Prepare for the invasion of the Orionids!
Off the Top of My Head
By Paul Murray
There are many reasons to get out of bed at four in the morning, although most of them involve livestock, small children or a distended bladder, but this October, the universe is offering another: the chance to watch tiny pieces of Halley’s Comet burn across the sky above Karamea.
The annual Orionid meteor shower is approaching its peak, and our relatively dark rural surroundings give us a useful advantage. All we need is a clear sky, a warm jacket, maybe a campfire and the willingness to exchange a little sleep for something rather wonderful. Oh, and of course, we’ll also need a clear sky.

Despite the familiar expression “shooting star,” no stars are falling out of the sky. A meteor is the brief streak of light produced when a small piece of material from space enters our atmosphere at tremendous speed and disintegrates. The object in space is a meteoroid; the light show is a meteor. If a fragment survives to reach the ground, it becomes a meteorite, but most shower particles never get that far.
A meteor shower happens when Earth crosses a stream of debris travelling around the Sun. Think of a comet as a rather untidy visitor, leaving dust along its orbit. When our planet encounters that dusty trail, some of the particles hit the atmosphere and briefly announce their arrival.
The Orionids come from debris shed by Halley’s Comet. Their entry speed is about 66 kilometres a second…a fairly efficient way to turn a small speck into a memorable event. Some leave a glowing trail that lingers after the initial flash.

Halley last visited the inner Solar System in 1986 and returns in 2061. Fortunately, we do not have to wait for the comet itself: its scattered debris provides this annual October encounter, and another shower, the Eta Aquariids, in May. Cosmic recycling has its attractions.
Set the alarm…carefully
The Orionids are active from 2 October to 7 November, with the main peak expected around 21–22 October 2026. For Karamea, I would pencil in the early mornings of Wednesday 21 and Thursday 22 October. Thursday morning follows Wednesday night; it is easy to lose a day when reading overseas astronomy advice.
This year there is a complication. A bright, waxing Moon will wash out fainter meteors while it is above the horizon. The best compromise is to watch after moonset, before dawn begins to brighten the sky.
For central Karamea, approximate times in New Zealand daylight saving time are: Wednesday 21 October: Moon sets about 4.00 am; the first astronomical dawn light begins about 4.55 am. Thursday 22 October: Moon sets about 4.25 am; the first astronomical dawn light at this time of year begins about 4.50 am.
That makes Wednesday’s roughly 4.00–4.55 am window particularly useful, even though Thursday is the morning following the commonly advertised peak night. On Thursday, try about 4.25–5.00 am, understanding that the sky starts gradually brightening around 4.50. Brighter meteors can remain visible as twilight develops. Sunrise is much later, around 6.30 am; darkness starts slipping away well before the Sun appears.
These are calculated times for an open horizon, rounded for practical use. Hills, trees and your particular viewing spot will change when the Moon disappears. Get settled 20–30 minutes beforehand. If only one morning is clear, take it: the peak is a forecast, not a performance scheduled to the minute.
To find the Orionid meteor shower, look towards the eastern to north-eastern sky in the early hours of the morning. Orion, recognisable by the three bright stars of his belt (also known in New Zealand as the Pot), provides a useful landmark. The meteors appear to originate from a point near Orion, but they can flash across any part of the sky, so find a comfortable spot with a wide, unobstructed view and enjoy the spectacle. The best viewing from Karamea should be in the hours before dawn, when Orion is higher in the sky.
Around 4.00 am the radiant will be in the north-north-east, roughly 27 degrees above a level horizon. By 5.00 am it will be closer to north and about 31 degrees up. Three clenched fists stacked at arm’s length give a rough guide to 30 degrees.
You do not need to identify every star, or stare at that one spot. The meteors can streak across a broad area of sky. Recline, look roughly halfway up the sky and let your eyes take in as much as possible. Orion is a signpost, rather than a tiny target to concentrate on.
Nor are the meteors actually arriving from those distant stars. Their paths appear to lead back towards one point because of perspective, rather like railway tracks appearing to meet in the distance.

A dark back garden or open paddock, with permission, may be all you need. Choose somewhere with a broad northern and eastern view, away from streetlights and security lights. A comfortable spot at home could be better than an expedition beneath trees or behind a ridge. You are looking up into the sky, so a a sea view is an optional bonus.
