An open letter to the New Zealand dollar

As in World Cup cricket, the kiwi dared to dream, failing to equal its Aussie counterpart. But it left the field to scale the Everest of parity another day.

An open letter to the New Zealand currency, the plucky little fighter that’s given those Aussies one in the eye.

Dear "kiwi",

What a ride it's been! New Zealanders young and old gathered around TV sets and radios and innovative online platforms this week to hear you triumph over the hated Australian dollar and achieve parity. "Ninety-nine point-seven-eight cents!" gasped the nation as one, wiping the perspiration from their brows with the green-hued alpine scene on the beloved $20 note.

It wasn't to be. On Tuesday the koala roared as the Australian Reserve Bank defied predictions by leaving interest rates unchanged. Their dollar tacked like Jimmy Spithill, it swung late like a Mitchell Starc yorker, and we were back to 98c. Yet you held your head high, New Zealand dollar, as your delicate skin was soaked with the ignoble, Juicy-Fruit-flecked phlegm of a Brad Haddin valedictory.

But you did us proud, New Zealand currency. Our children can only gain inspiration from your energy and dignity. While we've had great national moments in the past (see my earlier open letters to the People of Christchurch, Elijah Wood, and the Fisher & Paykel DishDrawer dishwasher), few can have witnessed such monetary mana.

I'm writing to you, dear currency, on behalf of the other kiwis. The hardworking ones and the indolent ones, too, and the rugby league team, the shoe polish even the pathetic flightless birds that shamelessly adopted your name. We dared to dream. We believed. And our cusp shall runneth over yet.

Some may say parity is merely symbolic. But life is full of symbols. A triple-century is but a symbol, and Brendon McCullum got one of those, for which he was rewarded by the gift of the keys to Wellington - although he should probably give them back, because things might get a bit tight if Australian tourists can't afford to visit any more.

The muscular New Zealand economy has meanwhile left the Aussie press agog, seen in pages of pictures of important monetary indicators such as the All Blacks and Flight of the Conchords. Just weeks ago, from the malls of Miami to the bazaars of Istanbul, everyone was talking about those ghastly New Zealand X Factor judges. Today, they speak of little but the plucky, above-weight-punching New Zealand dollar and our stable fiscal foundations.

All but the disciples of negativity will swell with pride at this coming of age, this evisceration of our convict Ocker cousins.

The doomsayers may dwell on school lunches and child poverty, they may harp on about property prices or the lower rungs on the housing ladder collapsing under the girth of the baby boomers, they may mutter that while the kiwi has soared from A75c in 2011 to near-parity, incomes across the Ditch remain a third higher, they may moan that there's little point gloating about Australian economic turbulence as our own prosperity is so dependent on theirs, or that manufacturers and exporters are distraught, or something about milk prices, or medium-term macroeconomic cycles, whatever, but that's precisely what you'd expect from the haters of progress.

The kiwi's gallantry is a moment to savour, unless you're an ignoramus or a hua, especially when there's not much sport and it's a slow news week, not to mention the possibilities of inventive parity/party wordplay. Such as "It's my parity and I'll cry if I want to." Or "Parity Rock Anthems Vol 4" or "Would you like to come to my Key parity?"

No, it was not to be your week, kiwi. But the Everest of parity will be conquered yet. Either that or we'll all just switch to Bitcoin.

In the meantime we'll celebrate your almost-victory with a party on the Auckland waterfront. And know this: your colours are an awful lot less garish and unpleasant than the Aussie dollar, and you're definitely much nicer.

Kind regards, etc, Toby