Really interesting, Hilary. Thank you.
I also had to research an early female social reformer for the DNZB and can confirm it is a task made much harder than it might be by the attitude of contemporary press that reporting what women wore to social functions was much more relevant than reporting on anything they did.
Times have changed. But not enough.
My friend in Los Angeles, a well-educated professional woman, is a Democrat to the core. Yet she told me she was pals with two other Democrats, both men, who told her their vote was going to Trump as there was no way they wanted a woman running the White House.
Men have a hard job believing the extent of the prejudice-based barriers to success experienced by women on a routine basis. Women, on the other hand, find the attitude all too familiar (if usually unspoken and well hidden).
All we can take from your response is
Suck it up, hicks.
The crisis is only mainly about housing if you live in Auckland, though.
For the majority of New Zealanders, it is about a lack of job opportunities in their region, and a complete absence of regional development. You looked, Orchid, and there were no jobs for you. There's also naff all for the locals, who are also looking for work, meaning they have to move to, guess where?
Twenty years ago or more I made a radio broadcast about the lack of foresight in running this country as a farm for Auckland's benefit. Things have only got worse since then. Now that state of affairs is actually impinging on Aucklanders' lifestyles, of course, we are hearing a sustained long moan about it.
Maybe we'll one day vote in a government that looks at New Zealand as a whole and considers some holistic healing. Healing the regions by putting the jobs (and many of the immigrants) there will also heal Auckland's woes, but few are even suggesting looking in this direction for an answer. Yet it's such an obvious starting point.
It would, naturally, require a government that chose to take real action, and had a plan. Good luck with that.
Every disgruntled voter with a grievance saw the Brexit referendum as a harmless chance to stick two fingers up at the government. Protest with no danger of comeback.
For some/most, it was all about immigration, and turning back the clock to the more British Britain of their youth. For others, it was an economic or class issue about the lack of jobs, affordable homes, prospects, and general trickledown being delivered by the UK government. For yet others, it was a sort of teenage "you're-not-the-boss-of-me" sulky fit about the spread of EU regulations generally, an argument expressed as "sovereignty concerns".
Reminds one uncomfortably of the slogan on the side of Winston Peter's campaign bus : Send them a message. Well, the message was sent, and now the Brits have learned to be careful what they wish for.
German-born Oliver Imhof, working in England, summed it up shrewdly:
"Britons voted against their political establishment by saying no to the only thing that is protecting them from it."
I spent a brilliant summer once hunting down stave churches all over Norway. Came in from the North, from Finland over the so-called Arctic Highway and camped everywhere, in the wild raspberry and bilberry and lingonberry and cloudberry season. Lush. There's warmth in that midnight sun. No time for moods, melancholic or otherwise.
Now why didn't New Zealand's early settlers adopt the stave church model instead of the severe shearing sheds so many of our little old churches resemble? We already had the fjords, the mountains and the tall timber. We even had the wood carvers. All we needed was the imagination. Our scenery would have looked AWESOMER with some stave churches dotted about.
I mean, I like Old St Paul's, but it doesn't hold a candle to a saucy stavkirke.
If Deborah Russell is not New Zealand's Minister of Finance in waiting, I'll scoff my chapeau on toast with cheese sauce.
Don't wax too lyrical about Amsterdam's free bikes. Between the endeavours of thieves, vandals and drunks, about 12,000-15,000 bicycles (and 50 cars) end up in that city's canals each year and they all go for scrap afterwards. I worked alongside one of its major canals for several years and loved to sit at my desk watching the patrols dredging bikes up onto the rubbish barges. We never saw any go in, so it must have been happening at night.
Last year I was trying to negotiate some of Oxford's narrow footpaths with a wheelchair, and was forced out into the road traffic (bump, jolt) by bicycles stacked half a dozen deep against any available railing. That city is in dire need of proper bike parks just about everywhere, but the UK is a great believer in muddling through, so I dare say it will never happen. Not a great prospect for wheelchair users.
I believe the ghost of what's left of the Government Printer (which subsequently became GP Print, part of Blue Star) was sold to Australians in 2012.
From a press release at that time:
"The New Zealand operations of trans-Tasman printing group Blue Star have been bought by Australian private equity group Mercury Capital and Blue Star shareholder and former manager Tom Sturgess. "
For Those in Peril on the Sea is also sung as "Lest We Forget".
You'll have heard it in many an ANZAC Day service.