Latest News from The Spinoff
The Spinoff
10 hours ago
- Entertainment
- The Spinoff
Watch live: the 2025 NZ Scrabble Nationals
The biggest event on the New Zealand Scrabble calendar brings players of all ages and experience levels together over three days this King's Birthday weekend. Day one – Saturday (stream starts 9am) Click here for live results and standings. What's all this then? Nationals is the biggest tournament on the New Zealand Scrabble calendar – this year 69 players are competing over 24 rounds across three days. This is the 45th edition of the tournament, and the first one that's being live streamed. Unlike previous live streamed tournaments (the Trans-Tasmans and the Masters) Nationals is open to all, with players split into six grades based on their ratings, so for the first time we'll get to see a range of skill levels on the stream. What's the format? This year's tournament is double round-robin (22 games, everyone plays everyone else in their grade twice) followed by two rounds of 'king of the hill' (first plays second, third plays fourth etc). This should make for some mouthwatering match-ups come Monday. Who are the players to watch? It's shaping up to be very competitive at the top of the pyramid this year, with 2024 Nationals champion Howard Warner looking to defend his crown, 2025 Masters champion Dylan Early out to dethrone him. Their game at the Masters earlier this year was a classic for the ages: But it's certainly not a two-horse race – top five rated players Chris Tallman, Blue Thorogood and Australia-based Joanne Craig are bound to be be in the mix, with plenty of other dark horses lurking. And the focus won't just be on the A Grade, either! This weekend will showcase match-ups from all grades, offering a chance to see plenty of Scrabblers who've never played in front of an online audience before, from Scrabble documentarian Alexander Gandar (B Grade) to the tournament's youngest player Maheu Papau T-Pole (12, F Grade). Even I (E Grade) might get a game on stream. Who's commentating? Good commentary plays a huge part in making Scrabble so much fun to watch, and we will be in the safe hands of some of the best in the game all weekend, including world champion New Zealander Alistair Richards, Canadian Scrabble rock star Josh Sokol and more. What dictionary are they using? NZ Scrabble adopted the CSW24 lexicon at the start of the year, bringing us in line with most of the rest of the world. The update means a handful of potentially offensive slur words are no longer valid and introduces modern lingo like ADORBS, CHONKY, and WOKERY. (See the full list of new additions here.) How do I play? There are Scrabble clubs scattered around New Zealand, and they welcome new players of all ages, abilities and competitiveness levels. There's also a weekly on Tuesday nights where you can test yourself against other keen Scrabblers around the country.
The Spinoff
12 hours ago
- Politics
- The Spinoff
The migrant dream? My mum's pay equity claim was cancelled and I got a tax cut
Lisa Meto Fox's mum has worked for 20 years as a school administrator. Her most viable retirement plan is her daughter. I am a product of the migrant dream. The day of my graduation from law school, my mother wept tears of joy. We had made it. Her sacrifice, determination and courage had been worthwhile. I now find myself in the bizarre situation where I've received a tax cut thanks to this government's policies, while my mother's pay equity claim has been extinguished. I don't think this is the way the migrant dream is realised. Equal pay for jobs of equal value is the concept pay equity is built on. Something I think most people in New Zealand are on board with. Growing up, the example I often heard to illustrate this point was nursing (female dominated) and policing (male dominated). Nurses were traditionally paid less than police officers. Despite, in many people's minds, both being critical roles in society and of equal value. Why? Traditionally nursing was seen as 'women's work', while policing was seen as 'men's work'. The undervaluing of work predominately performed by women comes from a time when men earned enough to support a family and if women worked outside the home, their options were generally limited to being a nurse or a teacher. If they got married when they were training to be a nurse, they had to leave their training. Being a nurse or a teacher was a good thing because it could make you a better mother. Or so the logic went and now this legacy is baked into our value of work. Pay equity claims are a way of unpicking this structural undervaluing of women's work. Similarly to gender, successive government policies and a cultural attitude (what some would call 'structural racism') about the 'place' of non-white migrants and Māori has meant the embedded undervaluing of work which Pacific and other non-white migrants tend to do. In other words, ethnicity has a compounding effect with gender. With Pacific women, on average, being paid the least in the country. Research shows that the majority