When moths collide

The green-topped wheelie bin has been the highlight of my year.

Nobody, least of all me, can explain what I was thinking.

Over the past week I have been trying to channel my inner Joe Biden.

Everybody knows what a fuddy-duddy I am.

Privacy was on my mind when I was plunged into darkness in the Dunedin Railway Station women’s toilet this week.

Just because that’s the way it is, was my answer.

It surprised me to learn wokedom may be alive and well in my old hometown.

Rushing in where winged haloed ones might fear to tread, I have been devoting time this week to the prime minister’s reading list.

If you happen to see me on the street, you would be best to wave, smile and walk on quickly.

The Princess of Wales’ video announcement of her cancer diagnosis shows how bizarre the British Royal Family has become.

When you are being unfairly branded, things can quickly turn ugly.

My old-person credentials are not yet complete.

Bottling Black Doris plums on a hot Dunedin day may not have been the best time to be reflecting on the phenomenon which is Taylor Swift.

If we do not want young people to be revolting, perhaps it is time we took them more seriously.

Another year, another cycleway plan hellbent on destroying life as we know it.

Before I was sidetracked by Jacinda Ardern’s rumoured forthcoming nuptials, I was trying to convince myself I had learned something important last year.

When my companion appeared clasping the cat and interrogating her about gloves, I knew the silly season had hit.

If I was still a teenager, the one thing I would appreciate about the new government would be its plan to ban cellphones in schools.

Hooray for the Murchison A & P Show.