FROM THE EDITOR ELEANOR BLACK
Bill English has given my husband and I something new to argue about. Not now, but in 20-odd years when Tim gets to retire and I am looking at another six years of working before I qualify for superannuation.
There is a small age difference between us, but critically he was born before the new threshold National has imposed and I was born after. So I am working till I am 67 and he’s not. Thanks a bunch, Bill.
You could argue that in my line of work, which involves sitting on my butt for long periods, toiling till I am 67 will be no great sacrifice.
But the fact remains that Tim and I had always planned to retire together disgracefully, tanning ourselves in various picturesque locations until our skin is parchment, reading books, drinking sangria and embarrassing our children.
Now he gets a head start on me, assuming we can afford it. Sad, as President Twitter would say. :(
I know exactly what he’ll do with those extra years too, because we had a foretaste of it when we lived in San Francisco, where I worked fulltime while he “freelanced”.
His “freelancing” involved decamping to a Cuban cafe most days with the newspaper and a pile of books, watching football at a sports bar in HaightAshbury and socialising in the communal garden behind our apartment. He had a ball; me, not so much.
For more on election year promises (and threats), read Michele A’court and Jeremy Elwood’s column, on page 23. Enjoy your weekend.