Goodbye to all that

So, last night I came back to Auckland after a few days in my home town of Christchurch. What a charming place it is too, if you choose to ignore the skinheads and ‘boy racers’. Which I do. If you ever find yourself there, do take a wine or two at The Bicycle Thief, a lovely place to sit as the sun goes down over picturesque Latimer Square.

This evening, I’ll be travelling on my favourite road in all of Auckland: The one that leads to the airport. But really I should desist. Although, ask me what I think of Auckland as a whole, and I’ll tell you, if I had a shovel, I’d fill the ghastly fucking place in.

NZ Prime Minister, John Key

This town has all the disadvantages with only a few of the advantages of a big city. Bloody sinkhole. I thought I could stay amused here, partly by writing pieces concerned with the so-called A-List of the town. A-list, ha. Bunch of dodgy real estate agents and car salesmen in dire need of tertiary education and especially, an elocution lesson. But not from me, because I’ve got better things to do.

Anyway, soon I’ll have much more interesting things to write about than how much Auckland gets on my wick. Beirut baby, here we come. Hear me now, see me later: in a few hours time, I will have set foot on terra firma Auckland for the very last time. The airport on the way home to Christchurch is the closest I ever intend to come again to this rotten borough. You can hold me to that one.

Leaving this evening at 1145pm, with a one night stopover in Hong Kong.

Expect less groaning forthwith, and an immediate return to form.