Quick quiz

1 In which Otago mountain range are Mount Pisgah, Kattothyrst, and Trig Island situated?

2 Who was Wallis Warfield Simpson's third husband?

3 What is the difference between flotsam and jetsam?

4 In the Southern North Island, on State Highway 1, is a sign "Beware Low Flying Restaurant" which refers
to what unusual feature?

5 With which sport is New Zealander Jack Swart associated?

  Answers - p2

Prester John's Talk of the Times
  A short diversion. . .

MENTION of welcome signs for Queenslanders (this column, 25.2.00) prompted Tony Van Essen, of
Fairfield, to ask a question that has long puzzled him: If a person born in Poland is called a Pole, why do we
call a person who comes from Holland "Dutch"? I'm sure Tony, who left Holland 45 years ago and is now
retired, is not really suggesting he would want to be called a "Hol(l)e" (although the term Hollandish was
once common), but the answer to his question lies in the rich heritage of the English language.

  . . . into the origins. . .

LIKE many other words in our language, "Dutch" has been borrowed from other tongues (in this case,
directly from Middle Dutch but also influenced by German). At various times and by various peoples, the
word and its variations (such as Dutche, Doutche, Duche, Duytsch and Duitsche) have been used to
describe the people and language of both Low Germany (the Low Dutch and Holland) and High Germany
(the High Dutch and Germany).

  . . . of the word `Dutch'. . .

WE now use "Dutch" most commonly to refer to the language or the people of Holland or the Kingdom of
the Netherlands, but from Middle Latin literature of the 9th century the term was applied to the popular or
national language German, in contrast to the literary or church language Latin and the neighbouring Romance
languages.

  . . . and how. . .

WHILE on the subject, I wondered about the history of using the term Dutch in a scornful way. There are
many examples, such as Dutch courage, Dutch treat, Dutch auction, Dutch uncle, double Dutch and so on,
and many we no longer use, like Dutch talent (a piece of nautical work which, while serving its purpose, was
not clever or shipshape). 

  . . . we use it

AN edition in this office of an old and trusted dictionary, the Century , dating from the late 19th century,
suggests Dutch used this way may be due in part to the animosity which built up during the "long and severe
contest for the supremacy of the seas waged by England and the Netherlands in the 17th century". 

  Our disdain. . .

AS Bill Bryson in his excellent book, Mother Tongue, comments, we tend to regard other people's
languages as we regard their cultures - with ill-hidden disdain. In the English-speaking world, we talk about
taking French leave (an unauthorised departure), but Italians and Norwegians talk about departing like an
Englishman, Belgian taxi drivers describe a poor tipper as "un Anglais" and to be bored to death in French is
"etre de Birmingham" (literally "to be from Birmingham").

  . . . for influences. . .

YET English is full of influences from other cultures and languages. From Dutch we take the word
landscape, the American cookie and perhaps Yankee , possibly a corruption of the Dutch "Jan Kees"
("John Cheese", suggested as an early American name for a Dutchman in the US). 

  . . . outside those. . . 

DEBATE has raged for centuries over the expansion of the English language and its pronunciation,
"particularly the American invasion". In the early 19th century, a British captain complained to Noah
Webster (of Webster's Dictionary ) about the introduction of American words and pronunciation, saying
"there are words enough already".

  . . . we know

IN the late 1940s, London's Daily Mail published a list of American expressions it described as "positively
incomprehensible" to the average English person. Included were commuter, dumb (in the sense of stupid),
intern, rare (as applied to meat) and living room. 

How times, and language, change.

  Story ideas

To contact Talk of the Times

Phone 03 477 4760

Fax 03 474 7422

PO Box 181 Dunedin

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New Zealand's credibility at
                                  issue 

By Jenny Shipley, Leader of the Opposition.

WITHIN two weeks, Derek Quigley's report to the
Labour-Alliance Government about the future of the F16
contract will be released. It is more than just a report about the
future of the F16 deal. It is in essence about the very future of
New Zealand's air combat force.

For the sake of our nation's credibility, and the need for a
balanced defence force, New Zealand should have proceeded
with the F16 contract. It is to be hoped that mature reflection will
enable the Government to step back from its already declared
intention to cancel the contract, but that looks unlikely.

The F16 contract goes to the very heart of the shape of our
defence forces, and of New Zealand's relevance to our own
region. Other countries must see us as a credible partner.
Otherwise we will be relegated to the sidelines.

We will be unable to play the part that New Zealanders expect
us to have in our region, simply because Canberra and
Washington will not take us seriously. 

The past decade has already taught us that we live in a region of
instability. From Bougainville to East Timor and beyond, New Zealand has played a key role in underwriting
stability. We've punched above our weight because we've been prepared to put in the hard work to
re-establish our international credibility.

Indonesia continues to be fragile with secessionist movements, of which the closest to us is in Irian Jaya.
How likely is it that the Papuans there will wish to remain part of Indonesia? Melanesia is struggling with the
effect of colonial boundaries. The Bougainville secession conflict has largely arisen from the colonial policy
which included it with Papua New Guinea. Right now there is also a separatist movement on the Solomons.
France is pulling out of the Western Pacific. 

Where do the F16s fit in all of this? They are, in short, a key to our being taken seriously by Australia and
other countries with whom we would find common cause. Already, Australian media are calling the new
Government's lack of commitment to a comprehensive defence strategy "flakey". It is also a strong signal to
the Australian Government that New Zealand no longer adheres to the "single strategic entity", which has
been in operation for almost a century and was the bond that tied the two nations together in times of war. It
says, in effect, that an attack on them is an attack on us and vice versa. We would go to their aid and they
would come to ours. 

Helen Clark has come dangerously close to ending this arrangement. Indeed, Australia may already regard it
as over, such has been this Government's irresponsible attitude towards security and defence relations
between New Zealand oldest friend and ally.

The F16 aircraft guarantee that we will have a cutting-edge air force with combat capability. The question
for New Zealand is whether we simply want to tag along behind Australia, dependent on it for all high-level
combat capability. A fully balanced defence force means we are able to command our own price in our
defence relationship with Australia. Having the F16s ensures we can speak with equality in the relationship.

East Timor demonstrates the clear need for real combat weight. The overt deployments of the Australian
F18s and the use of Australian and New Zealand frigates as a protective screen was a clear message to
Indonesia that this is a force not to be taken lightly. If we had been solely reliant on ground forces, air
transport and logistic ships only, the picture could have been very different. Our soldiers could have been
facing a protracted and difficult guerrilla war. Our worst fears, when we committed our forces to East
Timor, could have been an ugly reality.

New Zealand is responsible for a fifth of the defence of the region. If we don't retain combat capability in
our air force, then we will lose weight in the Anzac partnership. 

Ironically, our ability to conduct independent foreign and defence policies would be undermined as Australia
paid less heed to our views. Our independence, at least in part, rests on our having sufficient military
capability to ensure that our perspective is reflected in our region. A balanced defence force with combat
capability embedded in each of the three services, gives us the voice that our region needs.

Labour may well want to model New Zealand on the non-aligned European countries such as Ireland or the
Nordic states, primarily devoted to peace-keeping tasks. Their situation is fundamentally different to ours.
They are not the key players in European security. 

Our responsibilities in the Pacific give us a level of commitment in our region that Nordic states like Finland
and Sweden can leave to others in Europe. In our region, only Australia and New Zealand have developed a
First World economic and political outlook. 

Our regional commitments in Bougainville, East Timor and elsewhere in the Pacific were not undertaken in
the first instance as UN responsibilities, but out of the need to preserve peace and stability in our own region.
Our intervention, however, did receive UN ratification. If we opt out of the full role we have traditionally
played, we will be surrendering influence to Australia. That is the risk of a radical restructuring of our
defence forces. By stripping our capabilities that have taken decades to develop, we diminish our
sovereignty.

It takes at least 15 to 20 years to develop an effective air combat force. New Zealand's current air combat
force is built on the experience of more than half a century and has been maintained at a level of excellence
envied by many countries. Countries such as Singapore, Malaysia and Thailand have learned just how
difficult it is to build a modern air force. It is not just a question of money or of training people how to fly, but
rather about strategic doctrine, tactics and experience built over decades.

Labour's policy to abandon the F16s deal and, by inference, to abandon air strike capability, will lead to the
opposite result they desire. It would downgrade New Zealand to the military capacity of Papua New Guinea
or Fiji.

It is the first step down the road towards a non-aligned future with a diminished influence in our own region.
That will ultimately be bad for New Zealand because it means that when we want to push for issues relating
to trade, because of our reduced defence commitment, our big trading partners, like the United States and
Australia, will take our views less seriously. That is the way the world works when you are a small country.

New Zealand can be an influential player in Canberra and Washington, but that will only persist as long as
they regard us as serious contributors to the defence and security of our region. A defence force based
solely around the army will downgrade and isolate us in our own region.

Why should anyone take us more seriously on the wider world stage if we have a shrinking view of our own
place in the Southwest Pacific?

Unequal under the law 

LINDA always knew she would be a lawyer. She grew up watching L.A. Law and, although she knew law
probably wouldn't be quite that sexy, it was clearly all about justice and fairness.

She worked hard at law school, earning high marks and the ultimate reward: interviews with big-name law
firms. The partners who interviewed her were interested in her prize for commercial law.

But they were also interested in something else. "Do you expect to get married soon?" they asked. "When do
you plan to have children?" One even asked what kind of family planning she used. (Later, she heard that
one of the big firms explored the possibility of requiring new partners to sign contracts agreeing not to have
children.) Linda knew these questions were illegal, but she wanted a job.

She bit her tongue and was hired by one of the top firms. She threw herself into the rather unglamorous
grunt-work of a first-year lawyer: preparing lists of documents, writing opinions about obscure corners of the
law, trotting down to court to seek adjournments on bankruptcy files. If she put in the hard yards, she was
sure, she would win the partners' trust and be given more responsibility and better work.

But she wasn't entirely comfortable at work. She was rarely allowed to attend meetings with clients, and
when she did, her supervising partner would grin at them and say "we hired her for her legs". Some clients
would eye her suspiciously. Others would make a grand show of pulling out her chair for her, or opening
doors, which made her feel odd. She didn't want any special treatment. She'd rather they invited her to
business lunches as they did with the male lawyers.

Occasionally, she was taken to lunch at the men's clubs. Before 1993, when they opened up membership to
women, she could only attend as an invited guest. Sometimes at work, or in court, she felt like an invited
guest of the legal profession.

Several times, she was mistaken for a secretary. One judge called her "missie". Once, when she was in
court as a junior in an important case where all the lawyers happened to be women, another lawyer
wandering past asked "who's appearing in this case?" Although Linda's strength was commercial law, family
law files would invariably end up on her desk. She gritted her teeth and did the work. You do what you're
assigned, you do it promptly and competently, and you make yourself visible putting in long hours. That way
you'll be seen as "partnership material". She hoped. 

Actually, Linda wasn't exactly sure how someone became a partner. No-one explained it to her. Would
someone tap her on the shoulder one day? Was she on the right track? Did the partners think she was
compatible with them? To be honest, she wasn't sure they were compatible with her. She didn't like the way
some treated their secretaries, sometimes hounding or criticising them until they cried. She didn't like the way
they made jokes about clients' breasts.

She was distraught when one tried to hit on her, hinting it would be good for her career prospects. (She
doubted it. When relationships bloomed in-house, it was never the man who left the firm.) She turned him
down and he never gave her any more work. She thought about complaining. Career-limiting behaviour, a
friend warned.

She began to feel dishonest promoting her firm at graduate recruitment events.

When she got married and pregnant, Linda knew she'd have to prove her work wasn't affected. She took
little maternity leave. She felt guilty taking time off to care for the children when they were sick. Life was a
swirl of housework, ferrying the kids around and being available for clients.

Part-time work would be "incompatible with the job", partners said. She wished she had a wife to do the
washing.

Finally, she left. It felt like a defeat, but also a relief. What it did not feel like was a choice.

"Linda" is fictitious, but her experiences aren't. All are based on stories told by women lawyers in New
Zealand over the past decade. Although women have been admitted to the bar in roughly equal numbers to
men since 1986, only about one law firm partner in 10 is female.

  Steve Price is a Wellington lawyer-turned-journalist who writes weekly for the Otago Daily Times on
legal issues.

Doc's watchdog on the film set 

                                              New Zealand is fast becoming a
                                              popular destination to shoot feature
                                              films. The scenery is stunning, the
                                              price about right and the seasons
                                              reversed - perfect for summer
                                              releases in the United States.

                                              Recently, Mountain High Productions
                                              produced The Vertical Limit for Columbia
                                              Pictures, using sites in Aoraki/Mount Cook
                                              National Park and the Wakatipu Basin. It was
                                              the largest filming concession handled by the
                                              Department of Conservation. JANINE GRAY
                                              visited one of the sites in Aoraki to see what
                                              concessions were being made to the
environment.

Ten thousand feet above sea level on a mountain ledge that could be anywhere in the world, a "modest" sized
film crew works on the creation of a climbing scene. The mountain is supposed to be K2 in the Himalayas;
instead it is Mount Hamilton in Aoraki/Mount Cook National Park.

For this particular shoot, producer Lloyd Phillips and director Martin Campbell are on site with the actors and
their assistants. About 50 crew are also required for various tasks such as throwing buckets of snow
towards the gas-powered wind machines, handing out drinks and food, keeping a constant watch on the
weather to make sure it is not about to pack in and making sure no-one stands in front of the actor's line of
vision.

So, while all this organised chaos is taking place in one of New Zealand's national parks, who is ensuring
there is adequate protection of the environment? The Department of Conservation has, after all, granted a
concession to Mountain High Productions under the proviso that they comply with certain conditions. Are
these conditions enough to ensure the protection of these pristine alpine areas?

On the surface, Mountain High Productions base camp near Mount Cook Airport looks more like a military
camp than a home base for Hollywood stars and their entourage. And yet, the half-hectare camp is one of
the main factors in the success or failure of The Vertical Limit , an action adventure film. Catering facilities,
special effects tents, aircraft landing pads, actors' wardrobes and day accommodation, as well as an office
for logistics staff and safety crew, are all on site.

This morning, the decision to film in the mountains is an easy one. The weather is perfect for a change, the
walkie talkies have been charged for the day and the crew is ready to be choppered to the mountain site.
Had the filming run to schedule, the weather would have had to dramatically bend to fit in with "Hollywood's"
time frame. However, it has not always been co-operative.

About 50 crew will be flown up the Tasman Valley to a perch on Mount Hamilton. It is supposed to
represent the highest peak of K2, which is why the helicopters have had an 80kg paint job to make them look
like they are part of the Pakistani Army.

Among the crew going up is environmental monitor Dave Morgan, who has been contracted by Doc and
paid for by the production company to liaise with the film crew, look at potential on-site impacts from filming
activities and minimise the effects, including the landing of aircraft.

Mr Morgan is also responsible for measuring whether or not the operation effects recreationists in the area.
With a background in recreation and tourism management and having worked as a programme manager with
the Mountain Safety Council, Mr Morgan is experienced in alpine environments.

Considering this is the largest filming concession Doc has ever had, there is a lot for one person to cover,
especially when some of the main locations are in the Wakatipu-Glenorchy area and another is in the
Aoraki/Mount Cook area. The concession was negotiated over a three-month period and required Mountain
High Productions to draw up a detailed document specifying the locations, number of people, number of
filming days in conservation areas, the nature of the activities and the company's plans for dealing with
potential problems like garbage, toilets, noise pollution, explosions and restoration of the location.

Concession supervisor Andy Thompson says this film has raised some interesting philosophical issues in
terms of the appropriateness of using national parks for large-scale feature films.

"A lot of people have strong opinions on both sides. There are those who argue national parks should be held
for preservation and conservation purposes and that feature films are not compatible with that ideology. On
the other hand, if the concession assures protection of the environment by using such monitoring, there are
many positive spin-offs for New Zealand's film industry and for other concessionaires, whose expertise and
facilities are used to help in several capacities. In addition to this, rentals from these activities go back into
conservation management."

While on a set, Mr Morgan monitors the physical, ecological and social impacts. With a general rule being
"leave as you find", the management of rubbish, toileting and re-fuelling of machinery are checked on a
regular basis. "Crew had to be reminded of how easy it is for loose equipment to be lifted by the wind."

The film crew has two units operating at most times. The first unit films the actors and does close-up shots,
while the second unit focuses on the wide angles and stunt doubles. Both require Mr Morgan's watchful eye,
so he spends much of his time flitting from one site to the other.

Rock-bolting, pyrotechnics, snow making and cleaning up each site when filming is completed are also part
of managing the area and are the responsibility of the film company.

Ecological monitoring involves measuring the impact on vegetation. "The impact has been pretty minimal
because of the snow protecting the vegetation but in soft areas, where there was snow grass and tussock
underneath, those areas were roped off."

Mr Morgan sees that his role requires diplomacy. "On the one hand, we want to help the film company
achieve their goals because it is a great way to showcase some of New Zealand's natural highlights. But it is
also important that Doc has a bottom line. Films cannot have carte blanche, otherwise there could be
potential for real damage."

For instance, a variety of artificial snow products were proposed for use. As per the concession, all
snow-making products had to be approved on a case-by-case basis. Most of these were environmentally
acceptable, but one product containing salt was not approved because it would leach into the ground and
upset the soil pH balance, thereby affecting plant growth.

With the Mountain High Production's concession, there were limits on where they could film. They had
wanted to film in Fiordland but that aspect of the concession was declined for environmental reasons.

In total, 28 sites have been used over a period of five months. Throughout this time, Mr Morgan has kept a
daily log of all the activities that have taken place. As part of the concession, Doc has held a $50,000 bond to
ensure all sites are left as they were found. The production company also had to pay for all of the monitor's
costs and expenses, plus a fee for using the sites.

"The production company has been very co-operative, and both Doc and Mountain High Productions did
their best to accommodate each other. Although we did experience frustrations from time to time, the overall
outcome for the project was a positive one. The sites have been left with no impact and the Mountain High
Productions were able to use most of the locations that they requested."

11 April 2000

Re-constituting ourselves as we
                                   are 

"New Zealand", when you think about it, is a human construction. Mountains, forests,
rivers, lakes, all the "beauty" for which these islands are celebrated, are just so much
undifferentiated rock and water until processed by the brains of human observers. 

Even the country's name, the dubious bequest of some anonymous Dutch cartographer, is freighted with
cultural conceit. How can we be "new" Zealanders without first accepting the pre-eminence of "old"
Zealand? And where does that leave those who were here before Tasman and Cook set sail?

Everywhere we look we encounter the same dilemma. Is the mountain Taranaki or Egmont? Are we New
Zealanders or Aotearoans? 

To the descendants of colonists these are uncomfortable questions. To investigate too closely the processes
by which our national identity has been constructed is to risk some dangerous discoveries. Historical truth is
a dangerously compelling artefact. It impels us toward action, and challenges us to illuminate the comfortable
certainties of the present with the volatile contingencies of the past.

Who were, who are, the architects of the construction we call New Zealand? The comforting answer - "all
of us" - simply will not do. The ideas of the citizenry are shaped, to an extent which they would find quite
frightening were they better acquainted with the processes involved, by the words and deeds of tiny
minorities. 

Historian, Jock Phillips, puts it like this: "The first half of the [20th] century saw a strengthened impact of
British, or rather English, culture on New Zealanders. In state schools the values and practices (such as the
playing of rugby) of England's public schools were introduced; and much of the culture - the books imported,
the headlines on the newspaper cable page . came out of London. The purveyors of these cultural
commodities quite consciously directed their influence at the minds of the population. We were encouraged
to see ourselves as `the Empire's finest sons', who in South Africa, Gallipoli and Flanders had revealed
themselves to be (in Jock Phillips chilling phrase) `the eugenic saviours of the Anglo-Saxon race'."

In other words, the architects of "New Zealand" in the early years of the 20th-century were the tiny clusters
of politicians, bureaucrats and businessmen who were growing fat off the dependent economic relationship
between Britain and her South Seas farm. Our national identity, and the institutions which order our
relationships, are the tainted legacy of a self-interested colonial elite.

Last weekend, in the Legislative Council chamber of Parliament, 100 New Zealanders were invited by the
Institute of Policy Studies to participate in a conference entitled "Building the Constitution". The stated
purpose of the conference was to "shape the debate" which has been growing in legal circles and among
Maori on the adequacy of New Zealand's constitutional architecture.

The patterns of power inherited from the 19th and early 20th-centuries, according to the reformers, are no
longer relevant to the lives of most New Zealanders. It is time to renovate the national home; to make room
for those who have been excluded, and to give its inhabitants more space to express themselves.

Those participating in the conference were drawn overwhelmingly from the worlds of academia and
business. This was probably inevitable - who else possessed the resources to begin such a daunting process?
But the task of reconstructing "New Zealand" cannot be left to such an unrepresentative collection of New
Zealanders.

If we are to avoid the constraints imposed on us by the elites of the past, the debate initiated at last
weekend's conference must be open to all. The fate of the Australian republican referendum stands as a
stark warning to anyone foolish enough to deny the people the central role in re-constituting themselves.

  Chris Trotter is editor of the New Zealand Political Review.

Prester John's Talk of the Times
  South Otago scow. . .

A CLAIM that Portland, the scow for sale at Pounawea ( ODT , 7.4.00), is believed to be the only
remaining floating vessel of its type in the country has prompted several calls advising to the contrary.
Readers have mentioned at least three other ships still afloat and another in Picton, Echo, which is out of the
water and being used as a clubrooms. 

  . . . not the last. . .

OF the floating examples of shallow-draught cargo vessels, the best is probably Te Aroha , a wonderful old
scow built in 1909 for the Wairoa and Mohaka Shipping Company. I came to know it after spending several
nights aboard on a Hauraki Gulf cruise in the mid-1980s when it was rigged as a schooner and operated out
of Auckland as a tourist gulf cruiser by husband and wife team Mike and Dee Pigneguy.

  . . . of its type. . .