Bring a deck chair, blanket, warm clothes and something hot to drink. Leave the telescope and binoculars indoors: your unaided eyes give you the wide view this job requires. Allow at least 20–30 minutes for your eyes to adjust, and resist checking your phone. A bright screen is an excellent way to undo your preparations.
Allow an hour if you can, including settling-in time. Typical Orionid activity is often quoted at around 10–20 meteors an hour under favourable conditions, but there is no guarantee that we’ll be able to see that many from Karamea. Our relatively low radiant, moonlight, twilight and any cloud will reduce the tally. Expect quiet stretches; several good flashes would still make a worthwhile outing and sitting quietly under the stars is a good soul massage even if the meteors don’t shower.
Check the cloud forecast before sacrificing your sleep. Even in Sunny Karamea, celestial entertainment is occasionally impeded by a substantial cloud curtain. If it’s raining, it’s probably not a good night to see the meteor shower.
There is something rather gratifying about sitting quietly beneath the stars while remnants of a famous comet meet our atmosphere. No tickets, no subscription, no advertising break…just a bit of ancient dust, a very big universe, and us, looking up from our little corner of the heavens.
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RNZ: The 2026 Orionid Meteor Shower is Here – When and How to See it

RNZ Digital Reporters: Stargazers could be in for a treat this week as the annual Orionid meteor shower will be visibleacross Aotearoa skies.
The Orionid meteor shower occurs when Earth passes through a trail of debris left behind byHalley’s comet each October. This year it would be peak on the night of Wednesday, October 21 and the early morning ofThursday, October 22, according to Te Whatu Stardome.
When can you see the Orionids? The Orionids peak every October and in New Zealand it was active throughout the month. The peak however, would occur overnight between Wednesday and Thursday, Stardome said. The best time to watch from Auckland would be during pre-dawn hours, it said, especially afterthe moon sets.
In ideal conditions the Orionids could produce about 10-20 meteors per hour, Stardome said, butthis year’s bright moon would make some of the fainter meteors harder to see.
Where to get the best view? For the best chance of spotting the shower, Stardome said people should find a dark locationaway from city lights. “After the moon sets, look up towards the northeast and across the wider sky. Although themeteors appear to come from the direction of Orion, they can streak across almost any part of thesky.” The meteors should be visible to the naked eye, but you may need to be patient and wait up tohalf an hour to see them.
© RNZ, original at https://www.rnz.co.nz/news/science-and-technology/2041166/the-2026-orionid-meteor-shower-is-here-when-and-how-to-see-it
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Halley’s Comet: A Frequent Guest in Our Solar System
By: Christina Griffith (Originally Published in 2019)
Every 75 years or so, Halley’s Comet, also known as Comet Halley, passes through Earth’s neighborhood along its orbit. Since the dawn of man, many humans have been fortunate enough to see it twice in their lifetimes.

American astronomer Fred Whipple coined the phrase “dirty snowball” to describe the composition
of comets we are familiar with today. Comets are made of ice, dust, and small particles of rock. They are solar system bodies that usually orbit the sun in highly eccentric orbits that could take them millions of years to complete. Comets that take less than 200 years to make the journey, like Halley’s, are called periodic. When these cosmic travelers pass closer to the sun, the warmth heats the icy nucleus and it begins to release gasses. This produces the characteristic “coma,” or what we call the comet’s tail.
Civilizations around the world have recorded the regular appearance of Halley’s Comet. The first confirmed sighting is believed to have been made by Chinese astronomers in 239 BCE, documented in the Shih Chi and Wen Hsien Thung Khao chronicles. However, in 2010 researchers with Brigham Young University at Provo, Utah reviewed Greek histories describing a meteor strike in the Hellespont region between 468 and 466 BCE, which occurred at the same time as a comet sighting. Based on the timing and trajectory of the comet described, this might possibly be the earliest recorded sighting of Comet Halley.

