King Dick

That you have to be a mountain goat to walk about in Wellington is simply not true. But if like me, you go almost everywhere on foot, it would certainly help. Built on and around the hills that almost dip into the sea here, the only really flat area in the central city area is land reclaimed from the deep, albeit assisted by an earthquake in 1855.

It is hardly surprising therefore that a prime attraction in the city is a cable car that elevates you from the busy thoroughfare of Lambton Quay to a lookout in the heights high above, just inside the upper entrance to the botanical gardens, (called here the Botanic Garden despite undeniable evidence that the plural form would be more accurate). It is a rare visitor to the capital city who has not stared out over the broad deep-sea harbour and its surroundings from this impressive vantage point.

But let’s forget the cable car and other vehicles and walk uphill from the farther end of Lambton Quay, along the memorial trail that takes you through the old cemetery where the early European (predominantly British) settlers are buried. Their resting place has been sacrilegiously cut in two by a motorway, but the path continues across it as an inclined footbridge before winding steeply upwards again until you eventually reach the tombs of two former Prime Ministers. The larger of these edifices as you leave the memorial park, with a bronze figure atop a tall pillar, is that of King Dick.

Richard John Seddon was born in 1854, was apprenticed to an engineer, joined the gold rush to the South Island of New Zealand in 1866 after first trying his luck in Australia, became mayor of a small town in 1877, was elected to Parliament in 1879 – and became Prime Minister 14 years later. Not bad for a lad from Lancashire who left school at the age of 12. His Government set the pace for social welfare legislation in the West in the last decade of the century. New Zealand women were first in the world to be given the vote, in 1893, (although he wasn’t in favour of the move himself); old age pensions were introduced, the penny post, the coalmines were nationalised, and so on.

Yes, King Dick achieved a lot and might have achieved still more had he not died in office. Inscribed on his tomb are the words, “A strong and resolute personality with an indomitable will enabled Richard John Seddon to carry out the humane and progressive legislation which characterised the 13 years of his administration.”

More than a century on I can’t help thinking what he would make of more recent reforms that have led to the country having the fastest growing gap between the incomes of rich and poor in the OECD area. But then his smiling current counterpart is a former successful currency trader, also with an indomitable will – to sell off large chunks of state-owned assets to private investors.

I wonder whether he is resting in peace, King Dick.

The Stockholm Winter

The Stockholm winter struck early this time, in the dull, dark days of November, growing invreasingly severe, albeit somewhat brightening the December darkness. Friends with living space at ground level complained of being blocked in, of having to shovel aside great mounds of snow, and then when the temperature rose and the rain fell only to freeze, of the bone-breaking hazard of stepping out of the front door. The hospitals are overworked when it's like that.


All this I have noted with great sympathy and understanding while contemplating the blue-green waters of the Waitemata Harbour in Auckland, and now the gently rippling surface of Lake Taupo on the central plateau of New Zealand’s North Island. The temperature is in the mid-20s Celsius, the sun bright, the sky blue, while a bellbird in the shade of a nearby tree provides a wondrous musical background to my thoughts. I can put words to his song. ‘Do you know how well-off you are?’ he warbles.

Listen! There he goes again.

Postscript: I have been to Auckland many times before but not until this latest visit have I seen people begging in Queen Street, the main commercial thoroughfare in the country’s largest city by very far. No bellbirds there.

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