THE 30-metre long ship had an association with the South too, serving as a Stewart Island ferry in the late
1970s. For much of its life, it carried cargo for farmers in the Hawkes Bay and later, based in Wellington and
Nelson, made more than 5000 crossings of Cook Strait. As Ted King, of Harington Point, advises, it is now
based at Dargaville and continues in the tourist trade making trips up the Wairoa River and on Kaipara
Harbour.

  . . . still afloat

OF other vessels mentioned, Alma , at Hokianga, and Jane Gifford, at Waiuku, although being restored by
preservation groups, are thought to be in a poor state. The New Zealand National Maritime Museum
magazine Bearings (Autumn 1990) lists two other scows - Owhiti , at Opua, which was rigged but not in
use, and Suc cess , last heard of at Pauanui, powered but not rigged. The maritime museum is home to a
replica scow, Ted Ashby , built about 15 years ago and which museum visitors can ride on for $10. 

  Crumbs!

DUNEDIN woman Christine Philip came up with a winning idea last year for a millennium biscuit. Now, the
biscuit's makers, Griffins, have sent samples of the chocolate-coated Anzac biscuit to 100 world leaders,
including the Queen, the Pope and American President Bill Clinton. 

  Cockney tale

FOLLOWING the Cockney rhyming slang series in this column, Lorraine Miller, of Owaka, found this
paragraph on the subject in an old cordon bleu cook book: "It's very likely that we will find our Cockney hero
in the local taking the weight off his plates of meat (feet) over a pint of pig's ear (beer), or perhaps a tot of
Tom Thumb (rum). But come bird lime (closing time), he will pay up his bees and honey (money) and go
home. There, he'll toss off his tit for tat (titfer, hat), take off his almond rocks (socks) and jump into his Uncle
Ned (bed). He'll close his mince pies (eyes) in the happy knowledge that next morning he'll be woken by his
love and kisses (missus) bringing him a cup of Rosy Lea (tea), with the smell of a pair of frying Jack the
Rippers (kippers) wafting up the apple and pears (stairs)".

  Writer's motto

I LOVE deadlines, especially the sound they make as they go swooshing by.

  Story ideas

To contact Talk of the Times

Phone 03 477 4760

Fax 03 474 7422

PO Box 181 Dunedin

E-mail

prester.john@alliedpress.co.nz


Economic future still rests on
                  primary produce 

                            Emeritus professor and former chairman of marketing at
                                    the University of Otago GUENTHER
                            MUELLER-HEUMANN reckons New Zealand needs to
                               become a world-beater in primary products niche
                            marketing. Prof Mueller-Heumann is now an Auckland
                                              business adviser.

                          WHAT has happened to this little country? On my arrival in 1975 from
                          Cold War-threatened and divided Germany, every third sentence good
                          Kiwis uttered was "She'll be right, mate."

                          Since then a lot has not been right. When have you last heard this
                          expression? Are we doomed? I believe not if we realise more clearly
                          where we have come from and that our way into the future is quite
                          different from almost all of the other OECD countries.

                          When the United Kingdom joined the EEC (as the EU was called in
                          those days) in 1973, it was clear the happy-go-lucky way of running a
                          business in New Zealand, especially an export business to the UK, would
                          soon not be possible. The cosy relationship that existed between the UK
                          and New Zealand had to come to an end. 

                          The UK had, after centuries of "splendid isolation", finally become an
                          integral part of Europe, leaving its former colonies out in the cold. Before,
                          British firms were well-represented here. They bought commodities like
                          meat from Kiwi farmers at a "fair price", did a minimum of processing in
                          their own freezing works here and then sent the product to the UK. 

                          There, at one stage, almost 30,000 British-owned retail butcher shops
                          added value to the meat by cutting it up for retail customers, the financial
                          value-added benefits often going to the same companies which owned
                          the works in New Zealand - but not into the pockets of the New Zealand
                          farmer. Soon after 1973, many of the colonial racketeers left New
                          Zealand. The country that many New Zealanders called "home" became
                          a very distant cousin.

                          Even state-control freak Robert Muldoon was probably praying in the
                          mid-to-late-1970s that the British Labour Party would win the UK
                          elections because it promised to take the UK out of the EEC if they won.
                          Everything could then revert to normal. They did not win. 

                          In this situation, after more than 100 years of the colonial umbilical cord
                          feeding the young country reasonably well, few realised the revolutionary
                          change that the British move into the EEC meant for New Zealand.
                          Simply put, this little country did not realise for almost 10 years after 1973
                          it would have to stand on its own feet. Muldoon tried to leave everything
                          in place, even borrowing long-term from overseas for the short-term
maintenance of the old economic structure.

In the early 1980s, companies increasingly woke up to the new facts of business life. But many of the
financial resources that would have been available for changing the direction of the economy in 1973 had
been squandered in the meantime. 

When Roger Douglas in 1984 dished out his radical dose of extreme right-wing Thatcherism, cutely called
"Rogernomics" to make the Labour Government of David Lange look not too silly, the shock was complete.
Many business people did not know what to do, having been conditioned by years of state control, trained to
listen to Wellington rather than to the market. Still in the middle of the Rogernomics shock, 1987 squashed
any hope of an early recovery.

It is important to remember that farmers recovered first, not manufacturing. Why? Because New Zealand is
not a normal OECD country. Much of the advice from imported gurus from industrial manufacturing
countries is hopelessly flawed.

New Zealand is an "upside-down economy" because of the reversed relevance of economic sectors. In
almost all OECD countries, the industrial manufacturing sector is dominant and therefore of primary
importance for the welfare of the economy. Manufacturing - old or new - generates enough taxes to allow
many governments to subsidise agriculture. 

In contrast, in New Zealand the primary sector is of primary importance. Manufacturing comes a distant
third behind the tertiary sector (eg, tourism). Expecting the third, the smallest engine, to create a turnaround
is, well . . . expecting the tail to wag the dog. 

The leading primary sector export organisation, the Dairy Board, is many times the size of the total
manufacturing export sector. The New Zealand Dairy Board, with a turnover of around $7 billion
world-wide, represents about one quarter of all exports. 

The big lift should come from there. And it could. The dairy industry has announced the combined and
deregulated forces of the two big dairy co-ops could be expected to give the New Zealand dairy industry a
lift of up to $30 billion in the medium term. That should be front-page news. This sum translates into an
increase of our national income by more than one quarter, or almost one third of the average wage, certainly
a boost for the 17,000-odd dairy farmers. 

This is a lot more solid for us here than having new hi-tech industries turning around our fortunes. This is not
to say we should not push the "knowledge economy". It is exciting to see companies like the Aoraki
Corporation (Jade) score wonderful international successes; it is nice to see a small number of Kiwi
"dot-com" millionaires emerging; it is great to see in-part hi-tech successes like the America's Cup. But even
combined, all those successes could not give us a strategic lift like the one expected from the "milk solids"
industry - and in a similar way from other primary sector products. Why has this not happened earlier?

Commodity trading creates a business culture that cannot easily be changed into profitable modern
marketing. Commodity trading, similar to market theory in economics, is totally different from the world of
modern marketing. Commodity trading is selling standardised "unmanufactured" produce on price in a market
where the price is more or less set. Commodity trading is exposing yourself to the sometimes violent ups and
downs in price cycles. In New Zealand, the lack of profitability from commodity trading should be seen as a
punishment for not adopting the much more complex strategies of modern marketing.

Modern marketing is a business philosophy which starts with understanding what different customers want
and competently providing a differentiated offer to selected target customer groups or individuals for one
important purpose: to get away from vicious price competition as much as possible by offering a better
product or service. 

Much of the modern marketing techniques were developed in the US during an historical situation of mass
marketing. This is not what New Zealand needs. What we need is an understanding of niche marketing,
because whatever we do we will be small players in any sizeable overseas market with any differentiated
product or service. The only historical exception to this is the rather large one-third share our Anchor butter
has in the UK of the "yellow fats" market.

To become a world beater in niche marketing, New Zealand needs to become a world leader in the research
and development of niche marketing technology. Marketing academics, trainers and consultants have to
become smarter than just regurgitating US mass marketing concepts and textbooks, or following their gurus.
Neither in our domestic markets nor in our export markets do we have the economies of scale necessary for
successful mass marketing.

In the world of niche marketing, New Zealand primary sector explorers also have to be more culturally
sensitive, more "CS" than their US mass marketing counterparts. Coco-Cola, KFC, McDonald's and the like
can afford to standardise their marketing because their values include a strong missionary element of "what
is good for the US is good for the world". 

New Zealand marketers cannot operate in such a fashion. Successful niche marketing works by
understanding the differences among cultures and life-styles, not from expansive religion-like concepts.

Already the dairy industry, which is clearly the leading light in our quest for wealth from exporting, has
shown remarkable achievements. The spreadable butter is but one example; it sells at a much higher price
than normal butter. Then there is a brand called Anlene, a natural calcium-enriched milk formulation, which
is a roaring success as an anti-osteoporosis remedy in Asia. And there are many more consumer and
industrial milk-based products which have emanated from what was a dreary commodity trading organisation
until the early 1980s.

The challenge for New Zealand export businesses is not one of blindly adopting hi-tech trends, jumping on a
huge bandwagon which left the station in rich countries 10 years ago. The challenge is to climb out of our
many commodity traps and start adopting professional modern marketing strategies. 

Achieving niche market leadership status in export markets will give us the lift we have all been hoping for.

New ways of seeing ourselves 

IT IS always very peculiar to see yourself through other people's eyes. About this time last year, a Chinese
man pointed at the mole on my cheek and said: "You could get that cut out by plastic surgery very cheaply." 

I was surprised and insulted. Not only had I never considered this mole unsightly, I was actually proud of it.
Most of my family has this mole on their left cheek. It is a family mole.

He saw a disfigurement; I saw a sign of belonging to my family.

He backed away, probably unwilling to suggest we could get a group discount. Later I went and looked at it
in the mirror and for a second I saw a big mole on my cheek. That's what I mean about the surprise of
suddenly seeing another way of looking at yourself. Then it turned back into a family symbol.

Last week, my class stayed the night at the university marae and we all had to stand up and give a mihi, a
formal introduction. The mihi is designed to introduce a person by covering the most culturally important
things Maori want to know about a stranger.

Our teacher had given us a stylised mihi and we just had to fill in the blanks. It included our waka, mountain,
river, iwi (tribe), hapu (sub-tribe), marae, place of residence, own name and names of parents.

It felt very odd to be introducing myself with some information that I hadn't ever thought relevant to my
identity. 

The more I thought about it the more I liked the idea of introducing myself by my association with geographic
features around my home town.

I am a Deep South girl first and foremost. I feel at home in any Otago-Southland landscape. When I was
away overseas, I used to get homesick for the land. I would have dreams of walking along the South Otago
coastline and chasing seagulls. I missed the green sheep-covered hills and blazing Southland sunsets even
more than I missed my family.

So naming geographical features as part of my identity wasn't a problem. In fact, I appreciated having my
connection with them understood. Naming my waka wasn't a problem either; I know which boat my
ancestors arrived in Dunedin on. But it doesn't really mean anything important to me that it was that one and
not another a month later. 

I can see how it could be part of your identity: if your family arrived in a new country on John Wickliffe ,
Prince of Wales or Mayflower , then it would become part of your identity. There are exclusive
associations in Australia and America for descendants of "first fleeters". 

But for the rest of my class, defining your identity by how you arrived in New Zealand was a new concept.
Some families had flown in 20 years prior and hadn't given the plane another thought once through customs.
They felt a little uncomfortable now giving their Boeing 747 a special mention.

The most peculiar part of seeing myself through the eyes of the mihi was looking at my family. It was
impossible to identify my iwi and hapu. My Pakeha family structure did not fit into the mihi no matter how I
squeezed it. Some people said their iwi was Ngati Pakeha, but that doesn't feel like an iwi to me.

It felt very peculiar to think that in the mihi's terms I didn't have a people or a meeting place. It made me feel
very isolated, despite the closeness of my extended family.

It was even more impossible to name a marae (though I toyed briefly with the idea of naming Carisbrook).

Seeing myself through other eyes makes me think more about who I am, and what aspects I choose when I
introduce myself to people. In fact, once you start thinking about it, it really is wonderful the extraordinary
variety of symbols people use to express their identity.

General New Zealand society is really pretty dull to reduce so much of our public identity to our occupation.
Just think how cool it would be if we introduced ourselves with some completely different social system.
Inherited physical characteristics, for instance. I'd love to shake hands with people and say: "Hi, I'm Jane and
this is our mole. Everyone in my family had this mole on their cheek. We are very proud of it. Who are
you?"" 

  Margot-Jane Smith is a Wellington student.

Of choirs, hymns and those hats 

LIKE many of my generation, I sometimes listen to the radio programme Hymns For Sunday Morning.
Most of the tunes are familiar and, to my surprise, I seem to remember many of the words. 

This is, of course, because Sunday School and church were an important part of our upbringing. Even
children whose parents rarely parked themselves in a pew were sent off to Sunday School - with a penny for
the plate and a clean hanky.

Since those days, many of us have been guilty of putting ribald words to familiar hymn tunes. I can recall
route marches when lusty singing of Jesus Wants Me For A Sunbeam included phrases not supplied by the
original writer. Another children's hymn to get the treatment was Hear The Pennies Dropping .

But, getting back to the broadcasting of hymns, one is able to listen to some of the best choirs in the world, as
well as a few indifferent ones which are slotted in to give a bit of local flavour. There are also some splendid
unnamed soloists as well as celebrities like Kenneth McKellar.

Years ago, I sang in church choirs myself, in cassock and surplice and also in ordinary clothes. For many
years, only Anglican and Roman Catholic choirs were robed. The nonconformist churches avoided any
indication that they might be following in the Establishment footsteps. This meant that the men wore dark
suits and conservative ties and the women wore dresses or suits - called costumes in my youth. The ladies
also wore hats.

Just as no woman would go to town without hat and gloves, so no woman would enter a church without a
hat. This had something to do with hiding a woman's "crowning glory", her hair, but it led to an element of
competition in both congregation and choir.

While the almost inevitable reedy tenor had no way of drawing attention to himself apart from prolonging a
note or singing loudly in a pianissimo passage, the most indifferent soprano could make her presence felt
without even opening her mouth. Female choristers were rarely dowdy and often flamboyant. Some hats
were truly spectacular.

I still have a vision of a purple hat trimmed with a bunch of cherries which I saw in a New Plymouth church
some 70 years ago. The face and the name of the wearer have vanished but the hat lives on in memory. I
have to say that I greatly prefer the uniformity and comparative anonymity of cassock and surplice to bright
colours and eye-catching hats - but listening to the radio it matters not at all.

  Gordon Parry is a Dunedin writer and broadcaster.

Everest expedition a challenge for teenager 

By Dianne King

Alexandra: Sport coaching at high altitude levels in villages in the Mount Everest region is a challenging
assignment for Millers Flat teenager Sally Murphy (16), one of two Otago student members of a youth
expedition to the area.

The New Zealand Youth to Everest expeditions, which were originally involved with pollution control in the
region, have recommenced after a lapse of seven years. A contingent of 41 will leave New Zealand at
midnight tonight.

Sally, a Roxburgh Area School student, said the lure of overseas travel tempted her. She had travelled
extensively within New Zealand, but this was her first overseas trip.

As well as tutoring young Sherpas in English, she will be introducing them to New Zealand sports, including
touch rugby. She has been tramping the hills and running the roads around Millers Flat to keep up her fitness
and prepare for a huge leap in altitude living.

Millers Flat is 68m above sea level. Two of the villages where the expedition will spend time are Nanche, at
3440m, and Thyangboche, at 3860m.

The expedition, with 41 members, including 10 adults, an expedition doctor and two journalists, will spend
nearly three weeks in the Everest region. The 2000 expedition will be also involved in establishing a library in
the remote village of Sano Gumela.

Students from 20 schools throughout New Zealand are represented. Lucy Jopp, from St Hildas College, is
the other Otago expedition member.

The expedition members must equip themselves with everyday environmentally safe commodities, including
toilet paper.

For the last year, Sally has worked after school and at weekends at a Roxburgh supermarket to raise the
necessary $7000, which was topped up by a private donation and one from the Millers Flat branch of Rural
Women New Zealand.

Life is all go for the Millers Flat teenager, who was advised on Tuesday she had been accepted for a New
Zealand Army telecommunications engineering course. Immediately after her return on April 27, she will
pack another kit-bag and leave home and school for Burnham Camp on May 8.

Prester John's Talk of the Times
  Anagrams. . .

THE arrival of a series of anagrams (sent via the Internet, of course) intrigued me and set me
wondering how people find the time for such complicated wordplay. Previously, I have sprinkled
some of the single-word anagrams in this column. A few others include mother-in-law (woman
Hitler), evangelist (evil's agent), Ronald Wilson Reagan (Insane Anglo warlord), Western union (no
wire unsent) and eleven plus two (twelve plus one).

  . . . to amaze

BUT one of the most incredible is an anagram of the following famous (partial) quote from
Shakespeare's Hamlet : "To be or not to be: that is the question: whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the
slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. . .". The amazing anagram of this is: In one of the Bard's
best-thought-of tragedies, our insistent hero, Hamlet, questions on two fronts about how life turns rotten.

  Palindromes. . .

WORDPLAY has a long history. The ancient Greeks, for instance, often inscribed the following palindrome
(a sentence that reads the same backwards as forwards) on fountains: Nispon anomimata mi monan opsin
. It translates as "wash the sin as well as the face".

  . . . to ponder

THE word palindrome, according to Bill Bryson's Mother Tongue , is said to have been first used by English
dramatist and poet Ben Jonson in 1629. Palindromes are notoriously difficult to concoct, especially good ones
that make much sense. Perhaps the most famous, and one of the best, is: A man, a plan, a canal, Panama!

  Not forgetting. . .

ACCORDING to a Gallup poll, crosswords are the world's most popular sedentary pastime. The first
newspaper crossword, containing just 32 clues, appeared on December 21, 1913, in the New York World . It
was thought up as a space-filler by Arthur Wynne, an expatriate Englishman. The crossword became a
regular feature in World , although other publications did not copy it until 1924 when Simon and Schuster
published a volume of crossword puzzles that became an immediate hit.

  . . . clever crosswords

REMARKABLE though it may seem now, venerable newspapers resisted crosswords, refusing to accept
them as more than a passing fad. The Times of London published its first in 1930 and the New York Times
held out until 1942. English crosswords are notoriously difficult, full of various types of wordplay, but the
Guinness Book of Records lists Roy Dean as completing The Times crossword in 1970, under test
conditions, in just 3 minutes 45 seconds.

  Quick quip

OTHER types of wordplay rely on intentional and clever ambiguity, and there are some amusing examples in
history. A well-known one is the restaurant sign, "Customers who think our waiters are rude should see the
manager". And 19th-century British politician Benjamin Disraeli is said to have replied to an aspiring author:
"Thank you so much for the book. I shall lose no time in reading it."

  Stiff competition

DID anyone other than John Noble, of Mosgiel, notice the car driven by Mike Bliss in the Nascar motor
series at the weekend was sponsored by Viagra?

Reading myths distract from
              real issues of debate 

Gore Main School principal and president of the New Zealand Education Institute
DARRELL WARD looks past the rhetoric and reviews the facts in the learning-to-read
debate.

AFTER a number of articles on how some children are failing to read, people might be puzzled that
Education Minister Trevor Mallard "has little confidence" that the education and science select committee's
inquiry will add something worthwhile. 

The minister points out that two major reports with recommendations were presented last year, one from a
group of New Zealand's literacy experts, the other from a literacy task force composed of teachers or
people working successfully with children considered at most risk of failure. 

Act New Zealand MP Donna Awatere-Huata, in a recent Focus on Politics radio interview, condemned
these reports because the 20 members of the task force and 10 literary experts could not all agree on one
position, and because they were "mainly academics". This not only ignores the membership of the task force,
but is a dangerous form of anti-intellectualism, typecasting academics as ignorant of real life. 

The teaching of reading is an academic subject, as well as a practical one. When it is discussed in the media,
people can be easily swayed by personal stories, however unrepresentative, while genuine research looks
boring. We would not want medicines approved by gathering personal anecdotes; we demand rigorous
testing - by academics - to assure us that the theory works. Reading deserves quality of input from both
practising professionals and academics. 

In its summary of the current situation, the literary task force reported that "in general, New Zealand children
are successful readers and writers compared with children from countries with similar or better
socio-economic conditions". This conclusion is supported by previous reports. The agency which administers
an international comparison of reading put New Zealand among the highest achievers in English-speaking
countries in both 1970 and 1990. The National Education Monitoring Report 1996 stated that "approximately
80% were at or above the levels we regarded as normal for their year at school". 

The myth has grown up that reading recovery shows 20% of all children are failing, but that is a
misinterpretation of what reading recovery sets out to do. As educationalist Warwick Elley has explained, the
bottom group in each school is selected for extra help - not the bottom group by any absolute standard. The
literacy task force recommended that reading recovery programmes be targeted only to those children in
greatest need, particularly in lower decile schools and to apply it more flexibly. 

There is, therefore, no evidence for the often-repeated claim that teaching standards are falling or that our
children aren't learning to read. In particular, none of the reports has suggested replacing "whole language"
teaching with phonics. The literary task force recommends that teachers select appropriate strategies,
including phonics, particularly with struggling readers. This is already the strategy used by successful
schools. 

Just as in medicine, it is tempting to go for quick-fix solutions - the phonics pill - which will get everyone
reading. But, the reports emphasise that good teaching is made up of a wide variety of skills and "best
practices"; that there is no need for a radical shift in approach, particularly to one extreme or other of an
argument, which associate Prof Stuart McNaughton, head of the literacy experts group, describes as a "tired
debate" which has served its purpose. 

Mr Mallard's view is that the research has been done and it is now time to implement the decisions of the
task force rather than go through another review. While the reports recommended "refocusing" rather than
radical changes, they also identified areas where significant action is urgently needed. 

The task force reported that Maori children, and those whose first language was not English, performed
significantly below the national average. Children in low-decile schools (where there are many Pacific Island
and Maori children) also perform badly. Our teaching, according to the report, is "far less effective" for these
groups. Prof McNaughton separately comments that "there are large significant differences on entry to
school between Pakeha and Maori children and between Pakeha and Pacific Island children". 

