The one they left behind

When you get to a certain age, and I am at it, your friends start deserting you and having kids.  I'm not going to beat around the bush on this one.  I am lonely as a result of the inevitable urge to procreate.

Yes, I know my friends are still my friends.  But when they are unavailable for any social events ever again, unless it's afternoon tea round their house on a Saturday afternoon, realistically I have been abandoned.

It reminds me of a friend I lost many years ago.  I didn't change, but she found religion, in a big way.  That in itself would have been ok, but she was so into the religion thing that she was actually incapable of holding a conversation without steering it to that topic.  I held out for a while, but eventually the relationship had nowhere to go.  I found the topic of religion boring, she found it irresistibly fascinating to the point where she would send me religious propaganda.  The friendship had to end - and while I regret it to this day, I do maintain that it was not my fault - I didn't change, she did.

The same is true of the friends having babies.  Now I don't mind a conversation about nappy changing, but I am just not very interested in it.  What I am interested in is going to the cinema, spontaneous drinking sessions, weekend ski trips, whole days out walking, the things I have been building my friendships around.  I have tried to involve friends with kids in these events, and yes, with effort and plenty of forward planning you can bring them along with you.  But somehow it feels that you are causing them enormous inconvenience in their life by forcing them out of their childhood routine, which I know is so important to little kids, and I am not sure that they thank you for it.  So unless I am willing to mould around their lifestyle of running around after small children, I don't have a social life.  Let's face it - I just don't have much in common with them any more.

I don't have many options from here on out.  I could continue to gradually atrophy friends.  I could move to a whole new set of friends.  I could join them and produce my own rugrat.
But whatever option I choose, staying still is not an option.  I guess I've just reached that point in my life where making no decision at all is not going to cut it.  Could this be the point where I grow up?

Aren't I special any more?

When you're a child you're repeatedly told how special you are.  Parents tell you constantly that you're Mummy's special girl or boy.  You emblazon a piece of craft paper with a multicoloured handprint and you are showered with praise.  You learn to ride a bike and you earn a hug.  You advance beyond your reading years and you are abnormally gifted.  You write a mediocre rip off story based on an Aesop's fable and you win a prize.  You win a swimming race and you are specially talented.  You enter a school competition and win and you are special.  You excel at your qualifications and you are tipped for great things.  You qualify for university with top marks and you know you are destined for greatness.  At university you write a good paper and you believe you will have a splendid career.  And then, you emerge into the big wide world as an adult and you are just one of the crowd.

Your dreams of being a world class athlete are shattered by the reality that you are not even top half of your local sports club.  At work you do well, but somehow all those kids who struggled to spell when you were streets ahead have all caught up with you.  Your natural talent may haul you ahead for a while, but age becomes irrelevant once you are no longer a graduate.  Ability is all that counts and when you are competing with a workforce of ages spanning 40 years your best shot at the big time is to leave your employer and climb a different ladder.  The best chance you have of being special is winning the weekly pub quiz.  It is a hard fact of adulthood that 99% of us are not special.  Despite all those years of praise, adulation and endless reminders of just how talented you are, you are destined to just be another office worker.  If you're lucky you'll be a manager by the time you're 40.

Somewhere along the line the reality of your own mediocrity hits home.  Maybe, just maybe, you'll hit it big by writing a novel in your spare time or inventing an app that takes off.  Far more likely you'll just plod on day to day, doing pretty well but nothing special.  It is a bitter pill to swallow when it was reinforced in you for so many years that you will be something.  Good job you can have your own kids and make believe that you are special for having produced them.  Maybe they'll achieve the greatness you never did.

To the pedestrians, to make much of time

In the UK and much of Europe, pedestrians get exclusive "green man" phases. That means, if you can see a green man, no cars are allowed to drive over the crossing and you can (in theory at least) walk fearlessly across.

In NZ and Australia the rule is different. At traffic signals, pedestrians get an exclusive green man for a few seconds, then turning traffic is able to drive across the crossing, as long as there are no pedestrians on it.

The NZ road code says:

"A green signal means you can go, provided it is safe, and:

...you give way to pedestrians crossing. This includes riders of mobility devices and wheeled recreational devices."

