So, I’ve taken a break from work, and I’m wandering down this main street in Christchurch to find a gift, get some money, and get some lunch.

And it’s cold. In fact, freezing cold. And I’ve stepped out with a scarf, or any wool. And I’m cold, and I’m thinking, this place is so damn cold, I think I’m going to die. Because I’m freezing.

I step into a Swandri store, but see that their woollen jackets are like $400, and lighter than the one I’m wearing, so I head out again into the freezing weather, and battle my way to a money machine. I have to get my missions finished, and get the hell back to the warm somewhere.

And there, standing at my ATM is an old guy. He’s wearing a light jumper. He has a cheesecutter hat on. He also has bloody stubbies, walking socks and runners on.

Obviously he’s just stepping out for a game of golf.

I immediately turned myself into the Manliness Police who branded me, “a sook”.

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