Culture shock

Will Johnston has a solution for one of the Tauranga CBD’s problems, and he’s practically giving it away.

It’s fair to say that I was excited to go to Hamilton. That’s not usually a sentence that comes out of my mouth. Cold and foggy isn’t my cuppa. However, this time, Hamilton was going to be different.

It was at Spark Arena in Auckland, and it’s the musical about Alexander Hamilton that’s taken over the theatre world since its first performance in 2015. My wife is a huge musical theatre fan, so this was a must for her and, by association, me. Don’t get me wrong, I like a musical as much as the next 39-year-old musically untalented guy. But mid-show when I noticed my forearm was wet from the tears of joy and sorrow emanating from my wife’s face, I realised I was not at her level of enthusiasm/hysteria. Bless.

But the thing that really struck me while we had our baby-free weekend in Auckland was that we are lacking a vibe in Tauranga. 

There’s a buzz in Auckland (if you tell an Aucklander I said that, I’ll deny it). Maybe it’s more people, maybe it’s bigger buildings, maybe it’s just traffic (though we have that in spades here – amiright)? Or maybe it’s the fact that businesses are actually open and operating at night – not just food and booze businesses, either. 

I hear the same old argument about Tauranga not being big enough to support opening at night, or even support half of the businesses during the regular shopping hours. But rather than just complaining – as I’m prone to do as I sink into my late-30s role of dad jokes and loathing of bad parking – I have a solution! 

All I ask for this fix is a humble working week’s worth of fees that the Tauranga commissioners charge per day of work each. $1,500 each x 5 work days = $7,500. I know, generous of me, right? I’m not even charging the chair’s fee of $1,800 per day. Which I would be totally justified to do as I am quite clearly the chairman of my own board. 

So here it is: Whack it on the rates, mate! 

Every residential ratepayer gets an allowance built into their rates that must be spent on tickets to shows/events every year. If you don’t spend it, it gets divided up as an annual cash payment among all businesses/organisations in the CBD that would benefit from an entire theatre of people coming to town before/after a show. 

Worst-case scenario for the ratepayer: You get to go to a bunch of shows a year, expand your horizons, and fill the CBD with reasons for businesses to operate there. Worst-case scenario for a business/organisation: They get a sweet cash payment at the end of every year to keep the doors open/pay their staff and reinvest into their business to make the CBD a more attractive place to socialise for the ratepayer. 

Now, who do I invoice for this idea? 

All this aside… It worries me that I’ve mentioned rates AND went to Auckland and enjoyed myself. Who have I become? Middle-aged?! 

 radiowill

Nappy days

Will Johnston revels in life with a newborn, and all its smelly surprises.

My life has changed in the most glorious and fulfilling way. I feel like I’ve just been given the quiet word by the universe that this is actually the point of life: To create and love new life. Only took almost 40 years to get it.

Since Goldie was “whipped out the sunroof” in late October, I can’t think of a better feeling than reclining on the couch, my baby daughter on my chest swaddled like an oversized Christmas bauble, freshly nappy-changed, perfectly asleep with the rain outside for extra cosiness, breathing in the smell of her little newborn head. Delicious! 

But it seems there are a few things new parents need to find out the hard way…

We’ve all heard of the poo explosion, “poonami”, “apoocalypse”, a serious “shituation”. You know, the one where it goes through all the clothes and up the back. But we didn’t realise what would happen when that hilariously small, pink baby bottom is unsheathed and turns into a poo-shooter, a bum-gun if you will. Juuuuuuust when you think she’s strained for 10 minutes, she lets a huge one out in the nappy and immediately passes out with the effort… You gingerly remove the nappy, assess the damage, run a solid clean-up crew. Then and only then does she throw the final wave of bum-grenades out of the trench, over the waiting nappy, and on to the wall, the mirror, the carpet, the blinds and your hands.

We were also not informed that newborns are weirdly loud sleepers. The groans, the strains, the noise that resembles a cat in the distance, the creepy little laugh from beside the bed at 3.30am.

What I’ve come to learn over the last few weeks of being a dad is that my baby is SO lucky to have been born in Tauranga, where we have amazing midwives and medical facilities. I’ve learned that a baby smile is sometimes a smile, and sometimes the precursor to a sniper-like poo. I’m thankful she’s a girl, otherwise I would’ve totally had baby pee in my face multiple times. I’ve learned that my wife is the bravest person I know, has a pain threshold higher than I could ever imagine, and possesses a natural ability to know just what to do with our Goldie girl at any point. I’ve learned I need more storage on my iCloud for the seven pics I take of every one of her facial expressions. Finally, I’ve learned that if you ever brag to your partner that you managed to get the screaming baby to settle, then she will immediately wake up, vomit on your shirt just before you leave the house for a meeting you’re already late for, and throw in a poonami for good measure. 

  @radiowill