The Crip and Olivia de Havilland


He was only 15, maybe 16,  but he looked older.  He could easily pass for an 18 year old.

He wore a pencil thin Errol Flynn moustache. It suited him, sitting proudly on top of well formed lips and beneath a shapely nose. His complexion pure and unblemished. This guy was handsome. His skin appeared soft, full of stretch and fresh. He was the perfect specimen.

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This guy had attitude. He had it in spades. Set perfectly within his beautifully formed face were brown eyes of steel.

His head didn’t lift when  he saw me coming, just his eyes. They looked at me with total disdain. Pure arrogance and attitude. I looked at him, I looked into his eyes and immediately thought to myself,

‘I’m going run  you over you little shit!’

But please, first let me give you some context before you judge me too quickly.

The teenage turd was immaculately dressed in a shade of blue someone between petrol and royal. He stepped onto the road in front of me, that’s when he lifted his eyes. With nonchalant grace he sauntered right in front of me, silently telling me, silently challenging me;

‘Man I’m a Crip, I own this road, and I don’t give a shit. You wont have the guts to honk your horn, abuse me from a wound down window, or run me over.’

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But he was wrong!

Here’s a tip!

Never ever get in between me and a meal. I was on the way home for lunch, I hadn’t had breakfast that morning, I was hungry and I wanted  to run the bastard over. I wanted the next words he uttered to be ‘hello God.’ I wanted him to die with his boots on. I wanted to send him to uncertain glory on the roadside dead opposite Pizza Hut.

But I didn’t.

He can thank his lucky stars my mind is a very random and strange thing. Instead of giving myself the green light, putting my foot down and starring in my own version of the charge of the light brigade; I started thinking about Errol Flynn and Captain Blood. I’m weird, we all know that. So it will come as no real surprise that I started to imagine Errol Flynn as a Crip and being asked to play Captain Blood. Wow, what a mind flip!

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Errol Flynn – what a man, what a story.

But what’s he got to do with this particular story anyway?

Well everything and nothing really.

Over the next few days I thought more and more about the young man and I actually started to like his attitude. He was a cocky little git unquestionably. But I actually liked that. Not only did this young man look like Errol Flynn, he acted like him too. It’s great to be young, it’s great to feel invincible and not give a stuff. These are things I remember about my youth and miss. Responsibility and sensibility are things that will come later and therefore can wait.

Now, Errol Flyn was no angel. He treated women terribly, he treated his body terribly. He trashed his body with women, wine, and song and tobacco so badly that he died at the tender age of 50. But by God was he handsome though, and in my view, considering the type of roles he played, and the times in which he acted, he wasn’t a bad actor either.

But he was also a bit of a shit too, I remember holidaying in the pristine Whitsundays on the Great Barrier Reef in Australia and being shown Errol Flynn graffiti.  It was at Nara Inlet and there in amongst the tranquil beauty Errol Flynn had the audacity and nerve to vandalize the environment! Bastard!

My mind leaped.

I focused on the young man’s motivation in stepping out in front of me. I imagined him on dawn patrol searching for his own Olivia de Havilland. I imagined his thoughts being a million miles away’; ‘thinking, ‘I adore you, please never say goodbye.’

Being in love; well it’s a great feeling isn’t it? And if your partner is as stunning as Errol Flynn or Olivia de Havilland, then, well its worth stopping traffic for isn’t it?

Kia Ora


Man Bait

A story in 10 parts

Part One:  Abigail

Abigail Sweet laid the petite fours on her Gran’s Burano lace doily. The graceful sweep of her arm only surpassed by the stunning offerings she had prepared.

‘Oh my!’ Scarlet gasped. ‘You really have surpassed yourself this time, must have taken you an age to prepare.’

‘Well, you know what I’m like,’ Abigail replied, looking over her shoulder while turning back toward the Kitchen with a wag of her hips and swish of her skirt.

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Abigail loved food, she loved opulence, she loved her friends company and she loved men. With her cherub shaped face, her full lips and twinkling eyes she looked like  and was dressed like a 1950’s suburban siren. She carried the weight of one and a half women and the curves on her curves were homely and soft.

