Yesterday I played nursemaid to two broccoli plants. The others from the punnet are thriving and growing very big very fast, but these two just stubbornly refused to grow. So I put them in pots, moved them to the shelter of the conservatory garden, with a potting mix and compost mixture, gave them some liquid thrive and told them this was their last chance. Something in the mix worked because this morning they have shot up, overnight. Remains to be seen whether they will actually produce broccoli but if they do, it adds a whole new meaning to hand reared.
And I had one of those ‘classic’ Lucas afternoons. We played dinosaurs and built a very clever bridge across the ‘deep water’ tiles to get to some Iguanodons who were taking shelter on an island. Then it was afternoon tea time and Nanna T had sent him a gingerbread man. We decided it was time to play outside with our ball called Ben (it has a Ben 10 sticker on it) but I needed to finish the afternoon tea dishes first. Lucas told me he doesn’t take orders from me, I don’t tell him what to do…”Only God gives orders, he loves everyone and he tells me what to do.” Guess who has started religious instruction in school?
So we went outside and played Samoa against Wales and France against Wales and Ireland against Wales. I am always Wales and I always lose, which is a little strange as he was born in Wales. He asked if Ireland had a war dance like the Haka and I said they probably did some Irish dancing. What followed was an hilarious half hour where he taught me to do Irish dancing, the Highland Fling, the Highland Swordance and then the Haka, which he has learned in school. I wasn’t as good as the (imaginary) girl right behind him but I was better than some of the ‘boys down the back.’ Later we went inside and he was the Maoris and I was the British Colonials and had to steal his soft toys. Guess who has obviously done some NZ history as well? It shows you how impressionable young kids are.
The decision by the High Court Judge comes down today at 2pm about whether the conversation between John Key and John Banks was private. I’m confident the Judge will confirm it was. And the dangerous precedent will not be set. I know a sports journalist who once recorded a golfer walking down a fairway with his caddy and the golfer forgot he was miked and said some things that would be more than a little incendiary. The journalist is an ethical man and has always accepted that it was a private conversation. But those are the sort of dangers that we run if we start making the wrong decisions on what is public and what is private. If you consider your comments to be made in private, they are private. The trouble with public perception of the media is that everyone is tarred with the same brush. A very wise man once told me that once you lose your professional reputation in that industry, you will never get it back.