CHARACTERS I HAVE KNOWN.

By Terry Batchelor

Author’s note: it is said we are a part of everyone we have ever met. That said, there are some people I’m sure you wouldn’t want any part of; however, If the maxim is even half true it stands to reason that the more people you meet, the more your life will be enriched for having done so.

When I first came to Auckland in 1966, as a fresh faced, innocent, young Probationary Constable, I came in contact with a number of true life characters, who in many cases have long since departed this world .

The first character must surely be Snr. Sgt. Betty Bennett (RIP) who I believe was one of the first Maori police women and one of the first women who held a rank in the NZ Police.

When I received my first Form 108 for negligently damaging government property, — which I may add was a mistake in respect to a broken billiard cue outside the Inservice Training Room. — Snr Bennett first received the ‘please explain,’ to give to me and she asked whether I knew what to do with it. When I told her I didn’t, she asked me whether I would like her to reply to it. Having never responded to a ‘please explain’ before, I concluded it was a jolly good idea. One wonders whether serving policemen today would place such confidence in a boss.

I recall at the time she read the document and chuckled, whispering to herself that it was a lot of old nonsense, and she asked me my version of what happened. A few days later she produced a brilliant report, something far superior to anything I could have done and that killed the 108 in its tracks — I never heard another thing about it.

Early one morning on my next night-shift, after walking ‘the beat’ all night, I was winding myself wearily up Wellesley Street preparatory to finishing work, when I came across a garden plot (just below the Art Gallery). Growing there was a magnificent array of daffodils, jonquils and other spring flowers. At that hour of the morning there were few people about and so I picked a sizable bunch and carried them unabashed to the Police Station in Princess Street. Today, seeing a uniform policeman carrying a large bunch of flowers as he walks along the road would cause a mild sensation, fortunately but as I say there, there were few people about at that time.

My arrival there coincided with me seeing Snr. Sgt Bennett, who was just starting

early shift. I carried the flowers into her office and proudly placed them on her desk. The look on her face was priceless: it was one of surprise, thrill, and puzzlement..

“ Good morning Senior, just a little something for helping me out the other day.” I proudly announced.

“Good heavens,” she replied, “where on earth did you get those — they’re beautiful?”

“They were growing wild down the road,” I explained.

Then in an inquisitorial voice, accompanied by a slight look of concern, she asked: “Where-abouts down the road?”

I explained they were growing wild in a garden plot just below the Art Gallery.

“Oh! my God, quick shut the door,” she said while sitting down at her desk.

I was only 19 and in my naivety thought if I was about to be the recipient of a kiss (well you never know), as it turned out it wasn’t a kiss but I mild rebuke.

“Constable, don’t you realize these are the property of the Auckland City Council?”

“Golly Senior they won’t miss them, there’s a lot more growing down there.” I said reassuringly.

Letting out a sigh she replied: “That’s really not the point, do you recall what you were taught about theft at the training school.”

“Errr vaguely,” I said, furiously trying to remember the definition.

“And what is your understanding of that legislation?” She asked while picking up a daffodil and taking in its aroma.

“Something about taking things that don’t belong to you, I think that was the general gist of it,” I said, but then quickly added: : “But I don’t believe it referred to wild-flowers — or does it?”

She let out another sigh and then sniffed a jonquil l and she brightened.

“Must admit they smell magnificent,” she said, taking in the flower’s sweet fragrance while closing her eyes.

Keeping up the momentum in respect to the flowers, but away from legal definitions, I said: “The narcissus and jonquils have a particularly strong scent as well.”

“Hmm indeed they do,” she said, picking up several of them and waving them beneath her nose.

“I also looked for some freesias in Albert Park but didn’t see any.”

Her earlier frown that had faded suddenly returned.

“Look, do you think you can get these flowers to my car without being seen. — you can cover them over with my raincoat?” She said in a whisper.

I assured her I could and she gave me her car keys — I carried out the Mission successfully.