The Babylonians documented astronomical observations in cuneiform texts called astronomical diaries. Only a handful survive, but archaeologists have discovered tablets and fragments that date from ca. 750 BCE to possibly as late as 75 CE. Though heavily damaged, what remains of these texts tells us the Babylonians had meticulously mapped the sky and made daily observations of the movements of celestial bodies. In both 164 and 87 BCE the Babylonians recorded the apparition of a comet. Researchers have been able to use the astronomical data about the path and timing of the sightings to confirm these were both Comet Halley.
Roman records first document the appearance in 12 BCE and again in 66 CE by Flavius Josephus. This apparition was considered a harbinger of the Roman destruction of Jerusalem.
It was the return of Halley’s Comet in 1066 CE that cemented its place in the annals of historic omens. Its appearance in the skies that winter was taken as a portent of bad news for Anglo-Saxon King Harold II. William the Conqueror would lead the Norman invaders to victory months later at the Battle of Hastings.



Identifying Halley’s Comet: Edmund Halley (1656–1742), a British astronomer, mathematician, and physicist, determined in the 17th century that the comet that passed overhead in 1531, 1607, and 1682 was the same body. He was an accomplished scientist who throughout his career made invaluable contributions to star charts, recorded Mercury’s transit across the sun, and calculated the size of the solar system based on Venus’s orbit. A protégé of Sir Isaac Newton, Halley made observations to prove Newton’s laws of motion and funded the publication of the Principia Mathematica. From an observatory on Saint Helena island in the southern Atlantic in September of 1682 he observed the same comet reported 75 and 76 years earlier, calculated its orbit, and predicted its return. The comet was named after him posthumously when it appeared, as he predicted, in 1758.
Incidentally, the name “Halley” is traditionally pronounced like valley. It is believed that the American pronunciation is due to an association with the 1950s band Bill Haley and his Comets. Halley’s Comet’s last pass was in 1986, which was unfortunately a poor opportunity to observe the comet for Earth-dwellers: not only were we on opposite sides of the sun, but the comet was relatively far away compared to earlier passages, and our modern visibility was diminished by pollution. Fortunately, for the first time in human history, we were able to go to it. The Soviet Union, the European Space Agency, and Japan launched probes to study and photograph the comet. The International Cometary Explorer, a satellite launched in 1978 in a heliocentric orbit to study solar winds and earth’s magnetosphere, was repurposed in 1982 to intercept comets. It flew through Halley’s tail, collecting vital data. Our next opportunity to see Comet Halley will be in 2061.Ä

CHRISTINA GRIFFITH is Associate Editor of Expedition.
FOR FURTHER READING
Edwards, L. “First sighting of Halley’s Comet pushed back two centuries.” PhysOrg, September 13, 2010. https://phys.org/ news/2010-09-sighting-halleys-comet-centuries.html#jCp
Graham, D.W. and E. Hintz. “An Ancient Greek Sighting of Halley’s Comet?” Journal of Cosmology 9 (2010): 2130–2136. journalofcosmology.com/AncientAstronomy106.html
Stephenson, F.R., K.K.C. Yau, and H. Hunger. “Records of Halley’s Comet on Babylonian tablets.” Nature 314 (1985): 18.


Griffith, Christina. “Halley’s Comet.” Expedition Magazine 61, no. 1 (May, 2019): -. Accessed October 16, 2026. https://www.penn.museum/sites/expedition/halleys-comet/





























































































































































































































































































Insurance Company Profits by Taking the PISS!
Off the Top of My Head
By Paul Murray
The insurer sells certainty. The customer discovers uncertainty….and the customer pays for both.