There are also significant differences on entry between children in decile 1-3 schools compared to schools in
wealthier areas. In other words, the children are entering far less well equipped to learn. These conclusions
were also reported by the international agency. 

We should be putting our energies into assisting the specific groups who are not benefiting from the system.
Alliance MP Liz Gordon, who chairs the education and science select committee, also acknowledges that the
problem is not necessarily in schools but in society itself. 

"Middle class parents actually have nothing to worry about", she says. "If they're middle class, they're failing
to read because they have some specified special need". Ms Gordon's concern is for children in South
Auckland, Northland and the East Coast. 

Prof McNaughton shows that this the well documented gap between rich and poor, Pakeha and
Maori/Pacific Islander can't be attributed to changes or reform in teaching practices since the 1970s. There
is no evidence, anywhere, that the performance of Maori or Pacific Island children has dropped in that
period. It is only recently that their performance has been measured separately. 

We don't need another review or select committee to tell us what the issues are. We do need the ministerial
staffing review to look at what resources are available and determine whether they are targeted
appropriately. For instance, is the reading recovery resource being spread so thinly that its impact is
lessened? Are present numbers of resource teachers of reading able to meet the requests made for their
expert assistance? What is the impact on literacy teaching of teacher development opportunities such as
reading recovery training? The first wave of literacy teaching is a high quality first year programme. Are the
class numbers at a reasonable level to let teachers meet all year one children's needs? 

Children learn to read by reading. Funding and support for a range of fresh approaches, involving schools
communities and families are needed. Projects such as "feed the mind" and "books in homes" are a start.
Less rhetoric about falling standards and poor teaching, more emphasis on encouragement, resourcing and
celebrating the achievements of our learners and their schools is the way forward.

Perfect new radio host breaks mould of public
                              perceptions 

HAVING judged that a decent interval has passed after all the bloodletting over the dumping of Brian
Edwards, Radio New Zealand finally unveils his successor as host of the Top of the Morning Saturday
show. 

Reversing the usual flow of traffic from sound to pictures, Radio New Zealand comes up with an established
television personality, John Campbell, and braces itself for the reaction of the faithful. The nervousness is
palpable. No sooner is his identity revealed than the rest of the media feel compelled to go on an intensive
hunt to find something distinctive, let alone controversial, to say about the chap. 

Is he politically right for this kind of role, having worked as a television presenter, better known in devoted
National Radio circles as a grossly overpaid autocue reader? Answer: he is a modestly paid part-time
autocue reader who wants to broaden his range by working for considerably less than Edwards, in the real
medium of radio.

Is he better or worse than Edwards? Answer: he wouldn't dare to consider himself competing with Edwards
for whom he has utterly enduring respect.

Does Edwards think he is better or worse? Answer: Edwards archly refuses to offer an opinion and
announces to the diminishing army of conspiracy theorists who still want him back that he has lost National
Radio's frequency and doesn't listen any more.

Surely someone who has sold his soul to television newsreading can't be really au fait with the substance of
the issues that exercise national radio day and night and which are ignored by television in favour of populist
pap? Answer: how wrong can you get? Campbell turns out to be as astute a political journalist as anyone
already on Radio New Zealand's books and with an impressive track record in rattling the political cages on
behalf of TV3.

It becomes painfully evident that he is tried and tested when it comes to serious current affairs broadcasting.

Drawing what can only be considered a series of blanks on the professional front the media turns its
attention to Campbell's private life. Surely, being an established television personality he must have a sackful
of personal angst? Somewhere there must be a trail of scandalous liaisons, peculiar nocturnal habits, perhaps
even a worthwhile deviancy or two? 

How annoying to discover not even a single reference in that great bibliography of personal heartache and
tragedy, the women's weeklies.

In spite of regular blandishments from each of these windgauges of stardom for the right to peer inside his
private life, Campbell, it seems, has provided nothing but the mundane on that perilous front. So mundane is
his private life that the women's magazines have despaired of ever coming up with anything that is halfway
acceptable as worthwhile copy on Campbell for readers whose tolerance of the banality of normality has
reached dangerously low levels.

Not to put too fine a point on it, Campbell is a great disappointment all round. He seems incapable of
incivility. His interviewing style is woefully short on knock-down, drag out aggression. He has the effrontery
to actually like listening to people's opinions and to prefer dialogue to confrontation.

Worse still, he can't offer up anything like a busted marriage, a penchant for the bottle, or little boys, or even
a prostate problem as a status symbol. He can't seem to dress like a real star, preferring conventional dark
suits and even ties, has no designer stubble or sunglasses above the forehead.

In short, he appears to be everyman rather than somebody. Nothing much to declare except his talent.

Can this signal the end of entertainment in current affairs?

  Chris Laidlaw is a Wellington writer, former All Black, diplomat, and politician.

Our Arrowtown correspondent wires that the rough and wet weather of last week ceased on Saturday last,
and turned to mild and even warm. All the low-lying snow disappeared gradually. At present more rain is
threatening.

Five candidates have been nominated for the vacant seat on the Education Board - Mr J. C. Arbuckle, Mr J.
M. E. Garrow, Mr R. W. Glendinning, Mr F. W. Knight, and Mr W. Nicolson. The voting by school
committees will take place in the next fortnight.

A general meeting of the Dunedin Starr-Bowkett Building Society was held in the Oddfellows' Hall, Stuart
Street, last night, when there were about 100 shareholders present. Mr J. H. Chapman, chairman of
directors, presided. In accordance with a notice of motion. Mr Cohen proposed the alteration of the rule
relating to the method of voting for directors and auditors, and this was carried with slight alterations. The
37th appropriation of 500 pounds was then disposed of by ballot, cluster No. 146, held by two shareholders
being the winning number.

So hard is it to get carpenters at present on the West Coast owing to so many being employed building
pontoons for dredges, that one contractor on the Buller River who is paying the men he has from 12s to 14s
per day, recently expressed his willingness (the Press says) to pay 18s per day to experienced shipwrights
from Otago.

V8 Jeep has `grunt' to take on
                         competitors 

Big, powerful V8 engines in four-wheel-drives are as American as apple pie.

So it was somewhat incongruous that the archetypal American sports utility, the Jeep, was only ever sold in
New Zealand with a six-cylinder motor

That all changed last year when Jeep New Zealand launched the latest Grand Cherokee - the ultimate in its
four-wheel-drive line-up.

The Laredo, the "base model" still had the six cylinder, but the Grand Cherokee Limited had a new 4.7-litre,
overhead camshaft V8 engine.

At last, the Grand Cherokee had the fire-power to compete head on with the Range Rover and Mercedes
Benz M-Class V8. It also seemed, somehow, to fit the Jeep image better than a six-cylinder engine.

The new engine from Chrysler-Jeep retains a cast-iron cylinder block, but uses multi-point fuel injection,
aluminium cylinder heads, hollow camshafts, magnesium rocker covers and a plastic composite intake to
reduce weight.

We get the clean, green version of the engine which is set up to meet Californian low emission regulations.
As such it produces 162kW in power and 390Nm in torque. In the "dirty" version, there is 13kW more
power.

Even in its sanitised form, the V8 is capable of propelling the almost two tonne Limited from 0-100kph in
around 8 seconds and on to a calculated top speed of 195 kph. Fuel use is a credible average of around
12L/100km.

The V8 gets a five-speed automatic transmission as standard, although in effect the box has two second
gears. The electronic brain selects whichever second gear is needed according to the circumstances, so
monitoring the gear changes can be somewhat confusing: "No, sir, you have not been short-changed. There
are five gears, you just hear four."

Forget about the old American heavyweight V8s with their low-down grunt, but hatred of revs. The Jeep V8
still has the delightful V8 rumble, but pulls strongly right through its range and is more than happy operating at
the top end as it is low down.

With the smooth shifting transmission and an uncanny long-legged ability, the V8 transforms the Jeep into a
comfortable and luxurious long-distance cruiser.

Overtaking is no problem; just boot the accelerator and the Jeep will storm past slower traffic.

Permanent four wheel drive helps its on-road performance as well. The V8 Cherokee uses Jeep's latest
adaptive four-wheel-drive system, Quadra-Trac II. This system monitors each wheel, and apportions the
drive accordingly.

To help fuel consumption, under normal circumstances it will direct drive to the rear wheels. Hit a sticky
situation, either on or off-road, and the system picks the wheels with the most grip.

In realistic terms, it also serves as a form of traction control, controlling the massive amount of power the V8
is capable of delivering to the wheels and keeping the Jeep on-line when cornering.

Jeep has stuck with the strong and "off-road cred" live axle suspension at the front and rear, along with
recirculating ball and nut, power-assisted steering when most other sports utilities are heading down the
independent suspension, rack and pinion track.

But you would hardly notice. Ride is in luxury car class and handling is surprisingly good. Although there is
some body roll through the corners, and the steering is not as communicative straight ahead, Jeep has shown
that with the right engineering a live axle suspension is still capable.

In truth, some of the Grand's roadholding abilities can be put down to the four-wheel-drive system, but the
engineering in totality works.

Ventilated front discs and solid discs at the rear, coupled to an anti-lock system hauls the heavy Jeep to a
stop via a progressive pedal without drama. The system also has electronic brake force distribution, which
switches the most stopping power to the wheels providing the best braking force.

Off-road, the Grand Cherokee retains its credibility, although there have been some trade-offs between
styling and off-road ability. In its road-test form, ground clearance is not as much as a Land Rover
Discovery or Toyota Landcruiser, so the ultimate four-wheel-drive expedition is better left to the experts.

But for its target market, your standard V8 Limited will more than meet the demands placed on it, and
becomes almost foolproof in amateur hands through its "smart" four-wheel-drive system.

For those who want to get even more serious, Jeep has launched an up-country version of the V8 Limited
which lifts the height of the vehicle, improving ground clearance.

From a styling point of view, although the Grand Cherokee is all new, it is also very Jeep. The heavy chrome,
six-spoke grille has gone on the Limited, to be replaced by a more subdued, colour-keyed one.

In fact, in spite of its American origins, the new Grand Cherokee is surprisingly free of chrome. Its softer
lines and more curved panels are enough to satisfy both genders.

The new body has also answered critics who found the Grand Cherokee's interior somewhat lacking for
room, particularly in the rear, although it still remains a five-seater, accommodating five large adults.

Interestingly, feedback from Grand Cherokee owners asked to keep the dimensions of the new model about
the same, but make the inside bigger.

With the Grand Cherokee Limited, the Jeep owner lacks for nothing and assembly quality is superb -
right-hand-drive Jeeps come from an Austrian plant that also assembles Mercedes Benz models.

It matches luxury cars for its trim, which includes wood veneer through to lashings of leather and has quality
carpets and vinyl.

Seating tends to be soft, but fits all sizes and is surprisingly comfortable. The Limited has electrically
adjustable front seats, with memory.

The dual climate-controlled air conditioning has infrared sensors that measures the body temperature of the
front-seat passengers, and adjusts the temperature accordingly.

High-end Gold Infinity speakers complement a superb sound system which includes a 10-disc CD player. 

But the ultimate touches of luxury were the "his and her" keys. "He" and "she" can tailor the radio settings,
seating position and security system to his and her individual needs.

When the key is inserted, the vehicle responds and, without the driver touching a button, it reconfigures itself
to personal settings.

Delicious, mealy lentil mixes 

Dried lentils with their mild taste and
slight earthiness are used extensively
in Middle Eastern and Asian cooking.
The distinguishing characteristic of
lentils is their colour. Small, split red
lentils, with their subtle, spicy flavour,
cook to a soft puree. These
orangey-red lentils originated in India
and form the basis of the Indian dish
dhal. The larger, brown lentil has a
bland nutty flavour and retains its
shape when cooked.

These are the two most common and readily
available varieties in New Zealand. Recently,
however, the highly regarded Puy lentil, tiny
and dark green from Le Puy in France, has
been imported. It too remains intact after cooking. Shop around for Puy lentils. I paid $20 a kilo for my first
purchase and, a week later, discovered them in an organic food shop for$4.95 a kilo.

Lentils may be cooked separately, so that their flavours remain distinct, and served simply with a knob of
butter or a dash of olive oil. I like to combine them with strongly flavoured ingredients - vegetables such as
onions, garlic and tomatoes, meats like duck, bacon and sausages, richly spiced sauces and sharply acidic
salad dressings. The lentils' mealy texture absorbs and mingles deliciously with these distinctive flavourings.

Lentils are one of the most easily digested pulses and a good source of vegetable protein. They do not need
soaking prior to cooking but careful washing is required to eliminate small stones and grit. Gentle simmering
and a minimum of stirring are necessary to keep them intact.

Lentil and Kumera Salad with Walnut and Maple Syrup

                                     Dressing

I used the green Puy lentils for this salad and the contrast between the dark green pulses and the deep
apricot coloured kumera is pleasing. This is best made several hours ahead, allowing time for the wonderfully
compatible flavours of walnut and maple syrup to permeate through.

Pure maple syrup is readily available at supermarkets. Do not use maple flavoured syrup. Walnut oil can be
purchased in 250ml bottles in some supermarkets with gourmet food sections.

1 cup Puy or brown lentils (200g)

1 medium onion, stuck with eight cloves

2 cloves garlic, lightly bruised with the flat of a knife

450g golden kumera, peeled and cut into chunks

2-3 spring onions, finely chopped

                                     Dressing

2 Tbsp white wine vinegar

1 1/2 Tbsp pure maple syrup

1/4 cup walnut oil

1/4 tsp salt

As the dressing needs to be tossed through the lentils and kumera while they are still warm, make the
dressing first or prepare it while the lentils are cooking. Place all the dressing ingredients in a screw top jar
and shake thoroughly to combine. Set aside.

Wash and drain the lentils, place with onion and garlic in a saucepan and cover generously with water. Cover
with lid and bring slowly to the boil. Reduce heat and simmer gently until tender (lentils are likely to
disintegrate with vigorous boiling). Test for doneness after 15-20 minutes.

When tender, drain into a sieve or colander, discarding onion and garlic.

While still warm, pour about half of the dressing over the lentils and stir gently to combine.

Either microwave or steam the kumera until just tender, taking care not to overcook. Allow to cool a little
and cut into 2cm cubes.

While it is still warm, pour some of the remaining dressing over the kumera. Toss carefully.

Gently combine the lentils and kumera in a bowl, adding more dressing if necessary. Refrigerate until needed
and allow to come to room temperature before serving. Stir in the spring onions.

Serves 4-5.

                            Beef, Lentil and Ginger Casserole

I have adapted this recipe from the latest edition of my book The New Zealand Crockpot Cookbook .
Lentils combined with meat and baked slowly in a covered casserole make a delicious and robust one-course
meal. Although hearty fare, this dish has lovely fresh orange and ginger flavours. If preferred, substitute lean
lamb for the beef.

800g blade steak, cubed

1 onion, finely chopped

2 cloves garlic, crushed

1/4 cup finely chopped sundried tomatoes in oil, well drained

3 cups good quality beef stock

grated rind of one orange

1/2 cup orange juice

3 Tbsp tomato paste

2 Tbsp grated root ginger

1 1/4 cups Puy or brown lentils, washed and well drained

Place all the ingredients in a deep casserole dish and stir to combine.

Cover tightly with lid. It is important that the lid fits tightly so that the liquid does not evaporate. I usually
cover the casserole dish with foil and then put the lid on. Cook in an oven preheated to 160degC for about 2
1/2 hours. Check seasoning, adding salt if necessary.

Serves 6.

No cap in cup 

Milk may be the same throughout the country but one of the New Zealand-wide brands, Anchor, is now
putting it in a curved plastic bottle. Although it arrived on Auckland shelves in March, we will not see it in the
South Island for some months, says Geoff Andrews of New Zealand Dairy Foods. 

The new-look bottle promises to solve the problem of the plastic ring falling in the cup, as it will remain
attached to the cap. 

  Grain goods

A recent survey showing many New Zealanders' lack of knowledge about whole grains has disappointed the
Institute of Food, Nutrition and Human Health. 

John Birbeck, from the institute, said it was disappointing that people thought whole grains just prevented
constipation. 

He said grain-based foods were a source of energy, fibre, vitamins, minerals and carbohydrates, and there
was evidence whole grains helped prevent colon and other cancers and coronary heart disease.

Whole grain foods include multi-grain or wholemeal breads, brown rice, barley, corn, cracked wheat and
whole grain breakfast cereals.

Crisp blanc de blanc 

Corbans Verde Blanc de Blanc (about $17) is a new methode traditionelle from the Verde label that made
such a dramatic entrance four years ago when it won the champion trophy at the Air New Zealand Wine
Awards in 1996.

That is a pinot noir chardonnay blend, traditional in Champagne. This is made from chardonnay, hence the
blanc de blanc name (white wine from white grapes) a traditional champenoise term. This has a lovely nutty
roundness on the palate and a crisp finish. ***1/2 V+

Morton Black Label 1995 (about $33) is a delicious Hawkes Bay methode champenoise with a fine bead, a
rounded palate, a crisp finish and lingering aftertaste. Made predominantly from pinot noir and pinot meunier,
its fullness makes it a good accompaniment to food, for anything from canapes and nibbles to fish and
chicken. **** V

Spencer Hill Pinotage 1999 (about $22) is the first wine from this South African variety made by Spencer
Hill from its Nelson hilltop vineyard. With a hint of cherries, sweet fruit but a tad herbal and earth, it is a
simple but unusual wine. **1/2 V-

Sacred Hill Basket Press Merlot 1998 (about $23) is a charming ripe, spicy wine with hints of mint and
mouth-filling sweet fruit, and finishing with firm, drying tannins. Well structured, fine wine from a good
vintage. **** V+

Michelton Preece Shiraz 1998 (about $20) from central Victoria has typical hints of eucalyptus, bold fruit and
fine tannins. It is satisfyingly elegant rather than a macho punch which makes it enjoyable drinking and a
good accompaniment to food. ***1/2 V

Wynns John Riddoch Cabernet Sauvignon 1997 (about $85) is one of the flagship wines from this
Coonawarra estate. Wines at this price level tend to be blockbusters. With big, spicy, woody aromas, soft
round mouthfilling fruit and big, chewy, macho tannins that punch you in the teeth after half a glass. It is
great to taste and discuss, because there is a lot of complexity, but it needs 10 years to soften and mature the
tannins before you could really call it enjoyable. ****1/2 V-

***** excellent wine

**** highly recommended

*** recommended

** agreeable

* acceptable

V+ above average value

V average value

V- below average value

Earth-shattering new radicalism from Jenny and
                                     Co 

Perhaps Jenny Shipley thought the world was going to end last Friday.

I know the doomsday merchants had me worried. I was trying to organise a millennium bash for the Old
School Mate from Feilding, since our pre-millennium knees-up had been foiled by flu.

It would be just typical for everything to come crashing to a halt before we started. The signs were not good.

My students were convinced that it would be all over by 8pm. It was something to do with an unholy alliance
of planets which would result in tsunamis, volcanoes and earthquakes. They couldn't explain it fully, but I
gather it involved combined gravitational pull causing the oceans and magma to lurch unwittingly towards the
aligned planets.

It didn't particularly worry me if the world ended, but I was concerned I'd be finishing on an empty stomach.

I had to fit in the Pepsi Smoke Free Rock Quest in the early evening. The sequinless Second Born had
allowed me to attend, with conditions.

"You are not to talk to anyone. You are not to point and say that's my son."

Damn. So much for my plans to hold up a placard saying "That's my boy - the handsome one on the drums".

The OSM, who had been at a meeting all day, had to take a conference call at 7.15pm so her start was
delayed too.

As it turned out we sat down to bubbly at the restaurant at 8.30pm - the earth was not moving, we were
safe, dry and there was no molten rock dripping on to the tablecloth.

We weren't sure Jenny would be quite so pleased about the way theday had evolved.

Had she had a sudden rush of blood to the head which made her want to be imprinted on the nation's
collective unconsciousness as a wild thing as we were all sucked under a wall of water? Doesn't she know
that in times of trouble we want Mum who will kiss us and make us better, not someone who will make our
hearts sing and everything groovy?

"What are her advisers thinking about trying to brand the National Party as wild things and radical
conservatives"? the OSM wanted to know.

"Well, to be fair, I reckon that Jenny didn't know they were going to use Wild Thing as the theme tune. She
looked quite surprised on the television clip of it. But she has taken the glory for radical conservatism. Why
did they let her do that? Didn't anyone realise it would be associated with red-necks in America? And why
didn't anyone explain that the use of radical to mean cool went out with clothes in highlighter colours several
years ago? Hell, her own kids could have told her that."

We could only conclude that the Nats had decided any publicity was good publicity.

The OSM felt that Highbrow Helen had shot herself in the foot by calling radical conservatism an oxymoron.

"Only you journalistic types would understand that. Why didn't she just say it was a contradiction in terms?"

I blithely suggested that the Nats needed more oxy and less morons - not having a clue what I was talking
about. As it turned out, making allowances for a bit of alcoholic licence, I wasn't too far off the mark - the
oxy part comes from oxys meaning sharp and moron from oros , foolish. It was not easy to tell if Jenny was
being pointedly foolish or foolishly pointed. Was there a point? It was all Greek to me.

In the sad way that the misty-eyed middle-aged often reminisce after a couple of glasses of anything fizzy, I
was moved to express concern about the sullying of the Troggs classic (or was it The Kinks? I was beyond
accurate memorising) by Jenny and the gang. We had found a 45 of it in the senior common room back in
the fifth form and played it to death on the radiogram. Half a dozen of us could belt out those lyrics better
than a whole conference full of cool conservatives. I don't remember what happened to the record
eventually - it may have met the same fate as the Fur Elise music. I and a fellow student ripped that up
because we were sick of enduring the endless plinkings on the commonroom piano of every girl who had
ever had a music lesson. For some reason nobody played any other piece and nobody played Fur Elise well.
We were untamed beasts all right. Wild Thing was our signature tune.

Safely back in Feilding the next day, the OSM rang to say she'd faxed her local Member of Parliament
advising him not to rush out and have a multitude of visible piercings in order to fulfil the party's misguided
new direction. Jenny should put that woman on the payroll.