Much later I was speaking to one of the older hands in the Muster Room, who said: “Snr Bennett’s a ‘good stick’ — pity more bosses weren’t like her.”

Whenever I she saw again, her face would suddenly brighten and she would give me a knowing look accompanied by a brief wave. The incident had caused a bond between us.

I’ve been informed that there are many female bosses of much higher rank in the New Zealand Police today. So many of you fellows who are still serving, who may wish to curry favour with any one of those omnipotent sirens, go to a City Council garden plot, or the Parnell Rose Gardens one night-shift, pick a large bunch of some of the best blooms and then go and place them on their desks. Of course you would always run the risk of being charged with theft, so Good Luck.

CHARACTERS I HAVE KNOWN. (Part 1)

Author’s note: it is said we are a part of everyone we have ever met. That said, there are some people I’m sure you wouldn’t want any part of; however, If the maxim is even half true it stands to reason that the more people you meet, the more your life will be enriched for done so.

When I first came to Auckland in 1966, as a fresh faced, innocent, young Probationary Constable, I came in contact with a number of true life characters, who in many cases have long since departed this world .

The first character must surely be Snr. Sgt. Betty Bennett (RIP) who I believe was one of the first Maori police women and one of the first women who held a rank in the NZ Police.

When I received my first Form 108 for negligently damaging government property, — which I may add was a mistake in respect to a broken billiard cue outside the Inservice Training Room. — Snr Bennett first received the ‘please explain,’ to give to me and she asked whether I knew what to do with it. When I told her I didn’t, she asked me whether I would like her to reply to it. Having never responded to a ‘please explain’ before, I concluded it was a jolly good idea. One wonders whether serving policemen today would place such confidence in a boss.

I recall at the time she read the document and chuckled, whispering to herself that it was a lot of old nonsense, and she asked me my version of what happened. A few days later she produced a brilliant report, something far superior to anything I could have done and that killed the 108 in its tracks — I never heard another thing about it.

Early one morning on my next night-shift, after walking ‘the beat’ all night, I was winding myself wearily up Wellesley Street preparatory to finishing work, when I came across a garden plot (just below the Art Gallery). Growing there was a magnificent array of daffodils, jonquils and other spring flowers. At that hour of the morning there were few people about and so I picked a sizable bunch and carried them unabashed to the Police Station in Princess Street. Today, seeing a uniform policeman carrying a large bunch of flowers as he walks along the road would cause a mild sensation, fortunately but as I say there, there were few people about at that time.

My arrival there coincided with me seeing Snr. Sgt Bennett, who was just starting

early shift. I carried the flowers into her office and proudly placed them on her desk. The look on her face was priceless: it was one of surprise, thrill, and puzzlement..

“ Good morning Senior, just a little something for helping me out the other day.” I proudly announced.

“Good heavens,” she replied, “where on earth did you get those — they’re beautiful?”

“They were growing wild down the road,” I explained.

Then in an inquisitorial voice, accompanied by a slight look of concern, she asked: “Where-abouts down the road?”

I explained they were growing wild in a garden plot just below the Art Gallery.

“Oh! my God, quick shut the door,” she said while sitting down at her desk.

I was only 19 and in my naivety thought if I was about to be the recipient of a kiss (well you never know), as it turned out it wasn’t a kiss but I mild rebuke.

“Constable, don’t you realize these are the property of the Auckland City Council?”

“Golly Senior they won’t miss them, there’s a lot more growing down there.” I said reassuringly.

Letting out a sigh she replied: “That’s really not the point, do you recall what you were taught about theft at the training school.”

“Errr vaguely,” I said, furiously trying to remember the definition.

“And what is your understanding of that legislation?” She asked while picking up a daffodil and taking in its aroma.

“Something about taking things that don’t belong to you, I think that was the general gist of it,” I said, but then quickly added: : “But I don’t believe it referred to wild-flowers — or does it?”

She let out another sigh and then sniffed a jonquil l and she brightened.