(writers comment – yum!)

Abigail returned from the kitchen with a pot of percolated coffee. ‘Coffee, everyone?’ She asked.

Her friends all chiming back merrily with different forms and styles of affirmation.

These savories are delish Abi, is that cottage cheese I can taste?

Abigail looked up and smiled at her best friend Jane. ‘Sure is Jane, its infused with cream corn.’

Abigail loved her monthly gathering of friends. The last Sunday of the month was special and this Sunday’s gathering just happened to be at her house. She had designed, trialed and prepared her menu since the first Sunday of the month. Last week she had bought a new skirt and yesterday had her hair set.

She had known all of her girl friends since school and they had met once a month for the last three years. Despite their differences, their careers and families, their scholastic bond remained strong and alive.

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Strictly no men were allowed at their gatherings! They had their golf, their football, cars, bars and sheds and the girls had their monthly afternoon teas. Abi was always amazed though how quickly their discussions turned to men.

The girls sharing stories of the their mens activities during the preceding month.Their triumphs, their failures, their bad manners and indiscretions. It was all laid bare, naked and raw. And the general consensus was that all men were bastards. But definitely worthy of conversation.

‘This food is so good,’ Jane added, ‘its absolutely positively man bait! So anyway, how did your date with JP go?

‘Yes, tell us,’ the other girls added, ‘tell us everything, the whole sordid story.’

‘What was he like in bed?’ Scarlet asked eagerly, ‘was he well packaged… I’m sure you know what I mean doll?

‘Scarlet!’ Paige interjected sharply, slapping Scarlet’s forearm gently, ‘we all know that that’s all you are interested in, but give Abi a chance.’

‘Well as you know Abi,’ started tentatively, ‘I’ve been chatting with JP online for some time. He was the one that stood out from all the other dick pickers and the drunk married guys wanting friends with benefits, or instant gratification.

Dick pickers? Asked Leonie.

The other girls laughed at Leonie’s innocence.

Yep, Dick Pickers, you know, the guys who send you pics of their dicks Leonie, Scarlet beamed.

‘Oh how gross,’ Leonie replied, nearly choking on her coffee.

‘Well moving right along ladies,’ Abi continued; ‘JP seemed the nicest of them all, so we went out on a date.’

‘So what was he like in real life? Was he what you expected?’ Jo asked raising her eye brows.

Abi smiled, ‘well girls why don’t you come and meet him yourself – I have him chained up in the basement.’

Hey, Van Heusen clothing ads can be sexist to men too

Stay tuned for the next exciting installment 

Kia Ora Roly

Feel Inside

Do you remember what it felt like to be a child?

Do you remember the fun, the energy, the optimism and the innocence?

I bet we all do!

Every writer worth their salt has written about the transition from child to adult, the rites of passage, the coming of age, journey’s of discovery.

Very few though write about the unbridled joy and sheer loveliness of being young. Of a time in our life when the only worry we had was the Maths test on Friday. When we could have a fight with our best friend in the morning and be bestie mates again by lunchtime.

Is it the fear of being labelled a sacchariney children’s author, the fear of being a niche teen writer that stops of us? Or is it because we have become so cynical we know for most; the innocence, the generosity and the love will disappear as soon as the horrible hormones kick in?  At any age, there are always a good stories, and here’s one of them.

Maddie and one of her besties, Sally, wanted to raise money for the Earthquake Victims in Kaikoura. So on Wednesday they set up a Lemonade and Cookie stand at Tahunanui Beach. They raised $53.70 to be given to the St John’s Earthquake appeal.

I asked Maddie how she felt inside afterward. She said, she felt so good, she said she felt so joyful in that she and Sally could actually do something to help. When she spoke her eyes lit up, a smile came across her face and I could actually see and hear the love from the way she spoke and moved.

I will let the photo’s do the talking.

The following song is called ‘Feel Inside’ it was written by The Flight of the Concords and used to raise money for ‘Cure Kids.’ It ’tis a sweet song but what’s best about it is that all the lyrics were taken from Children.