Prester John's Talk of the Times
  Brief note on . . .

JUDITH Tate, of Levin, has been typing her father's World War 1 diary for the past three years and has
come across an entry from July 27, 1918, about the burial ceremony in France for an Otago man. Her father,
Robert Anstis, of the Taranaki 4th Brigade, describes the heavy rain near Authie and the "dead march"
played for a "brave man from the Otago regiment" named "Dick Travers".

  . . . soldier's bravery . . .

NOW Judith, who has been typing the diaries for the past three years, has been captivated by this small
passage in which the camaraderie between the Taranaki and Otago men is described. But she wonders just
who Dick Travers was and what he did. The diaries, written by her father from 1915-19, make no further
mention of the Otago soldier or his brave deeds.

  . . . answered

AN answer comes from the list of Victoria Cross recipients in the Air New Zealand Almanac . Sgt Richard
Charles Travis, of the 2nd Battalion, Otago Infantry Regiment, was awarded the VC posthumously. "At the
start of one operation near Hebuterne, France, he destroyed a wire block with grenades to allow an assault
to begin, then rushed a machine gun post, beating off both crew and an attempted German reinforcement bid.
Sgt Travis was killed 24 hours later during an artillery bombardment."

  Reasons . . .

FOLLOWING the food items by colleague Tony Harris (this column, yesterday), a reader has dropped in a
book, The Art of British Cooking, by Theodora FitzGibbon (Phoenix House, London 1965), in which the
author says the flavour of the food the animal ate always used to be taken into account when cooking.

  . . . for seasonings

MOUNTAIN sheep that grazed on wild thyme were flavoured with that herb, fat downs sheep had sauces
from the orchards such as red currant jelly, while the lambs in the valley that ate wild mint and garlic growing
beside the streams would be served with those accompaniments. Apple sauce was served with pork because
the pigs roamed in orchards guzzling windfall apples. Beef was accompanied with the milk and corn products
of the meadow and dairy (Yorkshire pudding and horseradish sauce) and the wild mustard seed of the
pasture.

The same principle is followed throughout the world. Peach-fed hogs of the United States are served with a
sweet sauce, while the sturdy mountain lambs and kids of Greece, Sardinia and Corsica are cooked with the
rosemary, wild thyme and garlic on which they feed.

  Flash fellow

OUTSIDE the Allied Press building on Saturday night a black limousine pulled up and collected a party of
women who had been dining across the road at the Cobb and Co restaurant. At the same time a chap with
splattered overalls emerged from our newspaper offices and the women asked him to take a photograph of
their group. Out came a new camera and its owner spent some time instructing the overalled fellow on how
to use it. Instructions over, "snap, snap, snap", went the man, surprising and impressing the women with his
confident approach. But it wasn't that surprising really. The splattered one was ODT illustrations editor
Stephen Jaquiery, who had just dropped into work after doing some gardening at home.

An orchestrated litany of cliches 

IT ROSE in front of us, sheer, gaunt and majestic. I gasped. Pete gulped.

Side by side we stood to gasp and gulp in wonder. Much had we travelled in the realms of cliche but never
had we seen so steep a learning curve.

In comparison with this awesome steepness, every other peak that Pete and I had climbed seemed little
more than a level playing field. Before us stood the ultimate challenge, our new mission statement. We would
tackle this learning curve head on. We would put our noses to the grindstone 'til they bled. Nothing would
stand in the way of our ascent.

"Enjoy," said Pete with a wry grim smile.

"Enjoy what?" I asked, but he was already away.

Up we plodded, step after laborious step, pausing occasionally to look around us. We knew what we were
looking for. We sought a window of opportunity, just a small one which would grant a view of the knowledge
economy from the top of the learning curve. But, windows of opportunity are few and far between and the
going was tough. Obstacles abounded. We waded through income streams and held each other back from
cunningly concealed poverty traps. After 24-hours we were on the point of calling it a day when Pete
clasped my shoulder.

"Look," he said.

I looked. On the slope ahead of us, miraculously it seemed, stood a small city square, immaculate with cafes
and bars and colonnades. We sank gratefully down at a cafe table, ordered refreshments from the
waitperson and applied ourselves to the problems that faced us. But, hard though we thought, no ideas came.
Then silently Pete rose and went to stand beyond the furthest building, his chin cupped in his hand. Almost
immediately, he yelped with delight.

I ran to join him.

"I've got it," he exclaimed.

"Ah," I said as the truth dawned on me, "of course, thinking outside the square. Why didn't I think of that?"

"Never mind that," said Pete, "Look!"

I looked and beheld a sight I shall never forget as long as I remember it.

There stood the window that we sought and oh, what light through yonder window broke. It was the light of
opportunity. Without another word Pete and I ran to it, fumbled frantically with the catch, threw open the
window and beheld spread out before us . . . but the story is almost too sad to tell. Our hopes were dashed.
They lay in tatters round our ankles. There seemed no point in hauling them back up.

For where we had expected to see the verdant fields of a knowledge economy, or at least the pleasant
pastures of a win-win situation, we beheld nothing more and nothing less than the smoking rubble of a
worst-case scenario. It was almost too much to bear. I looked at Pete. Pete looked at me. It would not be
stretching a point to say we looked at each other. Despair was etched on our faces. Horror was tattooed on
our chests. Hopelessness was scribbled on our thighs. There was nothing for it. We had only one card left to
play and we played it.

Pete reinvented the wheel. Instantly, I put my shoulder to it, but Pete pulled me roughly away, reinvented
another wheel, attached the two of them to a bicycle frame that he had also reinvented and together we
pedalled back down the learning curve as if the Devil were after us. I looked over my shoulder. The Devil
was after us.

"Faster," I screamed.

Downwards we flew, past the lowest common denominators who backed away in fear, past the level playing
field where someone was moving the goalposts, back towards the sanctuary of the old economy when,
without warning, a vehicle appeared in front of us with flashing lights and blaring siren. We were going too
fast to stop and we crashed, slap bang into the ambulance at the foot of the cliff. Pete was thrown from the
bike, performed a double somersault and a single dead-cat bounce then lay as still as stone.

"A health professional, a health professional," I screamed, "my kingdom for a health professional." I rushed to
Pete's side and cradled his head in my hands.

"Pete, Pete," I whispered urgently, "use your communication skills to me." But it was no good. Pete's window
of opportunity had closed for ever. He had reached his bottom line.

  Joe Bennett is a Lyttelton writer.

Forethought needed as foundation to take
                     Dunedin into the future 

                           By Leah McBey

                           DUNEDIN seems to be suffering from the doughnut effect. It looks
                           good on the outside, but people point out that it's hollowing out in the
                           middle.

                           Innumerable young people are leaving for good and there's a sense of
                           silent grieving among parents who don't know if and when they'll see
                           their offspring again.

                           In response, some have called for a population increase, so far to no
                           effect. Others believe that job-rich growth is the key. It may be, but it
                           may also depend on what sort of jobs they are, and whether the pay
                           compares well with other cities and countries.

                           The fact is Dunedin is being battered by a great current of change, which
                           is moving swiftly and irresistibly.

                           This current is global. As with the flow of money, the world's financial
                           centres pumped people out to the edges of the planet during the era of
                           colonisation and resource extraction. Now the game has changed.

                           Today, people are streaming from those colonies into the massive,
                           job-rich cities of the north. No longer dependent on vanishing natural
                           resources, the drivers of the world economy are seeking well-trained
                           minds, and plenty of them. The global economy is shifting from brawn to
brain.

The massive reshuffling of the planet's people is in part to do with the fact relatively few workers are now
needed to produce the world's food, and more and more workers are needed to train for the information age.
It was poverty and the lure of a better life that drove Scottish settlers to southern New Zealand. Today our
young folk head away for the same reasons.

Many will never return.

Between 1991 and 1996, the proportion of Dunedin people between the ages of 25 and 34 fell from 15.4% to
14.6%.

I know of one family with four daughters, three of whom havemarried overseas and startedfamilies. The
fourth is living permanently overseas.

Others go away to earn decent wages. One local has taken leave from a permanent job to work in Brisbane
for six months as a builder's labourer to save money. He can earn more in six months doing unskilled work in
Australia than he can here.

Local lawyers are being lured to London, accountants to Australia, and nurses to America. Pathologists and
doctors are being headhunted by numerous countries.

Dunedin's obvious strength is in higher education. Thousands upon thousands of young people flock to
Dunedin for tertiary education. They live, learn and love here, then fly away holding the warmest of
memories in their hearts. Many return for reunions, academic gatherings or conferences, often hopeful that
things have changed enough job-wise to enable them to stay.

The city must stick to its knitting during this time of loss and uncertainty.

It should give heartfelt thanks to our canny forefathers and mothers who established the university and the
Southern Hemisphere's first girls' high school last century. It is this far-sightedness in the realm of education
that the city now depends on so heavily for its prosperity in the future.

We are told that 70% of the new jobs will require higher skill levels and better standards of literacy and
communication. It is highly significant that the world has catapulted into the information age where
knowledge and the mental skills of creativity, design, and problem solving are the tools of trade.

It is significant because Dunedin has for over a century been a city based on the development and training of
mental capacity.

Sensing the drift, dozens of Dunedin entrepreneurs and skilled workers have set up business in niche markets
specializing in design and the new smart technologies.

The tertiary sector has funded a Centre for Innovation where our best brains will think, design, and
commercialise their latest inventions and discoveries. 

Dunedin does not have to be in the centre of the world's economy. People can invent, design and play
creatively here as well as anywhere, if not better, because the lifestyle is so nurturing to the creative spirit. 

Primitive people plan hours ahead. Average people plan years ahead. Wise people plan centuries ahead.

If our ancestors could plan so far in advance, why can't we? While the city may need to maintain a holding
pattern as the changes occur, it is possibly unique in New Zealand in its capacity to consciously plan for the
next century or so.

The city is right now devising a new plan to deal with the challenges it faces. By September next year, it
should be complete. Dunedin already has an economic development plan, incredibly one of the few cities in
New Zealand to have one. It rightly acknowledges the central role education plays in city life, and proposes
to keep developing that.

It also recognises that micro businesses employing up to five staff are where 80% of the new jobs are
created and that this is a vital area for support and growth.

Another factor in Dunedin's survival response will be to emphasise diversity. While 70% of the new jobs
may be mind based, the remainder will focus on local attributes such as forestry, tourism, horticulture,
manufacturing and services, for example.

The Dun in Dunedin is Gaelic for rock, mound, or fortress. I like to think Dunedin people reflect the nature of
rock - solid, tough, and unmoved by the "gusts of public house passion" which sway other more volatile types.

I like to believe Dunedin, having been founded on the rock of education, will endure the rigours of planetary
change rather better than many fear. The doughnut, it turns out, has a very solid centre.

  Leah McBey is a Dunedin City Councillor

Rolling on for 40 years 
The "Joy Rider" skateboard from the mid-1960s (top) was superseded 
by wider, technically more advanced boards like the "Radd Rat" a 
decade later. 

Skateboarding has been in and out of favour for years, as curator SEAN BROSNAHAN explains in our continuing series on items in 
the Otago Settlers Museum's "Exhibition of the Century". 
Skateboarding - as we know it - turned 40 in 1998. It all began in 1958 when Californian surf shop owners Bill and Mark Richards 
attached roller skate wheels to square wooden boards and sold them to frustrated surfers to use when there were no waves to ride. 
These boards were a big improvement on the primitive home-made four by twos with wheels attached that kids had been riding since 
the 1930s. In fact, a craze developed, variously called "sidewalk surfing" or even "terra-surfing". 
This first great boom in skateboarding peaked in 1965 when Life magazine described the skateboard as "the most exhilarating and 
dangerous joy-riding device this side of the hot rod". Fifty million boards were sold and in 1966 the first skateboarding movie, Skater 
Dater, was nominated for an Academy Award. 
The British-made "Joy Rider Surf Skate" in the "Exhibition of the Century" dates from this period. It is a solid, oval, wooden board 
with rubber roller skate wheels and primitive trucks. 
The technical limitations of these early boards ended skateboarding mass popularity by the late 1960s. The stiff boards could not flex 
to absorb shocks while the wheels, often made of clay, could be positively dangerous, locking up when grit got in to the bearings. 
A new era began in the 1970s following two significant changes in skateboard design. The first was Larry Stevenson's invention of the 
"kicktail" or, as his patent application described it, "a skateboard with inclined foot-depressible level". The second was Frank 
Nasworthy's development of urethane skateboard wheels in 1973. 
With thinner boards and better trucks also being developed, skateboarding became even more popular than before. In 1978 Alan 
"Ollie" Gelfand developed a technique to make skateboards jump and skateboarding went aerial. 
Trick skating became all the rage with specially designed skateboard parks appearing all over the place. The "Radd Rat" board on 
display in the exhibition is from this era. It is much wider than the "Joy Rider", with urethane wheels, a grip tape surface and is 
decorated underneath with bright graphics. 
Skateboarding's popularity has come and gone several times since 1958. In the mid-1990s new symmetrical boards were developed 
with double rounded kick-tails. 
Bearing, wheel and truck design has continually improved. Contemporary skateboarding has been described as "urban acrobatics" and 
has spilled out from skate parks on to the streets. Young skaters display their prowess by riding down railings or jumping steps in 
public areas. This has not increased their popularity, particularly with the older generation. 
In Dunedin, skateboarding was banned from the Octagon several years ago and in recent months the ban has been extended through 
much of the inner city. 
Skateboarding will no doubt slip from the cutting edge of youth culture again before too long. But there will probably always be 
skaters as new generations discover the thrill of what is now a venerable old "toy".

Small community deeply affected by tragedy 
IT'S a very sad time in Southland at the moment. The tragedy of three young lads robbed of life in their prime has left three families 
devastated. 
Our sympathies are with all of those personally affected by these boys' deaths, and you can imagine in a small community like this one 
that is a rather large number of people. 
How these boys came to be where they were found is a real mystery. The fact they ran off the end of a road that had been washed 
away by previous flooding has meant already questions are being asked. Hopefully, on completion of the crash investigation the 
families, relatives and friends will know how and why this happened. However, for now, much of the community is just in shock. 
There have been great noises generated down here lately about the impending announcement of the Government's decision to make 
Stewart Island a national park. 
There are arguments for and against but some of those crowing the loudest are the Southland District Council and the Invercargill 
Licensing Trust. 
The district council is making predictions in the order of a four-fold increase in visitor numbers to the island. Of course this will mean 
more of those all-important job opportunities, but could also mean placing an impossible burden on the island's present infrastructure. 
Reports from some local real estate agents indicate house prices are rising. 
The Invercargill Licensing Trust has stated that once the licensing act is passed into law, the chains come off and they are free to trade 
anywhere. They are very keen on looking at potential development on the island. 
It appears we have for once beaten Dunedin to the mark in staging an arts festival in the city. While yours is in October, ours will be in 
August. 
There are over 30 events (see www.cityevents.co.nz) being staged during the month including a concert by Air Supply and a World 
Wrestling Federation show. Debate rages as to whether or not these two events can legitimately be described as art. 
Whatever the outcome of that particular semantic squabble, we have two out-of-town promoters with large amounts of money at stake 
who are prepared to put their acts here, the only place in the South hosting them. 
Regardless of whether you think it only right Invercargill host a bunch of one-hit Aussie has-beens and a clutch of loud-mouthed, 
over-the-top Americans acting badly in leotards, the fact is we've got 'em; they're performing here and anyone in the South Island 
wanting to see them will have to come here to do it. 
I expect to run into a few old mates from South Dunedin at the wrestling. 
Peter Kaye is a Dunedin convert to the attractions of Invercargill.  


Rating the world's best 
CANADA'S the place to live. Or so the heading says about a report from the United Nations. 
The same report puts New Zealand at 20th best. Pakistan is 135th. 
I suppose it depends on what you mean by Canada. When I lived there, in Quebec province, each log cabin had a pump in the 
backyard. From the back door ran an electric lead to a washing machine standing beside the pump. 
Near the washing machine stood freezers and refrigerators, working like fury all summer but very - indeed, extremely - economically 
all winter. 
To get the washing done, the lady of the log cabin had to fill buckets from the pump and tip them into the washing machine bowl. 
Then she walked back to the log cabin, turned on the switch and pulled on her gumboots so she could work the machine without 
getting electrocuted. 
My own landlady was too grand for an outdoor washing machine. 
She had fallen in love with a magazine picture of the All-America Kitchen of the Year. She ripped it from the magazine and told the 
local carpenter: "Make me one like this." 
And so he did. But neither of them discussed water. Her house had no handbasin, no bath, no shower and no lavatory because it had 
no running water. 
But that didn't matter. My landlady had a mother-in-law who could be sent out to the pump with two buckets whenever water was 
needed. 
This met all household needs. On top of that, the landlady was able to gloat at the swinging faucet that could be pushed from one twin-
tub basin to the other without ever dripping on to the virgin stainless steel. 
Nor, in the rigidly Catholic countryside, was she greatly pestered by Jehovah's Witnesses. 
The standard procedure was to sit down with Witnesses and nod encouragingly while someone got on the phone to the provincial 
police and summoned a posse of uniformed thugs to rough up the Witnesses and tell them to get out of it. 
Pakistan I would have placed a shade higher than 135th. Sure, life there can be disagreeable, partly because the government interprets 
the Koran more harshly than do any other Muslims 
This leads to the piteous cries of truckloads of soldiers: "Whisky? Brandy? Rum?" 
Their faces are alight with hope - and dead with despair, because experience has taught them it's a rare tourist who can be cajoled into 
handing over a bottle of spirits. 
They, though they seem to own nothing, are hospitality itself. When they stop for a wash and a prayer and a cup of tea, they urge the 
passer-by to share their tea. 
And if they pity the traveller for being a doomed Christian, they are tactful enough to hold their peace, even though nosey Christians 
have pestered them to abandon their own faith and join the missionaries' beliefs. 
Of course, they tell you, the missionaries did everything wrong, because the way to convert a nation is to start at the top. Make a rajah 
turn to Christianity and you turn Christianity into something modish, something chic. 
Instead of going for rajahs, though, the missionaries converted the lowest and the poorest. But who (ask Muslims) wants to ape the 
gardener, the woodchopper and the laundryman? 
For two reasons I'd push New Zealand higher than 20th. One reason is that I just can't think of 19 better countries. And the other is 
because of Welcome Flat. 
To get there you start at the Hermitage, cross the Southern Alps over the Copland Pass and then totter downhill for two days. Late in 
the afternoon of day two you find, at Welcome Flat, a typical trampers' hut where you eat, drink and sleep. 
At dawn next day you walk uphill to steam coming off a flat patch of mud. On the edge of the mud stands a wooden wall topped by a 
gable roof. 
The wall was built there for decorum's sake and on one side are clothes-hooks hung with bras and knickers. The other side keeps 
gents' undies out of the mud. 
Now strip and hang up your own clothes. 
With any luck a bollocky woman will leave her side of the wall at the same time. Take her courteously by the hand and, offering her 
support, you can both prospect the mud for a pool or wallow of a temperature you both enjoy. 
Lower your bodies into a comfortable pool and watch the pink hand of dawn stroke the snow on the southern range of mountains. 
Grunt with pleasure, and then complain: "Twentieth? Only 20th? Couldn't the UN have done better than that?" 
Your companion, if she is a sensible girl, will answer: "Pish and fie, sir. We are the world's best. Where in Canada do people find a 
corker possie like this?" 
Ted Reynolds is a retired journalist and grapegrower.  