There’s an old saying that insurance is something you buy hoping you’ll never need it. Having recently had the misfortune of actually needing it, I’d like to propose an amendment: Insurance is something you pay for religiously, hoping you’ll never discover what you’ve actually purchased.
Back in 2013, I wrote an article for The Rongolian Star entitled Insurance Companies…Who’s Watching These Crooks? It was a somewhat irreverent examination of an industry that has perfected the art of collecting money today in exchange for promises about tomorrow. Thirteen years later, I’m delighted to report that I’ve undertaken some extensive firsthand research into the subject.
Unfortunately, this research has cost me approximately $110,000 in insurance premiums, involved a failed septic system, several months of correspondence, an unsuccessful complaint to the Insurance & Financial Services Ombudsman, and the prospect of finding another $45,000 to repair something that worked perfectly well for almost six decades. All things considered, I wish I’d just gone fishing.
A maternity hospital, a septic tank and 60 years of uninterrupted service….
In 1965, the New Zealand Government built a maternity hospital in Karamea, a small, remote community on the northern West Coast of the South Island. This wasn’t some ramshackle collection of recycled timber knocked together by a couple of blokes after a few beers. It was a government-funded public building, constructed to the high standards and engineering practices of the day, designed to provide essential medical services to the community. Naturally, it required a reliable wastewater disposal system.
A properly engineered septic tank and associated soakage field were installed, and for almost 60 years this unglamorous, but essential infrastructure quietly went about its business. Babies were born. Generations came and went. The maternity hospital eventually became an accommodation business and now a residential property. Throughout the building’s many metamorphoses, the septic system continued doing what septic systems are supposed to do. Until October 2025….When it stopped.
Not after years of observable progressive failure. Not following decades of complaints about its performance. Not because someone had suddenly decided to convert the property into a commercial sewage-processing facility. It simply ceased functioning satisfactorily.
A drainlayer investigated and identified a rise in the water table and associated groundwater saturation of the disposal field as the problem. Wastewater could no longer disperse through the ground as intended. The solution was straightforward, if financially rather confronting…Replace the failed system…Estimated cost: approximately $45,000…Bugger!
Still, I wasn’t particularly worried at first. After all, I’d insured the property continuously since 2004.I’d paid an estimated average of $5,000 a year in premiums. Over 22 years, that’s approximately $110,000. I hadn’t made a previous claim. Surely, I thought, this was precisely why people paid insurance premiums…No worries, just fill out a claim form and Robert’s your Mother’s Brother…Right?
The extraordinary difference between suddenly and…suddenly…
My insurer, NZI, a division of IAG New Zealand, declined the claim. The essential issue was whether the failure constituted sudden and accidental loss or damage covered by the policy. Now, I’m not a lawyer, but I do have a reasonable grasp of the English language. If something has been functioning satisfactorily for almost 60 years and then abruptly ceases functioning, I would ordinarily describe that as a sudden failure, but apparently, the insurance industry has a rather more sophisticated understanding of the word.
You see, a system can stop working suddenly without necessarily having suffered sudden physical damage. Its deterioration might have been gradual, even if the consequences became apparent all at once…And that is aapparently a perfectly legitimate distinction. But here’s where things become interesting…Nobody has established that the groundwater conditions responsible for this particular failure changed gradually. Equally, I cannot establish that they changed suddenly. Nobody knows.
The West Coast Regional Council’s hydrology department kindly supplied detailed information about the extraordinary rainfall events that affected Karamea in October 2025. The region had experienced an unusually wet winter and spring. Soils were saturated, river levels were elevated, and significant rainfall events occurred in October. At one monitoring station in the Karamea ranges, rainfall intensities exceeded estimated 50-year and 100-year return-period thresholds over six- and twelve-hour durations respectively. On 21 October, the Karamea River reached approximately 3,007 cubic metres per second, its highest recorded flow since 2013. There was, in other words, rather a lot of water about.
Unfortunately, nobody had thought to install a continuous groundwater monitoring station beneath the septic field of the former Karamea maternity hospital. An astonishing oversight! The council confirmed that its available groundwater measurements were too infrequent to determine whether there had been a rapid rise beneath my property during the relevant period. Measurements from another bore approximately 700 metres away could not automatically be assumed to represent conditions beneath my particular property. So the evidence cannot tell us precisely what happened.
