On Monday night, Pauline Bennett was crawling home in peak hour Auckland traffic and stopped for the lights. "The guy in the car behind got out and he came and tapped on my widow," she writes. "Did I know I had a flat tyre? he asked. I turned into a local business car park and was resigned to a two-hour wait for the AA to arrive, but this lovely young builder from Papakura had followed me into the carpark to ask if I needed help. He changed my tyre and insisted he didn't expect or want anything from me. I have been filled with the 'warm fuzzies' since."
Iron pan rules in the kitchen
Wayne writes: "To the flatty looking for frying pan that sears ... Forget all the latest frying gadgets covered in all sorts of coatings that wear off into our food. I have an old-fashioned cast-iron frying pan that's been my mate for more than 20 years. Sits hard and fast on the element, holds the heat and sears steak like a crematorium. It cooks an omelette sweetly and yet can go into the oven to finish off a fritatta, no fancy wood or plastic handle to worry about. I don't have to worry about scratching it and use the pathetic thick-edged plastic fish slice. Go iron, go strong."
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