Prester John's Talk of the Times
Through thick. . . 
NOBEL prize-winning geneticist James Watson may have come up with a scientific explanation for his theory that fat people are 
happier than thin ones, and "better in bed" ( ODT , 5.7.00), but a Roslyn reader points out Watson is not the first to make observations 
linking size, happiness and wit. Literary figures have long commented on the topic. British author Cyril Connolly (1903-74) wrote 
succinctly, "Imprisoned in every fat man a thin one is wildly signalling to be let out" ( Te Palinure Petens ). George Orwell said 
something similar in Coming Up For Air (1939). 
. . . and thin. . . 
OUR Roslyn reader points to Caesar's words in Shakespeare's Julius Caesar (Act I, scene ii): 
Let me have men about me that are fat, 
Sleek-headed men and such as sleep o' nights. 
Yon Cassius has a lean and hungry look; 
He thinks too much; such men are dangerous. 
. . . we ponder. . . 
BUT Caesar's use of the word "fat" is more likely to mean "slow-witted" or "dull", a meaning Shakespeare's 17th century audiences 
are likely to have understood. Despite trying to reassure himself later, Caesar was feeling under threat from Cassius, and is saying he 
would feel more comfortable surrounded by men who were not so intelligent and discontent. 
. . . words' meaning 
AGAIN, the word "fat" illustrates how a single word can have meanings that, as well as obscure in a literary context, can today be 
contradictory (see this column, 5.7.00). "Fat" can mean the best or richest part of something, as in "fat of the land", or it can mean very 
little or none, as in "a fat chance" or "a fat lot of good". 
Pressing problem 
NO wonder the Australians are having problems with GST, introduced there on July 1. A helpline for answering GST queries opens 
with this recorded message: If you understand English, please press 1. If you do not understand English, please press 2. 
Court out 
DISTRICT court proceedings in Dunedin stopped momentarily yesterday as a court clerk hesitated while reading a charge sheet for a 
driving offence - in Greenland. No doubt, it was meant to be the Dunedin suburb of Green Island, but then again there's no telling just 
how far the long arm of the law can stretch. 
Hash back again 
ON the origins of hash key or hash mark (this column, 3.7.00), Nigel Ensor, of St Leonards, says he has always thought the term came 
from a corruption of hatch , meaning shading indicated by fine parallel or crossed lines. Perhaps that is so. My Collins dictionary 
indicates that both hash and hatch are derived from the French hacher , to chop. 
Once more with feeling 
HEARTFELT thanks to an anonymous Mornington reader who has pointed out by fax the omission of three "felts" in the tongue-
twister yesterday. This is his version: Of all the felt I ever felt, I never felt a piece of felt the same as that felt felt when first I felt the 
felt in that felt hat. 
Beef item 
ON puns, Nigel Eastgate sends this yarn. Three sons who inherited a Brazilian cattle farm renamed the ranch "Focus". When asked 
why, they said, "Because that's where the sun's rays meet". (Think about it). 
Story ideas 
To contact Talk of the Times 
Phone 03 477 4760 
Fax 03 474 7422 
PO Box 181 Dunedin 
E-mail 
prester.john@alliedpress.co.nz

When is a crime not a crime? When the limit is broken 

Would you knowingly commit a crime? What would you think about someone who did? 
It's a silly question because good citizens don't break the law and take a very dim view of those who do. 
There is, however, one glaring exception to the general attitude of distaste towards illegal acts and those who commit them, and that's 
speeding. 
While most of us regard other crimes against people or property as just that - crimes - and those who commit them as criminals, we 
tend to have a more ambivalent attitude to the speed limit and those who break it. 
If I confessed I was guilty of any other offence against the law, my family and friends would be appalled, but my admission that I've 
been caught driving too fast is generally received with sympathetic amusement. 
Even when I acknowledge there were no extenuating circumstances that might have excused, or at least explained, my actions, it's still 
regarded as a bit of bad luck rather than just deserts. 
However, while others dismiss my speeding as a minor misdemeanour, I certainly don't. 
I've been driving a lot more carefully in the 11 months since a police officer stopped me for what turned out to be a very expensive 
conversation: it cost me $230 plus 340 demerit points, because he'd caught me doing 100kmh when the speed limit was 70kmh. 
I was upset by the fine and the blemish on my driving record. 
But, what concerned me even more was the shameful realisation that I'd no idea what speed I'd been travelling at and an equally 
chilling indictment on my driving was the fact that the police officer had followed me for quite a distance before I realised he was 
behind me. 
I'd watched those awful advertisements on television depicting fatal crashes caused by speed and thought I'd taken their message on 
board. Obviously, I hadn't. 
But, if the dramatic portrayals of road carnage didn't deter me from speeding, being stopped and fined certainly has. 
Although I admit that even now it's something I have to really work at. My first car was a Mini with an automatic speed restraint - as 
soon as I approached 100kmh it started rattling. The farm truck has a similar system of keeping its driver within the law, but the car I 
drive most often cruises quite happily at higher speeds. 
I hadn't realised quite how happily until my brush with the law last year redirected my concentration and slowed me down. There 
should be nothing unusual about this but there's nothing like driving as you should to make you realise how many people don't. 
This disregard of the law isn't universal. In Australia most motorists stick to the specified speed on roads which are longer, straighter 
and generally better suited to travelling fast than ours. Locals tell me it isn't a greater concern for safety but a high probability of being 
caught that keeps speed down. 
This is the reasoning behind the recent announcement that our police will be less tolerant with those who drive too fast. It's not a 
popular move but I think it will work because being pulled up last year has certainly had a positive impact on my driving. 
Knowing the difference between right and wrong ought to be enough to ensure most citizens are law abiding. But, when it comes to 
speeding, some of us need something more to keep us on the straight and narrow.

Restoration tall order for couple Monkey puzzle restoration 
By Kim Dungey 
Denise McGirr climbed the scaffolding husband John had given her for their 29th wedding anniversary and felt her terror turn to 
nausea. 
"You felt like the floor would come up and hit you," says the 49-year-old, recalling how painting the ceiling in their Naseby home was 
a major task because the stud was 3.3m high. 
Restoring the 300sqm kauri home was a four-month, full-time job that might have overwhelmed less enthusiastic owners. But the 
monkey-puzzle house, named after the 25m-high conifer planted on the front lawn in the late 1800s, has been successfully 
transformed into a homestay. 
Built with the proceeds of gold discoveries, the five-bedroom house is now filled with treasures of another sort, unearthed at swap 
meets, auctions, clearing sales and second-hand shops. 
It was Walter Inder, a French emigrant, who had the house built for £1500 in 1878. He and his brother, Sam, were auctioneers and 
publicans on the Central Otago goldfields but essentially turned their hands to anything that made money. Originally based at nearby 
Hamiltons (once the scene of over 2000 miners seeking their fortune), Walter later moved to Naseby, where he continued as an 
auctioneer and butcher, chaired the Eweburn Pastoral Company and served as mayor. He and his wife, Anne, had eight sons and a 
daughter. 
The Derwent St home remained in the Inder family until 1944 - although in later years it was leased to the local county clerk - and was 
then sold to Lance and Belle Hoffman, who added electric lights and carpet. Their daughter told the McGirrs installing electricity was 
so expensive it was initially put into only the main rooms and the guest bedroom and everyone else "had to freeze". 
Only three other people had owned the home in its long history, the last of them an artist from Waiheke Island. She bought it on 
impulse but could not convince her family to move south so the house was empty for two years until the McGirrs moved in last 
August. 
After 27 years of owning garages in Wellington and Christchurch, the couple wanted a change. 
For four years they had looked for a property for a homestay - one big enough to house their collections, which had a degree of 
history, and was in an area they could attract visitors to. The Naseby house was everything they wanted. 
"Denise took one look at the photo and wanted to ring up and make an offer," says Mr McGirr (52). "She was worried about it being 
sold under her, not realising it had been on the market for two years." 
The couple visited the property on a Saturday, made an offer on the Monday and within eight weeks had uprooted themselves from 
their Christchurch house and business. 
The Naseby landmark had deteriorated in the two years it had been vacant, say the McGirrs, who had previously renovated three old 
houses. 
"We walked in one door and out the other and thought, do we really want to do this? We knew it was a massive restoration job." 
"But then we came back and made notes on every room and what it would take to get it up and running." 
When they first arrived, the house was "freezing cold" and there was nothing to cook on. The rusty bath no longer held water. Cats 
came up through holes in the floorboards and fought in the hallway at night. 
First, Mr McGirr redecorated the main bedroom: "It looked totally out of place but at least it was an oasis of comfort." Then they 
gutted and rebuilt the kitchen, finding three ceiling heights in the process. The other bedrooms, two lounges, bathrooms and formal 
dining room were tackled next. 
Mr McGirr did the prepatory work and Mrs McGirr followed behind, painting. Even after abandoning a ladder in favour of scaffolding 
she was constantly looking up, which caused the glands in her neck to swell. 
Naseby's dry climate ensured the tongue and groove walls and battened ceilings were free of borer. They needed only to be lightly 
sanded and oiled. But the original varnish got in to their skin and the McGirrs had to virtually "bathe in turps" every night. 
Floorboards were held down with forged nails which would have been made on site. Mr McGirr, who works in iron, appreciated the 
skill involved but found they were "sods to get out". 
Ordering supplies for the house was also difficult because the telephone was not connected for a month. 
"In the meantime, we bought a cellphone which we found didn't work in this valley," Mrs McGirr says. "So I'd walk up the hill every 
night at 6pm with my gummies on, my cellphone, a cup of coffee and a telephone book and that was virtually our [only means of] 
communication. Other than that, the only good reception we used to get was if we climbed up the ladder and stood on the roof, 
holding on to the chimney. Then we could ring Dunedin." 
The couple also found why the home, together with the monkey-puzzle tree, is listed for its heritage values in the Central Otago 
proposed district plan. 
All seven fireplaces were still intact, including one with unusual tiles which has figures representing summer and winter. Outside, 
were mud brick sheds and the original mounting block used by Walter and Anne's only daughter, Winnie, a keen side-saddle rider. 
Mrs McGirr, described by her husband as a "black belt in collecting", filled the dining room with her unusual teapots, early Temuka 
pottery and coal irons - 75 in all, ranging from tiny irons for lace work to a heavyweight designed for a billiard table. 
One guest bedroom has porcelain dolls, another nearly 90 teddy bears and the third old sewing machines, buttons, thimbles, hat pins 
and hats. 
Other rooms house their collections of old kitchen paraphernalia, porcelain, chamber pots, stuffed animals, telephones and 
gramophones, which took professional movers five days to pack. Gramophone needles should apparently be used only once so the 
McGirrs buy boxes of 500 at a time. However, an elderly visitor revealed that in her day she used sharp rose thorns. 
Vintage clothing hangs from porcelain coat hooks in the hallway, along with ice skates and wooden skis, popular items in an area 
famous for such sports. A corset hangs cheekily from the back of a bathroom door. 
Recently, 36 boxes of Christmas decorations have been strung up and Mrs McGirr, who had a restaurant in Christchurch, has offered 
mid-winter Christmas dinners. Her wardrobe of period clothing allows diners to enter into the spirit of the occasion. 
The couple estimate it will take another 18 months to get the property the way they want it. One of the mud brick sheds will become a 
fully operational blacksmith's workshop and another a painting and ceramics studio. Guests will be able to stay for a weekend and take 
home something they have made. 
They also plan to add a spa pool and decks; develop gardens around the original mounting steps; and haul out that scaffolding again to 
paint the exterior of the house. 
"I better get something very interesting this year", jokes Mrs McGirr when the subject of their next wedding anniversary arises. 
But her husband already has something in mind and early indications are it might be a power tool.

Vegetable Garden. 
The urge to sow seeds begins now, whenever there is a mild-weather day. Except for the most favoured gardens, however, it is still too 
early to sow small seeds or put out plants that may be damaged by cold weather still to come. 
Gardeners could consider sowing broad beans, early peas and turnips on a warm border, but germination will be slow unless cloches 
are available to warm the soil and protect the young plants when they come through. 
Early-variety potatoes may be planted for digging in late October and early November. 
Main-crop and second-early tubers can be set out in boxes in a light, airy, frost-free situation to sprout. 
Spring cabbage and cauliflower plants put in the garden during autumn should be slowly developing. Cauliflower is less hardy than 
its broccoli cousin and can be permanently damaged by cold, wet conditions. Ideally plants will have been placed in a well-drained, 
warm situation, sheltered from southerly and westerly winds. 
Broccoli coming to maturity should have large, outside leaves broken over the developing head to protect it from rain and frost. 
Radish , mustard and cress seeds may be sown in a warm situation for salads and sandwiches. Fresh greens are always appreciated in 
the early spring months, when vegetables of any kind are scarce. Mustard and cress can also be planted in boxes of sandy soil in a 
greenhouse or sunny window. 
flower garden 
Shrubs that flower on the current season's wood should be cut back, close to the main branches. Done annually, this will ensure a 
constant supply of new, flowering shoots and prevent untidy growth. Shrubs to be pruned in this way include Spiraea japonica 
varieties, Buddleia variabilis and the golden-leaved sambucus (elderberry). 
Bedding plants may still be set out in milder districts, provided the soil is in good working condition. Set wallflowers deeply in the 
soil to prevent wind damage. Adding some blood and bone and superphosphate at planting time will give the plants a good start when 
growth begins in a few weeks' time. 
Lawns can be helped by forcing the prongs of a garden fork into it at intervals. It encourages free drainage and aeration, promotes root 
growth and encourages a more vigorous turf. 
Winter-flowering shrubs are best planted where their flowers will not go unnoticed. Some to try are Daphne bholua , Daphne 
mezereum and Daphne odora , Viburnum fragrans and V. burkwoodii , Rhododendron "Christmas Cheer" and Camellia varieties. 
Sweet pea sites not yet prepared should be readied for next season's plants. To grow stems long enough for cutting and with three or 
more flowers each, sweet peas need a good supply of plant foods in a readily-available form. 
Dig a trench and fill it, to within 30cm of the surface, with garden compost, seaweed, well-rotted stable or old cow manure. Replace 
top soil then work into that a dressing of garden lime, together with some superphosphate at planting time. 
Sweet pea seeds cannot be sown outdoors yet but can be sown in pots and placed in a heated greenhouse to get a head-start on floral 
displays. 
Ground left vacant after summer-flowering annuals were pulled up can be prepared for gross-feeding plants like dahlias and stocks. 
Spread stable manure or garden compost over the surface, then turn it into the top 10cm-15cm of the soil to allow micro-organisms to 
begin turning it into plant food and humus. 
Herbaceous perennials can be divided and replanted on fine-weather days when soil conditions allow. Dress the soil with organic 
manure if the soil is not fertile. 
home orchard 
Apple trees infested with woolly aphis and pears with scale insects or red spider should be given a winter oil spray. Thoroughly cover 
all parts of the tree. 
Diseased fruit should have been collected in autumn and not left lying on the ground to become a source of fungous disease infection 
for next season's crop. Prunings should also be picked up and burnt. 
Fruit trees may still be planted or transplanted. Even quite large specimens can be shifted successfully, to bear fruit again in two 
seasons' time. 
Gooseberry , red, white and black currant cuttings can still be inserted in the ground. 
Garden events 
Planting grafted roses is the focus of today's Pot Luck, between noon and 2pm. Meet at the Dunedin Botanic Garden information 
centre. 
The Dunedin Horticultural Society is holding its annual general meeting on July 15 at St Peter's Church lounge, Hillside Rd, from 
2pm. The agenda includes an update on the history of the society, marking 150 years in 2001, and plans for the national 
chrysanthemum and daffodil shows, being hosted in Dunedin next year. 
Include information about public tours, plant fairs or garden club meetings on this page by sending details to: Garden Events, Otago 
Daily Times , PO Box 181, Dunedin. Telephone 477-4760, or fax 474-7422. 

Looking after bird life with trees - and cats 
By Angela Crompton 
Lock up your cats! Make them wear collars with bells on - or find some other sort of pet. 
Such are the calls of conservationists, angry at bird fatalities caused by domestic moggies exercising (on more energetic days) their 
hunting-killing instincts. 
An Australian town's proposal to force cat owners to keep their animals indoors overnight and attach collars emitting warning signals 
during the day prompted a Dunedin resident to write to a national magazine last month in defence of cats. 
Dr Duncan Adams reminded readers that cats were originally tamed, not to provide people with indoor furry pets, but to protect 
communities from plagues of rats and mice. 
"Our cats must be allowed to hunt night and day, to cull our rodent populations," he wrote. 
"Some feral cats are also needed to ensure that feline hunting skills are not lost in our well-fed domesticated cat population," he added. 
Because rats eat birds' eggs, cats also actively helped protect birds, he noted. 
Dr Adams, a University of Otago medical researcher, believes birds caught by cats are the less-alert members of their species. By 
culling these ones, the more wary survivors will be left to breed the (hopefully more cautious) next generation. 
To foster bird life, Dr Adams told readers to "grow trees and breed cats". 
"I have done this at my place and have more lovely birds than ever before." 
When the Otago Daily Times visited Dr Adams' property last week, fantails and bellbirds were a noticeable presence. At first glance, 
the section seemed little more than a tree-bordered, quarter-acre block, but it extends another 2.4ha, screened from view by a tree-
covered steep bank rising behind the house. 
A row of macrocarpas seems to be a favourite feature, although they were planted long before Dr Adams bought the property 40 years 
ago. Those near the house form a tall, tidy hedge, standing firm against cool, southwest winds. Others in the paddocks have been let 
loose to become giant trees. Many of their lower branches lean on the ground, as if deliberately propping up the trunks against 
barraging gales. 
Back down by Dr Adams' house, a golden ash stands tall near the driveway, not far from a large willow on the other side. Willow 
wood make good cricket bats, Dr Adams said, but laughed when asked if any branches on his tree had been put to that use. "I was 
hopeless at cricket. Absolutely hopeless." 
However, horse-riding has been a long-term love and two mounts are kept in the paddocks. A terraced area they graze, sheltered by 
the giant macrocarpa trees, was levelled by Dr Adams 30 years ago with the idea of building another home there one day. In 
preparation, he planted another shelter belt on the opposite boundary, combining white-flowering Viburnum teinus with pohutukawa, 
eucalyptus, ake ake ( Dodonea viscosa "Purpurea") and titoki ( Alectryon excelsus ). 
Along the northeast boundary, which the proposed house would undoubtedly face to soak up panoramic views of the city and Otago 
harbour, more viburnum, some rhododendrons, kowhai, an olive tree - "that never fruits" - and a matagouri were planted. 
Matagouri were "wild country" trees, Dr Adams said. "Where nothing else will grow, a matagouri will." 
At the back of the future section, more pohutukawa, some ngaio and strawberry trees have been planted. A former bare bank below 
them is now being covered by a native creeper. When asked how that had been selected, Dr Adams said it had introduced itself. 
The St Clair hill his property is part of was originally covered in native bush. Then, as Europeans settlers arrived and sought sites for 
farms and residential sections, the trees were all burnt off. 
"All of New Zealand was denuded of trees," Dr Adams said. "They chopped [them] down and then they burnt [them]." 
Many areas were then exposed to the elements so Cupressus macrocarpa trees were imported from California. Faster growing than 
many New Zealand trees, macrocarpa did not totally thwart the re-growth of natives, however. 
On Dr Adams' property, ti or cabbage trees self-germinate from seeds in the ground. Ngaio, a tree that originally covered the St Clair 
hillside, came "back in a flash". 
"They're all over the place . . . and pittosporum trees, they grow naturally here, too." 
Dr Adams has added a few others, making hedges near the house with New Zealand lacebark ( Hoheria lyallii ) and akiraho ( Olearia 
paniculata ). 
Tapaumu or broadleaf ( Griselinia littoralis ) grows everywhere, thanks to seed-distribution from birds. 
The introduced tree lucerne self-germinates, too, and its flowers are popular with many native birds. 
"I'm no gardener. I just let things growing that like to grow." 

Late splash in `Echium' 
Echium candicans

By Robyn Freeth 
When wandering around the Dunedin Botanic Garden's rock garden to decide on a topic for this week's forum, I noticed a bright blue 
patch of colour at the far north end under the large pine tree. 
I was not the only one to be aware of these late blooming shrubs. A group of waxeyes were busy feasting off the flower panicles of the 
pride of Madeira, Echium candicans . It flowered during summer, was dead-headed shortly afterwards, and it is now in bloom again, 
probably waiting in trepidation for a big frost. 
The evergreen shrub can reach up to 2.5m in its natural habitat on Madeira in the Canary Islands. The spreading branches and grey-
green leaves are covered in fine hairs which are harmless but make it unpleasant to work with. The flower panicles extending above 
the bush have dark-blue to purple petals with protruding red stamens. 
Echium enjoys sun but will tolerate semi-shade. The genus needs a well-drained soil. If the soil is too fertile, they tend to develop a 
leafy habit at the expense of flowers. Some species are frost tender and often flower heads will form, only to be knocked back by a 
heavy frost. The past few winters in Dunedin have been kind and we've had good winter flowering. 
Echium grows easily from fresh seed, or cuttings taken from non-flowering side shoots in spring or summer. Part of the borage family, 
there are about 40 different species which are found in Europe, the Canary Islands, Africa and West Asia. The generic name comes 
from the Greek word echis , a viper, probably because somebody thought the seed resembled a viper's head. There was also a belief 
that the plant was efficacious against the adder's bite, hence the common name for the summer-flowering Echium vulgare , vipers 
bugloss. 
Two other Echium are flowering now on the rock garden. Echium virescens has long, slender, pink flower spikes protruding from a 
densely-branched, 2m-tall shrub. It has lanceolate-shaped silvery leaves and is native to Tenerife. From Gomera, also in the Canary 
Islands, comes Echium acanthocarpum , a tall shrub with reddish-brown bark, large ovate-lanceolate leaves, and a long, dense-blue 
inflorescence. 
Robyn Freeth is the rock, water and alpine plant collection curator at the Dunedin Botanic Garden. 