of the Pacific pay gap cannot be explained. Pacific people migrated here in numbers starting in the 1960s. The New Zealand government encouraged migration from the Pacific Islands, as they needed workers to bolster the manufacturing industry and to do the jobs Pākehā wouldn't. Not to say there weren't Pākehā in these jobs, because there were, my father included – just not enough. My maternal grandmother, one of my namesakes, came to New Zealand on two occasions, in the mid 1970s, and worked in factories to save up and build our family home which still stands strong and proud in our village in Samoa. In 1984, at age 22, my mother (Tului Fox) and some of her siblings migrated to Aotearoa for a better life both for the family they left in Samoa and the families they would create. At first, Mum and her siblings worked in manufacturing. In 1987, Mum undertook an 18-month secretarial course,, which enabled her to start her career in administration, and her first admin job was in the typing pool at what was then Housing New Zealand. Since 1992, Mum has worked in school administration at Mount Roskill Grammar, at first in the photocopy room. Since then she's worked her way up through various administrative roles and for the past 20 years has been the principal's PA. For a number of years, working full time in school administration didn't provide enough income to make ends meet. Mum had to take on a second job, teaching night classes. Like any good Samoan, Mum helped three of her sisters get roles at the same school. Myself and a number of my cousins attended the school too. One of the 33 pay equity claims that was extinguished by the coalition government was for school administrators. Last year, someone commented on a piece I wrote that my mum is the 'Pacific matriarch' of Mount Roskill Grammar. As is well recorded, particularly in education, many Pacific staff take on duties in addition to their core role, to serve their community – tautua (service) is a core value of Samoan culture. Mum lives the value of tautua by taking on additional responsibilities, such as helping to establish the school's first ever Pasefika Advisory Group (which advises the senior leadership team and board on how to increase Pasefika students' academic achievement), increasing Pasefika representation on the board by encouraging Pasefika parents to join, being a member of the lead team which tracks Pasefika student achievement and connects teachers with students learning needs. Also she is the secretary to the School Board and has a constant stream of students (many Pacific) and parents who seek her out for guidance, advice, a listening ear or to be an advocate. She helps to manage the Samoan group and gives a lot of cultural advice to colleagues. I'm surely not the only person receiving a tax cut who finds it ethically reprehensible that it came from contingencies for low waged workers' pay equity claims. I can hear some people saying well give the tax cut back which I'd gladly do. But that's not the point. To state the obvious – the power of the state is far greater than individual acts. On average, Pacific women earn 25% less than Pākehā men – often referred to as the 'Pacific pay gap'. Successful pay equity claims often result in a 30% wage uplift. If the school administrators pay equity claim was successful it would have gone a long way to reducing the Pacific Pay Gap for mum and her Pacific colleagues. Over a working life, $488,310 is how much less the average Pacific woman makes compared to the average Pākehā man. Mum is nearing retirement, I can't help but think what $488,310 more would have meant for her later years and for us as a family. Mum said she was 'very disappointed' that her pay equity claim was extinguished. 'I know what it was like not having enough money to look after your family and not knowing if there's going to be enough to get by for a whole week. While I'm very close to the end of my career, now our pay equity claim has been extinguished, I worry about the effect that will have on young women and the generations to come. Will they feel the desperation that I felt? Having to decide whether to feed my kids? Pay the rent? Or heat the house?' The unions have shared that none of the 33 claims that were active are likely to succeed under the new legislation. Meaning my mum and hundreds of thousands of people's mothers and daughters won't get the financial recognition to match the contribution their roles make to society. Despite this, Mum will continue to be the 'Pacific matriarch' of Mount Roskill Grammar. When she retires, she will leave behind a legacy of hundreds of students who were comforted by her presence, knowing that someone who looked like their mothers and aunties was in their corner. As for the migrant dream, many of my aiga, like so many others, have moved to Australia because, as one of my cousins put it, everything is cheaper, and we get paid more. Apparently, it's a no-brainer. And my mum's retirement? As is the case for many migrant parents, one of Mum's primary retirement plans is me.
