It's cloudy again this morning. In fact, it's been gloomy weather now for what seems several weeks.
At the time of writing the mysterious disappearance of Malaysia Airlines Flight MH370 is still baffling the world.
I've just received my monthly power bill and it's for nearly $200, even though we are hardly in the middle of winter.
Recent research carried out in the United States claims that middle-age people who have a high-protein diet are at much greater risk of dying from cancer than those with a less protein-rich diet.
There's a debate going on in the United Kingdom that's been overshadowed in New Zealand by more pressing international news.
It was surprisingly easy to slip into the role.
There are already a copious number of preservation groups in existence but I feel inclined to launch yet another one.
Why does God waste so much sporting talent on the undeserving?
Here we go again ...
Melbourne ain't so hot; in fact it's quite cool.
Over the past few days - on the radio or the TV, I can't recall which - I've heard people misquote a couple of well-known phrases.
In a few days' time I will be on an Air New Zealand flight and I'm a bit concerned about who might be sitting next to me.
The least surprising story of recent days was the criticism by a judge of an Indian tourist's driving habits.
It was a holiday that could have been lifted straight out of one of Tourism New Zealand's promotional films - perfect weather, idyllic setting, total tranquillity and more wildlife than you'd find in a Richard Attenborough documentary.
It's been an illuminating week. Literally.
It's that time of year when our attention turns to thinking about what Christmas gifts we should buy for family and friends.
Thirty two years ago - on December 19, 1981, to be precise - the All Whites kicked off on a seemingly impossible mission.
Jennifer Lawrence has a new pixie haircut.
OK, I'll come clean. It's now official. I'm a sexist.
Bear with me, because this week I'm writing about my new smartphone - again.
I have been to this hospital before and I have to say standards have slipped since my first stay - I was born in the maternity wing.
It's spring and the birds are in fine fettle, tweeting madly in the hope of finding a partner with whom to share an amorous encounter.
I read an interesting article the other day that claimed that smartphones are taking over Kiwis' lives.
OPINION: It's surprising how many lottery winners claim they won't let it change their lives.
Since the Beckhams naming of Brooklyn got so much publicity it was inevitable that the celebrity-worshipping herd would follow suit.
It was inevitable. The day I broke the habit of a lifetime and decided to watch live America's Cup sailing, the Kiwis lost their first race of the series.
Men are from Mars, women are from Venus - right?
The resignation of David Shearer from the Labour leadership last week was further proof - if proof is needed - that Parliament is a graveyard for good guys.
Now I know why the most recent mobile phones are known as smartphones - they are infinitely smarter than their user.
I was fascinated to hear that Jonathan Coleman was not born but constructed and such was the complexity of the task that it took two decades to put him together.
At last, all the fuss surrounding the birth of the royal baby is beginning to die down, and not before time.
I'm more than a bit nervous writing this column - it's about . . . (whisper) the GCSB.
As Euripedes, that great writer of Greek tragedy, once wrote: No-one can confidently say that he will still be living tomorrow.
Lazy able-bodied drivers in New Zealand who park in a handy space designated for use only by the disabled can find themselves landed with a $150 fine.
Hands up all those people who have watched Midsomer Murders.
Dog owners and Facebook. Yes, they are topics I've discussed in this column before, but a couple of totally unrelated news items in the past few days have brought them to mind once again.
Nearly half a century ago I worked with a fellow journalist whose name was Apps.
It was a deadly combination - a week filled with enticing international sport on television and the absence of my wife on one of her tour-leading expeditions. The scene was therefore set for a viewing marathon.
What a furore the Government's breakfast-in-schools programme has ignited, Derek Burrows says.
When I was a young boy I did what most of the kids my age did in those days - I read a lot of comics.
Sheep, cattle, deer, even ostriches - New Zealand farmers have produced them all for our dinner plates. Now, it seems, insects may one day be on the menu - literally.
Why? It's one of the shortest questions in the English language, yet the breadth of its scope is almost infinite.
It's no wonder my mind has long since gone blank at the thought of embracing any form of new technology.
I knew it! I knew Cliff Richard couldn't be maintaining his Peter Pan looks without chemical assistance.
It's human nature that most of us care what other people think of us.
Contrary to my report in last week's column, it transpires that our cat, Tashi, is neither depressed nor demented.
Columnist Derek Burrows' cat is succumbing to the advances of old age.
With madcap state North Korea making bellicose noises and threatening to attack the United States the world is in a perilous state, particularly as a dangerous new weapon has been identified only in the last week.
The plight of an award-winning gardening couple from Wales catches columnist Derek Burrows' attention.