It's been one of life's interesting role reversals. The master became servant for the servant who is now the master. And soon the master who became the servant will no longer be a servant. And the new master will have to find a new servant.

The story could end there but the interest is in the detail.

The last 1600 – deliveryman Noel Wylie retires. Photo: Tracy Hardy.

It harks back to when Brian ‘Rabbits' Rogers was just a wee bunny, or a kitten as young rabbits are called, at Otumoetai Intermediate school. There was also a teacher called Noel Wylie. It was the 1970s.

They were never teacher and pupil. But there was a mutual awareness, they knew of each other.

Rogers remembers Wylie as 'an interesting character” who he had deep respect for.

Respect born of self-preservation perhaps. Because Wylie had a reputation as a bit of a hanging judge – a strict disciplinarian. It was a reputation well-earned.

'In the old days it was the strap, and if it was necessary, they got it,” says the old schoolmaster. It was 'necessary” quite often it seems. 'I didn't stand for any silly nonsense.”

That could be the reason Wylie remembers ‘Rabbits' as a 'goody two-shoes, a pussycat” in those days.

That was when Wylie was the master and Rogers was the servant. But then the 'pussycat” turned into an alley-cat – Rogers became a Rupert Murdoch in his own backyard, a businessman, publisher of The Weekend Sun.

And Rogers also became the master when he hired Wylie, now retired from his strap, to be his servant and deliver his newspaper. Sixteen hundred newspapers every Friday for the last six years. That's 499,200 newspapers hand-delivered to what Wylie regards as his 'precious customers”.

Now Wylie is about to retire from partial retirement. This Weekend Sun deliveryman is going to wipe the smudges of printers ink from his hands for the last time, plant that hand in the small of wife Lyn's back and go ballroom dancing. 'And travel before we get too old.”

And this morning as he loaded his van in the dark, the disciplinarian, the shaper of young lives and the deliveryman, was reminiscing.

'It's not just throwing a newspaper at someone. Personally handing them a copy of The Weekend Sun makes them feel valued as people and clients.”

And the rules have changed or the teacher has mellowed. While he didn't tolerate nonsense during his professional career, he doesn't mind a bit of flannel, a bit of banter in his golden years.

'Lot's of nice people out there. They stir me up and I stir them up. Like Barry Muir and Bill Strand over at the Furniture Gallery. They're special because we also share a love of speedway. And the girls at Hilary Pointon.” That's a women's fashion outfit in Maunganui Rd. 'I rark them up and leave as quick as I went in. They tell me to get out.”

He could have been off dancing with Lyn dozens of editions of The Sun ago. 'But I suppose it's the teacher in me. I love the people contact.”

And he bumps into ex-pupils like ‘Crank'. He, ‘Crank' that is, is now a company director. So some of the Wylie wisdom must have seeped through. And he's quick to claim credit. 'We had to straighten Crank out on the first day but then he was as good as gold.”

That's the disciplinarian again.

Wylie coached ‘Rabbits' – aka Brian Rogers – in the school rugby team. Was ‘Rabbits' any good? 'Most Otumoetai kids were average rugby players, nothing startling for some unknown reason.” Don't suppose that had anything to do with the coach? 'Mmm – maybe”.

Didn't matter anyway because Rogers built a modest business empire, played drums, went canoeing, fishing and duck-shooting and is on call for the coastguard. He didn't have time to be an All Black.

Back to the servant – one of the delights of being The Sun deliveryman was being chased around in the car-bearing Sun livery. 'People would see the car and chase me because one of the rellies was photographed or written and they wanted a copy.”

And yes, just like every deliveryman and every postman, Wylie was bitten by a dog. It was in Ohauiti. 'Only once – but that was the low point.”

And he remembers Leanne fondly – she worked at St John Ambulance in 16^th Ave. 'She would grab the Sun and read the horoscopes before the ambos got hold of it.”

And just like the mechanic's car which is the last to be fixed, or the decorator's house which is the last to get painted, Noel never had time to read The Sun. Just a quick thumb through when he was having lunch.

Enjoy the Canadian schottische Noel, the circular waltz and the foxtrot. Time for the teacher to finally lay down his chalk.