New Zealand. A country that evokes all sorts of images in your mind's eye, the most iconic of which will be the landscapes cluttering up a fair proportion of Instagram.  Others could be those chops cluttering up your freezer or this Sunday's family stew pot. Green eyes are often invoked when realising those same Instagram pictures are cluttered up by some of the smallest amounts of people relative to the land mass anywhere. Red eyes are the…

Twelve years ago, my wife and I arrived in New Zealand with four children, one 1972 MG BGT, and many, many cardboard boxes. Those of you well versed in the interior design of said MG will undoubtedly question whether that was the most appropriate choice of transport to try and take my wife in, let alone four children and many cardboard boxes. Leaving family, friends and employment to move halfway around the world had little to do…

Ah the Lexus SC430. Bit of a marmite and mustard model. Love or loathe it, that V8 has some kick. Agin it, those Radio Norwich overtones and badge engineering at its blatant worst, (or best). Who admits to spending silly money on a Toyota? Oh, I forgot, Aston Martin Cygnet owners. Then there’s that ‘French Riveria’ design. Add a loofah to a white one and with that high beltline it’s more a swanky Torquay bathtub. Then again,…

Ute turn if you want to....the lady’s not for turning. Who’d have thought Jacinda Ardern, New Zealands practically perfect in every way Labour PM, would have something in common with dearly departed Maggie. They’ve both been marvellously caricatured by Spitting Image, Jacinda reprising Julie Andrews roles, but surprisingly they both want(ed) global action on climate change and spit spot. No really, Maggie made speeches about it. Jacinda now has penalties for gas guzzlers, the heaviest falling on…

‘Ah Mr Bond, we’ve been expecting you since last year.....to arrive in a car fit for an Alpha male, who doesn’t have to try too hard...’. Sadly, the eau dear cologne Christmas gift of Denim was about as close I got to any of those fantasies, but who hasn’t dreamed of driving a Bond car? Not the wedge of Red Leicester Bug variety, I mean Astons, Lotuses, even taking a 2CV for a lovely drive in the…

Roads. If we love our classics, we really should be more appreciative of the black stuff providing the means to enjoy them as they were intended, by actually being driven. I appreciate many readers derive much satisfaction from rebuilding their car to the standard the Quality Control Manager had sort of intended before they got distracted by Fred recounting why Villa’s second goal was clearly onside, but I get my kicks from man and machine working as…