But because I cannot demonstrate that the physical loss or damage occurred suddenly, my claim doesn’t satisfy the insurer’s interpretation of the policy requirements. The fact that the system suddenly stopped working is not, on its own, sufficient. Apparently, I should have been monitoring the underground hydrological conditions surrounding my septic system for the past 22 years. Perhaps I should also have employed a full-time geotechnical engineer, just in case….Silly me…I merely paid the premiums with the understanding and belief that if there was such a problem, I would be covered by the insurer.
Half a billion dollars here, a billion dollars there…
Now, let’s examine the financial circumstances of the organisations involved. IAG New Zealand reported an insurance profit of approximately NZ$563 million for the financial year ending June 2026. Its Australian parent, Insurance Australia Group, reported net profit after tax of approximately A$1.022 billion. Meanwhile, international insurance brokerage and professional services company AON reported approximately US$3.695 billion in net income attributable to shareholders for 2025.
Different companies, different currencies and different measures of profitability, of course. Aon is an insurance intermediary, not the underwriter responsible for deciding my claim. But the figures provide a fascinating glimpse into the enormous sums of money circulating through the insurance industry. Billions and billions and billions of dollars….
Meanwhile, down here in Karamea, I’m trying to find $45,000 to replace a failed septic system. To put that into perspective, $45,000 represents approximately 0.008% of IAG New Zealand’s reported $563 million annual insurance profit. Not eight per cent. Not eight-tenths of one per cent…Eight-thousandths of one per cent!
Of course, insurers don’t determine claims by comparing their profits with their customers’ financial circumstances. Nor should they. Insurance is a contractual arrangement, not a charitable donation. I understand that, but it does rather highlight the extraordinary financial imbalance between the parties. One side has billions of dollars in financial resources, extensive legal expertise, specialist assessors and entire departments devoted to interpreting risk.
The other side has a failed septic tank, a $45,000 bill and a reasonably well-developed sense of indignation. I know which side I’d back in a legal contest.
Justice for all…(Terms and conditions apply)
Having exhausted the insurer’s complaints process, I approached the Insurance & Financial Services Ombudsman Scheme. A free, independent dispute resolution service…Wonderful! Here, surely, was an opportunity for an ordinary New Zealander to have his complaint assessed without needing to mortgage the family home to pay a lawyer.
At a recent conference I attended, I heard New Zealand’s Chief Ombudsman, John Allen, speak about the importance of fairness, accessibility and equitable access to justice. It was an inspiring address. One of the messages I took from it was that access to justice should not depend upon how wealthy you are, how influential you might be or whether you can afford an army of legal advisers. An admirable principle.
Unfortunately, there’s a rather substantial difference between the principle of accessible justice and the practical reality of pursuing a dispute against a multinational insurance corporation. The insurance Ombudsman considered my complaint, examined the additional hydrological information and ultimately concluded that I had not demonstrated a sudden and accidental loss covered by the policy. The complaint was closed. I was informed that if I wished to pursue the matter further, I could take action through the Disputes Tribunal or the courts….Ah! The Courts! Of course! Why didn’t I think of that?
I’ll just engage a suitably experienced insurance lawyer, commission an independent hydrological investigation, obtain expert engineering evidence and prepare myself for a legal contest with an international insurance group. Perhaps I’ll retain a King’s Counsel while I’m at it! After all, what could possibly be more sensible than spending tens of thousands of dollars pursuing a disputed $45,000 insurance claim?
And there’s the rub. The suggestion that I can pursue the matter through the courts is legally correct. But legal rights and practical access to justice are not necessarily the same thing. I cannot know what the Ombudsman intended by offering that advice. It may simply be the standard explanation provided when the complaints process ends. Nevertheless, the practical consequence is unmistakable.
For someone without the financial resources to fund litigation, being told to take on a billion-dollar insurance corporation in court can sound remarkably like being told to go away. The door to justice may be technically open. But if you cannot afford the price of admission, what practical difference does that make?
The curious economics of insurance…
Insurance companies have a fascinating business model. They calculate risk. They price risk. They collect premiums to cover risk. They invest the money collected from managing risk. And when an insured event occurs, they assess whether the particular loss falls within the risks they have agreed to cover. That’s how insurance works…Fair enough.
