Virgin Territory

A friend of mine recently and cleverly described France as a country as much in need of change as it is against it. I am sure this holds true of many countries. But my friend’s adroit and intimate view of France (she lives there) will confirm what many of us feel about the perpetual Peter Pan of Europe.
It is also the way I feel about the district in which I live—Rodney, just north of Auckland in New Zealand. Rodney is something of an eddy in the comparatively swift current that is Auckland. Those who choose to swim against the current are grateful to be swept into the Rodney eddy to rest, relax and enjoy the relative peace and solitude. Some only visit, while others plan to stay forever. It is the latter who seem most reluctant to accept change to their quiet little backwater. But change is about to be forced upon them, for later this year Rodney will cease to exist as a legal entity. It is about to drown as Auckland bursts its banks, literally and figuratively, and floods its hinterland. We are all to become part of one of the largest metropolises by area in the world. We are to become each of us one of those much-maligned In New Zealand and derided elsewhere commercially crafted articles—an Aucklander. Uncharacteristically for the normally indecisive Auckland we even have a date for it: November 1. Most of us approach our date with decadency with the same foreboding we would an adult circumcision and we anticipate much the same pain. Only this time we in Rodney will be adding something rather than taking away from what could (still) be the biggest cock-up in recent New Zealand history. Nevertheless, we are ready for you Auckland. Come and have us. Do your will. Deflower us if that is your want. But forgive us if, while you do so and you have your wonton way, we Rodneyites lay back and think of Hamilton.

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