Mr Errors is returning to school today.  Actually he was in all last week, but today is the first day for the students.

His school is just up the hill from Wellington College.  I’m not familiar with it, but apparently it is a girls’ school.  I’m not sure why a man would be teaching at a girls’ school.  Perhaps he is the caretaker.  Wellington College is still going.  It does well Mr Errors tells me.  I assume the uniform has changed.

For your viewing pleasure.

These ads were very famous in New Zealand in the 80s, but New Zealand’s most famous comedian (until Flight of the Conchords) probably did the most famous “version”.

I remember a lot of Billy T skits but this one is possibly his most famous, and given the amount of versions of it on youtube it obviously made a lot of people laugh in the 80s.

I can tell you, however, that buying a school bag was no laughing matter for a teenager in Paraparaumu in the 80s.  It was an exercise in identity branding on the mean streets of the Kapiti College corridors.  Essentially you could make four statements on the hierarchy of bags:

1. I have a normal, boring bag, because who gives a shit about bags
2. I have a cool bag, but I’m normal
3. I have a cool bag but I’m a little rock and roll
4. I have a very, very cool bag and I am dangerous

I wanted to achieve level three.  Going for level one meant that you could save a lot of money by buying a non-branded bag, and then use your bag to carry shit around and not worry about what people thought.  These people went on to be well-adjusted and happy in life.  They make a lot of money now.  Very few of these people write weird blogs.

In the 80s in Paraparaumu level two didn’t mean exercising personal choice (you have to give up independent thought to be cool), it meant buying a Gino Borelli bag.

 Which is one weird ass advert for a bag.  Put a face to the name?  Let’s build a profile: 

1. Likes to walk around alone at night with no top and no shoes
2. Has his name on the outside of his bags
3. Likes fire
4. Has a boat

I’d say we’re looking for a serial arsonist who suffers from a massive ego and enjoys taunting the police.

Back to the bag.  I wanted one. The local mall had a Lands for Bags store.  My mum bought me one (probably it wasn’t cool for your mum to buy you your bag, but probably that’s what happened in 99% of cases).  My bag was silver, and had the straps like the one in the ad, running around the outside of the bag.  This was freakin cool.  I’m not sure why.  I think it was because other bags didn’t have this feature.  For sensible reasons like if you put the straps on the outside of the bottom of the bag they get worn out heaps faster and break.  Also, Gino Borelli sports bags tended to be a bit saggy on either side of the straps and in the middle.  Not a good bag for transporting very small corpses, but pretty good if you wanted to transport a rigid object that was the exact length of the bag.  Yep, for that it was perfect.

Ok, so now I had the bag I had an even more important thing to do.  I had to tag the bag with band names using a permanent marker.  (As I write this it strikes me that my mother was a very tolerant person.  Not only did she let me buy a slightly more expensive and impractical bag, but then she let me write all over it.)  Writing all over it was impossibly fraught, but it was what you had to do to get to level three on the bag coolness hierarchy.  People at level two on the hierarchy were either too sensible to deface their bag, or knew that their taste in music wasn’t cool.  Again, we are looking at a well-adjusted group who have nice homes now, with nice things in them.

Level three bag people had to pick bands that people at level two had heard of but not listened to but knew were cool, but they also had to pick bands that people at level four couldn’t sneer at, and would therefore leave you alone.  It was a tightrope of cool if you will.  A band like the Psychedelic Furs was pretty perfect.  Unfortunately I can’t for the life of me remember which bands I put on my bag.

Level four people had to buy little canvas army satchel bags.  The bag below is pretty close to what I mean.

Once you had this bag you had to write: AC/DC, ZZ Top and Iron Maiden on it.  I think this was compulsory.  You had to do this in black marker pen and it had to be in the exact style of the original.  I remember one guy in my art class labouring for hours to get the ZZ Top logo just right on his bag.

People with this bag were into smoking, pot, cars, beer, hard rock, and sex.  Probably not as much as my overactive imagination believed, but that was the implication of the bag.  Although I appreciated the aura associated with these bags, I never wanted one because I knew where my musical heart lay, and at the time I was buying my bag it wasn’t a hard rock heart, it was a pop heart.  Later it actually became a hard rock heart for a while, but I was far too squeaky clean to pull off a satchel bag, so I stuck with Gino.