But from the customer’s perspective, there is something deeply unsatisfactory about discovering, after decades of faithfully paying premiums, that the protection you thought you were purchasing may depend upon producing scientific evidence that never existed in the first place. I didn’t commission a hydrological survey when the property was insured in 2004. The insurer didn’t require one. Nobody suggested I should monitor groundwater levels. The premiums were accepted without difficulty. Year after year…For 22 years. But when the system failed, the absence of detailed scientific evidence became central to the question of whether the claim was covered.
And that raises a broader issue. Should insurers do more to explain, at the point of sale, the kinds of evidence policyholders may need to establish a claim involving older infrastructure? Should insurers undertake more comprehensive investigations before declining technically complex claims? And should the evidential expectations placed upon ordinary consumers reflect what it is realistically possible for them to establish? These seem to me perfectly reasonable questions. Especially when the insurer initially proposed an engineering inspection of the property but ultimately declined the claim without proceeding with that investigation.
Who’s watching the people watching the insurance companies?
There’s another curious dimension to all this. In October 2025, New Zealand’s Financial Markets Authority announced that IAG had admitted breaches of fair-dealing requirements involving misleading representations about insurance products. The resulting court-imposed penalty was $19.5 million. Those breaches were unrelated to my claim, and I make no suggestion that they establish wrongdoing in this case, but they do remind us that even very large, sophisticated financial institutions can get things seriously wrong.
Which brings me back to the question I asked in 2013. Who’s watching the insurance companies? And perhaps, just as importantly, how effective are the protections available to an ordinary customer who believes an insurer has treated them unfairly?
The Insurance & Financial Services Ombudsman Scheme provides an important independent service, but it operates within the law and the terms of insurance contracts. It cannot simply order an insurer to pay because a customer has experienced an unexpected financial catastrophe, and when that process ends, the remaining legal avenues may be financially impractical.
So where does that leave the ordinary person? Holding a policy. Holding a repair bill, and wondering what happened to the peace of mind they thought they’d been buying.
The insurer sells certainty. The customer discovers uncertainty…and the customer pays for both.
That, to me, is the central absurdity of this entire experience. For 22 years, I paid insurance premiums in the reasonable expectation that I was protecting my property against unforeseen misfortune. When misfortune finally arrived, the argument became one of legal definitions, evidential standards and whether the failure of a 60-year-old engineered wastewater system met the precise contractual requirements for cover. I understand the legal reasoning. I understand the insurer’s position. I even understand why the Ombudsman reached the conclusion it did, but understanding something doesn’t necessarily make it feel fair.
The system was constructed by the New Zealand Government in 1965, when the building was a maternity hospital. It performed its intended function for almost 60 years. It then stopped working during a period of unusually wet weather and significant hydrological activity. Nobody can now establish precisely how the groundwater beneath the property changed during that period, and because I cannot demonstrate the required sudden physical loss or damage, the claim has been declined…Case closed…Except, of course, for the $45,000 problem. That remains very much open.
A modest proposal…
Perhaps we should introduce a new form of insurance policy. We could call it Peace of Mind Insurance. Under this revolutionary arrangement, the insurer would clearly explain what is covered, what isn’t covered, and what evidence might reasonably be required to establish a claim. When a longstanding customer suffers a substantial and unforeseen loss, the insurer would undertake a thorough investigation before deciding whether to pay. Where the evidence is genuinely inconclusive, both parties would have a fair opportunity to understand the reasons for the decision and the realistic options available. And where a dispute arises, the customer would have access to a resolution process that doesn’t ultimately depend upon possessing a small fortune.
Radical stuff, I know! It might even catch on. Until then, I’ll continue contemplating the extraordinary irony of this shitty situation.
A septic system built by the New Zealand Government in 1965 gave almost 60 years of dependable service. An insurance relationship lasting 22 years, and costing approximately $110,000, has left me facing a $45,000 bill with no assistance. The multinational insurance industry continues to generate enormous profits, and I’m left wondering whether the only thing more thoroughly processed than the contents of my septic tank is my insurance claim.
The insurer sells certainty. The customer discovers uncertainty…and the customer pays for both.