The Spinoff
12 hours ago
- Entertainment
- The Spinoff
‘Who's this idiot?': Courtney Dawson on the irresistible pull of reality TV
The comedian and star of TVNZ series new series Don't, takes us through her life in television. In one of the funnier scenes from TVNZ's new documentary series Don't, Courtney Dawson gets dressed up to face one of life's greatest challenges: buying a house. With a charming purple feather fascinator atop her head, Dawson and comedian Bubbah (resplendent in a pair of pink lace gloves) meet with an Auckland real estate agent to find out exactly what people need to do today to buy a home – other than look the part of a wealthy homeowner. 'We thought we better get dressed up like ladies from Remuera,' Dawson laughs over Zoom. 'So we got some gorgeous wee crowns and silly little jewels, and we had a great time.' In Don't, Bubbah is joined by Dawson, Rhiannon McCall and Bailey Poching as they tackle the big issues facing young New Zealanders today: getting married, having children and buying a home. They speak to a variety of experts to learn what their options are, and consider what 'living the dream' in Aotearoa really means for our younger generations. It's the latest TV project for Dawson (Ngāti Kurī, Ngāti Amaru) who, as well as being an award-winning comedian, has appeared on shows like Rags are Riches, Have You Been Paying Attention NZ, Paddy Gower Has Issues and Celebrity Treasure Island. Not only was Don't a chance for Dawson to work with her friend Bubbah ('as soon as I got asked to be part of the project, I was like, 'if Bubba's in, I'm in''), Dawson appreciated how the docuseries offered a variety of perspectives from young people. 'It was nice to think it's actually all good if you don't want to own a home. There's lots of different ways to live a life.' That includes living your life through television, of course, so we sat down with Dawson to delve into a past filled with a nightmarish alien experience, an empowering Celebrity Treasure Island moment and a strong yearning to watch Love Island at the pub. My earliest TV memory is… My nan had a strong VCR game and she recorded all the episodes of the BBC's The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. I have vivid memories of going to this beautiful mid century cabinet and picking out the videos with the labels all peeling off and her beautiful handwriting. I would watch it and be completely transported. The TV show I loved as a kid was… The Simpsons was a big thing in my family, but we also had long periods of having no TV as well, probably because we were homeschooled. The Simpsons was the one that we would all stop and watch. My earliest TV crush was… Jonathan Taylor Thomas from Home Improvement, but I was a hard out tomboy so I would never admit that I had a crush on him. My best friend did, and I'd be like, 'oh, you're yuck', but really, I had a secret poster of him in my room from a Girlfriend magazine. The TV moment that haunts me is… Like lots of kids who grew up in the 90s, I was terrified of The X-Files. Whenever I used to hear theme music, I would run into my room. One night I was brave and sneaky and I peeked out – with just one eye – to look at the TV. As I was doing it, there was an alien that was peeking out from behind a drainpipe. I had nightmares that night, and I've had a recurring nightmare about that alien for years. My TV guilty pleasure is… Love Island. I thought reality TV was a waste of time, but my flatmate is a big reality TV fan. I'd walk in the lounge when she was watching Love Island and be like, 'who's this idiot?' Before I knew it, I was fully invested in all of these people's lives and looking them up on Instagram. I don't know whether I like Love Island, or I just like yelling at the TV. That's the only thing that I'm jealous of with men, is that they get to watch their programmes in bars and yell at the TV in public. I would love to do that with Love Island. My favourite moment from my own TV career is… Celebrity Treasure Island. It was an amazing but real harrowing experience. There was one challenge where we had to throw sacks of sand at a pole and knock it off. I was hanging back, but as soon as I threw it, all of this muscle memory came back from when I used to play softball, and I ended up knocking both the poles off. I felt like the most powerful woman alive. The funniest person on TV is… Bubbah, and I'm not just saying this because we made a show together. She's so funny on stage and television, but she's also a genuinely crackup person in her normal life. She's done something similar to Tofiga [Fepulea'i] in that she's built this beautiful, amazing career on her terms, in her own community, which is a real testament to the natural charisma that she has and the strong values that she has. She's a really inspiring, awesome person. My favourite TV show that I've ever been involved with is… My first TV show that I ever did, Rags are Riches. It was this little Māori TV show that Joe Daymond made. The only person on the cast and crew who had ever done TV before was the soundie. None of us had any idea, but it was so fun. The most stylish person on TV is… Janaye Henry. She made a show called 2 Cents 2 Much, and far out, the outfits and the styling of the set was so good. I re-watched it recently just to look at her outfits for inspiration. The TV show I wish I was involved with is… Taskmaster. It looks so fun. If I can make a career out of playing games on television, that would be awesome. What is your most watched TV show of all time? I've watched every season of Black Mirror because I'm terrified of AI and I like scaring myself. The show I'll never watch, no matter how many people tell me to is… Game of Thrones. The more someone tells me to watch something, the less likely I am to watch it. I'm happy you guys got to enjoy your dragons, but that's just not going to happen for me. The last thing I watched on TV was… Black Mirror, and before that, Severance, because I'm scared of computers. I'm scared of the robots. I love horror stuff, so combining fake horror with potential real life horror, that's my favourite.