Of the many things in this post I can tell you that Lands for Bags no longer exists, Gino Borelli has moved into luggage, Billy T died, and hard rock bands never, ever die.  My Gino bag wore out (the straps), and the permanent marker faded like the popularity of the bands themselves (see what I did there English teachers?)  I’m picking that China had a lot to do with the death of specialty shops like Lands that sold bags.  It must have been good business up until the late 80s though.  Lands had nationwide TV ads and full-page colour ads in The Listener.

Lands for Bags may have disappeared but bags remain very important in the teenage scheme of things.  The last time I was aware of a bag becoming ubiquitous it was pink Supre bags for girls.  This was four or five years ago.  All the level three girls had them at the school where I taught.

Not that I want to suggest that bags can be used as a profiling tool, but I wish all those girls all the best with their hair dressing careers, or Bachelor degrees in English (I got the later and a perm).

On the outer fringe of the charts in mid January of 1982 (it peaked at number 29) we have Depeche Mode I Just Can’t Get Enough.  Mainly what he can’t get enough of is saying “I can’t get enough” which must account for 80% of the lyrics in the song. My personal favourites from the lyric sheet are:

I just can’t get enough (x16)

(x16? They must have really slaved over these lyrics.)

and, 

Just like a rainbow you know you set me free

Sure.  The self-aware freedom-bringing rainbows.  I know them.

I know what a lot of people thought when they saw this kind of thing (click the picture to see the video),

They thought, “that’s not a proper band”.  Either that or, “how do I join gay pride bikers with synths?” 

I was in the later camp except I didn’t notice the gay thing because I was nine.  Actually, I didn’t notice this at all until I flicked through my old Smash Hits when I was in my twenties, but this is a whole other post.

Mainly we’re here to admire the hair and the fashion of the video, so let’s get on with it.

There is a pretty even contest here between the men and the women in this video.  It’s hard to decide who the fashion winners are because the women clearly win on their hair, but the dudes are really working the black leather thing.  Still, I think the hair wins.  I mean in this shot where is your eye drawn?  12 year old beanie boy, or 14 year old exploding hair?

You should know she’s wearing a leopard print top as well (easy, tiger).  And then there is this:

Which is magnificent.  Sort of a wave effect going on here, with the crest breaking over her face.  Her drink even has an umbrella up to protect it from the deluge.

But this is my favourite moment from the video.

“I’m sorry son, I’m going to need to see some ID.”

“Oh, I’m terrible sorry sir, but I don’t have any.  You can call my mummy and ask her though.”

“Fair enough.  Sorry to have bothered you.”

“Sweet!”

It is a long, long way from here to Personal Jesus.

We had a very nice lunch at my mother’s house on the weekend.  We had some Fresh Up juice.  Since watching a documentary last year I always notice when there is a little cardboard box drink in the room.  I notice because they are very hard to recycle, but there are an awful lot of them,

Using plastic and aluminium-coated paperboard to package sterilised liquid contents such as pasteurised milk, soups and even wine, Tetra Pak packages can be found in just about every corner of the planet.

Last year alone, Tetra Pak produced 137 billion drinks cartons (4,344 packages each second), which amounts to roughly 92.5 million treetops destined to be ground into paper and pulp.

Tetra-Pak is making an effort to source its trees from sustainable sources. It’s also making an effort to find ways to separate all the different parts of these packages so they can be recycled.  Unfortunately they haven’t achieved this yet.  In 2008 16% of Tetra Paks 137 billion cartons were recycled.  In previous years this would have been 0%.  Which is hundreds of billions of juice boxes thrown into the Earth.

When I picked up the juice box however I noticed that Fresh Up were trying to suggest that I could dispose of their product by making it flat really easy, as if making it flat achieved something for the environment.

In New Zealand we’ve been tossing Fresh Up and Just Juice boxes in the Earth since 1981.

I decided to investigate further. 

I turns out that TetraPak (they’re Swedish) have actually being doing a lot of work on being greener, and have gone a long way to source sustainable forests, and develop processes that can recycle their products.  So far in New Zealand you can only really recycle Tetra Paks in Auckland, but I imagine it might not be too far away for Wellington.

Turning the box over I noticed this.

I have seen this “Made in New Zealand from local and imported ingredients” on many products.  It’s really a bit of a nonsense.  People who produce food and beverages do this because:

Does the label have to say the country of origin?

