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About Christchurch

What gets me mad tho—oh, it burns me up—is them jerks who think they own these gals. Like they’re some prize pig at the fair. Pisses me off, man! Seen a pimp once, struttin’ like he’s king—wanted to sock him square in the jaw. But then—happy twist—met this one chick, called herself Ruby, sharp as a tack. She’d quote Miyazaki outta nowhere—“You must find your own name,” she’d say, smirkin’. Blew my mind! Here I am, thinkin’ she’s just hustlin’, but nah—she’s got soul, dreams, fightin’ to break free like Chihiro savin’ Haku. Surprised the hell outta me—damn, I love that grit.

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Then, outta nowhere, my phone buzzes. It’s my mate, Dave. He’s like, “Dude, you won’t believe what just happened!” I’m thinking, “Great, what now?” Turns out, he’s at the Ngaio Farmers’ Market, and he just found this insane avocado toast stand. I’m like, “Dude, save me some!” But he’s already devoured it. Typical Dave.

My Wellington: Western hills, happy dogs and the great outdoors