As long as it’s creative, as long as it’s yours.

We have competitions, big competitions, where we encourage the creation of new content - again, a range of media, a range of interests, a range of skill levels. Thanks to partnerships with the likes of APN Digital and TVNZ – say what you want about the MSM, but there are people in those organisations who really care about doing the right thing – we’re able to give a wider audience and greater recognition to the best of that content , and provide decent prizes as a result. How about a year’s free movies and a gig reporting from a film premiere in Hollywood as a prize for contributing the most creative film review? If that doesn’t seriously challenge the stereotypical teen ennui, I’m not sure what will.

Why am I doing this? I’d like to make a living from it, of course, but what I’m really saying is that I’d like to make a living from something that makes me feel good doing it. I am where I am today because of student media – it was while at law school I found the local student newspaper (Salient) and student radio station (Radio Active, then bFM). I can’t say they were exactly nurturing environments – the radio stations especially seemed intent on letting as few new people onto the airwaves as they could, least of all young students. In fact, long story short, if it wasn’t for a certain Programme Director at bFM telling me to sod off, I wouldn’t have gone and helped start George FM, turning it into a dance music station in the evenings. Still not sure how I feel about that particular legacy.

But I persevered, and student media gave me the experience and the profile that led to what I do now. And while student media still exists, thrives in some cases, it varies greatly from campus to campus, and the audience is largely limited to that campus. There’s little if any focus on video – which is now the favoured medium of the young – and almost nothing for secondary students. Nothing focusing on media created by them at least. If I’m wrong, please let me know. Um, quickly?

There’s YouTube of course. But for every Gangnam Style billion-hit-wonder, there’s a million videos with only a dozen views, and very little way for even a very good item to raise its head above the parapet. It’s not curated, at least not in any useful way for a New Zealand teenager trying to get noticed. And URS will be harnessing YouTube’s awesomeness in terms of dealing with video, not to mention bandwidth and various other legal niceties (I wasn’t aware until recently, for instance, that YouTube has a blanket agreement covering the use of copyright music, which will be handy). But greatness gets buried in YouTube. Check out this beautiful video from a Western Springs College Year 13 student of 2012. It’s fantastic, and has just a hundred-and-something views.

So the guts of it is, I want to offer a modern version of what I got from student media. But more supportive. A site where the entire goal is about giving young creatives a hand, giving them guidance (we have Masterclasses from a range of experts across the industry and academia), encouragement, pathways to academia, industry, and in time, for some, an income. Ultimately, I’d like to think it will raise the level of creativity of the coming generations, and give them confidence to seek out and tell their stories, the ones that matter to them, in the way they see fit. If that fails I’ll become old and bitter, set up a media training agency and start a grumpy blog about all these young people who aren’t as good as I once was.

What I’d really like to do – not immediately, but soon, is set up an aspect of the business, the sole purpose of which is to give a voice to those not well represented in traditional media. Those whose background, economic situation, geographical location, whose language, accent or culture mean they’re less likely to appear on our screens in primetime. I hope URS will do that naturally anyway, but where resourcing or encouragement is needed, then I want to make that happen.

 I’ve had overwhelming support from teachers, lecturers, media partners, sponsors and the like. It’s an attractive demographic for certain sponsors, clearly, but what seems to attract the people I’ve been meeting with these past months is that underlying idea – encouraging and nurturing young people to make great content.

The only question mark at this stage is the audience. Will they engage, will they contribute, will they make URS… well, theirs? I hope so. Of some reassurance is the fact these young people are already out there doing it, already making content.

A bit of final bug-testing, a bit of content loading, a deep breath, and URS will be good to go next week. It’s been a couple of years in my brain, six months taking shape, and the last couple of months trying to tie down a thousand or so ever-shifting loose ends. And I’m very aware that once the site goes live, that’s when the real work begins.

I mentioned your help and support above. I’ve taken care of the money side of things (for now), so I’m not asking for crowd-source-funding or the like – I haven’t exactly been a very attentive blogger of late, and now you have some idea why. But I would appreciate your brains. Your ideas, advice, other projects I should be aware of, things to watch out, suggestions for competitions, themes, people to talk to, companies or organisations who might want to come on board, teachers… and of course, those creative young minds.

The site will be heavily moderated, certainly to begin with, and I make no apology for that. By not offering comments for a time, by accident or by design, Russell very cleverly avoided PAS becoming as nasty as most other corners of the blogosphere. I’m going to take the same approach. And of course, at least until my audience can be trusted, EVERY SINGLE PIECE of content will be moderated to ensure it’s age appropriate. YouTube helps in that regard, but I don’t need to tell you what an explicit photo getting past the gatekeepers could mean for a site like this. So while I’m not expecting it, I’m happy to take names of anyone who might find appealing the idea of flicking through a bunch of teenagers’ photos/videos from time to time/every night.

 Anyway, it’s all very exciting, and I hope you can share in that with me, at least in spirit. I’ll post the address of the site once it’s up and running next week, but in the meantime, hit me with your thoughts, suggestions and kind offers.