“Must admit they smell magnificent,” she said, taking in the flower’s sweet fragrance while closing her eyes.

Keeping up the momentum in respect to the flowers, but away from legal definitions, I said: “The narcissus and jonquils have a particularly strong scent as well.”

“Hmm indeed they do,” she said, picking up several of them and waving them beneath her nose.

“I also looked for some freesias in Albert Park but didn’t see any.”

Her earlier frown that had faded suddenly returned.

“Look, do you think you can get these flowers to my car without being seen. — you can cover them over with my raincoat?” She said in a whisper.

I assured her I could and she gave me her car keys — I carried out the Mission successfully.

Much later I was speaking to one of the older hands in the Muster Room, who said: “Snr Bennett’s a ‘good stick’ — pity more bosses weren’t like her.”

Whenever I she saw again, her face would suddenly brighten and she would give me a knowing look accompanied by a brief wave. The incident had caused a bond between us.

I’ve been informed that there are many female bosses of much higher rank in the New Zealand Police today. So many of you fellows who are still serving, who may wish to curry favour with any one of those omnipotent sirens, go to a City Council garden plot, or the Parnell Rose Gardens one night-shift, pick a large bunch of some of the best blooms and then go and place them on their desks. Of course you would always run the risk of being charged with theft, so Good Luck.

CHARACTERS I HAVE KNOWN. (Part 1)

Author’s note: it is said we are a part of everyone we have ever met. That said, there are some people I’m sure you wouldn’t want any part of; however, If the maxim is even half true it stands to reason that the more people you meet, the more your life will be enriched for done so.

When I first came to Auckland in 1966, as a fresh faced, innocent, young Probationary Constable, I came in contact with a number of true life characters, who in many cases have long since departed this world .

The first character must surely be Snr. Sgt. Betty Bennett (RIP) who I believe was one of the first Maori police women and one of the first women who held a rank in the NZ Police.

When I received my first Form 108 for negligently damaging government property, — which I may add was a mistake in respect to a broken billiard cue outside the Inservice Training Room. — Snr Bennett first received the ‘please explain,’ to give to me and she asked whether I knew what to do with it. When I told her I didn’t, she asked me whether I would like her to reply to it. Having never responded to a ‘please explain’ before, I concluded it was a jolly good idea. One wonders whether serving policemen today would place such confidence in a boss.

I recall at the time she read the document and chuckled, whispering to herself that it was a lot of old nonsense, and she asked me my version of what happened. A few days later she produced a brilliant report, something far superior to anything I could have done and that killed the 108 in its tracks — I never heard another thing about it.

Early one morning on my next night-shift, after walking ‘the beat’ all night, I was winding myself wearily up Wellesley Street preparatory to finishing work, when I came across a garden plot (just below the Art Gallery). Growing there was a magnificent array of daffodils, jonquils and other spring flowers. At that hour of the morning there were few people about and so I picked a sizable bunch and carried them unabashed to the Police Station in Princess Street. Today, seeing a uniform policeman carrying a large bunch of flowers as he walks along the road would cause a mild sensation, fortunately but as I say there, there were few people about at that time.

My arrival there coincided with me seeing Snr. Sgt Bennett, who was just starting

early shift. I carried the flowers into her office and proudly placed them on her desk. The look on her face was priceless: it was one of surprise, thrill, and puzzlement..

“ Good morning Senior, just a little something for helping me out the other day.” I proudly announced.

“Good heavens,” she replied, “where on earth did you get those — they’re beautiful?”

“They were growing wild down the road,” I explained.

Then in an inquisitorial voice, accompanied by a slight look of concern, she asked: “Where-abouts down the road?”

I explained they were growing wild in a garden plot just below the Art Gallery.

“Oh! my God, quick shut the door,” she said while sitting down at her desk.

I was only 19 and in my naivety thought if I was about to be the recipient of a kiss (well you never know), as it turned out it wasn’t a kiss but I mild rebuke.

