I love breakfast. I recently wrote a comment on social media about work Christmas lunches and parties and how I’d much rather we had more work Christmas breakfasts. This prompted comments from what transpired to be deeply divided public opinion. Continue reading
Earlier this year I was one out of a group of students from the College of Humanities and Social Sciences to win an Outstanding Achievement award. The organisers asked me if I could give the student speech on the night. Along with this being pretty fucking awesome to have been asked it was also nervewracking. Continue reading
I was living in London when Facebook hit the world. A mate texted and asked if I’d heard of this site where you could sign up and make friends with people you already knew, but in an online-y way. I’d never been shy about jumping on a bandwagon so I promptly googled The Facebook. Continue reading
When I started my uni degree, I made a pact with myself to avoid scenarios that resulted in brain-melting panic mode at all costs. This might seem violently paradoxical to some. University can easily be described as three years spent scaling a sweat-drenched wall of deadline stress. Continue reading
Warning – this blog post contains really awesome language that might offend.
I’ve always been a lover of swearwords. I remember standing in our garden when I was very young and hearing a car zoom past on the country road directly below our house. As it flew past skidding on the gravel a male voice drifted up the hill, “fuck mate, watch out for the corners.” Continue reading
I decided last minute to go to the book launch of the 9th Floor, the RNZ podcast interview series that aired earlier this year. In the interviews, Guyon Espiner talked to five past prime ministers about their time in the leader’s seat. Palmer, Moore, Bolger, Shipley and Clark. Continue reading
My friend and I were having coffee the other day, talking shit, shooting the breeze, and we got onto the topic of knowing when to shut your mouth.
I come from a family of talkers. We all love a good gas-bag in fact, growing up there was a period in our house when Mum and Dad instigated turn taking. Continue reading