Yesterday for reasons that chose not to reveal themselves to me but, sadly, seem to be intrinsic to my current character I chose to look up the official definition of the word malcontent. Webster defines it as “someone who bears a grudge through grievance or thwarted ambition,’ Dictionary.com describes such as a person as “someone who is chronically dissatisfied.” Some of you perhaps thought after reading last Fryday that I too was a malcontent. Believe me, I am not. I know many malcontents—well, three actually—and I am not one. Far from it. I am a realist and, paradoxically, yet understandably for those who know Maggie, a romantic. Still, my ease of mind and equilibrium has been tested of late when I go the website of the Royal Commission on Auckland Governance http://www.royalcommission.govt.nz/, look up the public submissions and put my name into the search field. Nowhere I think will you find a more comprehensive or indeed better example of the term malcontent or a life orphaned.
Ridentem dicere verum quid vetat.—Horace.
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