From the PM, with warmest best wishes
THERE’S a widow in our town. When I say ‘‘widow’’, I’m talking about Violet Tremblant, who reminisces often about ‘‘losing dear Norm the year Might and Power won the Melbourne Cup’’.
I’m told that Norm was watching the race in the pub and soon afterwards swayed towards the toilet and was never seen again. He’d put the couple’s savings on Doriemus to win. But Violet battled on and now she’s on the pension.
‘‘I’ve never had it so good,’’ she tells everyone, and last week she was as happy as a wowser in a milk bar.
‘‘You won’t believe this,’’ she gushed, ‘‘but I got two letters today! Two! The first letters I’ve had since the Central Otago District Council sent me that lovely note about dog registration last year. I haven’t even had a letter from my oldest for three years.
‘‘That’s Aaron in Queensland. He was doing ever so well when I last heard. In the protection business, he said. Something to do with home insulation, I imagine. Money rolling in, he said, but not even a Christmas card to his old Mum. And such a caring boy he was. Always stubbed his ciggies out under the table so the marks wouldn’t show.
‘‘And if you wanted a message done, he’d be down at the shops with your purse before you could even say what it was you wanted. Lovely boy; even though he never writes. That’s why it was so exciting. Two letters! And guess who one of them was from? It was from Jacinda. The Prime Minister! And it’s not even election year. Well, you could have felled me with a face flannel. Jacinda writing to an old lady in Patearoa!
‘‘Dear Mrs Tremblant’’, it said. So respectful and personal. None of this ‘‘Dear Householder’’ stuff. She was writing about keeping warm in winter and said that people shouldn’t have to think twice about turning on the heater to stay warm. Perhaps, I’ll have to buy a heater? But the old open fire does me, and Frank from Gimmerburn gives me a load of dry firewood. Jacinda told me she’s arranged for me to get an extra $20.46 a week during the winter so I might slip a dollar to Frank next year. Usually, he’s happy with my ginger kisses.
‘‘Did you know there’s about 600,000 pensioners in New Zealand? Jacinda is probably trying to help all of them out, not just me, but think of the postage costs! And the letter was signed! I’m near the end of the alphabet so I can’t blame Jacinda for the very poor handwriting. The signature looks like my doctor’s prescription for my Zyloprim tablets. Gout. I get it something awful sometimes. In fact, Jacinda’s signature looks very much like the word Zyloprim but she’s not a doctor, is she?
Perhaps the Dunedin med school was full that year. I see she did a degree in communications at Waikato University. That’s not a real subject, surely? And I don’t think that’s a real university, is it? Mind you, if she studied communications it’s done her good. The letter is lovely. No silly stuff like ‘‘going forward’’, just downtoearth words like ‘‘there’s no quick or easy fix’’. And, I’ll tell you what, she was obviously thinking of Patearoa when she was planning all this. She’s training up 700 extra policemen to fight organised crime. I hope they crack down on those illegal raffles the bowling club are running. I’m going to write Jacinda a thankyou note, of course, but I won’t be shy about telling her to put her feet up. She’s on maternity leave and that means coming to grips with breastfeeding and bowel movements. I should know, I had five of my own. You can’t look after a baby and write 600,000 letters at the same time. Any Plunket nurse can tell you that.’’
I asked Violet about the second letter.
‘‘From Winz, telling me I’d be getting extra money to pay for heating. Signed by Robyn, who obviously went to communications school. It’s the first letter from Winz I’ve ever understood. She warned about going overseas for more than 28 days and not letting them know. Of course, on the pension I can’t afford to go anywhere, so that’s a relief. These people are so kind, Jim. I can’t understand why you write such nasty things about our politicians.’’
I didn’t have the heart to tell Violet about photocopied letters and that Jacinda’s postage costs didn’t come out of the baby’s nappy fund, but were probably covered by the taxpayer, as no libellous statement about National was included. Nor the rumour that Labour is planning 300 more mass mailouts this year to keep New Zealand Post afloat; nor the fact that for a prime minister, every year is election year.
A