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We find ourselves stranded in a strange limbo here in Queenstown now. An excellent limbo, at that. After the horrors of the Scenic South we are slipping into happy relaxation as the skies have opened to sunshine and the bars are still populated by old acquaintances who never left. And maybe never will leave, this place sucks you in, it's so easy to hang around here drinking the days away.
Last night was a big and busy one, with such entertainment as Bouncer Ben doing Hakas and such, and a girl who punched me in the head for no good reason. The night before was equally wild, with madcap karaoke and such entertainment as our friend Josh being knocked over by a girl and some random gent tripping over them and going flying (pure slapstick), and we got a selection of people to crowdsurf. We've got into a strange cycle of attending the same two bars, repeating the same drunken night again and again, and invariably we are left too hungover to drive in the mornings. We cannot leave this place. Just as well there's nowhere else for us to go.
It leaves us with slightly less to say, and photos of naught but drunkeness. All we can do is use the internet, lie in the park and feel good about life. In other news, Mr Alex Lowe has returned to the group, and the insurance company are well and truly going to d*** me about because their policy doesn't cover motor vehicles or camps. Really ideal for this trip, thank you STA.
Now I'm going to go collapse on the grass, the alcohol's leaving me shaking like a drowning baby.
-Phil
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