Sort of like this:

What this means is that when the light changes to green for the turning vehicle, both the pedestrians and the turning vehicle are shown a green light. This arrangement means greater efficiency at lights as cars don't have to wait if there's no-one on the crossing. However, it does create potential for conflict as there is an added layer of complexity for pedestrians and drivers who have to decide if it's safe to proceed.

As we all know, pedestrians are more vulnerable than drivers, who have a metal box to protect them, so the onus is always going to be on the pedestrian to make sure they're safe.

What I have observed as I've been driving, cycling and walking around Wellington is that pedestrians are very cautious of crossing, even on a green man (and probably with good reason). I have been stopped on my bike waiting for pedestrians to clear the crossing, and the pedestrians stop for me to go on. Obviously the vast numbers of cyclists who flout the rules have created some caution in the minds of pedestrians, but I also think pedestrians don't actually know the rules of the road. It is even more obvious at zebra crossings (white stripes and belisha beacons). The rules state:

"When coming up to pedestrian crossings:
slow down and be ready to stop for any pedestrians stepping onto, or on the crossing. This also includes people obviously waiting to use the crossing. "

In my experience, pedestrians won't try to cross unless there are no cars approaching, or unless they see a car stop. I am the apparently crazy one who steps out when cars are coming. I do it on behalf of pedestrians everywhere to remind drivers of the road rules.

The road code is written for drivers, not for pedestrians. I would like to see pedestrians be more assertive. Until we do so, drivers will take advantage of our indecision. For someone travelling at slow speed, like a pedestrian, a delay at traffic signals can add a significant proportion of time to a journey, so it's important to take advantage of the rights you are allowed.

This said, the NZ rule at traffic signals is an outdated method of control which adds ambiguity into the process. The whole point of traffic signals is to avoid conflict, and by running two green phases simultaneously the object is defeated. Too much of our evaluation is based upon journey time efficiency, but we should remember that particularly in somewhere compact like Wellington, pedestrians are often on working time because they are walking to meetings. Those few seconds saved are of much greater value to a slow speed traveller like a pedestrian, than a fast speed traveller, like a car driver. In addition, by separating out the green phases, the risk of conflict is greatly reduced.

Changing the phasing for traffic signals is not a difficult act in itself - it is the legislation that is the challenge. But it is a challenge for transport professionals to take up.

Wedding?

Now I am going to be controversial. But that is the point of this blog so here goes.

Marriage. What does that mean to you?
White dresses, aisles, bridesmaids, wedding cake, first dance, groom's speech, best man's speech, father of the bride, tossing the bouquet etc. etc. ?

What it doesn't mean to me is a same sex ceremony. That is a same sex union, a civil partnership, but it is not a marriage.

I thought I'd check the online dictionary to back up my opinion, but the dictionary is obviously more forward thinking than me, defining marriage as:

"The legal union of a man and woman as husband and wife, and in some jurisdictions, between two persons of the same sex, usually entailing legal obligations of each person to the other"

From speaking with friends and colleagues I understand I am being old-fashioned, but really this is a reflection of my understanding of the english language. Nonetheless, the English language is constantly evolving and to me marriage means heterosexual union. Simple as. There is an unfortunate gap in the English language for an appropriate terminology for a same-sex union (civil union sounds so boring which is probably why "marriage" has been appropriated) but in my opinion, that does not constitute a reason to call it a marriage. Perhaps I should invent a new word - how about Unification, Juncture, or my personal favourite, Melding.

On a more deeply philosophical note, I would comment that using words like "partner" and "marriage" to define both hetero or gay relationships I find irritatingly neo-liberal. What is wrong with shouting out your sexuality? I am proud to say I have a boyfriend. And what would be wrong with having a boyfriend if I were a guy? Why label your boyfriend as your partner? Are we all so afraid to offend that we have to use gender-unspecific terms? Partner is such a do-gooding term that it offends me, so despite the fact that I'm 35 and living with him, I have a boyfriend, not a partner.

Overemployment at supermarkets

Today I was in New World (supermarket for those of you not in Godzone). As I was on my bike, I didn't want a plastic bag, I wanted to put the food in my rucksack. In fact, I almost never want a plastic bag, unless I make an impromptu visit and forget to take my own bags. But many supermarkets in NZ (New World being a prime culprit) seem to have a policy of overemployment. They have plastic bag packers on the checkout. Whenever I get to the checkout I have to tell the nice young packers that I'll pack my own bags, thank you. Otherwise I am forcibly given MORE plastic bags to add to the mountain already in the spare room. This inevitably results in the checkout packer standing around like a lemon while I pack my own bag.