Kia Ora



A tribute to my Nan


This is the transcript of a speech I made at my Grandmothers funeral service.


Dr Seuss once said, sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory.’

He also said plenty of other stuff , but, ‘one fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish’ and there’s a ‘wocket in my pocket,’ don’t really seem appropriate in this setting, here today.

Nan was a woman of her times; born in the 1920’s, a time when New Zealand was still recovering from the horror  of the Great War and the ravages of the following flu a few years later. New Zealand was a stoic, austere but resilient place, it cherished good old fashioned values, it valued hard work and toil. Money was tight and words were few. The words that were used were unusually short and economical. There was no need for embellishment  and no money for  luxury.

We have all had our moments with Eunice, Mum, Nan, Nana Hanna, we all have our own memories, some private, some shared. Some will be special, while others are more perfunctory, more matter of fact. But rather than memories today I wanted to share with you some of moments I shared with Nan and some of the qualities that Nan possessed.

When I think of Nan, I think of Eunice the sportswoman; the Golfer, the Lawn Bowler. It always seemed to me that while she was never a lydia Ko or Millie Khan,she was a battler. She was hard working, determined and dedicated. She took up bowls much later in life than one might usually do and this was and still is an inspiration to me today.

When I think of Nan, I think of Eunice the ‘Gourmet’ who lovingly cooked tripe and onions for my Grandfathers lunch for as many years as I can remember. The boiled tripe and onion smell wafting and lurking through the house like the smell of Johnny’s damp dirty rugby socks. I remember Eunice the ‘gourmet’ eating Cous Cous for the first time at my house. She was 90 and she loved it. She told me she had always wondered what Cous Cous tasted like and she really seemed to enjoy it. When I asked her what she thought of the Falafel, she shot me a look which suggested it would be another 90 years before she tried Falafel again.

There’s a cold wind that blows down the Grey River Valley toward the sea. The people in Greymouth call the wind the ‘Barber,’ – because it can cut  right through you like a razor; cut you in two! Eunice also had the ability to do that with either a single glance or a short spatter of words.

Gambling…,Eunice loved a punt. She loved a flutter on the Gee Gee’s; a session on the pokies, an hour or two at the casino. Believe it or not, she was also an adventurer, one time trekking 2km up a narrow, rocky creek, boulder hopping, getting her feet wet, criss-crossing from  one bush covered bank to the other just to get to a gold claim I had shares in. The sandflies were as big as helicopters and hungry as Paddy and Liam Hanrahan, but nothing was going to stop Nan from having a go on the Rocker Box and having the chance to find an ounce of two of gold, or even a nugget.

Eunice gave things a crack and to me that was an outstanding part of her character.

They say a good measure of someones life is not what they have achieved but what they have left behind. Eunice, the love of your children, grand children, and great grand children is what you have left behind and what a wonderful measure and legacy this is.

Thank you for the moments Eunice, alas there will be no more and I will miss them

As Dr Suess said, sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory.’

Kia Ora


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Memory Man – I can be a super hero too!

For Kate and Maddie.

Am I taking things too simplistically?

It couldn’t be that easy, could it,…surely not?

Have I really discovered the meaning or secret of life, or am I just deluded, or even better, insane?

I’m not a great sleeper often lying awake for hours thinking about my problems, my family’s problems and of course the worlds problems.

How will my meeting with my Boss go, how can I provide more support to Kate, what if Trump gets elected, what will that mean for the US and the world?

Anyway, I got thinking the other night about what you leave after you shed your mortal coil. What of any value will remain after you die? I quickly determined that the only thing worth leaving, the only thing that will last are the memories you make and share with other people, pure and simple.

Money will be spent, money will be lost or accrue, assets will pass from hand to hand, deteriorate, be lost or be sold. Values and morals are a personal choice and can change quickly given pressure and circumstance. Customs and traditions are societal and of course largely built upon collective memories.

