It’s come to my attention that a number of my colleagues don’t know what a cheese roll is. They think they do, but they don’t.
Why does this matter? Well, if you live in my part of the country, the South, then the cheese roll is, well, it’s an institution. It’s used for school fundraisers, it’s sold with pride in cafes (coffee shops) with lashings of butter on the outside. And the further south you get, the bigger they get, and the more lashings of butter.
I grew up with cheese rolls. I expect everyone to know what they are. But they don’t. MPs north of Dunedin don’t have a clue, unless they grew up in the South, except for Jacinda Ardern, who has already had the experience, and Grant Robertson, who grew up in Dunedin (and apparently once wrote a review of cheese rolls).
Clayton Cosgrove experienced his first cheese roll with me in Invercargill a couple of weeks ago. It wasn’t the best specimen, but he got the picture! In fact, he was anticipating The Big Cheese Roll as we drove into Invercargill. Just like Gore has The Big Trout! Maybe that’s an idea for Tim Shadbolt to think about.
Ok, I’ll stop there. I guess I was inspired by Ode on a Grecian Urn, by Keats, that I learnt at school. Not quite the same thing. But hey, it’s the South!