“Constable, don’t you realize these are the property of the Auckland City Council?”

“Golly Senior they won’t miss them, there’s a lot more growing down there.” I said reassuringly.

Letting out a sigh she replied: “That’s really not the point, do you recall what you were taught about theft at the training school.”

“Errr vaguely,” I said, furiously trying to remember the definition.

“And what is your understanding of that legislation?” She asked while picking up a daffodil and taking in its aroma.

“Something about taking things that don’t belong to you, I think that was the general gist of it,” I said, but then quickly added: : “But I don’t believe it referred to wild-flowers — or does it?”

She let out another sigh and then sniffed a jonquil l and she brightened.

“Must admit they smell magnificent,” she said, taking in the flower’s sweet fragrance while closing her eyes.

Keeping up the momentum in respect to the flowers, but away from legal definitions, I said: “The narcissus and jonquils have a particularly strong scent as well.”

“Hmm indeed they do,” she said, picking up several of them and waving them beneath her nose.

“I also looked for some freesias in Albert Park but didn’t see any.”

Her earlier frown that had faded suddenly returned.

“Look, do you think you can get these flowers to my car without being seen. — you can cover them over with my raincoat?” She said in a whisper.

I assured her I could and she gave me her car keys — I carried out the Mission successfully.

Much later I was speaking to one of the older hands in the Muster Room, who said: “Snr Bennett’s a ‘good stick’ — pity more bosses weren’t like her.”

Whenever I she saw again, her face would suddenly brighten and she would give me a knowing look accompanied by a brief wave. The incident had caused a bond between us.

I’ve been informed that there are many female bosses of much higher rank in the New Zealand Police today. So many of you fellows who are still serving, who may wish to curry favour with any one of those omnipotent sirens, go to a City Council garden plot, or the Parnell Rose Gardens one night-shift, pick a large bunch of some of the best blooms and then go and place them on their desks. Of course you would always run the risk of being charged with theft, so Good Luck.

CHARACTERS I HAVE KNOWN. (Part 1)

Author’s note: it is said we are a part of everyone we have ever met. That said, there are some people I’m sure you wouldn’t want any part of; however, If the maxim is even half true it stands to reason that the more people you meet, the more your life will be enriched for done so.

When I first came to Auckland in 1966, as a fresh faced, innocent, young Probationary Constable, I came in contact with a number of true life characters, who in many cases have long since departed this world .

The first character must surely be Snr. Sgt. Betty Bennett (RIP) who I believe was one of the first Maori police women and one of the first women who held a rank in the NZ Police.

When I received my first Form 108 for negligently damaging government property, — which I may add was a mistake in respect to a broken billiard cue outside the Inservice Training Room. — Snr Bennett first received the ‘please explain,’ to give to me and she asked whether I knew what to do with it. When I told her I didn’t, she asked me whether I would like her to reply to it. Having never responded to a ‘please explain’ before, I concluded it was a jolly good idea. One wonders whether serving policemen today would place such confidence in a boss.

I recall at the time she read the document and chuckled, whispering to herself that it was a lot of old nonsense, and she asked me my version of what happened. A few days later she produced a brilliant report, something far superior to anything I could have done and that killed the 108 in its tracks — I never heard another thing about it.

Early one morning on my next night-shift, after walking ‘the beat’ all night, I was winding myself wearily up Wellesley Street preparatory to finishing work, when I came across a garden plot (just below the Art Gallery). Growing there was a magnificent array of daffodils, jonquils and other spring flowers. At that hour of the morning there were few people about and so I picked a sizable bunch and carried them unabashed to the Police Station in Princess Street. Today, seeing a uniform policeman carrying a large bunch of flowers as he walks along the road would cause a mild sensation, fortunately but as I say there, there were few people about at that time.

My arrival there coincided with me seeing Snr. Sgt Bennett, who was just starting

early shift. I carried the flowers into her office and proudly placed them on her desk. The look on her face was priceless: it was one of surprise, thrill, and puzzlement..