Many aspects to circular saws 
The circular saw is the thug, the hatchet man, of your tool kit. It doesn't have the battery drill's pin-head precision, or the turn-on-a-
dime agility of a jigsaw. Certainly not the router's finish. A circular saw is a workhorse. 
Certainly that's how do-it-yourselfers treat them. Some handyman models even have more powerful motors than their trade cousins 
because amateurs expect to do everything with one blade - ripping long lengths of wet timber, clogging the guard, and forcing the 
motor well after the blade is blunt. So the saw is working far harder than it should. Some manufacturers figured this out and beefed up 
the power to cope. 
Tradesmen will sometimes fit different blades when necessary, but every blade will be sharp. Their saws can get by with smaller 
motors, since they are not forced and overheated. The gearboxes and bearings are more robust though, so trade models should still 
outlast the amateur versions. 
There are three main variables when choosing a circular saw. Size; whether it's trade or handyman; and brand - in that order. 
Getting the size that you are comfortable with, is most important. A saw you find cumbersome and heavy, is dangerous, especially 
when cutting through a vertical surface. So you want it as light as possible. But if it's your only power saw, it needs to be grunty 
enough to handle everything you throw at it. You want power, but more power means more weight. 
The bigger the saw, the more powerful the motor needs to be. But as size goes up, the motor speed can come down, because there is an 
optimum speed for a circular saw blade at the teeth. 
The bigger the blade, the slower the motor needs to run to achieve that. Bearings in larger saws should last longer because of that 
alone, assuming there are bearings and not just the much inferior brass bushes. That's worth checking out. 
A small 160mm (6-¼in) blade saw isn't tiring to handle, and will slice 100 X 50 in one cut. It's is a light weight saw, designed for light 
work. It will struggle however when confronted with continuous work like ripping and harder timbers. No tool enjoys working at full 
capacity for long. So the smaller the saw, the more important it is to keep the blade sharp. 
Saws of 180mm (7-–in) are a good compromise between lightness and power, and the smallest usually found on building sites. 
Maintained well, they will do most things the average homeowner would expect, and keep doing them. 
Tradesmen usually go for either 210mm (8-¼in) or 235mm (9-¼in) saws. A 210mm saw will cut right through 75mm thick timber 
(100 X 75) or 100 X 50 at a 45 degree angle, in one swipe. The 235 handles that easily, but it's nearly twice the weight of a 180mm 
model. For a homeowner with lots of varied work the 210mm saw is a good choice too. 
Cutting depth is reduced when you fit a circular saw into a work bench, like a work centre. You need either a 210 or a 235. There are 
even bigger saws available, but not in the handyman range. A 260mm (10in) and a massive 335mm (13-–in) are on the market. You'd 
need a wheelbarrow to cart that one around. 
Size of saw alone doesn't determine ease and comfort of use. Adjustments on a saw should be simple, precise, easy to grasp and not 
require a body builder to shift them. So wing-nuts to angle the blade should be large; levers to adjust depth, easy to get at and move. 
Rip fences should fit quickly and adjust precisely. 
Two or even three big handles are required allow you to control the saw from different angles in different situations. The base plate 
should be rigid, and the cutting guide reliable and easy to sight. Good saws come fitted with a tungsten tipped blade: much longer 
lasting than high speed steel. 
The difference between trade and handy-man models is reflected in price. 
That may well decide you. But assuming similar price there's not much to choose between the most common saws in terms of quality. 
They are all frequently promoted with specials, so at any time, one or other could have the edge. Ask at hardware supermarkets which 
models or brands are more often returned with faults. With lesser known brands, ask about the availability of parts and service. 
Big brothers to circular saws are standing saws: drop and sliding mitre models. These are circular saws attached to a stand so they can 
be brought down and/or across the timber in a controlled and precise cut. They are especially useful for mitres and bevel cuts, and any 
exact cutting. They produce a quantum leap in neatness compared with a hand guided circular saw. 
But where cutting is required outside the workshop, a standing saw is an addition to a hand-held circular saw, not a substitute for one. 
Drop saws are simply hinged to lift up and down. This means that width of cut is limited unless the blade is large, particularly when 
tilted at an angle. 
Then there are sliding mitre saws. They combine hinged drop action, with a sliding mechanism that allows the blade to be drawn 
across the timber. They can deal with far wider pieces, like colonial skirting. 
If width of cut is what you're after in a stationary saw, you need either a massive blade or a slider. Both will cost, the slider probably a 
bit more. 
But the extra cost in a large blade comes later when you need to sharpen all those teeth. In the long run, a sliding saw is a better 
option. 
Drop and sliding saws are aimed at trades people. Unless you are a dedicated amateur woodworker or have major building or 
renovation projects, they are probably out of your league. That said, the precision they offer for cutting architraves, skirting and 
repetitive lengths, means they could repay their price in one big renovation. 
There are two styles of standing saws. The robust, powerful Japanese and Americans, and the quiet, refined Europeans. Japan, like 
New Zealand and the United States, has a tradition of timber construction. 
Standing saws there and here, have to deal with all the framing as well as finishing work. So power, and the ability to survive being 
thrown around a work site, not to mention the back of a utility, is important. Most European construction on the other hand, is in 
masonry. Timber is restricted to joinery and finishing. A drop or sliding saw in Europe will often stay in the workshop, or only be 
brought in when the heavy work is done and the joinery is to be completed. 
So European sliding saws tend to be more precise pieces. Their induction motors are wonderfully quiet compared to a universal 
electric motor, but they don't turn out quite the same power. Many models have stands and/or timber support fittings available. 
As with any substantial purchase around your home, a circular saw should last you for years. It's worth doing a fair bit of research to 
get the model that suits your needs. 
This is Dave Cull's last About the House column for the Otago Daily Times . 


                           "Many New Zealanders acknowledge that too many of our young people
                           are growing up as moral zombies, with no positive benchmark sets of
                           values to guide their behaviour." - Unesco member and former school
                           principal Pat Lynch.

                           "We know that some things benefit from being put in the fridge,
                           but we were shocked to hear that people's underwear was one of
                           them." - Kay Nicholls, spokeswoman for a British survey, after
                           discovering 8% of the populace claimed to put their underwear in a
                           refrigerator to cool during hot weather.

                           "Our children are growing up in a society where they are
                           surrounded by images of rampant sexuality. We shouldn't get
                           upset at those who are sensible enough to seek contraception." -
                           Dr Tania Pinfold, a New Zealand specialist in youth health.

                           "Much modern entertainment is now founded on flicking mud in
                           the eye of the audience or, as some put it, `in yer face'. It's high
                           time the worm turned and responded to insults by throwing things
                           back." - British peer Lord Deedes on the hostile reception recently
                           given to pop group Oasis.

                           "Young people should not be given any message that drugs are
                           OK. If this was a young athlete who we had never heard of before
                           then it's my view that he would be gone for all money." - New
                           Zealand Deputy Prime Minister Jim Anderton on the Mark Todd
                           scandal.

                           "I just hope that the number of bars reaches saturation point
                           before their clients do." - Queenstown-Lakes District Mayor Warren
                           Cooper, commenting on the fact that Queenstown now has almost 120
                           premises licensed to sell alcohol.

                           "Everybody that always hated me all those years and were so
                           mean to me, they've all transferred all their anger to her now. It's
                           almost as if they've got one last chance to beat me." - United
                           States President Bill Clinton showing concern as his wife Hillary Rodham
                           Clinton trails in her Senate race.

                           "I didn't think that a book made in Dunedin by a South Islander
                           would win." - Dunedin artist Grahame Sydney on achieving a premier
                           award at the 2000 Montana Book Awards.

                           "I love the smallness of it - it means that there's plenty of space
                           and people seem very trusting and open and unsuspicious. It
                           feels like a very safe and agreeable society." - American travel
                           writer Bill Bryson visiting New Zealand.

                           "The pendulum has swung too far and men are becoming angry
                           because they no longer have an equal voice on so many issues." -
                           James Hilton, Australian author of Presumed Guilty: The Invisible War
                           Against the Working Class Male .

                           "I'm from England and I'm quite used to the crush, but it's quite
                           genteel here. Everyone's quite polite. In England, there's more
                           abuse - there's shoving and elbows." - Englishwoman Linda Forrest,
                           now living in Wellington, on the annual sale by department store
                           Kirkcaldie and Stains.

                           "In Hollywood, you're fortunate if you get a role where your brain
                           is engaged." - American Actress Elisabeth Shue (36), who received an
                           Oscar nomination for her portrayal of a prostitute in Leaving Las Vegas
                           , on recently graduating from Harvard University with a dual degree in
                           politics and government she first began 19 years ago.

                           "I was, and remain, greatly distressed to find that my misreading
                           of slides has caused so much pain and suffering to so many
people." - Retired Gisborne pathologist Michael Bottrill.

"I can get out the bottles and go, `Oh, hello, I remember you', but I don't have a struggle with it."
- Rolling Stone Ronnie Wood, who has given up drinking.

"We decided that we'd do it properly now that we've had time to think about it." - Peter Wilson (53)
of Christchurch, on marrying his fiancee Carol after living together for 31 years.

Passing Notes . . . . . . by Civis 

SHARING A Wakatipu launch trip with a crowd of tourists many years ago, I was
dumbfounded by the historical rubbish dished out to the unsuspecting visitors -
culminating in the bland assertion that Walter Peak had been named when Walter
McKenzie died in a skiing accident on its slopes.

The passing comments of our driver on a pleasant bus trip to Christchurch last weekend were generally of a
much better standard, but there was room for improvement. "Puketapu" was accurately translated, but
"Kelly's Canter" was attributed to the policeman who supposedly "won the first race to the top". The truth is
rather more romantic: Kelly, stationed at Palmerston during World War 2, regularly hoofed up the slopes of
Puketapu as part of his coast-watching duties, and the race - inaugurated many years later - was named
after him.

The Moeraki boulders naturally lend themselves to imaginative legends. The Maori version, of water-gourds
from the wrecked Araiteuru canoe being washed up on the beach, came across quite well. But the driver's
alternative "scientific" explanation had them being blasted out by an underwater volcano and strewn around
the shore. The truth, less dramatic but more mysterious, is that they were formed in the Moeraki mudstone
by charged ions moving towards crystallisation centres and forming a calcite core around which the spherical
concretions developed.

Nor does the raki of Moeraki have anything to do with "rocks". The name is usually translated as "sleepy
sky" or "a place to rest by day", the raki being the southern Maori form of rangi . But it may well have been
a re-used place-name brought there from elsewhere, for another Moerangi or Moeraki Bush existed south of
Dunedin in the early years of European settlement.

The tourist industry, as a whole, could do better in this field. Perhaps, when prizes are being awarded in the
industry, accuracy of commentaries should be one of the significant criteria.

WE TOOK the opportunity in Christchurch to view an exhibition of three-dimensional installations by fine
arts students. But, alas, the originality of concept was generally mediocre, and the standard of craftsmanship
no better. Only one exhibit - an interesting circular "chandelier" in neon - made any genuine impression.

The contrast was all the more striking, therefore, when we moved on to the Robert McDougall Art Gallery
and saw, in a roomful of W. A. Sutton's work, the exquisite examination piece he produced at the University
Canterbury School of Art in 1937 when aged no more than 20. The work, in the style of a medieval missal,
demonstrated such craftsmanship in calligraphy, illumination, bookbinding and skilled silver-smithing as to
make the standards of the year 2000 seem no better than a travesty.

THOUGH WE saw no visiting exhibition at the McDougall, it provided its usual common sense mix of
regional, national and international art, classical and recent, catering for a range of tastes - a relief from the
recent dismaying ructions at the Dunedin Public Art Gallery.

Despite the peace agreement patched up with the Art Society, one wonders - after receiving its latest
mailing a week or so ago - whether our gallery has any real intention of mending its ways. One flier
publicised a musical recital; the second a lecture on museums and heritage protection; the third a lecture
series on film appreciation - all marginally relevant to an art gallery; but nothing on the gallery's core subjects
of art and sculpture.

The agreed percentage of permanent collection is currently on show, with a teaspoonful of feminist theory to
make it politically correct. Frances Hodgkins has been given an airing in the sloping walkway. Don Driver
and two smaller exhibitions can be seen upstairs. And there's an interesting jeu d'esprit involving a pioneer
picnic painting, a Manhire poem and contemporary "ghost" lookalike. But no regional grouping is on show to
match the McDougall's take-for-granted displays of Sutton, Grace Butler and Canterbury paintings of the
1990s.

FRANKLY, THOUGH, I don't think "regionalism" is the issue here at all. The more fundamental issue is
whether art is prepared to live alongside, and in conjunction with, the physical world it inhabits.

The Sarkie brothers grabbed such an opportunity and produced a memorable winning film. Look at this
week's book awards. Owen Marshall making great literature from the community around him. Grahame
Sydney (so grudgingly accommodated at the DPAG) distilling from the land art of international standard.
One of the Sarkies again to the fore with prize-winning stories. The public warmly responds to such cultural
expertise created from the world it knows.

But our pictorial art establishment lags far behind. Where are the portraits of such contemporaries as Ruth
Dallas, Jonathan Lemalu or Patricia Payne? Or our notable sportspeople? The colour of our international
skifields; the dynamics of our surfing beaches; the variety of our architecture; the renown of our scholars
and researchers; the throbbing life of our students and the serenity of our elderly; the new racial mixes in our
shops and streets? Our rich and our poor; the whole emotional physicality of our life?

Where are the gallery's regional equivalents of those Renaissance settings, Dutch interiors or Lowry
factories? Not to be seen. And, to paraphrase the words of John Donne, if our art can't reach and apprehend
the physical life around us and put it on public show, "a great prince in prison lies".

AFTERTHOUGHT: They may have lost their paper-mill and their rolled oats mill, but the Southlanders
haven't lost their sense of humour.

Where else would a policeman, chillingly clad in naught but a G-string while on duty, be sentenced by his
superiors to a "dressing down"?


During his electioneering campaign at Waihemo Mr Guffie read a telegram from the Premier stating that the
stock department had received no communication whatever respecting the erection of freezing works at Ida
Burn. This may be perfectly true, but we understand that Messrs Tonkin and Co., rabbit exporters, applied to
the Land Board in May last for a site for the erection of works at the place mentioned. One of the rangers of
the board visited the site in company with Mr Tonkin after the application was sent in, but the board
subsequently declined the application without assigning any reason for so doing. Messrs Tonkin and Co.
proposed to erect a dairy factory on the site in question, also a freezing works for sheep, lambs, and rabbits.
They have already imported machinery for the works at a cost of 3000 pounds, and as their application has
been declined they will have to obtain a site in some other district.

The case of the City Corporation against Throp, which arose out of the action of the council in respect of
defendant's buildings in Stafford Street alleged to be in an insanitary state, had been adjourned to yesterday's
sitting of the Magistrate's Court. As the ordinary cases occupied the attention of the magistrates during the
greater part of the day, a further adjournment till next Tuesday was made.

A well authenticated report comes from Ashburton to the effect that when a pair of ducks were killed this
week at the vicarage three grains of gold were found in their gizzards. A quantity of shingle had been carted
from the river-bed to the yard, and the gold is supposed to have come from the shingle. The story is by no
means an improbable one, as traces of gold can be found in the Ashburton river-bed from the mouth right
away up the gorge to its source.

Nissan Pulsar redesigned from
                      the ground up 

By David Bruce

"It breaks all the rules", and television viewers
will already have seen Nissan's new Pulsar
crashing through glass barriers.

What Nissan is trying to convey is that its new
small car, redesigned from the ground up,
offers more interior room, higher safety levels,
a more responsive and economical engine and
stylish body.

In terms of styling, Nissan has managed to
produce a stand-out design with a strong
family resemblance at the nose to the larger
Maxima.

The large, latest technology CSR halogen
headlamps, a distinctive front grille and the
sporting profile created by a coupe-like
roof-line and wedge shape gives the Pulsar a
sophisticated appearance.

Overall, the Pulsar at 4470mm is 150mm
longer than the previous model. Width is now
1695mm (5mm more) and height is 1445mm
(50mm more).

This has resulted in more interior space, with
25mm more space between the front seats and
an extra 22mm headroom. Headroom is 26mm
more in the rear and the seating has higher hip
points for easier access and exit.

The new body boasts a boot that is 6% larger than the previous model and capable of taking 430 litres of
luggage.

Spaciousness has been enhanced by the two-tone layout of the dashboard, centre cluster area and door
trims.

Body rigidity has been improved by 30% over the old Pulsar to provide a quieter, more comfortable ride,
better handling and improved safety.

Nissan says there is less body movement, allowing the MacPherson front suspension and rear multi-link
beam suspension to do their job better.

The more rigid body has also reduced road noise and cruising noise levels, making the Pulsar quieter.
Extensive use of sound-deadening materials has reduced noise levels.

From a safety point of view, the new body has received the highest rating from the Japanese new car crash
assessment programme. It has also been designed to meet the European offset crash regulations and the
United States side impact regulations.

There are energy impact-absorbing zones at the front and rear and more cross-members have been built into
the body to dissipate side impact forces and ensure the integrity of the cabin is maintained in an accident.

A driver's airbag is standard, while anti-lock braking is fitted to the LS model, along with a passenger airbag
and front seatbelt pre-tensioners with load limiters.

Computer-designed surfaces are used in the halogen lamps to more accurately focus the light output and
provide 50% better illumination than conventional headlamps.

Windscreen wipers have been enlarged for better coverage and the door rear-vision mirrors are bigger,
giving a better field of view.

The new multi-point fuel-injected 1597cc engine has double overhead camshafts and 16 valves. It is from the
same family of engines introduced to New Zealand last August in the Pulsar wagon as a 1.5 litre.

It produces 87kW at 6000rpm and 143Nm of torque at 4400rpm, with improved fuel economy over the
previous model and greater mid-range torque and driveability.

The engine has variable-valve timing control, which optimises the timing of the intake valves to suit different
engine revs. It also has minimal friction loss due to micro-finishing of the crankshaft and camshafts, which
assists economy and engine response.

Nissan says improved driveability and reduced engine noise levels have been enhanced by a more powerful,
32-bit engine micro-computer to control management operations. The computer now does ignition timing
adjustments.

A new electronically controlled automatic transmission replaces the previous hydraulic unit, giving smoother
changes and an optimised shift pattern to reduce gear-swapping when negotiating hills.

The engine and transmission now communicate with each other to provide better economy and smoother
shifts.

More accurate gear changes are now possible with the five-speed manual transmission which has been
improved by using double cone synchromesh for the first and second gears.

Two models of the Pulsar are being offered - the entry LX ($28,295 manual, $29,495 automatic) and the
upmarket LS ($29,895/$31,095).

All models have power-assisted steering, body-coloured bumpers and mudflaps. The steering column is
tilt-adjustable, velour upholstery is standard, along with front door pockets, centre console box, internal
remote fuel-boot openers, and an interior light system that comes on when the doors are unlocked and has a
time delay after the ignition is switched off.

Cup-holders, a rear-seat armrest and a fold-down flap to extend luggage loads are standard. The central
locking now has a remote control and an engine immobiliser has been added.

Air-conditioning is standard on both models, along with power windows and electrically adjustable door
mirrors. A four speaker CD player replaces the radio cassette.

The LS models get the extra safety features of anti-lock brakes, a front passenger airbag and pre-tensioner
seatbelts.

Extra Maxima 

Nissan has also added a third model to its large-car, Maxima line-up. The new Si sells for $40,495, with the
ST at $42,995 and Ti at $46,995.

The Si is designed to appeal to company and fleet buyers, but is well specified enough top attract private
buyers who may opt for the V6 Maxima over the highly specified medium car.

The Si retains the mechanical and safety packages of the other models, including the 3.0 litre engine, which
produces 157kW in power and 291Nm in torque.

It has body-coloured bumpers and chrome door handles, tilt-adjustable steering column, velour upholstery,
driver-seat height and lumbar adjustment, split-folding rear seat, four-speaker CD player, air-conditioning,
power windows, remote central locking and power mirrors.

Safety features include dual front airbags, seatbelt pretensioners, three-point centre rear seat-belt, five
adjustable head restraints, door anti-intrusion beams and front and rear impact absorption zones.

Manager records memories 

                                              A love of history and strong loyalties to the
                                              company which sent him to "Shangri La"
                                              prompted Edward (Ted) Barringer to produce
                                              a book, documenting 130 years of Cadbury and
                                              Hudson in New Zealand.

                                              Sweet Success - The Story of Cadbury and
                                              Hudson in New Zealand , was officially
                                              launched in Dunedin yesterday, coinciding with
                                              the opening of the inaugural Cadbury
                                              Chocolate Carnival. 

                                              Mr Barringer was born in Merton, England,
                                              where his parents owned a small sweet shop.
                                              After serving in World War 2, he studied
                                              French at the Sorbonne, Paris, then got a
                                              degree at Cambridge University, before
seeking work.

One of the places he approached was Cadbury Brothers chocolate company in Bournville but, forgetting the
Cadbury family's Quaker, pacifist background, the former Lt-cmdr Barringer had dressed in uniform for the
interview. 

Paul Cadbury studied him closely. "Tell me, Mr Barringer, what makes you think you will be any use to the
business?"

Guessing a less-authoritative presentation might win support, the hopeful candidate recounted working in his
widowed mother's sweet shop - selling Cadbury's popular "two ounces for twopence" chocolate tablets. 

He was duly given a trainee management position at Bournville in 1948 then, in 1952, was sent to New
Zealand for six months' "business experience".

Dunedin made a lasting impact. In his book, Mr Barringer describes his arrival: "As we came over the old
Mount Cargill Rd, I saw Dunedin for the first time on a beautifully clear, crisp winter's day. Straightaway, I
knew that I had found my personal Shangri-La."

His enthusiasm was not quelled by the six-month stint and when he went back to England, he knew he would
return. Cadbury made that possible in 1955 and a few months after arriving, Mr Barringer applied for
permanent New Zealand citizenship - "so they couldn't send me back".

He was made managing director in 1963 and oversaw various expansions during the following 17 years. A
market for its chocolate was won in Japan, a new factory was set up in Papakura, Moro bars were launched
as a New Zealand counter to Mars bars and a merger was made with Schweppes.

In 1978, Mr Barringer celebrated his 30th anniversary with other long-serving Cadbury colleagues, inspiring
the establishment of a "25-year club".

Anyone employed by Cadbury for 25 years or more belongs and each year they mark their time at the
company over an annual dinner. The people component has always been paramount in the business, Mr
Barringer believes. 

"The people who make the product you're trying to sell are just as important as the people you're selling it
to."

To lessen the division between those behind desks and those on the production line, he made a habit of
walking around the factory floor each morning. 

He talked with union delegates and listened to their concerns and tried to impress on all staff that everyone
at Cadbury was working toward a common goal.

When a workplace dispute in the North Island once prompted a union call for national strike action, Mr
Barringer did his usual walk around the factory and talked to workers. They had to weigh up their two
loyalties - one to the factory, the other to the union - and decide which one to show it to, he told them.

When the day of strike action came, no-one stood down. To this day, Cadbury boasts a history of never
having had to halt work because of industrial action.

Cadbury at the city's core 

With its tall white buildings dividing Dunedin's northern motorway
from the southern route for an entire block, and chocolate aromas
regularly filling the air, Cadbury has a prominent presence in the city.
ANGELA CROMPTON looks back at its history.

It is another Wednesday afternoon and the Cadbury Confectionery
store is enjoying a steady trade. Chocolate and confectionery
products are going for bargain prices and customers come away with
large bags of purchases.

The shop is only open to current and former Cadbury staff and many
turn up each week. 

Is product addiction an occupational hazard when working in a
chocolate factory? A glance at the quantities each person is buying
suggest so. Alternatively, perhaps chocolate is such a feel-good
substance that Cadbury staff get used to the positive vibes of sharing
it around.

"Chocolate is very, very good for you," says former Cadbury
managing director (1991-96) Paul Hudson. He is possibly repeating a
family mantra. It was his great-great grandfather, Richard Hudson,
who started the Dunedin biscuit and chocolate company which
merged with the British Cadbury Fry in 1930, to become Cadbury
Fry Hudson. Mr Hudson sen had wanted to create a stable,
profitable business for his sons. His dream was fulfilled and the next four generations of descendants were in
the company's management team.

Paul Hudson stepped down in 1996 but his faith in the value of chocolate does not seem to have diminished.

History records its positive effects, he argued. Its reputed aphrodisiac qualities seem supported by the tale of
an ancient Aztec leader who consumed large amounts of it - and maintained "very good relationships with all
his wives". Casanova was known to love chocolate as much as women and a French king's mistress ate and
drank so much of it she gave birth to a dark-skinned baby.

Chocolate also gave people a sense of wellbeing and enabled them to improve their relationships, Mr Hudson
said. 

