Turning the Page

 We faced yet another life-changing decision: we could either remain a small cottage industry or take the leap to expand into a larger manufacturing operation. We went from working out of our home base to relocating and getting the machinery and stock out of the home

Leaving Air New Zealand

The demands of flying had changed dramatically.

Jumbo jets were now part of the fleet, and with them came longer flights, more time zones, and increasingly exhausting rosters, and the long-haul flights stretched across six time zones, leaving little room to recover between trips. 

I found myself rostered on a gruelling 19-day journey: Auckland – Honolulu – Los Angeles – Tahiti – Los Angeles – Honolulu – Auckland.

 The work was exhilarating but exhausting, and the brief periods of rest between flights offered only the barest respite. 

After completing consecutive trips on this roster, my body and mind protested. 

I visited the company doctor, who confirmed what I already knew: I needed time to recover. Granted three weeks’ leave, I returned home with a growing sense that this was a pivotal moment. The choice became clear — for my family, for Sheila, and for myself, it was time to step away. I realised something had changed.

Not in the airline.

In me.

I still loved flying.

But I loved my family more.

 Writing my resignation letter was poignant. Nine years with Air New Zealand had shaped me, carried me across the world, and introduced me to colleagues and friends I would never forget. 

Yet, I knew the decision was right. 

 

The Erebus Tragedy

Shortly after, a letter arrived from the airline expressing gratitude for my service, a gesture that eased the sting of leaving. 

The timing, however, was underscored by tragedy. 

News came of the Mount Erebus disaster in Antarctica, when Air New Zealand Flight 901 collided with the mountain, claiming the lives of 237 passengers and 20 crew. 

I had known many of those crew members personally, and the grief hit hard. 

It was a stark reminder of the fragility of life, and reinforced the sense that my family must always come first. 

 

Magner Knitwear expands

Meanwhile, Magner Knitwear was entering a new phase of challenge and opportunity. Our agents were asking for more commercial styles — products beyond the scope of our current machines. 

A chance arose when a small knitwear company went on the market. The business included three commercial knitting machines and a set of sewing equipment, specializing in children’s jumpers and cardigans — exactly what our clients wanted. We acquired the business, learning quickly to operate the larger, more complex machines. The transition required relocating the business out of our home, and over several moves, we eventually settled into a fully equipped factory with ample space and a mezzanine floor. 

There, we assembled a small team of skilled people who became more than colleagues — they became friends. Sheila continued managing the home and the family, while contributing creatively to the business. 

But life was never without its hurdles. When New Zealand removed most import licensing, the market flooded with inexpensive products from overseas. Competing with such prices was difficult, especially after leaving the security of Air New Zealand’s salary. 

The pressure gradually took its toll. There were times when I struggled with anxiety and periods of depression, and throughout it all Sheila carried much of the burden alongside me.

We weathered this storm through persistence, adaptation, and sheer determination. Over time, the business stabilized, allowing us to regain a sense of control and satisfaction. I also sought personal balance, taking up jogging, attending the gym, and joining philosophy classes, habits that continue to this day. 

Ultimately, a new opportunity arrived. A company approached us with an offer to buy Magner Knitwear.

Selling the business

 After careful consideration, we accepted. Selling the business was bittersweet — it marked the end of a chapter that had been both rewarding and exhausting. 

But it was also the start of a new stage in our lives, one where we could carry forward the lessons of resilience, family, and the courage to embrace change. Reflecting, those years taught me that life is not only about holding on to what we create, but also knowing when to let go. 

Selling Magner Knitwear was not an end, but a quiet turning point — a reminder that life asks us to let go as often as it asks us to hold on. And as I looked ahead, I knew that whatever awaited, we carried forward the lessons of resilience, love, and the courage to step into the unknown.   Even as the doors of Magner Knitwear closed behind us, new possibilities quietly stirred on the horizon. The lessons we had learned — of patience, persistence, and trust in one another — were seeds waiting to grow. I didn’t yet know what form the next chapter would take, but for the first time in a long while, I felt ready to embrace it, confident that whatever challenges lay ahead, we would face them together.