Special thanks to those who have had the smarts and/or courage to get behind the project from the get-go - AUT, APN Digital, TVNZ, Adidas, Sony, Paramount Pictures and STA Travel. More to come...

(Oh also, Back Benches return date was officially announced today, April 10, 10.30pm on PRIME. For those in the 04, feel free to come in for the taping from 6ish to 7ish that evening. Perfect for an after work beer...)


Review: The Oyster Inn, Waiheke Island.

One of the things Metro always does when reviewing restaurants is go there twice – and it makes sense – it halves the chance (stand down, Keith Ng, if this not literally true) that you’ve just struck the waiter or chef on an off night, or conversely, you’re the only person that night whose order wasn’t screwed up.

Of course, at an amazing restaurant the chef doesn't have off nights. Consistency is probably the most important trait in a restaurant (assuming it’s not consistently awful). But I would rather go to a restaurant that is consistently Very Good – Prego is probably the best example I can think of here – where the food will never amaze, but like a high class Cobb ‘n’ Co, you know what you’re getting, every time.

People have been raving about The Oyster Inn on Waiheke, a lovely fit-out on the top story of an old wooden colonial style building with a covered veranda overlooking the Oneroa shops and across the bay.

Chef Cristian Hossack was by all accounts poached from, or at least had previously been employed at, Peter Gordon’s Providores in London. The style will be very familiar to anyone who’s been to Al Brown’s Depot at Sky City – a variety of oysters and other shellfish offered on the menu along with small sharing plates (sliders, calamari and the like) but departs from Depot by offering meals designed to be eaten by one rather than larger plates to share. Perhaps also conscious of the difficulty in being too niche on an island where half the year is a wasteland, Oyster Inn opens at 8am offering a small but appetising breakfast menu.

Two visits found the food without fault. The spaghetti alle vongole (with Cloud Bay clams) was delicious, the octopus barley salad bright and fresh, and the tempura oyster ‘po boy’ roll – the item that enticed me to return for our second visit a wonderful soft, juicy treat with wasabi tobiko mayonnaise. It’s a shame they don’t unbundle the fish ‘n’ chips, because while a bit of battered whatever will never tempt me with other delights on offer, the triple-cooked fries were calling to me from the neighbour’s table. I asked, but it is impossible apparently, the chips can only be sold with the fish. The shoestring fries didn’t have similar appeal. The wine list is well populated, with the inclusion of some of Waiheke’s finest, including Man O’ War vineyards and Cable Bay.

(the second half of my oyster roll - please note, this is not food photography, but a photo of my food)

I’d popped in for a drink on a previous visit to the island and found the place overrun with staff literally bumping into each other– it seemed more like NZ Railways in the 70s than the sort of lean operation one expects these days. Our subsequent visits didn’t show the same problem, but adverts in the local paper indicated they were looking for more staff, so it’s hard to know where it’ll settle.

The front of house staff were very friendly – our phone request for a highchair hadn’t made it to the booking sheet but that was easily remedied. (Parental note – at 14 months, and still wearing much smaller clothes than his age, Harry only just squeezed into the chair, the frame of which doesn’t adjust). And the service was good – with one exception which ended up clouding our second visit a bit.

A simple enough mistake – a forgotten drinks order. But while we waited, and waited, our waiter didn’t notice either that we were waiting, or that we had no drinks. I asked another waiter – ours was busy elsewhere – and she dismissed our query with a “they’ll be coming”. Finally, after asking again, our waiter realised her mistake – but rather than being remedied with all due haste, the order seemed to go to the back of the queue.  So there we were, 40 minutes after arriving, midway through our meals, without a drink. “So how is everything?” asked our waiter, a question that perhaps should have waited until we had a glass of wine in our hands.

It’s probably quite hard to get good staff on Waiheke – it seems hard enough in town. And while a forgotten order is totally forgivable, not noticing for more than half an hour – and then failing to sort it quickly, if not make that round on the house, is far less so. I guess I’m a bit OCD or something, but when I’m waiting for something to turn up that is long overdue, I find it impossible to relax. It basically ruins things for me.

Much of the problem comes down to a lack of simple observation by staff. When you have just four or five tables to manage, you should be constantly scanning those tables when you walk past. Who is going to need a drink soon, whose plates need clearing, who’s rocking in the corner because you’ve forgotten his wine for half an hour. Our waiter also failed to notice a small pile of Harry’s own lunch rubbish, a banana skin and empty yoghurt container sitting on our table – we’d brought it in, but a decent waiter would spot it and take it away.

Running a restaurant on Waiheke is an incredibly difficult business, even if everything is just right, and this place is so close. Locals are more interested in somewhere cheap to eat or drink, and townies will have to be convinced to spend their limited time in Oneroa rather than eating at a winery somewhere. Then there’s the six months of the year when tourism virtually shuts down. With the amount of investment the owners have put in (I’ve heard figures with lots of zeroes) for a fit out including a separate shop, private dining room and apartments, it’d be a shame to be let down by a few simple skills. I wish them all the best - I'll certainly be back.