The secret diary of . . . Christopher Luxon
I came down to the kitchen this morning and Amanda said, “Would you be a dear and run down to get me an iced matcha?”
“I’m a bit busy, sorry,” I said. “What’ve you got on?” “Forming a new government.” “Well, I have Pilates, and that can’t wait,” she said. “Go on. Won’t take you long.”
I drew myself to my full height. “I’m the Prime Minister,” I said, and stared her in the eye. She stared back, and flexed her biceps.
“With oat milk,” I said, “or coconut milk?”
TUESDAY
I ran into Seymour this morning at the
Auckland Koru Lounge before our flight to Wellington to finally sit down with Peters for coalition talks. “Well,” I said.
“Big day today,” he said.
The flight was uneventful but unfortunately so were the coalition talks, because Peters didn’t show up.
Word came back in the afternoon that he was still in Auckland, and wanted the talks there.
“Tell him no,” I told advisers. They came back to me an hour later. “What did he say,” I asked.
“He’s not taking our messages,” they said.
I flung down the Sudoku I’d been working on all day, but still hadn’t got very far on, and announced: “I’m the Prime Minister. Tell him no!”
I ran into Seymour this evening at the Wellington Koru Lounge before our flight to Auckland to finally sit down with Peters for coalition talks.
WEDNESDAY
I had blocked off the whole day for our coalition talks at the Pullman Hotel. It was a bit of an anxious wait as I sat around with Seymour.
“Well,” he said.
“Big day today,” I said.
We never have had that much to say to each other.
And then Peters arrived, and it was as if a static of electricity gave the room a jolt. Seymour began raving, “Great to see you, how’s it going, thanks for coming!” But true power is silent. I sat there and radiated authority.
Peters turned to me and said, “Who are you?”
“I’m the Prime Minister,” I said. He laughed, laid out what he wanted, and left half an hour later.
THURSDAY
Dreamed I was standing in the middle of a field, and Peters was running around me in circles. I kept asking him to stop but he just ran faster. The strange thing was that I felt exhausted, and he seemed to gain in energy.
FRIDAY
“I said oat milk,” Amanda said, “not coconut milk.”
She handed me back the cup, crossed her arms, and stared at me. I wondered about informing her that I was the Prime Minister and had more important things to do, and I rehearsed the most powerful and convincing ways of saying that to her while I ran down and got her another iced matcha.