One summer, when I was about 7, we went camping in Whitianga. The first day I'd run down the beach and had a lovely swim. It was all sunshine and beach and sand and ticking about a dozen 1980s/Kiwiana/holiday boxes.
The next day I was helping Mum wash some clothes. The camping ground had an old-fashioned washing tub and wringer. I was feeding some clothes through the wringer when suddenly my left hand started going through the wringer.
My instinct was to pull away from it, but the tight rubbery rolls of domestitude were pulling the other way. It was a girl versus 1950s technology tug o' war.
As all this was going on, Mum was trying to figure out what to do. I think eventually she pulled the plug on the wringer (take that!), but it still had a rubbery grip on my wrist. The emergency release spring - which, the camp owner later claimed, would always come unsprung when you didn't want it to - initially refused to give up my hand. But eventually, with a bit of banging and swearing, I was freed.
Off to the emergency clinic, and my hand was X-rayed. A bone had sort of moved out of placed, but nothing was broken. My left wrist, hand and forearm were then set in a demi-cast, with plaster on top and a bandage wrapped around it.
For the rest of my Coromandel beach holiday, I spent most of the time with the sea splashing at my feet, keeping my hand dry. This proved tiresome, too much of an effort, so in the end I went off and made my own fun. A valuable skill, which has served me well to this day.
I had the impression that the pictures of people at parties and features on "trips you can do into the wild, wild country beyond Ponsonby" were the core of the mag.
Well, the pictures of people at parties have always been part of Metro. But they were doing it when no one else did, and with the photographer's knack for taking delightfully unflattering snaps, it wasn't your typical society page.
How many of us, even us pros, wrote as much 10 years ago as we do now?
Back then, I was very involved with various online communities. Today I still am, but I write more. Now more and more people are online, I'm able to connect with those who are more likely to share my interests.
In 1997 the closest to PA System was the nz.general usenet group, but I eventually left that because of all the shouting (and some guy ferociously objected to my quoting style).
I find it ironic that a traditionally lightweight lifestyle mag (Metro)
Metro wasn't lightweight in the '80s. Under founder Warwick Rodger's editorship, it had really really long investigative articles. That was the era that brought us the "Unfortunate Experiment" expose. (I can't believe I used to read Metro as a pre-teen and teenager!)
In fact, has Metro ever been lightweight?
I just found 42 mortgagee sales listed on Barfoot & Thompson.
Some of them look like investment properties that are probably being given up because of an increase in interest rates and/or a lack of tenants. (There's an Mt Eden village art deco flat. It looks nice in the photos, but in reality it's right next door to a service station. Yuck!)
But other ones look too big to be rentals/investment properties. So what is it that drives someone living in a lovely family villa to end up having the bank sell their house? Interest rates? Bad financial planning? Too many lattes?
Fear of a female interwebs
This will be my 276th comment posted on PA System. I don't know for sure, but I suspect most of the comments I've made have been more on social rather than political topics (though sometimes there are overlaps).
Politics and sports are two things that I have very little interest in, but I can, if I try, find an in to these topics via some sort of social connection.
When I first got on the interwebs back in '95, I don't remember it being male-dominated. There always seemed to be 50-50 mix of the sexes (either that or women were smaller in numbers but louder).
There was also the old school journal girls (shout out to 2 Joanna!). It seemed that in the pre-blog days, most people who kept interesting personal websites were female (or gay guys). There were guys out there who kept websites, but very few were writing frequently-updated interesting ones.
Now there seem to be more guys out there writing stuff, and stuff that's interesting and worth reading.
But there are also plenty of arseholes out there who have an opinion and would like you to be aware of it, whether it's about how awful George Bush is or how awful American Idol is.
If the 'net - our kool thing - becomes spoiled by male, white corporate oppressors, it's not the end of the world. It just means that 'us girls' need to work a little harder. And we can take Chuck D's advice from that awesome song and tell it like it is.
Can't remember the name of this show
It was Ground Zero. It was the Friday night TV2 live music show that screened circa 1999. It was hosted by Graeme Hill and (my girl hero) Francesca Rudkin.
Ground Zero never quite got things right, and was eventually reincarnated as the much better Space.
I thought streakers were supposed to be naked?
See, that's the problem. They're not regulated, so any fly-by-nighter can come along to a sports game, take off their T-shirt and be all "OMG! Look at me!!! I'm teh streaker!!!"
Obviously the government needs to step in and a) define exactly what a streaker is, and b) establish severe penalties for anyone who calls him/herself a streaker but who is not showing us their wobbly/jangly bits.
Metro March 1991 Peter Ellison:
"More people own their own homes these days than they did in the "good old days".
Yamis, thanks so much for that quote. That was very interesting!
My parents had to jump through hoops to get housing loans in the '70s and '80s, sourcing loans from three different sources.
And of course, if someone like me (a single lady) tried to get a loan back in the '70s, I wouldn't have had a hope.
Things have changed, but I'm still renting.
I have 2,500 in an ASB managed retirement investment fund
So far ASB has made me about 40 dollars in nearly a year.
My ordinary ASB savings account, which has never topped $2500, earned me about $70 in interest last year.
By the time I retire and have no income, I would have inherited my share of my parents' properties
I've thought this too, but then I think my parents are planning on eventually selling their properties to live off in their retirement, so perhaps all I'll inherit is my mum's ceramic cat collection.
What saddens me is when I look around Freemans BAy and see all that wonderful council housing and state housing that used to be here and is now in the hands of private owners.
Back when that was built, the council made a serious effort to bring good quality, affordable housing to the inner suburbs for people on low incomes. (This also resulted in the sausage flats of Mt Eden, but let's not go there).
But now, however, Freemans Bay is turning into an extension of posh Ponsonby, while the people on low incomes are being forced out further from the city centre.