Oh, and on this brief musical note, and in the wake of the often damaging winds that have been lashing us pretty well since November, would I be safe in assuming the late (and great) Demis Roussos would never have delivered the classic My Friend the Wind had he been living here?
Nothing friendly about these zephyrs ... and I have to admit I shook my fist at the skies last Wednesday afternoon when, while journeying to the shops, I came across a tumbling bird's nest which had been blown from a tree.
I'm not a big fan of mobile homes when they intrude into the lives of my birdy chums.
And so then, how is it my companion the wind (he ain't no friend) seems to have little effect on the flight plans of the increasing numbers of monarch butterflies I've seen of late.
There are a lot of them about, which leads me to suspect the plant species gomphocarpus physocarpus (swan plant) must surely by now be an endangered species.
A couple of years ago there were very few monarchs about but this summer I've seen them pretty well everywhere.
But what I haven't seen much of is the species I saw a lot of when I wasn't seeing monarchs back then: the common white butterfly.
That cabbage and lettuce-nibbling vandal of the air.
To date, I think I have only seen, maybe, three or four all summer. What's happened to them? Is something happening and what are the indicators?
Good question, which leads me to wonder what is the name of the human species that is born without the gene inside its head that tells it what the indicator stalk in a car is for?
There is a breed of person who simply cannot use them.
They will dawdle along before turning sharply to one side ... not even the hint of movement within the arm on the indicator side of the steering arm.
I remember hearing dear old Robbie the radio motoring man telling a great story once about someone he had collared about not using their indicator. The bemused motorist simply replied, "I thought they went off automatically."
I can only assume that bewildered soul set up a driving school which resultingly left its dreadful mark upon our roads.
Serial offenders ... and so to offending cereals.
How come some cereal boxes are often big enough to take twice the amount of the plastic-enshrined contents inside them?
One or two require a torch to see far enough inside to ensure they remembered to pack it in the first place.
Ditto for those packets of muesli and nut bars and boxes of crackers but, hey, it's all about appearances.
Grab the attention of the consumer at any cost, which at the end of the day (or the aisle) is what it's all about.
So why is it, when you're raking up leaves, little kids ask "What are you doing?"
Isn't it bleedin' obvious?
Even the cat understands - although terrified I'll unearth one of his deposits.
So now that I am running out of space (and time) I have a final question ... of time.
Why is it people in faraway call centres touting for business you are not in the slightest bit interested in do not understand how the international clock works? It is 6.30pm here you dullard. It's called tea-time OK?
- Roger Moroney is an award-winning journalist for Hawke's Bay Today and observer of the slightly off-centre.