"If people realised that, they would probably eat even more of it - or feed the appropriate people some."

Mr Hudson resigned from his management position at Cadbury when its head office was shifted to
Auckland. Six years earlier, the company had sold its Hudson biscuit interests to rival biscuit company,
Griffins. Mr Hudson's departure cut all Hudson ties with the company - although not necessarily forever. 

"There are other Hudsons in the next generation - and as far as I'm aware, the production lines are still
working . . . "

Whether he referred to Cadbury factory production lines or those in Hudson members' homes was unclear,
but he added that other Dunedin families also had inter-generation associations with the business. It had
always been one of the major manufacturing industries in the city and was now one of the last. "It is
essential to the Dunedin economy," Mr Hudson said.

While education and tourism were increasingly important in the city, not everyone was suited to that kind of
work. "We need vibrant manufacturing industries. And hopefully, the growing manufacturing industries will
employ the people that we're producing out of our education system."

Cadbury Confectionery operations director Silvio Tenci said the University of Otago was an important
presence in the city and helped Dunedin remain a viable centre for the company. He disputed any idea that
its main branch was in Auckland. It looks after customer administration but research, development and
operation decisions are all made from the original factory. 

Chemistry, microbiology, engineering and food and technology students from the university are regularly
brought in and technology resources at the university had led to some "state-of-the-art" facilities being set up
in the city. Dunedin Cadbury was a world leader in its method of chocolate production, Dr Tenci said.

He joined Cadbury in 1986 after completing a doctorate in microbiology at the university. His first job, as a
"quality manager", led on to a production manager's role then, last year, operations director.

"It's a long way from what I started . . . but typical of what this company does."

In some companies, a person employed as an accountant would always be an accountant, a microbiologist
always a microbiologist, he said. "Cadbury is really good at moving people between disciplines."

By helping people extend their knowledge and skills, the business gained more flexibility and was able to
respond to unexpected large orders. It also stopped people getting bored with their jobs. 

Positive feelings in the workplace perhaps explained why Cadbury enjoyed a stable workforce. The "intense
loyalty" people felt for Dunedin also contributed.

"There's a good culture. A lot of people live in Dunedin because they like the lifestyle . . . and stay here
longer than they might in other business units," Dr Tenci said. Those who did venture away often came back,
bringing useful overseas skills and information with them. 

A couple of years ago, head office in London initiated a new business management regime for Cadbury.
Instead of the traditional business approach, providing training and promotion opportunities for top-level staff
but expecting factory staff to "leave their brain at the door", just follow orders and get the job done,
everything was turned "upside down", Dr Tenci said.

Under the new order, all staff members had levels of responsibility for the plant they worked in and how its
programme ran. A shop floor "training infrastructure team" reported on what worked well and suggested
improvements that could be made.

By using everybody's skills and promoting teamwork, rather than people working as individuals, a more
streamlined production process was created. And what works well for Cadbury has a pay-back for Dunedin,
Dr Tenci said.

Home town hosts biography
                               launch 

By Sally Rae

Oamaru: Author Michael King discussed his
just-released biography about fellow author
Janet Frame at a function in Frame's home
town of Oamaru last night.

Oamaru Public Library information librarian Jill
Grenfell said the library was "delighted" to host
the function and had set up a display devoted
to Frame. 

Frame was educated at Oamaru North School
and Waitaki Girls High School.

A heritage trail around the town following sites
important to her writing opened in 1995.

Dr King's biography, Wrestling With The
Angel , included the surprise revelation that
Frame was the only non-serviceman in New
Zealand receiving a pension administered by the Office of Veteran Affairs, Penguin Books said yesterday.

The pension was awarded to Frame by a Cabinet decision in 1971 "for services to New Zealand literature",
King said in the book.

At the time it was awarded, Frame joked she might now be able to join the Returned Services Association to
which her father, World War 1 veteran George Frame, had belonged.

King noted that other writers previously awarded annuities by New Zealand governments included Frame's
mentor, Frank Sargeson, poet Eileen Duggan and historian James Cowan.

  Janet Frame, the compassionate truth - section H, page 11

Leading electricity industry figure 

Staff Writer

After Norman Alexander Davidson ("Davie"), a former chief engineer of
the Waitaki Electric Power Board, glanced at the picture in the
newspaper which marked his 100th birthday this year, he turned straight
to the sharemarket page.

Mr Davidson, who died in Tauranga last month, retained a keen interest
in both shares and the electricity industry until his death.

He was a leading figure in the industry for decades and was a former
president of the Electricity Engineers Institute. He was also a pioneer
and expert in rural reticulation.

Referring to his work in Southland in the 1920s, he once said: "We did
not know how to distribute electricity in a rural area. We had to find out
for ourselves as it had not been done anywhere in the world."

Mr Davidson was brought up on the family farm at Pakawau, near
Collingwood, and won a scholarship to Nelson College. He graduated
from Canterbury University in electrical engineering and worked at the
Arapuni Hydro Power Station (on the Waikato River), the Southland Electric Power Board and the Waitaki
Electric Power Board before becoming chief engineer of the Waitomo Electric Power Board, based in Te
Kuiti, in 1929.

From 1943 until he retired to Tauranga in 1967 he was chief engineer for the Waitaki board.

He served on government electricity commissions, was a member of the Cook Strait cable planning
committee, was made a fellow and life member of the New Zealand Institution of Professional Engineers
and a life member of the international electrical engineers organisation.

In Oamaru, he was prominent in Rotary and served on the Waitaki High Schools Board.

He was involved in many community activities and was still delivering Meals on Wheels with his wife Marion
(nee Somerville) when in his 90s.

Mr Davidson's other interests included rugby, racing, golf and his vegetable garden. 

He is survived by his wife, one son and two daughters.

Monde Marie
   matriarch loomed
      larger than life 

Staff Writer 

Those of us old enough to clearly remember youthful fun and frolics
from the early 1960s mark their experience of the Monde Marie in
Wellington as one of the high points.

The Monde Marie was, you see, no ordinary coffee bar.

First, a brief lesson in revisionist social history for all you
X-generation young things: when adolescence was discovered in
New Zealand post-1956 - its arrival coincided with the music of Bill
Haley and Elvis Presley - the place to congregate and be seen was the local milk bar, where the centre of
attention was the corner jukebox. Teenagers drank milkshakes - yes, milkshakes - and if they were lucky,
ersatz coffee made from boiled-down used tires.

By 1958 the country had grown up a little, and here and there, as rare as diamonds in the sky, genuine coffee
bars began to appear, serving both real coffee and a complicated imported ambience consisting more or less
in combination the flavour of the American Beatnik style along with either of two possible muses: jazz or folk
music.

Mary Dorothea Seddon, who died early last month aged 76, began Monde Marie in 1958 on the corner of
Majoribanks and Roxburgh Sts and kept it going until 1970. 

Monde Marie mixed coffee and folk music under Mary's imperious proprietorship. It had all the standard
1960s motifs - the fishing nets strung from the ceiling, the wax-encrusted candles planted in empty wine
bottles - and it was a serious coffee bar catering for hard-core folk music enthusiasts. Virtually every
international visiting folk-singer felt obliged to perform there while passing through the capital.

The local folk-singers she permitted to perform to the customers soon learned the value of loyalty should
they betray her by singing at the Chez Paree, just down the street which drew a younger, less bohemian
crowd. The Chez was Donovan, the Seekers and Simon and Garfunkel; the Monde was Dylan, Joan Baez
and the Clancy Brothers. Mary was strong on loyalty.

She was one of those women with a flamboyant personality and a warm heart more often than not
concealed beneath an unpredictable and prickly exterior. She could be very severe on people she did not like,
and had very firm, frequently bizarre, opinions on a great many subjects, but she could also be "mother" to
many a lost soul and generous to a fault. 

As The Evening Post reported, there were many great tales told at her funeral service at Old St Paul's,
some by customers who had not seen her for 40 years, now scattered all over the world - "the formidable
Seddon had made such a lasting impression they felt compelled to see her off. Or perhaps they just couldn't
believe she had expired, and needed to confirm it for themselves."

The first thing one learned about her was that she was West Coast-born and the granddaughter of the
redoubtable Liberal Party premier Richard "King Dick" Seddon, from whom she seemed to have inherited
more than a few characteristics. Her father, Thomas Seddon, was also an MP, in the declining years of the
party.

Mary Seddon did a BA at Victoria University during Hitler's War, and was reputedly a lethal left winger for
the women's hockey team, whacking her opponents' legs as often as she struck the ball. She travelled to
Europe alone when it was still an unconventional thing to do and returned with a fund of stories she often
regaled to favoured customers years later, stories involving encounters with Italian lingerie salesmen and
being arrested in Russia.

She taught at Samuel Marsden Collegiate School in Karori, where she had been a pupil, and had an enduring
impact on her students. A former pupil recalled her "outrageous" personality, her daring clothing ("visually
she was a revelation") and her love of bawdy Restoration comedy.

At that time, Mary was also a film critic for the weekly newspaper Truth . The sub-editor who handled her
copy - another who turned up at the funeral - considered her reviews some of the finest she had read, though
she was notorious for failing to meet her deadlines. She would leave her classes unsupervised at Marsden as
she raced down the hill at breakneck speed in her Morris Minor to deliver her reviews to the Truth office.

Her driving was legendary. An old friend recalled: "You closed your eyes and prayed when you were in a
car with Mary." Don Bryant, the then editor of Truth , remembered her squeezing the Morris into a tight
parking space outside the newspaper's office by shunting the cars in front and behind, to the consternation of
an elderly woman sitting in one of them.

The Monde Marie became the centre of her life. Ex-pat customers scattered all over the country well
remember its waitresses, who wore black stockings and short skirts - and may well have fallen in love with
several - and some were "cheeky, but not so cheeky as to upstage Mary", as one recalled at the funeral.
After the Monde had closed in the early hours of the morning, Mary would occasionally instruct her fatigued
employees to go up the road to Wellington Zoo and pick up a load of elephant dung to spread on the garden
of her house at Wadestown.

The elephant dung would be conveyed up Wadestown Hill in the back of her two-cylinder Bradford van - the
same van that was used to deliver food to the coffee bar, much to the disapproval of her younger brother
Derry, a doctor.

She never married, and devoted herself for years to the care of her ageing mother. She was an excellent but
disorganised cook, and a passionate gardener with a particular fondness for magnolias. 

Ill-health dogged her last years, for she was an incorrigible nicotine addict all her life. She developed arterial
disease, diabetes and arthritis but continued to smoke defiantly, even in the coronary care unit during her last
admission to Wellington Hospital.


100 years ago

The Hon. J. G. Ward will leave by the south express train this morning, and 
intends visiting his home at the Bluff but
is to return to Dunedin on Saturday and on Monday will go to Oamaru in 
order to be present at the distribution of the
Royal Society's medals by Lord Ranfurly. His excellency the Governor and the Hon. J. 
G. Ward are to come on to Dunedin on the 20th and remain here till the contingent has 
been despatched 
for South Africa.
The shooting season for Otago is to be opened on March 31.
The monthly meeting of the Athenaeum Committee, held last night, was 
attended by Messrs Blyth (in the chair),
Whitson, Pryde, Park, Harlow, Moore, Burton, Jeffery, Graham, Barclay, and 
Whetter; an apology for absence being
received from Mr Salmond. Accounts amounting to 84 pounds 11s 8d were 
passed for payment. The committee dealt
with the question of the removal of books from the library without being 
entered in the librarian's ledger, and decided to
disqualify from membership any member found breaking the rules of the 
library in this respect. The question of taking
steps whereby the advantage of the institution might be made better known, 
especially in the
country districts, was discussed and remitted to the Library Committee to 
report thereon.
The monthly meeting of the Arthur street School Committee took place last 
evening and was attended by Messrs A.
Burt (chairman), Crawford, Struthers, Sligo, Braithwaite, Forsyth, Mason, 
and Cameron. Messrs Burt and Sligo were
appointed Visiting Committee for the month, and payment was authorised of 
accounts amounting to 8 pounds 10s 9d.
A very important meeting in connection with the Druids of New Zealand has 
just concluded at Gisborne. The subjects
of the assimilation of the laws referring to contributions and affiliation 
and the formalities of a Grand Lodge for New Zealand were among those discussed. The 
conference included representatives 
from Canterbury, Otago, and the
North, Island. It was resolved to assimilate the laws relative to 
contributions, etc. so that members can go right through New Zealand. On the subject of 
a Grand Lodge for New Zealand, it was resolved by Otago and the North Island to join a 
Grand Executive, Canterbury not seeing her way to join at present.

Brilliant blue of borage features in South Island fields

Nature File
By Anthony Harris
Otago Museum

This year, while undertaking field work in southern Canterbury and 
Central Otago, I was surprised at the expanse of
non-traditional crops. The numbers of vineyards and olive groves are 
increasing rapidly in Central Otago.
In Canterbury, on the coast south-east of Waimate, the blue flowers of 
borage covered hundreds of square hectares. Currently, it can be seen for hundreds of 
kilometres on either 
side of the main highway south of Timaru.
Until very recently, a New Zealander's only encounter with borage was as 
one of the mixture of fruits and herbs at the
brim of a glass of Pimms No 1, or gin sling. It is a centuries-old ingredient of 
drinks, supposed to bring courage.
Borage (Borago officinalis) is a traditional European herb long grown for 
the beauty of its flowers and for its culinary
and medicinal values.
Among other benefits it was thought to cure depression.
Borage is a sturdy annual herb with short bristly hairs on its leaves, stem 
and unopened flower buds. It grows 30cm-60cm tall, has large, ovate, grey-green leaves 
and clusters of intensely 
blue, star-shaped flowers. The flowers bear a
cone of black anthers.
Since about 1990, oils derived from the seeds have been used to treat a 
number of medical conditions, including
some types of eczema.
Atopic eczema is a type of hereditary dermatitis caused by a defect in an 
important enzyme needed to convert
dietary linoleic acid in the blood to other important bio-chemicals such as gamma linoleic 
acid and prostaglandin.
Patients with atopic eczema build up high levels of linoleic acid in their 
blood and low levels of the desired by-product chemicals.
When these patients are treated with a product derived from borage seeds, 
the oil bypasses the genetically-caused
enzyme deficit and improves their condition.
Borage flower seeds contain gamma linoleic acid, the ingredient responsible 
for the oil's medicinal qualities, which at
present cannot be synthesised in the laboratory. The barley-sized borage 
seeds yield 25% gamma linoleic acid.
New Zealand is one of four countries supplying gamma linoleic acid for food 
and cosmetics, the other countries being
Britain, Holland and the US. New Zealand's South Island contains the rich, 
loamy soils needed for optimum growth.
Many farmers have started growing borage to spread risks in the face of 
declining values for more traditional crops.
In 1990, Roche Food and Pharmaceutical Industries harvested its first crop 
of Canterbury borage, which supplied 30%
of the international market.
This year the museum has received a number of inquiries about the 
"blue-flowered crops". Although there is a finite
market for borage, it is likely to be a feature in South Canterbury and 
North Otago.

100 years ago

The experimental trawling expedition on Friday by the trawler Express for 
the edification of the directors of the local
trawling company resulted in a big haul of red cod, and as the sale of 
red cod is somewhat slow at present the whole
catch was thrown into the steamer basin and on Saturday were floating 
about in all directions. The officers of the
harbour board, however, took exception to this rough-and-ready method of 
disposing of superfluous fish and the
secretary
promptly ordered the trawler to pick up the fish again, or to stand the 
penalty imposed by the board by-laws for such
wanton acts of harbour pollution. The fish were all taken back outside 
the heads.
Owing to the Easter holidays the. committee of the Otago A. and P. 
Society have decided to extend the date of receiving the exhibits of export butter and 
cheese until Thursday, the 19.
Seventeen maxims for the general guidance of the police force have
been issued from the head office. Constables are reminded that they are 
placed in authority to protect and not
oppress the public. To do this they must earnestly and systematically 
exert themselves to prevent crime, and when a
crime has been committed they are to spare neither time nor exertions to 
discover the offender and bring him to
justice. The force are advised to obtain a knowledge of all reputed 
thieves and idle and disorderly persons, and to
watch narrowly persons having no visible means of support. They are to be 
impartial in the discharge of their duties,
and discard all political and sectarian prejudices; to be cool and 
intrepid in emergencies and unavoidable conflicts; to
avoid altercations and display perfect command of temper under insult and 
provocation; not to strike except in self-
defence, nor treat prisoners with more rigour than necessary to prevent 
escape; and to practice the most complete sobriety.

100 years ago

Mr John Campbell and Mrs Elizabeth Chaplin have been nominated for the vacancy in 
the representation of West Ward in the North-east Valley Borough Council.
Messrs Daniel McCurdy and John Riddell have been elected, without opposition, as 
members of the Peninsula Road Board, and Messrs Alexander Smaill, Thomas 
Henderson, and William Cowan, also without opposition as members of the Tomahawk 
Road Board.
It is stated that a dredgemaster from Otago has gone to Canada to take control of a dredge 
on one of the rivers there. He is getting his passage paid, half his wages on the voyage, 
and is to receive 7 pounds a week when he takes up his duties – which have been 
graphically described as walking around with his hands in his pockets giving a look over 
all the work. A one-time Otago dredgemaster, at present earning 5 pounds a week in 
Australia, is being offered 6 pounds a week to return to New Zealand. With the large 
demand which will shortly arise for dredgemasters when the West Coast dredges 
commence operations, a dredgemaster's position, as regards salary promises (the Press 
thinks) to rank second only to that of a bank manager or a minister of the Crown.
When the appointment of an assistant medical officer for the Christchurch Hospital was 
under consideration on Wednesday (the Press reports), the chairman said that junior 
surgeons were most difficult to get. Were it not for the Medical School at Dunedin, he did 
not know how the colony would get along for junior medical men.

How was the atom split?

ASK A SCIENTIST

David Milne, of Kings High School, asks. -  How did Sir Earnest Rutherford split the 
atom?
 John Campbell, a physicist who wrote the book, Rutherford - Scientist Supreme, 
responds:
I notice you have spelt his first name as it
appears in the New Zealand birth register.
 Rutherford became the first person in the
world to knowingly split an atom, in 1917 (the
millennium postage stamp featuring this event
uses the date 1919, the date the work was first
widely published, not when it was actually
done). It came about in the way science usually
progresses, in studying the unknown for its
own sake; it came about unexpectedly, while
playing marbles with atoms; and it had a
longer history than is normally given to it.
 By 1911, Rutherford had discovered the
nuclear nature of atoms, through experiments
in which high-speed alpha particles (the nuclei
of helium atoms) were scattered in passing
through a gold film. In 1913, he extended this
work to scattering by lighter atoms which were
gases. He was assisted in some of this work by
his assistant, Ernest Marsden, who later
became Director of Education in New Zealand.
 Rutherford had anticipated that when using hydrogen gas, light protons (the nuclei of 
hydrogen atoms) would be ejected with speeds higher than that which the heavier alpha 
particle had. (You can observe this yourself if you hit a lighter marble with a heavier one, 
or hit the jack with a lawn bowling ball, or drop a basketball with a tennis 
ball on top of it.) Marsden observed these emitted
protons but also reported that sometimes a few protons seemed to be 
emitted with speed higher than could be
accounted for by a simple collision.
At the end of 1914, Marsden left Manchester for New Zealand. At that 
time Rutherford was on a tour of Australia and
New Zealand and World War 1 started. Hence, on his return to Manchester 
all his time went into war work, developing
methods of detecting submarines using sound waves.
It was not until late 1917 that Rutherford could return to pure research. 
As projectiles he used the high speed alpha particles, ejected from radioactive polonium 
atoms. When these were fired 
into nitrogen gas an occasional extra long-range proton was observed. In this case, one of 
the alpha particles 
penetrated into the nucleus of the nitrogen atom
and made the combination unstable so it split into an oxygen atom and the 
light nucleus of a hydrogen atom, a
proton, which was then ejected at very high speed.
It is usually overlooked that in doing this work Ernest Rutherford became 
the world's first successful alchemist.
Ask A Scientist , PO Box 31035, Christchurch; e-mail: 
aas@its.canterbury.ac.nz

100 years ago

The members of the Rivers Commission have completed their inspection of the Waikaia 
River, and to-day hear evidence at the Waikaia Courthouse. It is understood they will 
shortly report on the streams already dealt with.
The Educational Institute held three sittings yesterday. In the morning the annual report 
and balance sheet were disposed of and the office-bearers for the ensuing year elected. In 
the afternoon the present method of appointing teachers was discussed, and the system 
had a bad time of it. Teachers' salaries, travelling expenses of delegates, and other 
matters provided food for discussion till the adjournment. In the evening a paper on 
"Physical Education" was read by Mr J. W. Smith, and after it had been discussed Mr A. 
W. Tyndall read an entertaining paper on "Marksmanship in Schools". The institute 
meets again in the morning in the Normal School.
The students of the School of Mines have arranged to hold a conversazione on Friday 
evening to raise funds for the establishment of a library at the school.