Country of origin labelling is voluntary in New Zealand and suppliers (usually manufacturers, transporters or sellers) may choose not to display these details. But they must have contact details for distributors or manufacturers in New Zealand, so you can ask about the food.

Ok, fine, finding out where the stuff I eat and drink actually comes from is up to me to find out.  I sent an email to Frucor (they make Fresh Up).  Where is the fruit from, and how are you getting along with the recycling thing?

Here is the what they said about fruit (turns out my new thing this year is emailing companies):

There was also this about TetraPak,

Loyalty to the brand is probably a bit strong, but I’ll pass on their thanks to my mother.

“They” are able to recycle juice boxes in Auckland, but I am not.

Three things occur to me out of this:

• The TetraPak story is pretty interesting, and I was glad to see how much effort they have put in to cleaning up their products.  Perhaps an email to the Wellington City Council is required to ask when we will get TetraPak recycling here
• Making juice is complicated.  TetraPak is a massive MASSIVE company and we probably get our ones made in Australia.  The fruit that goes into the TetraPak comes from all over.  Parts of New Zealand, but also all over the world.  These two facts alone make juice complicated, never mind all the other things that go in, and the packaging and the marketing and so on.  Juice seems like quite an intensive product.  All that shipping and importing of products from around the world seems like a lot of carbon for a refreshing drink.
• I think that emailing companies is a good thing to do if you are feeling lonely and need some friendly messages in your inbox.  Much cheaper that calling a sex hotline, or freephone astral readings, or the emergency services  for a chat.

Better send an email to the council.

Daddy and I have been busy over the last two weeks of the holiday.  He has been painting the house and I have been helping him.  Sometimes I help him by wobbling the ladder when he has been up it for too long, sometimes I help him by playing with the dirty brushes when he goes inside to go to the toilet.  The other day Daddy asked me if I could help him by locking myself in a cupboard, but I couldn’t see how this would help him so I kicked over a paint can instead.

One thing that is a bit irritating about painting is that you always have to wear a hat and sunblock.  I asked Daddy how you made sunblock the other day and he said he didn’t know (why do I even bother?).  It seems sort of obvious if you think about it a bit though.  I asked Daddy if a hat was like a roof for your head and he said yes, so I think that sun block must be some kind of cream and some kind of roof mixed together.

When Daddy isn’t painting he sometimes helps me develop my musical skills.  He drops some beats and I lay down the vocals.  After lunch one day I felt like busting out some raps and we jammed something called Libby.

Here are the words in case you want to sing-a-long.

Libby… come on let’s play together

It’s fun to play together

Libby is my bestest friend

No one knows that except me and Libby

Libby, Libby, let’s play together

Probably one day I will record this properly.  The vocal was alright, but I need a better keyboard player.

We had to take the car to the garage yesterday.  Daddy took my scooter so that I could ride it on the way back home.  I like scooting but sometimes my scooting leg gets tired.  Daddy asked me why I didn’t just change legs, and scoot with the other leg.  I had to explain to Daddy about how legs and arms have specific jobs.  My right leg is my scooting leg, my left leg is my pedalling leg, my left hand is for brushing teeth, and my right hand is for eating.  It’s important to have the jobs sorted out because otherwise you might try to brush your teeth with your right leg.  I could probably do this, but Daddy sounds like a rusty folding deck chair when he tries to copy my ballet stretches so I don’t think he could.

I had my haircut two days ago.  It looks nice.  At dinner I told Mummy that I could probably get a boyfriend now, and she seemed surprised.  I thought this was a bit rude.  She asked me what kind of boyfriend I would want.  I think an older boy would be better, maybe nine or ten.  The boys my own age seem quite silly.  They like making farting noises and shoving each other.  I can talk about poo for hours but I draw the line at farting noises.  Mummy agreed, but said I shouldn’t hope for too much when it came to boys in the future.  Daddy told me to finish my beans.

School starts again on Tuesday.  It will be nice to get back and have a break from keeping Daddy entertained all day everyday.  He is usually fine, but sometimes his behaviour is terrible: “I want to do this, I want to do that, I don’t want to play with you now, don’t talk in my ear when I’m on the telephone.”  Me, me, me.  Going back to school will be good for both of us.  I can see my friends, and he can be someone elses’ problem for a while.

The other reason the trip to the shops put me out of sorts was the infernal motor car which appears now to be everywhere and travel at lethal speeds.  I can assure you that this was not always the case.

