Far, far away from here lives our King.
Some of his subjects can be quite the forelock tuggers, but plenty of us are not like that, and why don't I wheel out my favourite old story once more about Kiwi soldiers in the North African desert?Field Marshal Montgomery takes offence at their failure to salute him, Freyberg tells him heāll find that if he waves at them, they'll wave back.
This week our King, who lives on the other side of the planet, was visited by our sporting royalty. They were awestruck as the bus rolled through the gates of Buckingham Palace, but they were not struck dumb.
Sup, G? Ruby Tui asked him.
Ayesha Leti-l'iga wanted to know if they could have a hug.
A hug? Why not? he replied as they all came together in an absolute scrum of an embrace.
It was just lovely, the warmth, the delight on everyone's faces. The kind that moves your own face into a happy smile before you even realise.
Protocol says you don't ever lay your commoner hands upon your monarch, but what does protocol know about these cold hard times? If anything, I felt like he needed the hug more than me, said Ayesha.
Protocol says you don't ever presume to lay your commoner hands upon royalty but never mind that, said my Mum the veteran swimmer, being introduced to Prince Harry I thought he would like a hug, and I wanted to hug him.
Michelle Obama writes in her memoir about the controversy she unwittingly caused by placing her arm around the Queen. It's a sweet little story about them sharing a moment, lamenting the height of their heels and the great amount of time they had been required to stand in them as the talking droned on. We were just two tired ladies oppressed by our shoes, she says, I did what's instinctive to me any time I feel connected to a new person.
Who doesn't feel the glow of a hug given warmly? Who among us does not still have a tender vulnerable child within?
What a crying shame it is that chest beaters and misanthropes feel so much need to deride warmth and kindness as softness and weakness.
I'm thinking of people like Judith Collins and Twitter haters sneering at Jacinda Ardern for using the words be kind.
I'm thinking of hateful Republicans mocking Tim Walzās son for his tears of pride and love as his father spoke at the Democratic convention.
An embrace is an acknowledgment that we are all in this together, that we donāt have to be alone in a cold world.
And it is an especially cold one, this modern world, it often feels: sharp-elbowed, harsh, the selfishness of the free market pumping through it like a toxin.
What lies ahead of us? Boundless prosperity for anyone prepared to work hard enough to get ahead? Maybe.
But what if the coming decades bring inescapable hardship and suffering as the climate crisis gathers and the price of selfishness takes a far heavier toll than the complacent can conceive of? Just how much war and famine and pandemic might it take before remorse kicks in?
Kamala Harris closed her debate with the proposition that the American people know we all have so much more in common than what separates us. And that's an absolute trope of speech writing to be sure, but I really liked the way she coloured it in:
I'll tell you, I started my career as a prosecutor. I was a D.A. I was an attorney general. A United States senator. And now vice president.
I've only had one client. The people.
And I'll tell you, as a prosecutor I never asked a victim or a witness: are you a Republican or a Democrat? The only thing I ever asked them: are you okay?
And that's the kind of president we need right now. Someone who cares about you and is not putting themselves first.
Are you okay? It can be the most potent of hugs. We canāt get enough of it.
