What Was I Thinking: A Memoir (29 page)

‘Can I just say, Mr Henry,’ said the attendant, ‘that it is a real sadness in our household that we can’t wake up to you in the mornings and I feel ashamed for what’s happened to you.’

And when he said that, it was as though everyone there had been given permission, and suddenly they were all saying how sorry they were and that they hoped what had happened hadn’t in any way tarnished my feelings towards Indians.

It was very nice to hear, and it was also nice to have a chance to make the point if only to a select few that the whole fuss was about other people’s prejudices, certainly not mine.

And very soon, the job offers started to come in. Tristram European, the VW dealer that I use, offered me a job as a car groomer and went so far as to guarantee me minimum wage before our negotiations even started.

There were calls from media organisations too. I wondered how they had come up with ideas so quickly. Had they known for months this was going to happen to me?

TV3, Radio Live, Newstalk ZB and so many others all contacted me. Some had firm offers; others sensed I was in no hurry and merely wanted to let me know that when I was ready to talk they would be ready to talk. The door at TVNZ too, it was quite clear, was pushed closed but certainly had not been locked or slammed. In talking to all those people I never got as far as asking what the hours would be or what the job would pay because this was like selling a roof — once I asked the price, the deal would have been as good as done.

I saw it as a great opportunity to spend a bit more time with the children and just live, to do stuff, to travel to places without being followed around by a film crew. I’m a traveller, both in mind and body, certainly in my business and in my goals and my aspirations. I don’t look at anything as long term. When opportunities come up I take them or I move on to something else. When it became obvious I needed to leave TVNZ I was ready to leave, and then all of a sudden the excitement began. Did anyone really think I was going to stay on
Breakfast
for the rest of my life?

When I had toyed with the idea of leaving previously, people asked whether I wouldn’t get bored and that had been one of the things that stopped me, because there is no way of knowing the answer to that until it happens.

‘Won’t you miss being a star?’ was the other thing I used to get asked. That was much easier to answer. I’m not a star. Stars are visible, whereas I am a hermit and always have been. I don’t like going out so I don’t. At the same time I don’t moan about being recognised. It’s nice not to be and I enjoy that about being overseas, but you know when you go into television that it is part of the job. You even get paid extra to compensate for it and so you should.

There are good things about fame too. You often get better service from cringing toadies in restaurants. You also get bad
service sometimes from people who have decided they know and despise you. You get free stuff, which is hardly ever anything you want. You get invited to events you would never dream of attending. All in all I knew I wouldn’t miss being a star and getting all the benefits I didn’t cash in anyway.

Once my hand was forced, those questions ceased to matter. Instead of boredom there was huge relief that I could move on with my life. A lot of time was spent mopping up — fielding job offers and ducking for cover. The
Herald
rang all the time. I never replied to their messages and if I picked up the phone by accident and it was them, I refused to say anything. So they ran stories suggesting I was desperate to have my say. I refused all interviews except for a story with
New Idea
, which was one of the few magazines not to have completely annoyed me with things they wrote over the years.

I was approached by an American production company who, unbeknownst to me, had been following my career for several years on YouTube. I had come to their attention originally via a
Breakfast
diatribe about obese Americans being sucked into Amtrak toilets. They had some programme ideas and wanted to represent me in what they considered, and at the time of writing still consider, my future career on television in the United States.

Since becoming unemployed I’ve spent many months in the US. I’ve always loved America and Bella does too. I bought a brand new 2011 Mustang which I keep at LA airport. I have had a lot of fun driving through umpteen of the states. Bella is on exchange in Colby, Kansas, for a year and this has tied in nicely with going to see her. I’ve had more studio executive meetings than a person of my short attention span can reasonably be expected to suffer and I’m told by my agents, production company and manager that my career — though non-existent — is stellar.

I confess to losing almost all of my interest in working in the
States given the amount of time it’s taking for something to happen, which in the great scheme of things is no time at all, but if I’ve learnt anything from all of this it’s that I need to work. I could retire but couldn’t stand it. I need an outlet. Frequently I find myself thinking people need to hear my views on various subjects and I need to have them heard.

I have been putting off giving a definitive answer either to TVNZ or Mediaworks, who own TV3 and Radio Live, but recently decided it was not necessary to put it off any more so entered serious negotiations with both organisations. It’s clear many people in TVNZ understood that my ability to be occasionally a liability was dramatically overshadowed by my ability to be an asset, and to their credit they wanted me back. But the approaches from Mediaworks’ bosses and even the board chairman were consistently considerate, respectful and professional, and I signed a long-term commitment ensuring that when I’m broadcasting in New Zealand it will be with their organisations only. First up, the plan is I will be hosting
the drive-time talk show on Radio Live, which means I get to go back to doing the kind of broadcasting I prefer to any other. My expectation is that I will appear regularly on TV3. I’m in discussions at the moment involving a range of projects, but I would like to think that at some point I’ll have a weekly talk show.

But, as I put my pen down, (actually it’s an iPad — dammit) sitting in the home I love in Albany, Auckland, surrounded by the knick-knacks and general detritus I’ve collected over the past 50 years, it is only my expectation.

Because you see, we’re up to now. How much work I will actually be doing in the United States, exactly what I will actually be doing on TV3 and everything else that’s going to happen is not entirely clear to me at this time. It will have to be part of my next book if I ever find the heartbeats to write again.

Some people might be a little disappointed that I haven’t mercilessly slagged off the arseholes who have thwarted me over the years. After all, I am a particularly forthright person. In the last few pages alone I could have named some people I consider to be gutless wonders at Television New Zealand who don’t understand, amongst other things, the meaning of loyalty. But the thing is this, I am not even remotely bitter about anything that has ever happened to me. I can’t remember a time in my entire life when I haven’t been ready to move on. So, no bitterness and only a few regrets, none of them relating to employment.

Partly for obvious reasons but also because these memoirs reveal only a few squares of the rich tapestry that is my life it’s impossible for me to put myself in the position of someone reading this for the first time. But if I try very hard to do just that, I think I would want the book to end … now.

So, the book’s finished and I think we can all agree it represents fantastic value for money. But wait, there’s more. There’s no need to continue reading because this truly is bonus material, without which you could still be reasonably expected to lead a full and satisfying life. However, I have decided, as a personal gift to you, to add one further useful piece of material. For this to work satisfactorily it is necessary for me to divide readers into two categories:

 

Those who like me.

 

Those who do not.

 

I love trawling through antique shops and I have to say the Americans do antique shops very well. I prefer to refer to them as junk shops as this increases my sense that there may well be a bargain to be had. On a recent visit to a junk shop at Redondo Beach, LA, I spotted a large crusty old rat-gnawed book: the personal recipes, favourite restaurants and general lifestyle tips of Mary and Vincent Price. For as long as I can remember I’ve been a huge fan of Vincent Price and the book, through words and pictures, took me right into his wonderful personal life. Like me, he loved sophistication and style, unlike me he was actually sophisticated and stylish.

So, ‘for those who like me’ … from Vincent and Mary Price’s own book, their favourite, quite simple napkin folds and how to achieve them, so you might add just a little more style and sophistication to your own life. 

Fold napkins into quarters, then diagonally.

Pleat before pulling flat side into napkin ring.

Turn two leaves back, pleat, place flat side in glass then pull down two outside leaves.

Pleat, place flat side in glass then pull down four leaves.