“ Good morning Senior, just a little something for helping me out the other day.” I proudly announced.

“Good heavens,” she replied, “where on earth did you get those — they’re beautiful?”

“They were growing wild down the road,” I explained.

Then in an inquisitorial voice, accompanied by a slight look of concern, she asked: “Where-abouts down the road?”

I explained they were growing wild in a garden plot just below the Art Gallery.

“Oh! my God, quick shut the door,” she said while sitting down at her desk.

I was only 19 and in my naivety thought if I was about to be the recipient of a kiss (well you never know), as it turned out it wasn’t a kiss but I mild rebuke.

“Constable, don’t you realize these are the property of the Auckland City Council?”

“Golly Senior they won’t miss them, there’s a lot more growing down there.” I said reassuringly.

Letting out a sigh she replied: “That’s really not the point, do you recall what you were taught about theft at the training school.”

“Errr vaguely,” I said, furiously trying to remember the definition.

“And what is your understanding of that legislation?” She asked while picking up a daffodil and taking in its aroma.

“Something about taking things that don’t belong to you, I think that was the general gist of it,” I said, but then quickly added: : “But I don’t believe it referred to wild-flowers — or does it?”

She let out another sigh and then sniffed a jonquil l and she brightened.

“Must admit they smell magnificent,” she said, taking in the flower’s sweet fragrance while closing her eyes.

Keeping up the momentum in respect to the flowers, but away from legal definitions, I said: “The narcissus and jonquils have a particularly strong scent as well.”

“Hmm indeed they do,” she said, picking up several of them and waving them beneath her nose.

“I also looked for some freesias in Albert Park but didn’t see any.”

Her earlier frown that had faded suddenly returned.

“Look, do you think you can get these flowers to my car without being seen. — you can cover them over with my raincoat?” She said in a whisper.

I assured her I could and she gave me her car keys — I carried out the Mission successfully.

Much later I was speaking to one of the older hands in the Muster Room, who said: “Snr Bennett’s a ‘good stick’ — pity more bosses weren’t like her.”

Whenever I she saw again, her face would suddenly brighten and she would give me a knowing look accompanied by a brief wave. The incident had caused a bond between us.

I’ve been informed that there are many female bosses of much higher rank in the New Zealand Police today. So many of you fellows who are still serving, who may wish to curry favour with any one of those omnipotent sirens, go to a City Council garden plot, or the Parnell Rose Gardens one night-shift, pick a large bunch of some of the best blooms and then go and place them on their desks. Of course you would always run the risk of being charged with theft, so Good Luck.

CHARACTERS I HAVE KNOWN. (Part 1)

Author’s note: it is said we are a part of everyone we have ever met. That said, there are some people I’m sure you wouldn’t want any part of; however, If the maxim is even half true it stands to reason that the more people you meet, the more your life will be enriched for done so.

When I first came to Auckland in 1966, as a fresh faced, innocent, young Probationary Constable, I came in contact with a number of true life characters, who in many cases have long since departed this world .

The first character must surely be Snr. Sgt. Betty Bennett (RIP) who I believe was one of the first Maori police women and one of the first women who held a rank in the NZ Police.

When I received my first Form 108 for negligently damaging government property, — which I may add was a mistake in respect to a broken billiard cue outside the Inservice Training Room. — Snr Bennett first received the ‘please explain,’ to give to me and she asked whether I knew what to do with it. When I told her I didn’t, she asked me whether I would like her to reply to it. Having never responded to a ‘please explain’ before, I concluded it was a jolly good idea. One wonders whether serving policemen today would place such confidence in a boss.

I recall at the time she read the document and chuckled, whispering to herself that it was a lot of old nonsense, and she asked me my version of what happened. A few days later she produced a brilliant report, something far superior to anything I could have done and that killed the 108 in its tracks — I never heard another thing about it.

