The bird I missed most when I lived overseas was, unusually, the riroriro (grey warbler). To be honest I don’t think I could point one out if I saw it in a tree, but that distinctive, long-winded song says “home” to me like no other bird. I have been back now for over 13 years and I still feel a sense of belonging when I hear it.
Even more so when you find out that the riroriro song differs across the country, so the ones I hear here in Hamilton sing a slightly different tune from the ones I used to listen to as a youngster on the shores of Lake Ohakuri.
Like Henry Higgins in London, one could in theory identify their location in NZ by listening to the warblers.
So, Red Peak will be on the ballot. But the status quo still won't be.
I wonder if this is something the Greens and Labour came up with together, or is everyone trying to out-statesman each other?
For use in spin-detangling: An Interactive Guide to Ambiguous Grammar
Words / Lyrics / Story telling. Dennis Glover perhaps, covering suicide and the collapse of farming, hence the fence.
"Come on, John
The time has come
Its time to go
Now don't be slow
Wrong bridge though.
I really miss Contact FM here in the 'Tron. The student union really screwed up when they sold off the frequency back in the late 90s.
A huge chunk of my musical education came from listening to contact in the late 80s/early 90s, everything from Paul Martin's Axe Attack (before the Rock bought him) to The Pixies, Pop Will Eat Itself, Hallelujah Picassos, Look Blue Go Purple, Dribbly Cat Attraction, Inspector Moog; all the stuff that I'd never have heard on the normal FM.
As a sprog, Neroli Fairhall was my first exposure to athletes with disabilities, especially as she competed in the mainstream Olympics.
As a teen reader, I had no idea that Andre Norton and Julian May were female. But I'd have to say I selected my reading material by judging books by their covers (and titles and blurbs), not their author's names. And as for Rob's "homosexual library" above, I generally pay little attention to the author apart from what ends up between the covers (of the book). With the exception of a few writers who include reasonably hefty author's notes at the end of their books, I don't tend to find out much about their personal lives. Mostly I like it that way...
I’m mostly a SF and Fantasy reader. A genre with a long and storied history of sexism.
True, but if you haven’t encountered Sheri S Tepper, Octavia Butler, Andre Norton, Anne McCaffery, James Tiptree Jr, CJ Cherryh or Mercedes Lackey (amongst many others) then you’re probably deliberately avoiding female authors (and in the case of Tiptree AKA Alice Sheldon, doing some research to do so).
(ETA - that's a generic 'you' not a specific one)
Um . . . if they're the real thing they'll do that fart trick with their armpit?
A real bogan or a real intellectual?