The Secret Diary of . . . John Key
MONDAY
Antarctica was awesome, but all I want to do now I’m home is ‘‘chill out’’! So I sized up the situation by the swimming pool, and after considering all the angles, I realised that what needed to be done was to rearrange the deckchairs.
I moved them to the pool’s edge so I could dangle my feet in the water while lying down.
But that just made me want to go to the bathroom, so I moved them against the fence.
But that just made me feel as though I had my back against the wall, so I moved them back to where they were in the first place.
But that filled me with a sense of futility, and I fainted.
TUESDAY
One last day at home before returning to ‘‘work’’! I walked around the property until that got exhausting, so I switched to the golf cart, and then rode the horse and buggy for going uphill. I flew the Cessna through a valley, and spotted a vegetable garden that needed replanting.
I landed, rolled up my sleeves and proceeded to rip out the tomato plants, cut down the beans, uproot the silverbeet and set fire to the rows of corn.
All that honest toil worked up an appetite, but there wasn’t anything to eat, and I felt so weak, drained and on a long, downward spiral that I fainted.
WEDNESDAY
It always feels good to be back in the ‘‘capital’’! I had a good look around my office and realised that I simply had to get around to reshuffling the cabinet.
It was looking fairly worn. The paint was flaking. Most of the drawers were stuck.
So I got rid of Phil and Kate, shifted David sideways to make room for Nick, took Craig down a peg, moved Simon, Nathan and Chris upstairs, threw Nikki a bone, and sat Steven next to Hekia.
I showed it to the New Zealand Herald. They said it looked a lot better.
I asked Steven, ‘‘What do you think of it?’’ He said: ‘‘Most of the drawers are stuck.’’
I tried to smile and wave, but I began to cry. My head hurt, and then it went blank, and I stepped into white light.
THURSDAY
I didn’t recognise the room. The walls were painted a soothing shade of lavender. A warm breeze blew through the bars of an open window. Steven was sitting next to the bed. I said: ‘‘What happened?’’ He said: ‘‘You ‘fainted’.’’ I said: ‘‘Why are you putting the word ‘fainted’ in speech marks with your fingers?’’ He looked away. A nurse and a doctor walked in. She said to him: ‘‘He needs reassembling.’’
FRIDAY
I fainted even before I woke up, which makes me wonder about the nature of ‘‘reality’’!
I felt my head loosen itself from my shoulders, then float up, squeeze through the bars of the window and soar into the sky.
I found myself looking down on ice. The sea was frozen. No trees grew. Night would not fall. I had returned to Antarctica, to that blank continent – that white, vacant lot.
A skua flew past. It said: ‘‘You never left.’’