Early one morning on my next night-shift, after walking ‘the beat’ all night, I was winding myself wearily up Wellesley Street preparatory to finishing work, when I came across a garden plot (just below the Art Gallery). Growing there was a magnificent array of daffodils, jonquils and other spring flowers. At that hour of the morning there were few people about and so I picked a sizable bunch and carried them unabashed to the Police Station in Princess Street. Today, seeing a uniform policeman carrying a large bunch of flowers as he walks along the road would cause a mild sensation, fortunately but as I say there, there were few people about at that time.

My arrival there coincided with me seeing Snr. Sgt Bennett, who was just starting

early shift. I carried the flowers into her office and proudly placed them on her desk. The look on her face was priceless: it was one of surprise, thrill, and puzzlement..

“ Good morning Senior, just a little something for helping me out the other day.” I proudly announced.

“Good heavens,” she replied, “where on earth did you get those — they’re beautiful?”

“They were growing wild down the road,” I explained.

Then in an inquisitorial voice, accompanied by a slight look of concern, she asked: “Where-abouts down the road?”

I explained they were growing wild in a garden plot just below the Art Gallery.

“Oh! my God, quick shut the door,” she said while sitting down at her desk.

I was only 19 and in my naivety thought if I was about to be the recipient of a kiss (well you never know), as it turned out it wasn’t a kiss but I mild rebuke.

“Constable, don’t you realize these are the property of the Auckland City Council?”

“Golly Senior they won’t miss them, there’s a lot more growing down there.” I said reassuringly.

Letting out a sigh she replied: “That’s really not the point, do you recall what you were taught about theft at the training school.”

“Errr vaguely,” I said, furiously trying to remember the definition.

“And what is your understanding of that legislation?” She asked while picking up a daffodil and taking in its aroma.

“Something about taking things that don’t belong to you, I think that was the general gist of it,” I said, but then quickly added: : “But I don’t believe it referred to wild-flowers — or does it?”

She let out another sigh and then sniffed a jonquil l and she brightened.

“Must admit they smell magnificent,” she said, taking in the flower’s sweet fragrance while closing her eyes.

Keeping up the momentum in respect to the flowers, but away from legal definitions, I said: “The narcissus and jonquils have a particularly strong scent as well.”

“Hmm indeed they do,” she said, picking up several of them and waving them beneath her nose.

“I also looked for some freesias in Albert Park but didn’t see any.”

Her earlier frown that had faded suddenly returned.

“Look, do you think you can get these flowers to my car without being seen. — you can cover them over with my raincoat?” She said in a whisper.

I assured her I could and she gave me her car keys — I carried out the Mission successfully.

Much later I was speaking to one of the older hands in the Muster Room, who said: “Snr Bennett’s a ‘good stick’ — pity more bosses weren’t like her.”

Whenever I she saw again, her face would suddenly brighten and she would give me a knowing look accompanied by a brief wave. The incident had caused a bond between us.

I’ve been informed that there are many female bosses of much higher rank in the New Zealand Police today. So many of you fellows who are still serving, who may wish to curry favour with any one of those omnipotent sirens, go to a City Council garden plot, or the Parnell Rose Gardens one night-shift, pick a large bunch of some of the best blooms and then go and place them on their desks. Of course you would always run the risk of being charged with theft, so Good Luck.

CHARACTERS I HAVE KNOWN. (Part 1)

Author’s note: it is said we are a part of everyone we have ever met. That said, there are some people I’m sure you wouldn’t want any part of; however, If the maxim is even half true it stands to reason that the more people you meet, the more your life will be enriched for done so.

When I first came to Auckland in 1966, as a fresh faced, innocent, young Probationary Constable, I came in contact with a number of true life characters, who in many cases have long since departed this world .

The first character must surely be Snr. Sgt. Betty Bennett (RIP) who I believe was one of the first Maori police women and one of the first women who held a rank in the NZ Police.

