Friday February 9

Well finally – here we are, ensconced at Number 13 Ginger Street, which for me has always been such a lucky number! When I lie my head down at night beside my exhausted hard-working anaesthetist husband Stuart, who single-handedly maintains the health industry in this country, I breathe such a sigh of relief that we made this move, well – that I made us make this move – to Ponsonby…

No more scraping sheep shit off my high heels once I’ve picked my way through the minefield of Shrek-droppings between Landcruiser and kitchen to make dinner for my family. No more mind-numbing Kumeu chitchat with Bonnie Buckley about her eventless day being a domestic dumbo whenever I collect Ollie after school… No – just the comfort of knowing that everything in this central suburb is open 24 hours a day and merely steps away at that, that people have ideas and conversations relating to events of the twenty-first century, instead of what happened when their horse-float got bogged down on the backroad, and that if the dvd you rented doesn’t take your fancy, that there are shelves and shelves of every imaginable Hugh Grant comedy just crying out to be picked! Such a relief to be living back in the developed world! I have to pinch myself to believe its real!

The only irritating note to date, well frankly, its more than that – its the hideous squawk of bagpipes at ungodly hours, deliberately disturbing us and making my children feel unsafe, and it goes by the name of Arthur. Eeuucchtt! Even his name sounds like a throwback to the Iron Age, or whatever ancient epoch he comes from. King Arthur? More like Village Idiot Arthur in the village stocks being pelted with cabbages for crimes against communal wellbeing… you see I’ve come across his type before, and I know how people like that operate, and its never pretty…

With Arthur niggling away on my mind, last night while unpacking books, I came across a classic text which has been so helpful to me in my dealings with difficult staff in the past (in my job problem solving, guiding people, as H.R./Conciliator at DebtNZ) and I glanced at a paragraph I’d once underlined several times with reflective silver ballpoint: “Understanding fractious staff members is essential, if they are to be successfully reoriented into productive team players. However, don’t be fooled. Some staff have no intention of ever working towards group goals, as they gain too much attention and pleasure from others’ discomfort. These individuals must be rooted out and made an example of, and expelled from the organization as swiftly as possible. It is no exaggeration to say that the very growth and survival of the company itself is at stake. Move boldly to eradicate this source of friction. A key H.R. maneuver is called for – immediate staff expulsion!”

Yes, these words spoke to me with a resonant clarity. And again I was reminded of the sage wisdom of my real estate consultant Eric Stock, when he said that the only real way to choose your neighbours is to own the property. You see, having given the problem such careful consideration, balancing all the issues, I’ve never felt more convinced that the only way to secure our well-deserved happiness – which is just so close – is to eradicate the source of friction. Everything is at stake here, everything Stuart and I have fought for! Number 11 must be mine, and Arthur must go.