I only had one quiet lane to cross on my way to the shop but I felt I was taking my life in my hands.  It seems that in the battle between man and machine these infernal machines have been allowed to win, and even in a simple trip to the shops the humble gentleman on foot must be on his guard every time he steps off the curb.  I suppose that even in 1912 the warning signs were there of the impending madness of motor-cars.

I think we can all pine for the days when the desire for a plain tooter was all that we had to be concerned about as we crossed the road.

In 1912 Wellington was 72 years old if you were British.  If you were British you had a holiday, if you Maori you went to Picton (I jest, the Maori was actually a boat).

I don’t recall the day itself, but it sounds as though the weather was good, and Wellington in a picturesque mood.

Some went to Worser Bay for an outing.

172 years since the Aurora arrived in Wellington I can report that the sky is clear but the wind is up.  Man of Errors will take his family up to see his mother in Karori later.  I think I will venture out to the shop for a tin of cigarettes, and then retire to the front room with a book.

In 1981 and 1982 white was the new black.  This was good news for polar bears but bad news for any kind of hearty dish with tomato sauce in it.  Have you tried to get tomato sauce off a white jacket?  Perhaps the desire to wear white explains nouvelle cuisine.

Here we have a New Zealand ad from January 1982 for an exotic beverage called wine, featuring a lady dressed in white (including white stirrup pants).

And here we have my good self with my Don Johnson jacket on (probably about 1990…I was behind the fashion times).

Of course, neither the model in the wine ad or I were actually trendsetters.  We were both pursuing a trend that was all across the pop videos of 1982.

The Bucks Fizz dreamboats singing Piece of the Action* were modelling dead zebra,

and dead snow leopard.

Simon Le Bon was rocking a white suit and  headband for Girls on Film*,

Some dude called Al Jarreau* was kickin’ back for a croon on a bar stool in a snappy all white number,

and Haircut 100* were proving that white was so cool you could even wear it as a lovely knitted top (I bet his Nan was proud when she saw him on the telly).

The bass player in Haircut 100 looks like an actual proper bass player, but unfortunately it’s not very rock’n'roll to have your bass up at nipple height.  Still, at least he’s wearing white and has a proper haircut.

In fact, all of this white must be one of the reasons that An Officer and a Gentleman was one of the top movies of 1982.

Well, that and the fact you practically get to see Richard Gere’s wang.

Footnotes

*Bucks Fizz, Piece of the Action, “peaked” at number 31 on the NZ charts in 1982

*Duran Duran, Girls on Film, peaked at number 4 on the NZ charts in 1982

*Al Jarreau, We’re in this Love Together, peaked at number 24 on the NZ charts in 1982

*Haircut 100, Favourite Shirts, “peaked” at number 32 on the NZ charts in 1982

I said at the start of the year that I would sometimes rail against the direction society is taking.  This is one of those posts.  I have put a special picture at the top, and I promise to use it every time I do this so that you can quickly click the hell out of here.

Let’s keep it short and sweet (you can click on the pictures if you want to read the article, but you get the idea).  Here are five things then that tickled my outrage button on Stuff’s front page this morning.

One

We could encourage this,

Or we could encourage kids to run around outside with their mates.

(Incidentally, one thing charter schools often do is extend the school day, cut recess, and focus on English and Maths and slash other subjects – like Science, and Art, and PE – right back.)

Two

We could accept this as a growing industry,

or we could remember to appreciate the beauty of age, and to appreciate talent and character instead of admiring artificial surfaces.

Three

We could be happy for companys to pay for 10 day luxury advertisements for our elected representatives,

Or we could believe that building “unconventional” wells is very high risk, and potentially destructive.  We could also read the TAG Oil website which talks purely about investment opportunities and question how much money one of the more impoverished parts of New Zealand actually stands to make out of this as opposed to the wealthy foreign investors.

We could also bear in mind that being Canadian doesn’t automatically mean you’re a good guy for the environment.  The Canadian Tar Sands are sobering to look at.

Four

I could write what I thought was satire about the health service and then read this the next day,

A silly doctor says,

Association chairman Paul Ockelford said the health targets were commendable, but the emphasis on targets was flawed.

The targets needed to work alongside other approaches, such as housing and education, that influenced people’s health.

“If these are not addressed we will continue to have glaring health disparities in our communities and a high prevalence of preventable diseases that affect not only quality of life, but life expectancy,” Dr Ockelford said.

