Guess who's back

Karori has been nuts this week

Frank is ALIVE!

I can’t say I’ve seen him personally, but a concerned passerby posted this photo on the community Facebook page this week, frightened by the cat’s villainous appearance.

Not really. He was worried about Frank’s limp, and wondered if anybody recognized him.

Do your reading, sir! Frank’s limp is all part of his evil brand!

Anyway, my relief is total, because I’ve missed being terrorized by the guy.

Frank isn’t ready for his close-up (Image from I LOVE KARORI Facebook group)

It’s been a strange week in Karori, possibly due to the winter solstice and a full Strawberry Moon. Somebody threw a sex toy up in the air near Karori West School and so a dildo dangled from power cables there for some time - unnoticed, you’d hope, by the children below. I imagine some underpaid soul from a lines company eventually untangled the strap-on and brought it down.

Meanwhile I was busy witnessing a police chase at close range. I was walking the damned dog not far from St Ninian’s church - just assume that when I’m not writing this, I’m walking the dog -when a white ute came screeching into view, cornering hard, before swerving out of the path of an oncoming car. It weaved recklessly for a few seconds before disappearing around another corner. Moments later, a police car streamed by in pursuit.

It was very startling, but what I’ll remember most was the expression on the driver’s face. His window was down so I had a clear view. Instead of hunching with stress, with the whites of his eyes showing - it turns out there were as many as four police cars pursuing him - he looked almost relaxed. I mean, both hands were on the wheel, and he certainly showed focus, but he had the air of somebody facing a mirror and knotting their tie. His face said: Yeah, what I’m doing now isn’t as important as what I’ll do next.

I wish I had this much chill in tight situations, but I don’t. In fact, I’ve no chill in any situation, which is annoying, because by midlife you’re supposed to give way fewer clucks.

Anyway, he made it all the way to Karori Park where, apparently, he veered down a bank and skirted the playing field before realising that there’s no escaping Karori, as every road in this suburb ultimately leads to reckoning. Either he stopped or was stopped; according to onlookers, he was arrested.

We’ve made heroes out of outlaws; but equally it’s proper that a rascal is caught, and order restored. Still, part of me wanted him to get away, perhaps by pulling ingeniously into a nearby garage, or driving into a thick hedge which sealed around him, or by abandoning the car and stepping coolly onto a waiting bus.

This kind of thought makes no sense and doesn’t respect the fact this guy endangered absolutely everybody in his proximity. But there’s something deeply thrilling about the idea that you can outrun your problems, or escape your imperfect identity, if only you’re nimble and daring enough. I guess that’s why we love chase scenes in movies. Watching someone evade capture and avoid consequences is a kind of wish fulfilment, because most of us can’t escape the past.

Forty-two years ago this week, my family arrived in New Zealand as economic migrants. We settled in Stratford in view of the kindly mountain, Taranaki Maunga, where my Dad had an offer of work as a plumber and gasfitter. I was nine, open to every new experience, and accepting of things I didn’t understand.

Arriving in a new country felt like I was streaming through the world in pursuit of something. There was motion. There was discovery. There were many pleasures and opportunities to be had. I didn’t appreciate then what I know now at 51; that so much forward momentum, while thrilling, means you must leave people and places behind.

My reckoning will come, inevitably. But not today. Today I’m going to evade capture and, in an image perfect for the suburbs, hide in a hedge and let it close around me for a little while. Then I’m going to keep going - weaving, sometimes recklessly, swerving in avoidance, and sometimes coasting with no effort at all - until it catches me up.

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It’s a very short newsletter this week, dear reader, because I had a piece about celebrity fashion to write for the Life section over at One News. It’s an opinionated and very clickable online magazine edited by Emily Simpson, who for my money is the most attentive editor in NZ, with the liveliest mind. I was thrilled to do something for her. THRILLED.