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About Palmerston North

So, it’s all ‘bout touchin’ and rubbin’, but fancy-like, not some cheap crap. Ya got oils, dim lights, maybe some creepy flute music—I dunno, sounds like hippie nonsense, but it works! I read—yeah, I read, shut up—that it goes back to ancient China or some crap. They called it “tantric” or whatever, supposd to make ya live longer. Bullshit? Maybe, but I’m happy as hell imagining it! Like, “Fish are friends, not food,” but replace fish with hot masseuses—ha!

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After the race, I head to the pub on Gladstone Rd. Gotta celebrate, right? I walk in, and the place is packed. Everyone’s shoutin’, laughin’, and I’m just tryin’ to grab a drink. I order a cold one, and the bartender’s like, “You’re the jockey, right? Nice ride today!” I’m like, “Yeah, thanks, mate!” But inside, I’m thinkin’, “Dude, I just survived a seagull attack and my ex!”

Museum loss draws concern — but it’s still a “regional gem”