This won’t wash doctor.  We are now operating in a no excuses, target-driven, accountability focused environment which puts the blame for complex societal issues on useless teachers, doctors and other civil servants.

Five

Really?

More promotion of gambling?  Aren’t pokies notorious drains on the most economically vulnerable?

Geez.

I’m going to go paint the house, and think happy thoughts.

Waiting for Superman (4/10)

In a surprise move that has shocked many in the health field, John Key announced today that they would be trialing charter hospitals in South Auckland and East Christchurch after further discussions with John Banks.

Private companies would be able to apply for public funds to open hospitals that would be expected to meet certain targets in return for greater autonomy.

“Our hospitals aren’t doing well enough.  Frankly some of them are failing.”  Charter hospitals  ”will allow alternative health providers to compete with existing hospitals for patients and funding where health under achievement is most entrenched.”  Mr. Key said.

Under the deal with ACT, community, religious or ethnic groups, or private companies, will be allowed to operate state-funded charter hospitals.

“I don’t think the New Zealand voters are going to be up in arms because in a couple of communities in New Zealand we give some new model a go.

“If those patients don’t want to go there, they’ll be free to go to the existing hospitals.”

Key said “more often than not” the ill had objectives that some in the health sector were opposed to.

“That doesn’t mean just because they are opposed, they are in line with what the New Zealand unwell want.”

John Banks was also not impressed by criticism ”far too many of our people have been let down by the traditional health care provided in this country”.

“We can do better and I want to engage them and I want them to embrace change that is well overdue.”

A traditional health system works for most but fails too many, he says.

“I want people to be healthy, not sick and unless we change that attitude then this country is going nowhere.”

A spokesperson for a doctors’ union said that the idea that doctors didn’t want their patients to be healthy was “too ridiculous for words”.

John Key stated that some hospitals had simply failed their patients.  “Some hospitals appear to accept a lower life expectancy for their patients, and higher rates of heart disease and diabetes.  Other hospitals are doing very well with these problems.”  While Mr. Key wouldn’t be drawn on specifics he indicated that the East Cape, Northland and parts of Auckland were areas with failing hospitals.

“Doctors will tell you that there are socio-economic factors involved, and long-standing historical issues in their communities to overcome, but we’re tired of hearing excuses. You can look outside the doctor’s surgery if you like, but why is that some people come out of hospital better, and some people don’t?  There are many possible answers, but the key is the doctor in the room with the patient.  They need to be held accountable for their actions, and compared to other doctors nationally.  Doctors who can’t improve health outcomes for their patients need to be moved on.”

When asked about repeated criticism from health experts, Mr Key had this to say:

“Frankly doctor and nurse unions are vested interests who want to maintain the status quo, but we all know that a good doctor makes all the difference, and that bad doctors exist.  We need to root out the bad doctors, and increase accountability.  I’m not interested in the socio-economic background of the patient, we need to have high expectations and set high targets.  I want to see life expectancy at birth for all groups in New Zealand raised to 75 by 2016, and the rates of heart disease and diabetes at the same rate for all sections of our community.  Any hospital that fails to improve its targets each year will be put on a warning.  If results don’t improve then jobs will be lost, and ultimately hospitals will be closed.”

Interest has already been expressed by different groups around the country.  Some highly-skilled doctors appear to enthusiastic about leaving the public system and setting up their own hospitals that may attract significant private funding in addition to taking money from the public purse, but other groups less often associated with health are already preparing proposals.  These groups include Transcendental Meditation New Zealand, The Chinese Association of Acupuncturists, the NZRFU and Destiny Church.

When we approached the NZRFU their spokesman simply stated that the Rugby Union in New Zealand had a long history of promoting good health and pride in the country, and was looking for positive ways to expand its brand.  The Destiny Church would did not respond to our requests for an interview.

Update

Sources close to Mr. Banks report that an entire charter programme is being considered across a broad spectrum of areas.  Mr. Banks is enthusiastic about the idea of charter police stations.  “Banksie thinks that some cops in some stations just sit aound making excuses  for the crime in their areas, and they need to be sorted out.”  Private police forces would presumably have to meet tough targets, but would have greater autonomy and be less restricted by the UN Declaration of Human Rights or the Crimes Act.  Apparently having  heavily-armed, unconstrained private police forces roaming the streets of high crime areas is also part of the government’s plan for addressing poverty.