The compassionate truth about Frame

Janet Frame, New Zealand's most celebrated but least public writer, is 
the 
subject of a frank biography by Michael
King. CHARMIAN SMITH talks to him about writing about the life of a 
woman 
renowned for her reticence and
shyness.
RETURNING to Dunedin where she was born 73 years earlier gives Janet 
Frame's life a symmetry, Michael King,
New Zealand's most distinguished historian and biographer, says. His 
latest 
book, Wrestling With The Angel, a
biography of Janet Frame, New Zealand's most internationally acclaimed 
author, was launched in Dunedin on
Thursday by the Prime Minister, Helen Clark.
"Dunedin is also the city in which [Janet Frame] experienced a great 
deal 
of unhappiness, both during her student
days and later when she was on probation from Seacliff. For a time, 
because 
of that unhappiness, there were ghosts
she was not in harmony with, but with the passage of time she is now in 
harmony," he said.
"She also likes the strongly defined sense of seasons. For a variety of 
reasons, she feels a close affinity with Dunedin
and it's the place she chooses to be."
After growing up in Oamaru and spending years overseas and in many 
parts 
of New Zealand, including a few years in
the mid-1960s back in Dunedin, where she held the Burns Fellowship at 
the 
University of Otago, Frame lives in St
Kilda.
Writing a biography about someone living, one was naturally conditioned 
by 
a sense of discretion about what one said
and how one said it, King said.
"You exercise what I call compassionate truth, rather than naked, 
disinterested truth, but I have to say, in the case
of this biography, any reservations Janet had about publishing 
information 
were more connected with feelings of other
living people rather than herself.
"Janet's astonishingly lacking in ego as far as her own feelings are 
concerned. She is not concerned, as many people
would be in her situation, to put the best possible light on 
everything. 
She's a strongly self-critical person herself."
Frame told the story of her early life in her three-volume 
autobiography, 
To The Is-land, An Angel At My Table, and
Envoy From Mirror City, published in the 1980s, but, through his 
research, 
King has been able to put the information
into a broader context.
"All the things Janet talks about in her autobiography, she saw as a 
child, 
adolescent or young adult. I look at them
from wider points of view. Through her father's railway personnel 
records, 
I've been able to trace when they moved from
one community to another and how long they stayed there and why certain 
things happened.
"Janet and her sister knew their father's wage was reduced during the 
Depression and thought it was part of a general
wage reduction, but research of personnel files shows it was because he 
drove an engine through a red light."
For the traumatic 10 years from 1945, when Frame was in and out of 
psychiatric hospitals, King relied heavily on her
medical records.
"She still finds it difficult to talk about those years because she 
doesn't 
just remember, she relives them," he said.
"There is Janet Frame, the subject, whom the writer wants to present in 
such a way that people best understand her,
but there's also Janet Frame, the person, with whom the writer is 
actually 
dealing, and at all times one had to be
sensitive to the person and not, for example, persist in concentrating 
on 
things that may have caused grief or
unhappiness."
There was a lot of unhappiness in Frame's early life. Although her 
family 
loved reading and writing, they were poor and
she grew up feeling
her family were outcasts and she was different. She felt awkward, 
unconfident and lacking in social skills and she
never properly grieved for her older sister who died when Janet was 12.
"All those come out of the kind of childhood and background she came 
from, 
and the feeling of being an outsider. It
looked as if everyone else was happy and fulfilled, whereas we know 
that's 
not the case, but Janet's unhappiness was
so acute, she thought it was peculiar to her," King said.
ALONE in Dunedin at Teachers College and university and then teaching 
at 
Arthur Street School, Frame's
unhappiness led to a breakdown. Although Frame was misdiagnosed as 
having 
schizophrenia she was not mentally
ill but required time out from the stress and unhappiness, King said.
"There was a time when she thought schizophrenia made her interesting 
to 
John Money [her handsome and charming
psychology lecturer] and she read the textbooks and proceeded to ape 
the 
symptoms.
"That had horrific consequences, but she was not aware of that at the 
time, 
but the unhappiness was very real."
Frame was saved from having a lobotomy when the superintendent of 
Seacliff 
psychiatric hospital learnt she had won
the Hubert Church Memorial Award for her first book, Lagoon And Other 
Stories. However, it was a long road back to
normal life and it was not until she was living in England several 
years 
later that it was confirmed Frame had never
had schizophrenia.
After her release from hospital in 1954, she was invited by writer 
Frank 
Sargeson to live and write in an army hut at
the bottom of his garden in Takapuna, Auckland.
"Sargeson felt one of his roles was to help Janet catch up on all the 
experiences she'd missed and he was probably
quite tickled by the idea that he could provoke a sexual encounter, 
even if 
it didn't really come off," King said.
'All I say in the book was there was a possibility of sexual encounter 
in 
the air but nothing really happened. But Janet
and Carl [Stead, one of Sargeson's literary group] had both written 
about 
it in their different ways and it was
something I felt needed to be addressed, and it also addressed the 
nature 
of the kinds of things Frank Sargeson was
prone to do."
King felt able to write about Frame's first sexual relationship, at the 
age 
of 32, with a young American in Ibiza in 1957
and her subsequent
miscarriage because she had already written about it in Envoy From 
Mirror 
City.
"The book has been very frank about that aspect of her life, but it's 
been 
frank because Janet's been frank. All the
relationships she did have with people are in there. There are no 
mysteries 
about those things, whereas I suspect
almost any other writer still alive would be more coy about them. It 
would 
have been her right if she had chosen not to
talk about those things and I would have respected that."
Frame spent seven years in Europe, mostly in and around London, writing 
prolifically, but returned to New Zealand in
1963 after her father's death. Apart from extended periods working in 
the 
United States and visiting friends there and
in England, she has lived mostly around Auckland, Taranaki and the
Manawatu,
constantly
seeking the
peace she
 needs to work
and never
 really finding
it.
Now 75, she lives in St Kilda, close to the shops, and
works in a
room away
from the
street, quiet
enough for
her to concentrate on what she wants to do.
"You often get a greater degree of silence and privacy in a jam-packed
suburb, unless there is constant renovation, than in the country where 
there are no barriers and things like chainsaws
and tractors echo round for miles."
Frame seldom appeared in public, enduring rather than enjoying the 
occasional public reading or appearance, King
said.
"She turned out for the Burns Fellows' reunion two years ago and for 
all 
the other fellows it was immensely
encouraging to have Janet there, showing she thought the occasion 
important 
and showing her loyalty to other
writers. Similarly, there are occasions when she has been persuaded to 
read 
from her fiction or
poetry and she has always done that well, but she is not the kind of 
writer 
who does these things at every opportunity
or is conscious of the need to promote.
"In fact, Janet would really rather books just went out and sold 
themselves 
on their own merit without the author
having to explain what things should be looked at. She thinks the ideal 
arrangement would be posthumous publication
to take the living author out of the equation, but in a world where a 
writer has to live from her writing, that's not
possible. You need to generate income as well as do the things that 
give 
you artistic satisfaction."
LIKE most writers, for most of her life Frame struggled to survive on 
benefits, grants and royalties, but since her
autobiographies were published and made into a television series and 
film 
by Jane Campion she had been been more
comfortably off, King said.
"The irony was, in the late 1980s, when she was in a position to begin 
to 
enjoy this security,
 she became
 very ill and
 it looked as
 if she was
going to
 miss out on
it altogether, but
she recovered from
 all that and
 she now has
 a degree of
material
security
 that was not
 there in her
earlier
years," he said.
When Frame turned 70 in 1994, she gave a rare media interview, which 
she 
said would be her last.
"It's very difficult to have people calling. I don't have people 
calling. 
To write you must be with yourself and your
thoughts," she told Australian journalist Susan Chenery.
Frame's preferred role was that of observer rather than participant, 
but 
reticence to socialise did not imply an inability
to have intimate relationships, according to King. She has several 
close, 
life-long friends in New
Zealand, the United States and England.
"She has very intimate relationships with members of her family and 
with 
her friends. You'd probably say that, like
most people, the number of those intimate friends is small but the 
relationships are very very strong. Janet needs that
and values that, but she does not feel the need or value of widespread 
socialisation," King said.
"People who only know what they perhaps see as the darkness of her 
vision 
in fiction may not know what a funny
person she is, but anyone who belongs to Janet's family and friends is 
probably most aware of what an entertaining
person she is."
Some of Frame's comic verse written for friends is scattered through 
the 
book and most of King's sessions with
Frame were characterised by lots of laughter.
That aspect of her character would be new to people familiar only with 
her 
distinctive vision - dark humour alternating
with satire, he said.
"Whether you are reading Frame's works or discussing things with her, 
she 
conditions the way you see the world.
She has the kind of experience that can actually teach you things and 
give 
you signposts for dealing with some of the
rites of passage and some of the inevitable crises life brings.
"For example, what she has to say in both her work and in conversation 
about the nature of family relations is full of
insight, particularly relations between parents and children.
"What she has to say about coping with grief and death is of 
considerable 
interest and considerable help.
"What she has to say about the process of writing and creating artistic 
work is of considerable interest, but also, I
have to say, Janet is one of those people who reveals how funny life 
is.
"One of her ways of coming to terms with things is to view the world 
through a lens of dark humour and that's one of
the ways she redeems some of the traumatic things that happen."
Frame's genius was not the sort that arose out of madness, like Van 
Gogh's, 
an idea she latched on to when she
thought she had schizophrenia, King said.
"In a way, it was coming to terms with schizophrenia and trying to find 
some positive feature from it, but when people
have subsequently written that her genius came from a disordered mind, 
she 
found it offensive and it's, of course,
clinically wrong.
"She has extraordinary insight into human character and behaviour, 
which 
comes through in her fiction, her poetry,
and her autobiography.
She's got an ability to convey nuances of experience through language 
and 
particularly the experience of people who
live on society's margins and that's something that's given her great 
resonance with a number of readers.
"The way she uses language - the most common expression that comes up 
from 
reviewers over the years is 'freshly
minted' language. When Janet uses language, you never have the feeling 
what 
she says is something you've heard
before. You never find a cliche, unless it's there deliberately for a 
particular purpose. Her use of language is one of the
ways in which she's highly original."
FRAME is the most widely-read writer New Zealand has produced, with 
large 
followings in Britain, the United States
and Canada, as well as New Zealand, and her books are in print in 15 
languages according to King.
She has been nominated for a
Nobel Prize and received many awards, including the Order of New 
Zealand 
and an honorary doctorate of letters from
the University of Otago. She held the Burns Fellowship in 1965, a 
fellowship 
also awarded to Dr King in 1998 and 1999
to write this biography.
He first discussed the project with Frame in August 1995, after she had 
helped him with background for his biography
of Frank Sargeson published that year. For five years he was totally 
involved in the project, he said.
"When you do a biography at considerable breadth and depth, you have to 
live that subject. That means it's the last
thing you think about when you go to sleep at night and  the first 
thing 
you think about when you wake up in the
morning and often you dream about it too. This is all a
necessary outcome of immersing yourself in the subject.
"As a biography, one of its major sources of interest is it penetrates 
fairly deeply into the character of the subject
because, being a writer, she left considerable evidence from the 1940s 
on 
what she was thinking and feeling about
everything that happened  to her for a period of about 60
years.
"With most human beings you don't usually get access to anything like 
that 
sort of material. That's one of the
reasons why literary biographies are of value, not because they have 
something thing to do with literature, but, being
literary, they tell far more about their lives than non-literary people 
do, 
and in telling you about their lives, they really tell
you about life in general. I think that's an important feature this 
book. It's 
rewarding from a writer's point of view."

A smiling Janet Frame at one of her rare pubic appearances, the launch 
of her biography, Wrestling with the Angel, by Michael King (right). 
Below: The four Janets: Frame on the set of the Jane Campion film An 
Angel at my Table; with (from left) Karen Fergusson, Alexia Keogh and 
Kerry Fox.

Oamaru Public Library information librarian Jill Grenfell inspects a 
display celebrating the life and work of author Janet Frame.

Chores set children up for good life
PARENTING SKILLS
Ian Munro

I READ about some interesting research recently that had to do with
children and chores. It was a 40-year American study that ran from the 
1940s to the 1980s but, despite its age, it
seems to me still to be relevant.
In an effort to understand juvenile delinquency, a long-term study of 
456 
teenage boys from inner-city Boston was
undertaken by psychiatrist George Vaillant. After initial interviews 
the 
boys were re-interviewed at ages 25, 31 and 47.
When they were compared at middle-age one fact that stood out was that 
regardless of intelligence, family income,
ethnic background or education, those who had worked as boys, even at 
simple household chores, enjoyed happier
and more productive lives.
The men's mental health scores were compared with their boyhood 
activity 
score. The latter was determined by their
involvement in such things as part-time jobs and household chores.
They found that those highest on the boyhood activity scale were twice 
as 
likely to have warm relations with a wide
variety of people, five times as likely to be well paid and 16 times 
less 
likely to have been significantly unemployed.
Those who had worked least in childhood were far more likely to have 
been 
arrested and 10 times more likely to have
been mentally ill.
IQ, amount of schooling and social and economic class seemed to make no 
real difference to how the boys turned
out.
According to Vaillant, the boys who worked in the home or community 
gained competence and came to feel they
were worthwhile members of society. Since they felt good about 
themselves, others felt good about them.
I think it was John Ruskin who said that the highest reward for a 
person's work is not what they get for it but what
they become by it. This should be the philosophy behind setting chores 
for children.
Chores can be the building blocks for teaching children responsibility. 
They learn how to organise themselves, set
goals and work through concrete tasks step by step. These skills grow 
and 
develop as they do and as their lives
become more complex and they have more abstract things to deal with.
Their contributions to the running of the household, as long as they 
are 
recognised, of course, help establish their
sense of being a valued member of the family. They have learnt about 
teamwork, responsibility, reliability and co-operative effort. They are 
capable in so many ways and have the skills to 
fend for themselves. What a great
preparation for life to give them.

Capturing the heart of Dundein
By Gail Goodger

THE Queen Mother found  precisely the teapot she  was looking for in 
Dunedin during her 1966 New Zealand tour.
She was at the Grand Hotel in Dunedin when she requested her tea be 
made in 
a low-key way in a little brown china
teapot because those teapots always produced the best brew, 90-year-old 
Helen Wilson, of Dunedin, recalled.
But the hotel did not have one, until a young girl in the kitchens 
piped 
up: "My mother's got one".
So the girl was put into a taxi to pick up her mother's teapot from 
Caversham. The Queen Mother liked the tea it
produced so much that she asked to keep the teapot for her entire tour.
A "lovely gracious" woman, she presented the kitchen staff with a 
portrait 
of herself, Miss Wilson said.
The Dunedin woman was instrumental in protecting royal modesty while 
the 
Queen Mother was at the hotel.
Miss Wilson had been asked if a new Gainsborough damask-covered chair 
she 
had just bought for her home could be
placed in the royal suite. She decided to wait outside the hotel to see 
the 
Queen Mother.
While waiting, she glanced up towards the suite and saw a shadow 
through 
the opaque glass in its toilet window. She
rang the town clerk to say people could see the royal silhouette in the 
bathroom. Curtains were hung.
Miss Wilson has vivid memories of tales about the royal visit, 
including 
the friendliness which made the Queen Mother
"loved by everybody".
When she was approached by a woman who used to work for her in the 
United 
Kingdom, the Queen Mother gave the
woman a ride to her Musselburgh home where they had a chat, Miss Wilson 
said.
For Southern Lakes District conservator Bill Axbey, now living in
Whitianga, the prospect of taking the Queen Mother fishing for two days 
was 
a bit nerve-racking, especially as the
glorious Wanaka weather at the time was not ideal for fishing.
But she told him the only reason she was trying to catch a fish was for 
the 
guides. He replied the only reasons they
were trying to get a fish was for her. "And after that things got a lot 
easier," Mr Axbey said.
He found her "a thoroughly nice person, there's no argument about that, 
and 
quite natural".
Her humour was also infectious. At one stage, she decided to go on a 
jet-boat trip while Governor-General Sir
Bernard Fergusson headed off fishing in another direction.
As the jet-boat cruised, the Queen Mother spotted Sir Bernard's boots 
poking out from under a lupin bush and his rod
lying against a bush nearby. He was fast asleep.
"Hasn't Sir Bernard got a lovely relaxed way of fishing," she remarked.
The Queen Mother showed her appreciation for Mr Axbey later by sending 
him 
the Aberdeen rod and reel she had
brought to New Zealand and a silver ashtray bearing the royal crest. "I 
always seemed to be caught smoking when I
was supposed to be doing something," Mr Axbey said, with a laugh.
While the Queen Mother did not catch a fish, she described the outing 
as 
one of the best she had ever had.
Dennis Robson, of Dunedin, guarded the Queen Mother while in the 
British 
Army about 30 years ago and said she
was the services' favourite royal for refusing to leave Buckingham 
Palace 
during World War 2 - "It makes me feel I
can look the East End in the face" - and her friendliness.
Crowds were also drawn to her
from the moment she arrived in Otago in 1966. Boats jockeyed for 
position 
as the Royal Yacht Britannia berthed in
Otago Harbour. Some midget craft nearly capsized as owners tried to 
wave 
and steer simultaneously.
People lined bunting-clad streets, waving flags and handkerchiefs while 
children from some rural communities even
bought their pets to see royalty go by.
With her renowned common touch, the Queen Mother startled several 
people by 
stopping and talking to them as she
strolled along the Doctors Point beach and Wanaka lakefront.
Throughout the tour she was mostly encased in trademark pastels and 
cheerful colours which have remained a link
with a different royal age.
New Zealand may have now abandoned the Queen's Honours list but in 
1966, 
Dunedin Mayor R.J. Calvert remarked
after the Queen Mother's departure: "I felt the city fulfilled the part 
required of it in showing loyalty and affection to the
Crown."

Left: Surrounded by fuchsias ... the Queen Mother speaks from the 
Octagon dais. She so admired the Sleigh Bells fuchsias she requested a 
cutting and was given five plants by the city she described as having 
grandeur and dignity.
Right: Divine service ... The Queen Mother is escorted from St Paul's 
Cathedral by the Mayor of Dunedin, Russell Calvert.

The Queen Mother's chair ... Helen Wilson (90), of Dunedin, in the 
chair put in a Grand Hotel suite for the Queen Mother's visit to the 
city. The chair was covered in Gainsborough damask at the time. Miss 
Wilson holds a swatch of the fabric.
Top left: Preparing to cast a fly ... The Queen Mother and Southern 
Lakes District conservator Bill Axbey prepare for a spot of fishing at 
the Lake Wanaka outlet. Central Otago scenery reminded her of her 
beloved Scottish Highlands.

Born of Seacliff's shadow
By Angela Crompton

Dunedin author Bronwyn Bannister ... "Parenthood gives you links to the 
community you live in which, as a writer, are important."

A LIFELONG dream was realised for Bronwyn Bannister last month when her 
first novel, Haunt, was released.
Although she has written plays, comic scripts and the occasional short 
story, Ms Bannister has long wanted to see
her name catalogued in the literary files as an author of New Zealand 
fiction.
Haunt is a novel about widow Irene Peters, living in Seacliff, a rural 
community north of Dunedin. Readers are taken
into the strict mores of 1920s New Zealand, where people measure each 
other by their manners, the politeness of
their children and what comes out of the baking tins when morning or 
afternoon tea is served.
Such an environment leads Mrs Peters to taking drastic measures when 
she 
gives birth to an illegitimate child. In
Seacliff, the towers of the lunatic asylum rise above the landscape, 
waiting for people who do not conform.
Architect Robert Lawson, who designed other grand Dunedin buildings 
like 
First Church, Otago Boys High School
and Larnach Castle, used a Scottish baronial-style plan for the asylum. 
Run as Otago's main mental hospital
between the 1880s and 1950s, it was a haunting presence in the Seacliff 
village for many residents, Ms Bannister
said.
Her first memories of the area came after the hospital complex had been 
condemned and pulled down, but other
members of her family had lived around it. Her mother, whose father was 
the head gardener at Seacliff Hospital, grew
up in the village and later became a nurse aid . Ms Bannister's father 
also did a stint there, working as an orderly to
fulfil a deal made when accepting assisted-passage from England to New 
Zealand.
Bannister family stories depicted the asylum as casting a grey shadow 
over the Seacliff village, but in pictures seen
by the author the complex appeared "very gothic and attractive".
"A lot of suffering happened there, but there were also patients who 
did 
some housekeeping for doctors. For my
character, [Seacliff hospital] was actually a place of refuge."
Haunt started as a short story but grew into something bigger. At 145 
pages, though, it is not a long novel, reflecting
Bannister's preference for "succinct" fiction.
A publicity brochure from the book's publisher, University of Otago 
Press, identifies her as an author who has 
skipped the usual apprenticeships like creative writing courses and 
having
works published in literary journals.
She has studied Russian literature at university and reads avidly in 
her 
spare time. Short stories she has written have
been broadcast on National Radio, plays presented at Dunedin's
Globe and Allen Hall theatres
and humorous skits performed by a women's comedy group, Hersterix.
Subjects covered were usually topical and funny, she said, but she felt 
a 
need to extend herself. "I got a little
frustrated with plays and performance pieces. Haunt has not a lot of 
humour in
it. There's something more to it than always going for the laugh line."
The mother of two young children, Joel (11) and Ruby (6), Bannister 
finds 
family duties keep her fairly "grounded".
"But [parenthood] gives you links to the community you live in which, 
as 
a writer, are important."
Helping out with school activities puts her in touch with people she 
might not otherwise meet and the Northeast
Valley suburb she and the children have their home in has its own 
distinct character
Fighting the procrastination that bugs many writers, Bannister sets 
herself a daily schedule for writing while Joel and
Ruby are at school. It would be easy to use them as an excuse for not 
focusing on her work, she said. "But then, if I
had all day and no children, I [probably] wouldn't do much more 
anyway."
Bannister scripts usually start longhand. Words are then transcribed to 
a 
computer for building up, editing and
polishing. That work had been done on a typewriter for Haunt, so when 
the 
manuscript was sent to publishers it had
probably seemed like some "relic of a bygone era", Ms Bannister said, 
laughing.
"And I don't have a study, a place I could leave my work all the time. 
I 
sort of have a room of my own which, as
Virginia Woolf would say, every woman needs. But it's shared as well. 
Children come in to do things at the desk . . .
to do things with the computer."
That puts her in good company, though, Ms Bannister noted. Jane Austen 
reportedly wrote her books from a busy
living-room.
Women are the main characters in Haunt, but its themes and issues apply 
to both genders. "I see it as being for
anyone."
The book was a few years in the making and publishers she eventually 
sent 
the script to offered tips on sharpening it
up. "They liked the story I was telling, but the issue was the way I 
was 
telling it. It needed to be tightened.
"It was the first novel I had written, so that was to be expected."
Ms Bannister has begun her next book but is keeping quiet about its 
topic. For now, life is probably best enjoyed as
a published author.
She smiles when asked how she will spend the royalties if Haunt becomes 
a 
best-seller.
"The children and I have a dream to go to Paris," she said. "I will 
ride 
around in a sports car, around the boulevards,
and they
will go to Euro Disney. It's meeting all our needs."