The checkout packers mainly seem to be there to foist yet more plastic bags on the shopper. With checkout packers in place the default position is to give the shopper plastic bags, whereas the default position should be for shoppers to provide their own bag. New World briefly experimented with charging for plastic bags, a scheme which was presumably dropped due to public pressure. But big corporations have a duty to be environmentally responsible and the checkout packers are definitely not helping.

Another issue, though is how much supermarkets spend to keep the checkout packers - essentially a "nice to have" position - employed. It is noticeable in NZ (to someone who has lived in other countries) that commodities are expensive, even those commodities, like meat and milk products, which are produced here. It makes you wonder how much is being paid in shop overheads and how much the consumer is paying for this superfluous - and costly to the planet - service.

The flip side, of course, is that the supermarkets are providing additional employment. But on balance, I think the market could absorb those roles. It would be interesting to see if the checkout packers were made redundant (a) how many plastic bags would be saved and (b) whether commodity prices would come down at all or if New World would quietly keep them up and increase their profit margins yet more.

Do you like having the checkout packers? Or, like me, do you find them superfluous and costly both to consumer and the environment?

Sirocco

A sirocco is a type of hot desert wind. It's also the world's most famous kakapo. This week Sirocco the kakapo was visiting Wellington and we went to see him at Zealandia.

http://www.visitzealandia.com/site/zealandia_home/

I have been quietly fascinated by kakapo for a couple of years. They are what's known as a zombie species - i.e. they should be extinct, but due to human intervention, they are clinging on to existence. Ironically it was humans who caused them to verge on extinction in the first place through their introduction of predators which love to eat flightless birds.

Kakapo are the heaviest parrots in the world, up to 4kg (obviously they can't fly) and they are solitary birds. When predators arrived they quickly killed off the females in the population when they were sitting on nests, so by the 70s the only known individuals were males - the species was functionally extinct. Luckily a population with females in was discovered on Stewart Island, and the whole population was translocated to predator-free islands where they are now breeding, slowly. From a low point of 51 individuals the population is now up to 129, but they are still in a precarious position and dependent on humans for the foreseeable future.

It was great to see Sirocco (parrots are very endearing birds) and Zealandia did a really good job with the whole experience, but it does make you wonder whether it's all worth it. Why do we strive to save species like Kakapo? Certainly we enjoyed ourselves (for $40), but is the money invested in saving this one, defenceless species really worth it? What does biodiversity really add to the world? Darwin knew that only the fittest survive, and a counter point to NZ's ecological mania is to just accept that kakapo did not adapt, and they cannot survive.

Obese

The before shot

Today I went to the family planning clinic (there, that's the first thing I wasn't supposed to mention). Anyway, in between injections we took blood pressure readings, which lead to the discussion about the fact that I'm overweight. The nurse is one of those wonderful old-school nurses who have been doing their job forever and know everything. She wasn't about to tell me what to do, but looked very worried when the reading came up 140/80, and told me I should go to my GP, which I'm not about to do as they will prescribe pills and that'll be it - me, on pills forever.

Anyway, as my only risk factor is being overweight, I told my lovely nurse to bully me into losing weight. She duly weighed me, calculated my BMI and told me I now fitted into the OBESE category. That, I must admit is a bit of shock. I've always been a bit fat, but also very active. How many obese people cycle to work every day and play netball and tennis? Being generally big helps me out quite a bit, as the weight doesn't just go straight to my tummy, and I have a lot of muscle mass, so I don't immediately strike people (including myself) as fat.


But then again, I do eat a lot. Not just bad stuff you understand, a lot generally. And I think losing weight for me will be about generally eating smaller amounts of everything (and cutting back on the Friday evening pub chips and the let's face it almost every day mid afternoon chocolate bar).

Anyway, I currently weigh about 88kg and my goal is by my next appointment to weigh 80kg. That's in 12 weeks time, so just under 1 kilo to be lost per week. I have even created myself a little graph on old-fashioned graph paper with a target weight to reach. The nurse put an alert on the computer for the next person having an appointment with me to check whether I'd reached my target weight, so it will be pretty embarrassing if I don't.

But will I do it? I'm feeling pretty hungry after eating sensibly today!