Accidental Anthropologist

That’s me done. All four children through school. Eldest daughter says “grandkids next dad”.   Arse. I thought I was clear. Earlier this week, fourth in line for the family throne gave his yr 13 cohort a group cuddle, his favourite teachers a nod, and legged it with some stage booty. Well done son, 13 yrs in school. That morning they’d walked up the school driveway with balloons, cheered by the rest of the school. So cool. Thank you to the amazing teachers that added value to him and to all my kids. I’m hoping they returned the favours. I slammed a few tequila’s before this prizegiving. Not my usual habit, but this one being the last … it lived up to expectations, a good old Waiheke ‘being sort of formal’ event. Think Harry Potter meets the Adams Family doing ‘Who wants to be a Millionaire’, all live from the prison lunchroom. Funny costumes, obedient children.  School stand school sit – no talking from the bleachers. There’ll be a detention in th

Hamilton has come on. It still gets the occasional poke in the ribs, but its no longer in the recovery position. Poor old Huntly gets that one now. Following the South African rugby tour in 1981, the infamous invasion of the pitch and the calling off of the game, political cartoonist Tom Scott wrote "there's a lot of nice people come from Hamilton, it's the ones that stay there that spoil it." That was both genius and less than generous. I'd just moved on from the Tron and it was like both a pat on the back and a kick in the pills. Our family moved to Hamilton in the 1970's when the pop'n was 100,000 and I was 15. These day's it's double and I'm nearly four times that. Dad spared us Huntly, commuting there each day for work. Life was rugby in the winter, rowing in the summer and holiday jobs on the land. Picking up hay or cutting animals up for export at the freezing works. Cafe culture was kona coffee or percolated in