Brian Holden: Messages in bottles brings waves of joy

Like any kid who reads storybooks, the thought of discovering sunken treasure was often on my list of fantasies.

Finding a message in a bottle would have been equally exciting, but as I never lived near the sea, the chance of finding either never occurred.

How cool it was for someone up north to spot a bottle washed up on a beach with a 76-year-old signed and addressed note inside.

One Mr Herbert Earnest Hillbrick had tossed it over the side of a ship in 1936 and, with the information given, the

finder was able to trace his family and tell them of the exciting news.

Being the curious (nosy) person that I am, I "Google Earthed'' the Australian address on the note to see if the original homestead would still be there. But alas, as I zoomed in on 72 Richmond St, Leederville (north of Perth), there was only a new suburb.

Further, when I selected "Streetview'', the house at number 72 was clearly not old enough to be the man's original home.

After reading this fascinating story, I have since found that finding such bottled messages are a regular thing, although most are found within a few years of being cast into the sea.

Heaps of people have done it and I have a vague memory of tossing a bottle or two into the surf at Mount Maunganui during the darker moments of my youth _ but I can't recall any of them having messages inside.

Personally, royalty doesn't push my buttons. I'm sorry but it doesn't. I see it as an institution left over from the Dark

Ages where subordinates (us) for some curious reason continue to bow and scrape before those who hold a superior position primarily by default. Basically if you're born into royalty, you're pretty much set for life.

That's not to say I would have snubbed the likes of Charles and Camilla had I bumped into them during their New Zealand visit. Absolutely not. As guests to our country, they deserve the courtesy, respect and the right to feel safe and welcome while they are here.

It angers me therefore to see that some low-life will plunge to the depths of decency on such occasions _ like the

incessant anti-royalist who followed the couple around Auckland with a bucket of horse dung, itching to give them a dose.

Goodness, you would think that by the age of 76, such people would have learned to air their differences in a better way. But not so the case with the Yugoslavia-born protester Castislav Bracanov who was hell-bent on throwing the bucketful over the royal couple, thus getting his little problem off his chest and ruining our country's reputation in the process. Best for him to go back to his home country and vent his anger from there.

The quality of our popular breakfast cereal is under scrutiny. Weetbix apparently is no longer the tasty, crunchy breakfast experience enjoyed by New Zealanders for generations. Connoisseurs are complaining that when milk is added, the product turns into an unappetising soggy mess.

Sanitarium is adamant that its recipe hasn't changed at all and, personally, I haven't noticed any difference. Weetbix to me is the same as always and, even if it wasn't, I wouldn't be bothered. Perhaps people should get a life and just toss on a bit more fruit, eat up and think about the tea and toast to follow.