KEY POINTS:
Here is a story of a woman who believes in being prepared. About four years ago, "Celia" ordered a plaque to be placed in the Wall of Remembrance at Waikumete Cemetery in Waitakere City. The plaque has her birth year and estimated time of death - this year. She told cemetery manager Daniel Sales that 2009 was the time when she believed she would die. "As far as we know she is still alive," he says.
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The London Review of Books has a new batch of hilarious classified ads:
- I celebrated my 40th birthday last week by cataloguing my collection of bird feeders. Next year I'm hoping for sexual intercourse. And a cake. Join my invite mailing list at box No 6831. Man.
- The celebrity I resemble the most is Potsie from Happy Days. What feels so right can't be wrong. Man, 46. Box No 2480.
- All humans are 99.9 per cent genetically identical, so don't even think of ending any potential relationship begun here with "I just don't think we have enough in common". Science has long since proven that I am the man for you (41, likes to be referred to as "Wing Commander" in the bedroom). Box No 3501.
- OMG! This magazine is the shizz. Seriously, dudes. Awesome! LOL! Classics lecturer (M, 48). Possibly out of his depth with today's youth. KTHX! Box No 2680.
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With the current interest in flags Alister G. Harlow is curious about the flag flying from the Britomart Transport Centre. Why not the New Zealand flag or an Auckland one at an important gateway to our city?
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C Wright may have experienced the issue with selling supermarket wines in an on-premise establishment. Many mainstream brands have a number of price tiers and sometimes restaurateurs use this to their advantage. But it helps to know that the standard figures in a licensed premise are one-third to staff, one-third rent and then there's power, gas, phone, insurance, rates, water, glassware, cleaning, the stock itself. Oh! And then somewhere there's profit. So to survive, boutique wines are sold that the supermarkets can't buy in bulk and make loss leaders out of.
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There's a happy ending for the big black cat who frequented the Agnes Curran Cafe in Ponsonby. Andy writes: "Just as your newspaper was about to enter its new life alongside some firewood, I noticed the piece about the cat, and called the SPCA. All this on the off chance that he was, in fact, my own long-lost cat Marduk, missing for almost two years. Sure enough, the 7kg moggy with the huge fangs and white 'tui ruff' was indeed my cat, abducted or strayed from Grey Lynn. Now I live in the Far North, and Marduk will have plenty of room to recover from his accident. Thanks to his surrogate family in Franklin Rd, and the SPCA team; they've earned enough cat-karma for nine lives of their own."
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