FROM THE EDITOR
The writing course I’m doing is having a wonderful side effect – I’m being introduced to writers and poets that I should have heard of but never found the time or desire to explore.
Much to my embarrassment, I’ve always had that cultural cringe about New Zealand writers; I have no idea why, but I’ve always shied away from our native talent.
A recent introduction to some of our supervisors uncovered some real gems, including Bernadette Hall. As is my wont, I headed straight to the local library and found some of her published works, and was delighted to indulge in her wit and observation. Including this wee piece of brilliance from The Lustre Jug.
I’m stunned by the talent we have, and chagrined that it’s taken me this long to find it.
is a town of Greek summers and rocksplitting winters.
I should know, I was born not far from there.
So who’s the guy on the poncy horse outside Westminster?