Reporter’s diary

Press, 11 December 1989, Page 2

Reporter’s diary

A rose .

THE TIME has come to sort through the suggestions we have received — serious, whimsical and pedantic — for an official title for Mr Rob McKay, the husband of the Maiyor of Christchurch, Ms Vicki Buck. To get some rules straight, we refer to “Fowler’s Modern English Usage” (Second edition, 1965), which asserts that a female mayor cannot be a mayoress, “for that is a separate office to be filled by one of her relatives.” So Ms Buck is indeed Mayor and Mr McKay is ... one of her relatives? .. .by any other

name... AT LEAST Ms Buck and Mr McKay are married. Imagine the suggestions we would have received had theirs been a more casual arrangement. But one can almost hear the “harrumphs” from one contributor, who asks, “Why not, , ‘Mr Rob McKay and his wife, Mrs Rob McKay, Mayoress of Christchurch’?”

... would smell as sweet SO TO some more usable suggestions. “Associate Mayor” or “Mayor’s Associate” get suport. “Aiderman” has been suggested; but where that word is in common use it refers to a councillor. Someone has coined “Mayoret,” which is a bit like “baronet” and able to be abbreviated to “Mayt” Mr McKay himself considers it “not a major issue,” anfl more a problem for the news media than for him. But the Mayor’s spouse does have an office in the council building, and there must be some sort ‘of label on the door. Expect the official decision this. week. The eighth state? WHAT is this we see in the Whitcoulls Christmas gift catalogue? “The Illustrated Encyclopedia of New Zealand,” glowingly described, as the most comprehensive, extensive, modern, and so on. Undoubtedly it is an excellent gift suggestion. But

why does the accompanying illustration show the book open at a page of photographs -featuring a koala, a dingo, a Tasmanian devil, a wombat, an emu and a kangaroo, among other Australiana? Best laid plans AND NOW the cautionary tale of a colleague who took a $5O bet with her husband over which of them would be the first to ding the new car. It was she who drew first blood when she scraped the side of the house while leaving for work. She hoped to hide the truth. The panelbeater said that it would be no problem; it would be fixed that day, for less than the price of the bet, and hubby would be none the wiser. Her subterfuge required fast talking at midday, when hubby suggested they spend their lunch break shopping in some distant suburb. She survived that crisis and thought she was home free. But it was not to be. She had not counted on the panelbeater closing for

the night before she got to him. The car was ready to go but was locked away out of reach. Moral: the truth will out. Epilogue: hubby was a bit annoyed until she explained that she had not told him about the dent immediately “for the same reason you didn’t tell me about your new golf clubs.” Point taken. Harmony restored. Oh, deer A CHRISTMAS tale from Mr Fred Krieg’s Santa’s Cottage farm in New York State. Mr Krieg likes to play Santa, giving tours and shows for needy children at the farm, where he keeps, or kept, a dozen tame European fallow deer to .act as Santa’s reindeer. Disaster struck on the first day of the deer-shooting season, when one escaped from its pen, with the inevitable consequences. In true Christmas spirit, Mr Krieg accepted the hunter’s apologies, declined his offer of reparation, and invited the man and his family to visit. —Nigel Malthus