On Monday I turn 60. Sweet. Time to bring out the bucket and, to quote Jack Nicholson, not trust a fart. I have two consolations. One is that I hated the fifties –there is no particular reason and I felt much the same about the thirties; twenties were great, so were the forties, so will be the sixties--it’s every second decade, seemingly, that I get my shit together. The second consolation I have in turning 60 is that I am far from alone and far from old. The post-war baby boom saw to that. I am sure that in the history of the world there has never been as many people in their 60s or a greater determination not to think of it as a termination. Having said that, one must at this age wrestle with mortality. So, here is my bucket list. Rather than fill it with things I want to do before I die, I am filling it with things I hope I live long enough to see:
• The Black Caps win a match
• The Bulldogs win the Telstra Cup
• Canada win anything
• Intelligent life form discovered in Hamilton
• Me (society) not being blamed for every ill befalling Maori
• The return of the whiskey lake
• The Man Booker Prize given to someone readable
• Wilson Parking reduce its fees
• A Tui Billboard: Wilson Parking Reduces Fees—Yeah Right
• Recycling bins for infomercial exercise equipment
• Recycling bins for failed ideas—sorry, we already have that, it’s called Parliament
• A stop to the smaller and smaller type faces on anything I read these days
• President Jed Bush—let’s have some more fun
• A bald televangelist
• No televangelists
• The Super City work
• Mark Sainsbury ask an intelligent question
• Phil Goff give an intelligent reply
• Benjie Marshall as prime minister
• 70.
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The Long Walk Back
Someone, it may have been Will Rogers, once said of California that it was as if the United States had tilted, and all the country’s nuts ...
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