The Spinoff
12 hours ago
- Entertainment
- The Spinoff
‘If I were starting out again…': Life and writing advice from David Hill
After nearly half a century as a full-time writer, David Hill considers what he might have done differently. This year is my 44th as a full time writer. I've been earning a sort of living with words for a sliver over half my time on the planet. Feel free to do the maths. If I were starting out again, would I do it differently? Hell, yes. I'd start trying to write novels sooner. For nearly a decade, I was so obsessed with making a living that I took on only small-scale projects, many of them ephemeral: short stories, reviews, brief plays, columns, etc. I also lacked the confidence, the guts to try anything requiring novel-sized skills and stamina. I'll explain that part later. It wasn't till our teenage daughter's friend died, and the short story I began writing to acknowledge her courage was still going at page 73, that I realised I'd lurched into a longer form almost by default. With that form came the rewards of watching your narrative choose its own direction, making friends with your characters, trying different voices, etc – the rewards that novels may bring. Plus, novels can be a financial investment. You might earn virtually nothing during the months/years you're working on one, but if you're lucky, royalties and the Public Lending Right may keep bringing a return long after the toil involved has faded from memory. Along with this, if I were re-beginning as a full-timer, I'd try to have a more comprehensive vision. As I say, 44 years ago, that vision was mostly financial survival. I had few plans beyond the next fortnight. I'd been able to take 1981 off from high school teaching to write, thanks to an ICI Writer's Bursary – $3,000 kept you going for several months in those days. I wrote an awful adult novel which met multiple rejections and doesn't exist in any form now. Anyway, I taught for another year, and started off in 1983 feeling that anything longform was beyond me. Janet Frame compared novel writing to 'going on a shopping expedition across the border to an unreal land', and my first dismal shopping trip put me off for years. With hindsight, I'd try to have more faith in myself, to aim higher and sooner. How easily said; how easily postponed. I'd also drink less coffee during those early days. I suspect my wife Beth and our kids found it a touch disconcerting to come home from work or school to a figure with red rotating eyeballs. I'd learn proper keyboard skills. It seems so trivial, but I've always been a two-finger, head-bent-over-the-keys user. After 44 years of stupidly bad posture, my neck is now permanently stuffed, and I have to work in 15-minute spells. Serves me right. I'd keep a copy of everything. Everything. It's relatively easy now, thanks to computers, files, that thing called The Cloud, which I still envisage as white and fluffy. But for… 20?… 25? years of hand-written drafts and manual-typewriter copies, I chucked away so much, especially when it was rejected. I still half-remember lost work, know I could now see what to do with it, shape it better. But it's gone forever. Since going electronic – and if that makes me sound like a cyborg, who am I to argue? – I throw away absolutely nothing. I'd learn to say 'No' early on. Writers are constantly being asked to talk to Rotary, to give advice on how to get 10-year-old Zeb reading, to look over the history of the local golf club that Jack whom you've never heard of is writing. Early on, I cravenly surrendered a lot of hours to such unpaid requests (demands, occasionally). I still agree to do so in some cases, but it took me a long time to learn how to mention the issue of time and expenses. Carl, the excellent gardener down the road, charges $60 an hour. I use the comparison sometimes. From the start, I'd try to see my readers as potential friends, not critics. I'd find an accountant immediately. Yes, they cost, but you can claim them on tax. Plus they add a certain legitimacy to your return, and they think of expenses that would challenge any fantasy writer's imagination. Mine (thanks heaps, Robyn; never retire) even got me a few dollars back on 'Deterioration of Office Fittings', as in shampooing the rugs in my office after the cat puked on them. If I were starting out again, I'd try to stay reasonably technologically savvy, to accept that your writing life needs to change when resources and tools change. Specifically, I'd hope to respond more quickly to the arrival of something like online publishing, e-books, e-zines, etc. I ignored them for years, kept telling myself they were a fad, something ephemeral and distracting. Yes, just like a 14th century literary hack sticking to vellum manuscripts, and knowing this printed book nonsense wouldn't last. My denial – my continued denial; I still struggle to accept that anything other than hard copy is 'real' publishing – has cost me so many contacts and contracts. I'd try also to prepare myself for shifts in my abilities. Over the past half-dozen years, I've shrunk as a short story writer. I no longer have the imaginative spark or the energy to find the dramatic switch, the revelation, the power within a small space that makes a good short story. Conversely, my ability to assemble, to build, seems to have edged up a degree. Essays and novels attract me more and more. If I were restarting, I'd resolve to feel pleased with what I can still do, not despondent at what I can't. It would no doubt go the way of my other resolutions. Let's finish with four questions: 1. Would I have an agent? I never have, partly from laziness and meanness, partly because they weren't common in the early 1980s when I went full-time, and partly (I can't phrase this without sounding vainglorious) because I've been around long enough in our little country for my name to ring the odd bell. A distant, cracked bell. But if I were starting now, I certainly would. Many publishers these days won't consider submissions unless they come via an agent. And, of course, a skilled agent knows the where/when/who to save you so much hassle. They can also soften the jolt of rejection … a bit. 2. Would I enrol in a writing course? Like agents, they weren't around much in the Jurassic. There were writers' groups all over the country. There were journalism schools. But organised instruction, direction, encouragement for fiction, poetry, drama, creative non-fiction? Pretty much zilch. If I were starting now, I'd certainly look hard at the collegiality, informed critiques, professional presentation, funding sources and multiple other facets that such courses can provide, along with their environment that makes you write. 3. Would I self-publish? It's an option that has flourished, become a legitimate alternative, lost the stigma attached to it when I started off. 'Vanity publishing', we arrogantly called it then. But I probably wouldn't do it. I'm too ignorant of what's involved; I treasure the skills of the editors and publishers who work on and always improve my stuff. And … well, I took up this job to be an author, not an entrepreneur. 4. Would I do it all over again? See final words of paragraph two above. How many other jobs are there where you have to shave only twice a week, where a 10-year-old consumer writes to you saying 'After I read your book, I felt all kind and good', where you get up from the keyboard after an hour and know you've made something that never existed in the world before? I hope to be feeling exactly the same when I've been in the said job for 55 years. All I need is for medical science to keep taking giant strides.