From Sunny Karamea, where the birds are singing, the Tasman Sea is sparkling, the insurance industry is prospering…and shit is still hitting the fan!
The author provided IAG Ltd, the Insurance & Financial Services Ombudsman Scheme and NZI Insurance company an opportunity to give its version of events, they declined. However, in the email communication subsequently received, an officer of the Customer Complaint Division of IAG was not responsive to the content of this article.
Dear XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I am writing to invite both NZI/IAG and the Insurance & Financial Services Ombudsman Scheme to comment on an article I have prepared for publication in The Rongolian Star, entitled “Insurance Company Profits by Taking the PISS!”
I have attached the complete 11-page draft article, including its illustrations and graphs, for your consideration.
The article concerns my experience with an insurance claim arising from the failure of the wastewater disposal system at the former Karamea Maternity Hospital, and the subsequent dispute resolution process.
It is written in my usual Off the Top of My Head style, combining personal experience, satire, humour and social commentary. While the language is occasionally colourful and the illustrations deliberately provocative, the underlying issues are serious.
Before publishing, I want to give both organisations a fair opportunity to review the material, correct any factual inaccuracies and explain their respective positions.
As outlined in the article, the property was constructed by the New Zealand Government in 1965 as a maternity hospital. Its wastewater disposal system operated reliably for almost 60 years before ceasing to function satisfactorily in October 2025, following an exceptionally wet winter and spring.
The estimated replacement cost is approximately $45,000.
I have maintained insurance on the property since 2004, paying an estimated $110,000 in premiums over that period, without previously making a claim.
NZI/IAG declined the claim on the basis that I had not established a sudden and accidental loss covered by the policy. The IFSO Scheme subsequently upheld that position, and Karen confirmed in her correspondence of 15 October 2026 that the complaint process had concluded.
I acknowledge the legal reasoning: the initial burden rests with the insured to establish a covered loss. I also accept that an abrupt loss of function does not necessarily establish sudden physical damage.
However, my continuing concern is the practical difficulty of proving the timing and mechanism of an underground failure when the necessary historical groundwater monitoring information simply does not exist.
The West Coast Regional Council’s hydrological evidence does not establish that groundwater beneath the property rose suddenly. Equally, it does not establish that groundwater conditions changed gradually. The available information is insufficient to determine precisely what occurred.
I am not suggesting that this uncertainty automatically entitles me to insurance cover. Rather, I question whether the investigation and evidential expectations were reasonable in the circumstances, and whether the resulting outcome reflects the protection that a longstanding policyholder might reasonably believe they had purchased.
The article also examines the financial disparity between a policyholder facing a substantial uninsured repair bill and a major multinational insurance group, along with the practical accessibility of legal remedies following an unsuccessful complaint.
I would particularly welcome your responses to the following questions:
I appreciate that the insurer and the IFSO Scheme have distinct responsibilities, and I invite each organisation to address only those questions relevant to its role.
I also recognise that the IFSO process has concluded. This is not another request to reopen the complaint, but an opportunity to provide comment for a proposed publication examining my experience and the wider questions it raises.
I acknowledge the confidentiality obligations referred to in Karen’s correspondence of 15 October. I have sought to present my own account of events rather than reproduce confidential IFSO communications. If the Scheme considers that any specific passage of the draft raises a confidentiality concern, I would appreciate that passage being identified, together with the relevant basis for the concern, so I can consider it before publication.
Likewise, if either organisation considers that the article’s financial information, illustrations or descriptions of its conduct require correction or clarification, please identify the relevant material and provide the supporting information.
I would welcome a written statement from each organisation explaining its position. Please indicate whether your response may be quoted and attributed in the published article.
I propose to allow seven calendar days from receipt of this email for responses. If additional time is reasonably required, please let me know within that period.
I will consider all comments in good faith and make appropriate factual corrections before publication. I believe readers deserve to hear the perspectives of both the policyholder and the organisations involved.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
Kind Regards,
Paul Murray
Director, Iltamara Ltd
Writer and Publisher, The Rongolian Star
Karamea, West Coast, New Zealand
Attachment:Rongo RS Article DRAFT Insurance Company Profits by Taking the PISS.pdf (11 pages)
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