Within a few weeks, I’d learn that the Labour Party didn’t have a candidate in my old hometown of Morrinsville. And no wonder. It was an unwinnable seat. They’d been hunting around to find someone who would put their name on the ballot in the place where I’d grown up. I was on the party list, almost guaranteed to be going to Parliament, but I was still able to run in a district. Almost everyone on the party list did. The answer was obvious: I would run the unwinnable race in my hometown.