The Spinoff
12 hours ago
- Health
- The Spinoff
The Weekend: Might I suggest a walk?
Madeleine Chapman reflects on the week that was. There's something about a long weekend that somehow makes the week preceding it feel unfathomably long also. For that reason, and because we are entering into the darkest days of the year ahead of winter solstice, I am keeping this short and suggesting one simple tip. Go for a walk. This is not a revolutionary idea, in fact it might just be oldest idea in human history. But as each winter arrives, I understand more and more why my mum would drag me along on her daily walks when I was little. For those who are able to, a walk is the first step (ha) to solving every problem. Part of it is the walking, the movement, the forced breathing. The other part is the air, the space, the sun. Everyone goes through the same cycle when it comes to basic, trite advice such as 'go for a walk'. First, it seems fine and reasonable to try. Then it feels patronising, as if all of my very complex and unique problems could be solved with child's play. And then, after extensive and expensive therapy, the realisation that yes, going for a walk and eating a vegetable is in fact very important and useful in order to survive the dark, dreary days of June. So this long weekend, go for a walk. And while you're walking, listen to the first episode of Fury of the Small, our new narrative Dungeons & Dragons podcast. It's the perfect accompaniment to looking at trees and grass and even if you're unfamiliar with the game, you'll have the joy of listening to people do something they absolutely love and be really good at it. And if you really aren't convinced to walk, read some of our best essayists wax lyrical about their own relationships with walking (and swimming). If ever there was a time to reconnect with ourselves and nature, it's now. In her late 50s, Anna Sophia I discovered long-distance hiking – and woke up to a new life infused with the rhythms of nature. A mental health battle in 2020 led Shona Riddell to embark on an eye-opening journey of wild swimming – the kind that doesn't cease when the weather turns cold. Walking in isolation Dougal Rillstone wrote about walking while In MIQ, and how 'a good walk can save a person, now more than ever'. The art of the plod Anna Rawhiti-Connell finds freedom in being really shit at something, but doing it anyway. In praise of swimming I found peace by taking the plunge with Hinemoana, writes Leonie Hayden. The stories Spinoff readers spent the most time with this week A certain blue British dress inspires Anna Rawhiti-Connell to argue that it's twee to pretend that fashion and politics aren't intertwined Hayden Donnell braves an Auckland Council debate on upzoning to discover councillors trying to sabotage the City Rail Link An even grumpier Hayden Donnell threatens to emit a supersonic howl of despair if the superannuation eligibility age goes up Why is a proposed change to glyphosate (or Roundup) residue levels so controversial? Shanti Mathias explains A 45-year-old tech worker fights 'lifestyle creep' in this week's cost of being Feedback of the week 'On February the 6th I observe Bob Marley's Birthday' 'Super validating response, so undefensive, about the emotional unavailability of kiwis. The culture is emotionally repressed and shame-based, locking people into the most superficial and distancing ways of communicating. The evidence for this is the culture's alcoholism and high suicide rate (according to UNICEF recently the highest teen suicide rate in the OECD). Get thee to a psychotherapist Kiwis! Free yourselves from shame and fear of intimacy.' 'Your friendly festival driver here. My name's spelled with a J, but that's ok. That drive to stage door may have been one of the most thrilling adventures of my career – I won't be forgetting it anytime soon. – Jillian.'