When I received my first Form 108 for negligently damaging government property, — which I may add was a mistake in respect to a broken billiard cue outside the Inservice Training Room. — Snr Bennett first received the ‘please explain,’ to give to me and she asked whether I knew what to do with it. When I told her I didn’t, she asked me whether I would like her to reply to it. Having never responded to a ‘please explain’ before, I concluded it was a jolly good idea. One wonders whether serving policemen today would place such confidence in a boss.

I recall at the time she read the document and chuckled, whispering to herself that it was a lot of old nonsense, and she asked me my version of what happened. A few days later she produced a brilliant report, something far superior to anything I could have done and that killed the 108 in its tracks — I never heard another thing about it.

Early one morning on my next night-shift, after walking ‘the beat’ all night, I was winding myself wearily up Wellesley Street preparatory to finishing work, when I came across a garden plot (just below the Art Gallery). Growing there was a magnificent array of daffodils, jonquils and other spring flowers. At that hour of the morning there were few people about and so I picked a sizable bunch and carried them unabashed to the Police Station in Princess Street. Today, seeing a uniform policeman carrying a large bunch of flowers as he walks along the road would cause a mild sensation, fortunately but as I say there, there were few people about at that time.

My arrival there coincided with me seeing Snr. Sgt Bennett, who was just starting

early shift. I carried the flowers into her office and proudly placed them on her desk. The look on her face was priceless: it was one of surprise, thrill, and puzzlement..

“ Good morning Senior, just a little something for helping me out the other day.” I proudly announced.

“Good heavens,” she replied, “where on earth did you get those — they’re beautiful?”

“They were growing wild down the road,” I explained.

Then in an inquisitorial voice, accompanied by a slight look of concern, she asked: “Where-abouts down the road?”

I explained they were growing wild in a garden plot just below the Art Gallery.

“Oh! my God, quick shut the door,” she said while sitting down at her desk.

I was only 19 and in my naivety thought if I was about to be the recipient of a kiss (well you never know), as it turned out it wasn’t a kiss but I mild rebuke.

“Constable, don’t you realize these are the property of the Auckland City Council?”

“Golly Senior they won’t miss them, there’s a lot more growing down there.” I said reassuringly.

Letting out a sigh she replied: “That’s really not the point, do you recall what you were taught about theft at the training school.”

“Errr vaguely,” I said, furiously trying to remember the definition.

“And what is your understanding of that legislation?” She asked while picking up a daffodil and taking in its aroma.

“Something about taking things that don’t belong to you, I think that was the general gist of it,” I said, but then quickly added: : “But I don’t believe it referred to wild-flowers — or does it?”

She let out another sigh and then sniffed a jonquil l and she brightened.

“Must admit they smell magnificent,” she said, taking in the flower’s sweet fragrance while closing her eyes.

Keeping up the momentum in respect to the flowers, but away from legal definitions, I said: “The narcissus and jonquils have a particularly strong scent as well.”

“Hmm indeed they do,” she said, picking up several of them and waving them beneath her nose.

“I also looked for some freesias in Albert Park but didn’t see any.”

Her earlier frown that had faded suddenly returned.

“Look, do you think you can get these flowers to my car without being seen. — you can cover them over with my raincoat?” She said in a whisper.

I assured her I could and she gave me her car keys — I carried out the Mission successfully.

Much later I was speaking to one of the older hands in the Muster Room, who said: “Snr Bennett’s a ‘good stick’ — pity more bosses weren’t like her.”

Whenever I she saw again, her face would suddenly brighten and she would give me a knowing look accompanied by a brief wave. The incident had caused a bond between us.

I’ve been informed that there are many female bosses of much higher rank in the New Zealand Police today. So many of you fellows who are still serving, who may wish to curry favour with any one of those omnipotent sirens, go to a City Council garden plot, or the Parnell Rose Gardens one night-shift, pick a large bunch of some of the best blooms and then go and place them on their desks. Of course you would always run the risk of being charged with theft, so Good Luck.