Religion and spirituality excluded, Agnostics and Atheists still need a raison d’être, and could this be to leave memories in the minds of those you love? Indeed, propagation of the species fills a biological need, but not everyone neither wants nor can have children. What’s left for these people? Memories; surely it must be it!

Memories can either be good or bad, preferably good. And I know that when I curl my toes for the last time the list of good positive memories I have shared with people will far outweigh the negative, or at least I hope they will.

But now, from here on in I will be much more conscious about the memories I am making and sharing, and it’s more than just being and living in the moment, its more than just making a bit more of an effort, yes, it will be much more than that.

So, dim the lights, crank up the orchestra, train the spot light because here’s

Memory Man!




Whenever, you need someone to wrap loving arms around you, I will try and be that person.

Whenever, you need someone to fall over, hurt himself and crack everyone up then please let me be that person.

Whenever, you ever need someone to just sit with you, or watch you play at the park and buy an ice cream afterwards, then I’m that man.

Whenever, I need to get cross and tell you off, please always remember it is always done out of love.

Always remember that when you live with me, you will live with no fear.

And never forget that the I love I have for you is unconditional and will always be there.

I will always love and remember you always.

Kia Ora Roly




Is love blind?

Act 1 Scene 12,775

Roly Andrews, Attractive woman

Path on Cathedral Hill overlooking the city of Nelson


Attractive Woman: Valorous morning to thee sir

love 2

Roly Andrews: Good day, how thou the present day, quite quaint young mistress?

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Attractive Woman: Lest I am very well this morning, thy words art very kind, within this wall of flesh there is a soul that counts thee its creditor.

Roly Andrews: Ha ha I see thee eyes light up and the pearls of white of thy teeth at which hour thee smileth and maketh this sunny morning coequal more sunny.

Attractive Woman: Cease – thee art making me blush. And I note a wedding ring on thy digit, peradventure thee art forgetting thou has’t a loved one at home?

Roly Andrews: Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. Thither art times at which hour mine ring seemeth to burn or disappear. Hear my soul speak, of the very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly at your service.

Attractive Woman: Mine lief cousin! Love is a smoke and is made with the fume of sighs. I am flattered by thy infaction, but thou has’t a wife who thou has’t committed too for the rest of thee days – I doth not wish to cometh between this holy bond, despite thy kind visage, lovely words and flash shoes. I must wend now or I wilt beest late for worketh. Farewell my friend.

Roly Andrews:  Cease! I heareth what thee sayeth. But fear not, I am no cad, nor sleaze. I doth not jump from sleep chamber to sleep chamber while the sheets art still warm, Everyday since I turned sixteen, I has’t fallen in love. Tis a wearisome  curse, but this doest not mean I don’t love mine wife, for i doth with all mine heart. These instant infatuations, these sweet fleeting attractions doth not cheapen love either. I has’t nev’r acted on these callings as I has’t nev’r wanted too. All I has’t ever wanted wast the feeling one gets at which hour one falleth in love.

The thrill of folly and of opening ones heart and wearing it upon thy sleeve. The act of abandonment to attraction and the addiction of affection. I crave the vulnerability, the power, the sense of uncontrollable control all acquired at loves first instant. To love is to liveth and tis a drug I can’t receiveth enough of.

No, I am no amorous rite addict, I am no pants sire. I am a man addicted to attraction. Forgive, if ‘t be true I seemeth shallow, for most addicts art. I am a fool and thee a passing folly, although a very quite quaint and immaculately presented one. Humour me, so I can obtain mine fix, as I am an eternal harmless jester who needeth to entertain.
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Attractive Woman: Thee doth has’t lovely eyes and a quite quaint smileth, and thee doth has’t silver bow shoes

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Included in the above passage are quotes from:
  • Shakespeare: A Midsummer Night’s Dream – Act 1, Scene 1
  • Shakespeare :The Tempest – Act 3, Scene 1
  • Shakespeare : As You Like It – Act 3, Scene 5
  • Shakespeare: Romeo & Juliet – Act 1, Scene 1
Kia Ora Roly