And this response to an OIA shows a rate of just 0.0017 for beneficiaries in 2015.
There's a lesson in there somewhere.
Congratulations folks! I wish I could remember how I found you in the first place, but it was ultimately something of a rebirthday. A thousand thank-yous.
In these parts "going forward" seems to have given way to "stretch planning". And I just know it's going to hurt.
Try this one. You'll need to scroll down to their "latest video" listings.
A new billboard out today apparently:
Get youth into training, not into trouble
Hardly pithy. News of its release was elicited from Key by his good friend Paul Henry (who should probably register as a third party) on Breakfast tv this morning. Watch how easily Key rolls when pressed to reveal the "line". Strong leadership? Bite me.
remove the premise and you have a different line of reasoning, i.e. having children is something you need to be economically rational about.
Would that be short term economic rationality - children are the preserve of the rich? Or would that be long term ? You know, support in your old age? Parents are selfish by either scenario in that accounting. Are we talking public economics? Renewal of the workforce; taxpaying workers. To provide for the childless elderly.
Let's stop pretending that the public and private domains don't interact. BTW, if my memory serves me well, if you're over 30 and childless in Germany, you'll pay what amounts to a penalty tax.
Yes, James. Maybe not "morally uplifting" but I've always found it impossible to sustain a foul mood if I sing. Everyone within earshot may go into a tailspin, but for me singing seems to be "morale-ly uplifting". Maybe that's why we sing to fractious kids.
Some impressive moments! I've always been a little ashamed of my tendency to laugh at other people's misfortune, but it seems I'm in good company. And my own misfortunes are not off limits, so join me on a brief bicycle ride through a bedroom window.
I'm primary school age (9 or 10) and visiting a friend for the afternoon. She lives in a very steep cul-de-sac on Auckland's North Shore and decides we should have turns whizzing down the hill on her bike. She does the first run. Flawlessly. My turn to walk the bike to the top of the hill (far too steep to pedal up) and I assume the position. There's a very rapid increase in velocity and for a few exhilarating moments I feel as if I have wings. Time to begin decelerating, so I put reverse pressure on the pedals. Mary's bike has no pedal brakes, just a hand brake. The only other bike I have ever ridden is of the opposite configuration. By now I'm approaching the speed of light and no force on earth will convince me to loosen my grip on the handlebars to make a grab for the brake lever.
"Never mind", I thought. "I'll just turn at the bottom" No, going too fast to turn, so I eye up the driveway at the base of the cul-de-sac. It's steeper than the road and veers off to the left, but straight ahead of me, it flattens out in front of a set of ranch sliders (closed). I choose the flat terrain. On hitting the driveway, I jump off the pedals, straddling the bike and attempting to run with it to act as a human brake (come on, I was only ten). I think I managed one stride before the laws of physics began to dawn on me and the limitations of the human form made themselves felt. The front wheel burst through the ranchslider amid flailing arms and legs, though remarkably, I came to rest upright and still astride the bike.
I was in someone's master bedroom and that someone was the most startled-looking woman I have ever seen. We were both lost for words for a while. Mary had vanished. My only injury (a minor cut) was far too high on my thigh for me to be comfortable mentioning it to a stranger, but the - large - window did need repairing. No small issue when you are one of a family of ten children. Mary's mum took care of it. I told my mum some thirty years later.